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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #54617 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54617)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Vol. 22, October, 1875,
-to March, 1876, by Various
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Catholic World, Vol. 22, October, 1875, to March, 1876
-       A Monthly Magazine of General Literature and Science
-
-Author: Various
-
-Release Date: April 27, 2017 [EBook #54617]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CATHOLIC WORLD, OCT 1875-MAR 1876 ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
-produced from images generously made available by The
-Internet Archive)
-
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-
-
-
-
-
-                                   THE
-                             CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-                                    A
-                            MONTHLY MAGAZINE
-                                   OF
-                     GENERAL LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.
-
-                               VOL. XXII.
-                     OCTOBER, 1875, TO MARCH, 1876.
-
-                                NEW YORK:
-                     THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION HOUSE,
-                            9 Warren Street.
-                                  1876.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-
-    Allegri’s Miserere, 562.
-    Anglicans, Old Catholics, and the Conference at Bonn, 502.
-    Anti-Catholic Movements in the United States, 810.
-    Apostolic Mission to Chili, The, 548.
-    Are You My Wife? 13, 194, 309, 590, 735.
-
-    Basques, The, 646.
-    Birth-Place of S. Vincent de Paul, 64.
-
-    Castlehaven’s Memoirs, 78.
-    Chapter, A, in the Life of Pius IX., 548.
-    Charities of Rome, The, 266.
-    Christmas Vigil, A, 541.
-    Colporteurs of Bonn, The, 90.
-
-    Doctrinal Authority of the Syllabus, 31.
-    Duration, 111, 244.
-
-    Early Persecutions of the Christians, 104.
-    Eternal Years, The, 656, 841.
-
-    Finding a Lost Church, 282.
-    Freemasonry, 145.
-    Friends of Education, The, 758.
-    From Cairo to Jerusalem, 529.
-
-    Garcia Moreno, 691.
-    Gladstone Controversy, Sequel of the, 577, 721.
-    Grande Chartreuse, A Night at the, 712.
-
-    Historical Romance, A, 43, 162, 339, 614, 772.
-
-    Incident of the Reign of Terror, An, 260.
-    Indian Legend, 277.
-    Is She Catholic? 188.
-
-    King of Metals, The, 417.
-
-    Law of God, The, and the Regulations of Society, 223.
-    Lord Castlehaven’s Memoirs, 78.
-    Lost Church, Finding a, 282.
-    Louise Lateau before the Belgian Royal Academy of Medicine, 823.
-
-    Madame’s Experiment, 637.
-    Message, A, 445.
-    Midnight Mass in a Convent, 523.
-    Missions in Maine from 1613 to 1854, 666.
-    Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration, 289.
-
-    Nellie’s Dream on Christmas Eve, 560.
-    New Hampshire, Village Life in, 358.
-    Night at the Grande Chartreuse, A, 712.
-
-    Palatine Prelates of Rome, 373.
-    Pious Pictures, 409.
-    Power, Action, and Movement, 379.
-    Precursor of Marco Polo, A. 210.
-    President’s Speech at Des Moines, The, 433.
-    President’s Message, The, 707.
-    Primitive Civilization, 626.
-    Progress _versus_ Grooves, 276.
-    Protestant Episcopal Church Congress, The, 473.
-    Prussia and the Church, 678, 787.
-
-    Queen Mary, 1.
-    Questions Concerning the Syllabus, 31.
-
-    Recollections of Wordsworth, 329.
-    Reign of Terror, An Incident of the, 260.
-    Revival in Frogtown, A, 699.
-    Rome, The Charities of, 266.
-    Rome, The Palatine Prelates of, 373.
-
-    S. Agnes’ Eve Story, A, 637.
-    St. Jean de Luz, 833.
-    Search for Old Lace in Venice, A, 852.
-    Sequel of the Gladstone Controversy, 577, 721.
-    Sir Thomas More, 43, 162, 339, 614, 772.
-    Songs of the People, 395.
-    Story of Evangeline in Prose, The, 604.
-    Story with Two Versions, A, 800.
-    Summary Considerations on Law, 223.
-
-    Traces of an Indian Legend, 277.
-    Tennyson’s Queen Mary, 1.
-
-    Village Life in New Hampshire, 358.
-    Vincent de Paul, S., Birth-Place of, 64.
-
-    William Tell and Altorf, 127.
-    Wordsworth, Recollections of, 329.
-
-    Year, The, of Our Lord 1875, 565.
-    Yule Raps, 484.
-
-
-POETRY.
-
-    Adelaide Anne Procter, 89.
-    Æschylus, 209.
-
-    Christmas Chimes, 501.
-
-    Free Will, 559.
-
-    Not Yet, 394.
-
-    “O Valde Decora!” 12.
-
-    Paraphrase from the Greek, A, 222.
-    Patient Church, The, 613.
-
-    S. Philip’s Home, 139.
-    S. Louis’ Bell, 527.
-    Seven Fridays in Lent, The, 734.
-    Sine Labe Concepta, 357.
-    Song, 275.
-    Sonnets in Memory of the late Sir Aubrey de Vere, 444.
-    Stars, The, 126.
-    Suggested by a Cascade at Lake George, 771.
-    Summer Storms, 416.
-    Sweet Singer, A, 89.
-
-    To-day and Yesterday, 564.
-
-    Unremembered Mother, The, 110.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    Acta et Decreta Concilii Vaticani, 718.
-    Alcott’s Eight Cousins, 431.
-    Allibert’s Life of S. Benedict, 575.
-    American State and American Statesmen, 719.
-    Allies’ Formation of Christendom, 858.
-    American Catholic Quarterly Review, The, 859.
-
-    Baunard’s Life of the Apostle S. John, 573.
-    Bégin’s Le Culte Catholique, 286.
-    Bégin’s The Bible and the Rule of Faith, 288.
-    Birlinger’s Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, 718.
-    Boudon’s Holy Ways of the Cross, 717.
-    Buckley’s Supposed Miracles, 856.
-
-    Calderon’s Groesste Dramen religiösen Inhalts, 718.
-    Clarke’s Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration, 575.
-    Coleridge’s Public Life of Our Lord, 717.
-    Constable and Gillies, Personal Reminiscences of, 720.
-    Cudmore’s Civil Government of the States, etc., 429.
-    Correction, A, 860.
-
-    Dix’s The American State and American Statesmen, 719.
-
-    Earle’s Light leading unto Light, 143.
-    Eight Cousins, 431.
-    Evidences of Catholicity, 574.
-    Exposition of the Church, An, etc., 419.
-    Exposition of the Epistles of S. Paul, etc., 144.
-
-    First Annual Report of the Chaplain of the Albany Penitentiary, 144.
-    Flowers from the Garden of the Visitation, 287.
-    Formation of Christendom, The, 858.
-    Full Course of Instruction in Explanation of the Catechism, 432.
-
-    Garside’s The Sacrifice of the Eucharist, 718.
-
-    Historical Scenes from the Old Jesuit Missions, 575.
-    History of the Protestant Reformation, 574.
-    Holland’s Sevenoaks, 430.
-    Holy Ways of the Cross, etc., 717.
-
-    Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac, 430.
-    Indoors and Out; or, Views from the Chimney Corner, 720.
-
-    Jannet’s Les Etats-Unis Contemporains, etc., 716.
-
-    Kavanagh’s John Dorrien, 287.
-    Kip’s Historical Scenes, 575.
-    Knight and Raikes’ Personal Reminiscences, 288.
-
-    Lamb, Hazlitt, and Others, Personal Recollection of, 428.
-    Lehrbuch des Katholischen und Protestantischen Kirchenrechts, 718.
-    Lonormant’s Madame Récamier and her Friends, 431.
-    Life and Letters of Paul Seigneret, 576.
-    Life of S. Benedict, 575.
-    Life of the Apostle S. John, 573.
-    Light leading unto Light, 143.
-    Lynch’s (Bishop) Pastoral Letter, 576.
-
-    MacEvilly’s Exposition of S. Paul’s Epistles, etc., 144.
-    Manual of the Sisters of Charity, 432.
-    Manual of Catholic Indian Missionary Associations, 859.
-    Medulla Theologiæ Moralis, 574.
-    Miller’s Ship in the Desert, 573.
-    Miscellanea, 432.
-    Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration, 575.
-    Moriarty’s Wayside Pencillings, 431.
-    Morris’ The Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers, 141.
-
-    Noethen’s Report of the Albany Penitentiary, 144.
-    Noethen’s Thirteen Sermons, etc., 144.
-
-    Pastoral Letter of Bishop Lynch, 576.
-    Perry’s Full Course of Instruction, etc., 432.
-    Persecutions of Annam, The, 719.
-    Personal Reminiscences by Knight and Raikes, 288.
-    Personal Recollections of Lamb, Hazlitt, and Others, 428.
-    Personal Reminiscences by Constable and Gillies, 720.
-    Public Life of Our Lord, 717.
-
-    Rohling’s Medulla Theologiæ Moralis, 574.
-
-    Sacrifice of the Eucharist, etc., 718.
-    Sadlier’s Excelsior Geography, 430.
-    Sevenoaks, 430.
-    Ship in the Desert, The, 573.
-    Shortland’s The Persecutions of Annam, 719.
-    Spalding’s Miscellanea, 432.
-    Spalding’s Evidences of Catholicity, 574.
-    Spalding’s History of the Reformation, 574.
-    Story of S. Peter, 718.
-    Supposed Miracles, 856.
-
-    Thirteen Sermons preached in the Albany Penitentiary, 144.
-    Three Pearls, The, 573.
-    Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers, The, 141.
-
-    Vering’s Lehrbuch des Katholischen und Protestantischen
-        Kirchenrechts, 718.
-    Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, 718.
-
-    Wayside Pencillings, etc., 431.
-
-    Young Catholic’s Illustrated Table Book, etc., 430.
-
-
-
-
-THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-VOL. XXII., No. 127.--OCTOBER, 1875.
-
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. I. T.
-HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
-
-
-MR. TENNYSON’S QUEEN MARY.[1]
-
-Mr. Tennyson has achieved a great reputation as a lyric poet. He urges
-now a higher claim. In the sunset of a not inglorious life, when we
-should have expected his lute to warble with waning melodies and less
-impassioned strains, he lays it aside as too feeble for his maturer
-inspirations, and, as though renewed with the fire of a second youth, he
-draws to his bosom a nobler instrument, and awakes the echoes of sublimer
-chords. He has grown weary of the lyric
-
-    “hœrentem multa cum laude coronam,”
-
-and with some confidence claims the dramatic bays. Nay, he even invites a
-comparison with Shakspere. True to the temper of the times, his prestige
-follows him in so hazardous a competition, the accustomed wreaths are
-showered upon him with unreflecting haste, and the facile representatives
-of the most incapable of critics--public opinion--have already offered
-him that homage as a dramatist which had already been too lavishly
-offered to his idyllic muse.
-
-It is an ungrateful task to go against the popular current, and it is
-an ungracious one to object to crowns which the multitude have decreed.
-But there is no help for it, unless we would stoop to that criticism of
-prestige which is so characteristic of the age, and would follow in the
-wake of the literary rabble, criticising the works by the author, instead
-of the author by his works.
-
-We may as well say, at once, that we have never felt it in our power
-to acknowledge the poetical supremacy of the English poet-laureate.[2]
-It has always appeared to us that there is, in his poetry, a lack of
-inspiration. To borrow a too familiar but expressive metaphor, the coin
-is highly burnished, glitters brightly, and has the current stamp, but
-one misses the ring of the genuine metal. He sits patiently on the
-tripod, dealing forth phrases as musical as Anacreon’s numbers, and
-as polished as those of a Greek sophist, spiced with a refined humor,
-which has a special charm of its own. But his soul does not kindle at
-the sacred fire. We miss the divine frenzy. A passionateness of love
-of the beautiful does not appear to be the quickening inspiration of
-his creations. All alike show signs of extreme care and preparation. We
-do not forget the counsel of Horace. But that only refers to a distant
-revision of creations which an unchecked genius may have produced under
-the divine influence. Whereas, Mr. Tennyson’s poetry bears evidence of
-infinite toil in production. All his thoughts, ideas, and images, down to
-words and phrases, are too evidently, instead of the happy inspirations
-of genius, the labored workmanship of a polished, refined, and fastidious
-mind. They something resemble the _tout ensemble_ of a _petit maître_
-who has succeeded in conveying to his dress an appearance of such
-consummate simplicity and unexceptionable taste that every one notices
-the result of hours before the mirror. His diction is pure and polished,
-his phrases simple and nervous, and the English language owes him much
-for what he has done towards neutralizing the injury inflicted on it
-by the gaudy phraseology of the “correct” poets, and the antithetical
-sesquipedalianism of such prose writers as Johnson and Gibbon, and
-for preserving it in its pure and nervous simplicity. But his soul is
-dull to the poetic meanings of nature. His natural scenery is rather
-descriptive than a creation, much as artists, of whom there are not a
-few, who reproduce with consummate skill of imitation objects in detail,
-and bestow infinite care upon color, shade, perspective, grouping, and
-all the other technical details of a picture, whilst comparatively
-indifferent to the subject, which ought to be the poetic meaning of
-creations of genius. And what are they but only fruitful manifestations
-of the love of the beautiful, and echoes of its creative word, not the
-mere manipulations of an artificer? Mr. Tennyson’s descriptions of nature
-owe their vividness to the brilliance of word-painting and a certain
-refined delicacy of touch; sometimes, even, and indeed very often, to a
-certain quaint humor which is inconsistent with the highest art--it is
-not a passionate love which regards the object beloved from a ridiculous
-point of view--as when he describes the willows living adown the banks of
-a streamlet as “shock-headed pollards _poussetting_ down the stream.”
-
-The sensations provoked by his poetry resemble those of one who has
-sauntered through a museum of precious stones of rare workmanship and
-purest water. Our æsthetic taste has been pleased by the glitter and the
-color and the brilliance, but our mind and heart have not been deeply
-moved. His poems are ablaze with detached thoughts of lofty meaning,
-and of a multitude of others whose meaning is not obvious, all alike
-expressed in vivid imagery, in the purest phraseology, and in rare melody
-of rhythm. But they are confused and cabalistic. He seems to be always
-laboring to be incomprehensible. He calls it “the riddling of the bards.”
-And he succeeds. The problem of the Sphinx, the emblematic warning sent
-by the Scythians to their Persian invader, the mute counsel sent by the
-Samian to the Corinthian tyrant, a Delphic oracle, all were clear and
-easy by comparison with Mr. Tennyson’s lyrics, alike in detached passages
-and in entire poems. None of woman born can fathom the meaning of the
-_Idylls of the King_.
-
-This defect alone is fatal to poetry. So keenly did Spenser feel it that
-although the meaning of his allegory, _The Faerie Queene_, is obvious
-enough to any ordinary intelligence, he is careful to explain it in full
-in a letter dedicated to Sir Walter Raleigh.
-
-Mr. Tennyson, on the contrary, involves himself in the thickest mystery
-he can contrive, and expects his worshippers to take it for inspiration.
-Take the following, for example, from “The Coming of Arthur”:
-
-    “Rain, rain, and sun, a rainbow in the sky!
-      A young man will be wiser by-and-by,
-    An old man’s wit may wander e’er he die.
-
-    “Rain, rain, and sun, a rainbow on the lea!
-      And truth is this to me, and that to thee
-    And truth, or clothed or naked, let it be.
-
-    “Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows,
-      Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?
-    From the great deep to the great deep he goes.”
-
-These are, no doubt, “riddling triplets,” as he himself calls them. The
-riddling of Shakspere’s fools, even the wanderings from the night of
-distraught Ophelia’s brain, are light itself by the side of them. We may
-well echo his invocation of “Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who
-knows?” Whatever inspiration may be evident here, it is not that of the
-beautiful. And yet even this has snatches of meaning which many passages
-we might adduce have not; as the following, from “Gareth and Lynette”:
-
-    “Know ye not, then, the riddling of the bards?
-    Confusion, and illusion, and relation.
-    Elusion, and occasion, and evasion?”
-
-It is almost a pity that the bard did not complete his “riddling” while
-he was about it. Another couplet:
-
-    Diffusion, and ablution, and abrasion.
-    Ablution, expectation, botheration,
-
-would have rendered still more impenetrable the bardic mystery.
-
-There is no resemblance in this studied concealment of meaning, if
-meaning there be, to that
-
-            “Sacred madness of the bards
-    When God makes music through them,”
-
-of which he sings. It is more like the melodious confusion of the Æolian
-harp. Even if the poet have a definite meaning in his own mind, if he
-so express it that I cannot even guess it, to me it is nonsense; and
-nonsense, however melodious, although it may enchant my sense, cannot
-move my heart. Here and there, however, our poet sings snatches of real
-poetry, as Sir Bedivere’s answer to his king in “The Coming of Arthur”:
-
-    “I heard the water lapping on the craig
-    And the long ripple washing in the reeds.”
-
-Upon the whole, Mr. Tennyson excels in a certain underlying vein of
-exquisitely refined humor. And when his subject admits of it, he is
-unrivalled. His is the poetry of humor. We would name as examples “The
-Northern Farmer” and the satirical poem, “Locksley Hall,” perhaps the
-most vigorous of all his productions; and, of his longer poems, _The
-Princess_. It is for this reason we think he is more likely to excel, as
-a dramatist, in comedy than in tragedy.
-
-If our readers would estimate the full force of our remarks, we would
-invite them to read the works of any of the principal of our earlier
-lyrical poets, as, for example, Collins. We name him because he too
-excels in that melody of versification for which Mr. Tennyson is so
-distinguished. At times, as in his “Sonnet on Evening,” he surpasses the
-Laureate in that respect, although for sustained and unfailing rhythmical
-melody the latter bears away the palm from him, and perhaps from every
-other rival. But in profound sympathy with nature, in the fidelity of his
-creations, in the echoes of the beautiful which he provokes within the
-soul of the reader, the Poet-Laureate must yield to the Demy of Magdalen.
-Like Shakspere, he peopled inanimate nature with a fairy world, and
-amongst elves and genii and other dainty spirits he abandoned himself to
-that power of impersonation which is almost an attribute of a true poet.
-
-Our space does not admit of illustrative quotations, but we would refer
-the reader inclined to institute the comparison suggested to the elegy
-over Fidele, in the play of _Cymbeline_, and to his _Eclogues_.
-
-Mr. Tennyson’s poetry has beauties of its own peculiar kind of so
-remarkable and striking a description that we might have hesitated to
-take any exceptions whatsoever to his poetical genius. But his new poem,
-his first effort in dramatic poetry, seems to us to set all doubt at
-rest. It convinces us that, for whatever reasons, of the highest flights
-of poetic inspiration Mr. Tennyson is incapable. We are convinced that he
-lacks that which constitutes a great poet. However beautiful his poetry,
-we feel that it wants something which, however keenly we may be sensible
-of it, it is not easy either to analyze or explain.
-
-For what is the inspiration of poetry but the echoes of the beautiful
-within the soul of man? The universe of things is the visible word
-of God. It is his essential beauty projected by an energy of creative
-love--the quickening spirit opening his wings over chaos--into an
-objective existence, on which its generator looked with complacency
-as “very good,” and which he generated in order that his creature,
-whom he had made in his own image, might, with himself, rejoice in
-its contemplation. He did not, at first, endow him with the power of
-beholding himself “face to face,” but only his reflex. We have the right
-to believe that, whilst in union with his Maker, he read at a glance the
-meaning of the word, he felt instantaneously the beauty of the image. His
-nature, into which no discord had as yet been introduced, uncondemned
-to the judgment of painful toil, did not acquire charity and knowledge
-by long and laborious processes, disciplinary and ratiocinative, but by
-intuition. Incapable as yet of the Beatific Vision, he comprehended the
-whole of the divine beauty as revealed in creation, and the comprehension
-itself was a transport of love. He saw, and knew, and loved, and the
-three were one simultaneous energy of the sonship of his nature. But, as
-now, “the greatest of these was charity.” It was the result and sum and
-end of the sight and knowledge. It was the feeling they inevitably and
-unremittingly occasioned. To speak as we can only speak in our actual
-condition, it was as those thuds of loving admiration with which our
-hearts throb when we look upon some surpassing embodiment of innocent
-and modest female loveliness. When the mind, jealous of pre-eminence,
-led captive, so to speak, the heart in revolt against the revealed law,
-the human being was no longer in union with himself, a war of impulses
-and of energies was set up within him, the image of God was defaced, his
-perception of created beauty became more and more obscure as he went
-further away from his original abode of innocence, until, finally, it was
-all but lost. The emotion, if we may describe it as such, which it was of
-its nature to suggest, could not perish, for it is imperishable. But it
-had lost its true object, and surveyed knowledge in a form more or less
-degraded.
-
-Now out of this very faint and rapid sketch of a psychological theory
-which would require a volume for its development, we hope to be able to
-convey some idea, however vague, of the nature of the poetic spirit.
-
-It is certain that the remains of the divine image have not since been
-alike and equal in all the individuals of the race. It may be asserted,
-on the contrary, that there are no two human microcosms in which the
-elements of the confusion introduced into them by the original infidelity
-exist in the same proportion. Those in whom the intelligence is the
-quickest to see, and the mind, heart, and soul to love in unison, the
-image of divine beauty revealed in creation--those, that is, in whom the
-divine image remains the most pronouncedly--are the truest poets.
-
-When this echo of the soul to the beautiful does not go beyond the
-physical creation, the inspirations of love express themselves in lyric
-or idyllic poetry. The poet imitates the divine Creator in reproducing,
-even creating, images of his lower creation so faithful and suggestive
-that they who look upon them experience similar sensations and emotions
-to those provoked within them by the divine creation itself, nay, not
-unseldom, even profounder ones. He reveals the beautiful in similar
-images to those in which The Beautiful revealed himself to his creature;
-he is thus himself a ποιητὴς, or creator, and his work is a ποίησις, or
-creation. When his forms derive their inspiration only from the inferior
-creation, they are exclusively some form of idyls or lyrics. But when,
-soaring above the grosser medium of the merely material universe, and
-poising himself on wings tremulous with reverent joy at the confines
-of the invisible, his soul echoes the music of the beautiful issuing
-from that invisible creation; and that imitative energy which is of its
-essence, inspired by these reawakening inspirations, calls into being
-psychical individualities with their precise bodily expression and
-proper destinies--that is to say, with all the causes and results, ebb
-and flow, action and reaction, in human affairs, of every volition and
-energy, he reproduces the highest energy of the divine creative power, he
-evokes into sensible existence whole multitudes of fresh creatures made
-in the image of God, and, what is even yet more sublime, he evokes into
-equally sensible being the particular providence which overrules each
-and all--the one difference between the two creations being that one is
-original, the other imitative; one imaginary--that is, _merely_ sensible;
-the other, not only sensible, but _real_ also, and _essential_. Yet are
-the accidents of the former produced occasionally with such extraordinary
-fidelity that they have sometimes, as in the creations of Shakspere, for
-example, the same effect upon those who become acquainted with them as if
-they were in truth the latter.
-
-Who that has ever studied the creations of that immortal dramatist has
-not them all, from high to low, treasured within his inner being as
-vividly as any other of his absent acquaintances, whom he has met in
-society, to whom he has been formally introduced, with whom he has eaten,
-drank, laughed, wept, walked, and conversed? Has not that remarkable
-genius transgressed even the imitative faculty--imitative, that is,
-of all the original creative energy that is known--produced original
-creations, and peopled the preter- rather than supernatural with beings
-which have no known existence, but whom nevertheless he surrounds with a
-distinct verisimilitude which ensures them easy admission into our minds
-and hearts, which presents them to our senses as concrete beings with as
-much positiveness, and even as clearly defined individuality, as if they
-were solid creatures of flesh and bone, and which makes us feel that if
-such beings did really exist, they would be none other than precisely
-those he has represented?
-
-Of such sort, we take it, is the highest, or dramatic, poetry. And of
-it there is a manifest deficiency in this work, which its author terms,
-indeed, a drama, but which is in fact a tragedy.
-
-Mr. Tennyson has not enough of the divine afflatus to write tragedy. If
-he has not sufficient love of the beautiful in inanimate nature for his
-soul to echo to it, and his heart to throb with the sense of it, with
-the rapidity of an intuition, so as to make unattainable to him the
-highest excellence in lyric poetry, how much more out of his reach must
-be a first rank in the tragic drama; where, if anywhere, an intuition of
-the beautiful amounting to an inspiration is demanded in that supreme
-creation of God which, as the consummation of his “work” and word, he has
-embodied in his own substance! In that profound and intuitive perception
-of the workings of man’s inner being, of the passions, emotions,
-feelings, appetites, their action and reaction, ebb and flow; of the
-struggle of the two natures, its infinite variety and play of life, under
-all conceivable conditions and vicissitudes, with much more than can be
-detailed here included in these, Mr. Tennyson is strikingly deficient.
-
-In the tragedies of Shakspere, as in all his dramas, the distinct
-personality of every one of the characters, high and low, is impressed
-upon us with vivid distinctness. But the principal personages in the
-tragedies dilate before us in heroic proportions as the portentous
-struggle progresses. Whether it be King Lear, or King John, or King
-Richard, or Othello, or Lady Macbeth, or Lady Constance, or the widowed
-Princess of Wales, or Ophelia, or whoever else, we look on with bated
-breath, as did the spectators of the boat-race with which Æneas
-celebrated the suicide of his regal paramour, and we come away at its
-close a prey to the storm of emotions which the magic art of the island
-sorcerer has conjured up within us.
-
-But the drama, or tragedy, as we prefer to call it, we read with but
-languid interest. The psychical struggle is neither very obvious nor very
-critical, there is no very striking revelation of the sublime beauty or
-tragic overthrow of human nature, and although the canvas is crowded
-with figures, not one of them impresses any very distinct image of his
-or her individuality on our mind and heart. Instead of, as Shakspere’s
-creations, retaining every one of them as a distinct and intimate
-acquaintance, whom we may summon into our company at will, we rise from
-the perusal of _Queen Mary_ without having received any very definite
-impression of any, even the principal, personages, and we forget all
-about them almost as soon as we have read the play.
-
-This vital defect in a drama the author has rendered doubly fatal through
-his having carried his imitation of Shakspere to the extent of adopting
-his simplicity of plot. Shakspere could afford to do this. The inspired
-verisimilitude of the struggle of the two natures in every one of his
-human creations, the profoundness of his development of the innermost
-working of the human microcosm, often by a few master-touches, surround
-every one of his _dramatis personæ_ with all the rapt suspense and
-sustained interest of a plot. Every one of his characters is, as it were,
-a plot in itself. But it is quite certain that Mr. Tennyson--and it is no
-depreciation of him--has not this power. He has, therefore, every right
-to call to his aid the interest of an elaborate plot, which itself would
-also, we think, cause him to develop more vividly his characters. It is
-in this the late Lord Lytton, whose poetical pretensions are very much
-below Mr. Tennyson’s, achieved whatever success he had as a dramatist.
-Mr. Tennyson has not to depend on this solely, as was very nearly the
-case with Lord Lytton, but it would contribute very much to a higher
-success. The great dramatist he is unwise enough so avowedly to imitate
-peoples the simplest plot with a whole world of stirring destinies. He
-moves his quickening wand, and lo! as by the master-will of a creator,
-appear a Hamlet or a Malvolio, a Lady Macbeth or a Goneril or Miranda,
-an Ariel or a Caliban, contribute their precise share to the history,
-which would not have been complete without them, and then disappear from
-the scene, but never from our memory. A magic word or two has smitten
-them into _it_, and they live for aye in our mind and heart. His heroes
-and his heroines he clothes with such a majesty of poetry that we watch
-anxiously with bated breath their every gesture, word, or look; we
-cannot bear their absence, until, entranced into their destiny, and half
-unconscious, we watch them disappear in the catastrophe, our ears are
-blank, all voices mute, the brilliant theatre is the chamber of death,
-and they who, to us, were but now living flesh and blood, in whose
-destinies our innermost soul was rapt, have passed away, amidst a tempest
-of emotions, and are no more.
-
-But Thucydides’ _History of the Peloponnesian War_, either of the
-two great classic epics, or any striking historic passage in even so
-ungraphic a writer as Lingard, is more dramatic than this drama. The
-feeble plot gives birth to feebler impersonations. They come and go
-without making any deep impression upon us, or seizing our attention by
-any striking originality. Their features are indistinct, their actions
-insignificant. They are bloodless and colorless. They are ghosts, things
-of air, whom a feeble incantation has summoned from their slumber, who
-mutter a few laborious Spartanisms in a renewed life in which they
-seem to have no concern, and vanish without provoking a regret, nor
-even an emotion. We observe in them such an absence of verisimilitude,
-so marked a want of truth to nature, as very much to weaken, when it
-does not entirely destroy, the dramatic illusion. Nowhere is this more
-observable than where he intends most manifestly a rivalry of Shakspere.
-Shakspere not unseldom introduces the multitude into his poetic history.
-But when he does so, it seizes our interest as forcibly as his more
-important personages. With a few rapid touches he dashes in a few typical
-individuals, who reveal to us vividly what the whole kind of thing is
-of which they are prominent units. They are the mob of the very time
-and place to which they belong. Whether at Rome in the time of Julius
-Cæsar, or at Mantua or Verona in the Middle Ages, or in England during
-the time of the Tudors, we feel that they act and speak just as then
-and there they might have said and done. Every one, too, has his or
-her distinct individuality. And such a verisimilitude have they that
-even an occasional anachronism, such as, in _Troilus and Cressida_,
-making a Trojan servant talk of _being in the state of grace_, does not
-dispel the charm. But Mr. Tennyson’s mob-types have no more striking
-features to seize our interest than his more exalted creations, whilst
-his anachronisms are of a kind which send all verisimilitude to the
-winds. Joan and Tib, and the four or five citizens, have nothing in them
-for which they should be singled out of the very ordinary condition of
-life to which they belong. And we are tempted to sneer when we hear an
-Elizabethan mob talking like Hampshire or Yorkshire peasants of the
-present day.
-
-For all that, Mr. Tennyson’s cockneys and rustics are not his most
-ineffective portraiture. We experience a slight sensation of their
-having been lugged in, perhaps because of the inevitable comparison with
-Shakspere they provoke, and we feel them to be too modern; but the poet’s
-sense of humor here serves him in good stead, and although, in this
-respect, immeasurably below Shakspere, he gives a kind of raciness to his
-plebeians which saves them from being an absolute failure.
-
-It is, however, in the principal personages of the drama that we most
-miss the Promethean fire, and pre-eminently in the hero, if Cranmer is
-intended for such a dignity, and the heroine. Amongst these, the most
-lifelike are Courtenay and Sir Thomas Wyatt; because, in their creation,
-the peculiar vein of quaint irony and exceedingly refined humor, which is
-Mr. Tennyson’s most eminent distinction, comes to his aid. For the rest,
-up to the heroine herself and the canting and recanting Cranmer, they are
-colorless and bloodless. We scarcely know one from the other. And we do
-not care to. Noailles and Renard are but poor specimens of diplomatists.
-Their sovereigns, were the time the present, might pick up a dozen such
-any day in Wall Street. If the poet could embody no greater conception
-of two such men as Bonner and Gardiner than a couple of vulgar,
-self-seeking, blood-thirsty knaves, he should have dispensed altogether
-with their presence. He should have given to them some elevation,
-whatever history may say about it. A drama is a poem, not a history; and
-the poet may take the names of historic personages and, within certain
-limits, fit to them creations of his own. In Cardinal Pole he had an
-opportunity for a noble ideal. But all we have is an amiable dummy, an
-old gentleman, as ordinary and ineffective as the rest.
-
-Facts have been so distorted by the influence which for so long had sole
-possession of literature, that there is plenty of room for taking great
-liberties with history. Mr. Tennyson has slightly availed himself of
-this, but in the wrong direction. Shakspere himself could not have made
-a saint of Cranmer. For poetry, there was nothing for it but to make him
-a more splendid sinner. To retain all his littlenesses and to array them
-in seductive virtues, is to present us with some such figure as the dusky
-chieftains decked in gaudy tinsel that solicit our admiration in front of
-the tobacconists’ shops. To attempt to give heroic proportions to a man
-whose profession of faith followed subserviently his self-interest until
-no hope remained, and then place in the hands of the burning criminal
-the palm of martyrdom, is to invite the love within us of the beautiful
-and the true to echo to a psychical impossibility, and that without an
-element of greatness.
-
-Yet had the front figure of the history been a noble conception grandly
-executed all this might have been condoned. One might well have looked
-at them as a few rough accessories to heighten by their contrast the
-beauty of the central form. There was place for a splendid creation. No
-more favorable material for a tragic heroine exists than Mary Tudor--with
-the single exception of that other Mary who fell beneath the Puritans
-like a lily before the scythe of the destroyer. Around her history and
-person circle all the elements of the tenderest pathos, which is of the
-very essence of tragedy. That Shakspere did not use them is a proof
-he thought so. For “the fair vestal throned in the west” would have
-resented such a creation as his quickening genius would have called
-to life. A queen of noble nature gradually swept away by a resistless
-current of untoward circumstances, is a history capable of the sublimity
-of a Greek catastrophe, with the added pathos of Christian suffering.
-But who have we here? A silly woman, devoutly pious, and endowed with
-a conspicuous share of the family courage. But she is so weak that
-her piety has the appearance of superstition, and her fits of courage
-lose their royalty and fail to rescue her from contempt. Unattractive
-in person, she falls desperately in love with a man much younger than
-herself, and her woman’s love, ordinarily so quick to detect coldness in
-a lover, is blind to the grossest neglect; and yet not so blind but that
-a few words scrawled on a rag of paper, dropped in her way, could open
-her eyes on the spot. The tenderness of her love and the importunity of
-cruel-minded men, transform her almost suddenly from a gentle-natured
-woman to an unrelenting human tigress. And she, who would not allow the
-law to take its course on her most dangerous enemies, can exclaim of her
-sister Elizabeth,
-
-                “To the Tower with _her_!
-    My foes are at my feet, and I am queen.”
-
-Afterwards of Guilford Dudley, the Duke of Suffolk, and Lady Jane Grey--
-
-    “They shall die.”
-
-And again of her sister--
-
-                            “She shall die.
-    My foes are at my feet, and Philip king.”
-
-This is not the grandness of crime, as in Richard III., or even in Lady
-Macbeth. It is the petty despotism of a weak and silly woman. There is
-no greatness of any kind about it. It is the mere triumphant chuckle
-of an amorous queen, wooing a more than indifferent husband. It is
-little--little enough for a comedy. There is something approaching the
-tragic in the desolation of her last moments. Calais is lost, her husband
-hates her, her people hate her. But the poet has already robbed her of
-the dignity of her position. She has forfeited our esteem. We experience
-an ordinary sympathy with her. But her fate is only what was to be
-expected. And the highest pathos is out of the question. When, following
-the example of her injured mother in the play of _Henry VIII._, she
-betakes herself to lute and song, the author insists on a comparison with
-Shakspere, and beside the full notes of the Bard of Avon the petty treble
-of the Laureate pipe shrinks to mediocrity.
-
-But the most unpardonable of Mr. Tennyson’s imitations of Shakspere are
-those in which he rings the changes on the celebrated passage about “no
-Italian priest shall tithe nor toll in our dominions,” which inevitably
-provokes the applause of those amongst a theatrical audience who do not
-know what it means--unpardonable, because it makes even Shakspere himself
-as ridiculous as a poor travesty cannot fail to do. He was content with
-one such passage throughout his many plays. If Terence had filtered
-the noble sentiment of his celebrated passage, “Ego homo sum, et nihil
-humanum a me alienum,” through a variety of forms, it would have excited
-the laughter instead of the plaudits of the Roman “gods.” But the author
-of _Queen Mary_ is not afraid to pose _his_ sentiment, itself borrowed
-in no less than three different attitudes in one play; committing the
-additional absurdity of thrusting it, like a quid of tobacco, into the
-cheek of two different personages. Gardiner uses it twice, Elizabeth once:
-
-            “Yet I know well [says the former]
-    Your people …
-    Will brook nor Pope nor Spaniard here to play
-    The tyrant, or in commonwealth or church”;
-
-and again, with questionable taste:
-
-    “And see you, we shall have to _dodge_ again,
-    And let the Pope trample our rights, and plunge
-    His _foreign fist_ into our island church,
-    To plump the leaner pouch of Italy”;
-
-whilst Elizabeth is made to vulgarize it beyond hope of redemption into a
-mere petty ebullition of splenetic womanly vanity:
-
-    “Then, Queen indeed! No foreign prince or priest
-    Should fill my throne, myself upon the steps.”
-
-It must be owned, indeed, that this play lacks the highest poetry in
-its expression as much as in its conception. We occasionally come
-across passages of vivid and vigorous limning, as Count Feria’s reply
-to Elizabeth towards the end of the play, and Howard’s description to
-the Lord Mayor of the state of mind of the citizens. But even the force
-of this latter passage is not dramatic. There is none of the rush and
-movement of an excited populace. There are a few striking groups. But
-they are inactive. Theirs is a kind of dead life, if we may be pardoned
-such an expression. Rather, they are mere _tableaux vivants_. They
-inspire us with no fear for Mary’s throne. More near to dramatic power
-and beauty is Elizabeth’s soliloquy at Woodstock, suddenly lowered in the
-midst of its poetry, even to nursery familiarity, by the introduction of
-such a phrase as “catch me who can.”
-
-But for one single effort of the highest poetic flight we look in vain.
-
-Even the few snatches of his lyre which he introduces fail to woo us.
-They are not natural. If they are poetry, it is poetry in a court-dress.
-It is rich with brocade, and the jewels glitter bravely; it treads
-delicately, but its movements are artificial and constrained. Compare,
-for example, the song of the Woodstock milkmaid, wherein labor is visible
-in every line, with those gushes of nature with which the poet’s soul
-would seem to be bubbling over the brim of the visible in the various
-lyrical snatches of Ariel or with the song of Spring at the end of
-_Love’s Labor Lost_.
-
-But what has more surprised us than the lack of the poetic inspiration in
-this drama is the occasional want of correct taste in a writer of such
-exceeding polish as Mr. Tennyson. Such a speech as
-
-    “And God hath blest or cursed me with a nose--
-    Your boots are from the horses,”
-
-should not have been put in the mouth of a lady, still less a lady of the
-rank of Elizabeth, and that the less when she appeals to our sympathies
-from a kind of honorable imprisonment.
-
-Lady Magdalen Dacres may have beat King Philip with a staff for insulting
-her, and have remained a lady, but we do not want to be told, in the
-midst of dramatic pathos,
-
-    “But by God’s providence a good stout staff
-    Lay near me; and you know me strong of arm;
-    I do believe I lamed his Majesty’s.”
-
-Is our poet, again, so barren of invention that he could find no other
-way of portraying Philip’s indifference to his Queen than the following:
-
-                “By S. James, I do protest,
-    Upon the faith and honor of a Spaniard,
-    I am vastly grieved to leave your Majesty.
-    Simon, is supper ready?”
-      “RENARD--Ay, my liege,
-    I saw the covers laying.”
-      “PHILIP--Let’s have it.”
-
-Whatever may be the character he may have wished to depict in Philip, we
-expect a Spanish king to be a gentleman. And such an ending of a scene
-susceptible of the tenderest pathos, where the heroine and another of the
-principal personages of the drama are in presence, argues a wonderful
-dulness of perception of the beautiful.
-
-Worse than all, however, is his treatment of Cardinal Pole.
-
-Shakspere puts a few words of Latin into the mouth of Cardinal Wolsey
-in a scene in _Henry VIII._, in which he and Cardinal Campeggio are
-endeavoring to bend the queen to the king’s will. But it is a wonderful
-touch of nature. It is one of those profound intuitions for which the
-great dramatist is so distinguished. So seemingly simple an incident
-reveals, at a touch, as it were, the preoccupation of Wolsey’s mind, and
-the hollowness at once and difficulty of the duty he had suffered to
-be imposed upon him. They had paid her ostensibly a private visit, as
-friends. But Wolsey, oppressed with the difficulty of his undertaking,
-and meditating how he should set about it, forgets himself, the old habit
-crops up, and he begins as if he were beginning a formal ecclesiastical
-document:
-
-    “Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima.”
-
-It is a slip. The queen stops him. He recollects himself, and we hear no
-more Latin.
-
-But in this drama the poet literally makes a cardinal, and such a
-cardinal as Pole, address Queen Mary with the angelic salutation to the
-Blessed Virgin, and in Latin:
-
-    “Ave Maria, gratia plena, benedicta tu in mulieribus!”
-
-Upon the whole, the defects of this drama are so many and so serious, so
-radical and fundamental, that no competent criticism can pronounce it
-other than a failure; and a failure more complete than would have been
-thought possible to a poet of so great a reputation as Mr. Tennyson.[3]
-
-
-“O VALDE DECORA!”
-
-    Could I but see thee, dear my love!
-      That face--but once! Not dazzling bright--
-    Not as the blest above
-      Behold it in God’s light--
-
-    But as it look’d at La Salette;
-      Or when, in Pyrenean wild,
-    It beam’d on Bernadette,
-      The favor’d peasant child.
-
-    Once seen--a moment--it would blind
-      These eyes to beauty less than thine:
-    And where could poet find
-      Such theme for song as mine?
-
-    But if I ask what may not be,
-      So spell me with thy pictur’d face
-    That haunting looks from thee
-      May hold me like a grace.
-
-
-ARE YOU MY WIFE?
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,”
-ETC.
-
-CHAPTER IX.
-
-And now a new life began for Franceline.
-
-“You must fly from idleness as from sin,” Father Henwick said; “you must
-never let a regret settle on your mind for an instant. It will often be
-hard work to resist them; but we are here to fight. You must shut the
-door in the face of idle thoughts by activity and usefulness. I will
-help you in this. You must set to work amongst the poor; not so as to
-fatigue yourself, or interfere with your duties and occupations at home,
-but enough to keep you busy and interested. At first it will be irksome
-enough, I dare say; but never mind that. By and by the effort will bring
-its own reward, and be a pleasure as well as a duty.”
-
-He sat down and wrote out a time-table for her which filled up every hour
-of the day, and left not one moment for brooding. There were visits to
-the cottages and a class for children in the morning; the afternoon hours
-were to be devoted to helping her father, writing and copying for him,
-sometimes copying MSS. for Father Henwick, with no other purpose than to
-keep her mind and her fingers occupied.
-
-But when the excitement caused by this change in her daily routine
-subsided, something of the first heart-sinking returned. Do what she
-would, thought would not be dumb. The external activity could not
-silence the busy tongues of her brain or deafen her to their ceaseless
-whisperings. It was weary work staggering on under her load, while memory
-tugged at her heart-strings and dragged its longings the other way. It
-was hard not to yield to the temptation now and then of sitting down by
-the wayside to rest and look back towards the Egypt that was for ever
-out of sight. But Franceline very seldom yielded to the treacherous
-allurement. When she caught herself lapsing into dreams, she would rise
-up with a resolute effort, and shake off the torpor, and set to work at
-something. When the torpor changed to a sting of anguish, she would steep
-her soul in prayer--that unfailing opiate of the suffering spirit, its
-chloroform in pain.
-
-One day, about three weeks after Father Henwick’s return, she was coming
-home through the wood after her morning’s round amongst the cottages.
-She was very tired in mind and body. It was dull work dinning the
-multiplication-table into Bessy Bing’s thick skull, and teaching her
-unnimble fingers to turn the heel of a stocking; to listen to the widow’s
-endless lamentations over “the dear departed” and the good old times when
-they killed a pig every year, and always had a bit of bacon on the rack.
-Franceline came to the old spot where she used to sit and listen to the
-concert of the grove. The songsters were nearly all silent now, for the
-green was turning gold; but the felled tree was lying in the same place,
-and tempted her to rest a moment and watch the sun shooting his golden
-shafts through the wilderness of stems all round. Another moment, and she
-was in dreamland; but the spell had scarcely fallen on her when it was
-broken by the sound of footfalls crushing the yellow leaves that made
-a carpet on every path. She started to her feet, and walked on. A few
-steps brought her face to face with Father Henwick. He greeted her with a
-joyous exclamation.
-
-“Here comes my little missionary! What has she been doing to-day?”
-
-“She has achieved a great conquest; she has arrived at making Bessy Bing
-apprehend the problem that seven times nine and nine times seven produce
-one and the same total,” replied Franceline with mock gravity.
-
-Father Henwick laughed; but the tired expression of her face did not
-escape him.
-
-“I am afraid you will be growing too conceited if this sort of thing goes
-on,” he said. “But you must not overdo it, my dear child; it won’t do to
-wear yourself out in gaining arithmetical triumphs.”
-
-“Better wear out than rust out.” And Franceline shrugged her shoulders;
-she had learned the expressive French trick from her father.
-
-The priest bent his clear eyes on her for a second without speaking. She
-read, disappointment, and perhaps mild reproach, in them.
-
-“I am sorry I said that, father; I did not mean to complain.”
-
-“Why are you sorry?”
-
-“Because it was cowardly and ungrateful.”
-
-“To whom?”
-
-“To you, who are so kind and so patient with me!”
-
-“And who bids me be kind? Who teaches me to be patient with you?--poor
-little bruised lamb!”
-
-“I know it, father; I feel it in the bottom of my heart; but one can’t
-always be remembering.” There was the slightest touch of impatience in
-her tone.
-
-“How if God were some day to grow tired of remembering us, and bearing
-with us, and forgiving us?”
-
-“I know. But I am not rebelling; only sickening and suffering. You
-have told me there was no sin in that?” The words came tremulous, as
-if through rising tears; but Franceline raised her head with a defiant
-movement, and forced the briny drops down. “I cannot help it!” she
-continued impetuously; “I have tried my best, and I cannot help it!”
-
-Father Henwick heaved an almost inaudible sigh before he said: “What
-cannot you help, Franceline? Suffering?”
-
-“No! I don’t care about that! Remembering I cannot forget.”
-
-“My poor child! would to God I could help you! I would suffer willingly
-in your place!” The words came like a gush from his inmost heart. They
-broke down the sufferer’s proud resistance and let the tears have vent.
-He turned to walk back with her. For some time neither spoke; only the
-soft sobs that came unchecked from Franceline broke the temple-like
-stillness of the wood. Suddenly she cried out in a tone of passionate
-desperation: “O father! it is dreadful. It will kill me if it lasts
-much longer! The humiliation is more than I can bear! To feel that I am
-harboring a feeling that my whole soul rebels against, that is revolting
-in the eyes of God and of my conscience! And I cannot master it!”
-
-“You will never master it by pride, Franceline; that very pride is your
-greatest hindrance in setting your heart free. Try and think more of God
-and less of yourself. There is no sin, as you say, in the suffering, any
-more than, if you strayed to the edge of a precipice in the dark, and
-fell over and were killed, you would be guilty of suicide. The sinfulness
-now is in your rebellion against the suffering simply because it wounds
-your pride.”
-
-“It is not all pride, father,” she said meekly. Presently she turned and
-looked up at him through wet lashes. “Father, I must tell you something,”
-she said, speaking with a sort of timidity that was unusual with her
-towards him--“a thought that came to me this morning that never came to
-me before.…”
-
-“What was it?”
-
-“If his wife should die … he would be free?”
-
-A dark shadow fell now on Father Henwick’s large, smooth brow. Franceline
-read his answer in the frown and the averted gaze; but he spoke soon,
-though he did not look at her.
-
-“That was a sinful thought! You should have cast it behind you with
-contempt. Has it come to that with you, that you could look forward to
-the death of any one as a thing to be longed for?”
-
-“I did not long for it. The thought came to me.”
-
-“You should have hunted it out of your mind like an evil spirit, as it
-was. You must never let it near you again. _He_ should be to you as if
-he were already dead. Whether his wife dies or not should not, and does
-not, concern you. Besides, how do you know whether she is not as young as
-yourself, and stronger? My child, such a thought as that would lead you
-to the brink of an abyss, if you listened to it.”
-
-“I never will again, father,” she answered promptly. “I hardly know now
-whether I listened to it or not; only I could not help telling you.”
-
-“You were right to tell me; and now banish it, and never let it approach
-you again.”
-
-After a pause he resumed:
-
-“You are sure that silence is best with M. de la Bourbonais?”
-
-“Oh! yes. How can you ask me, father?” And Franceline looked up in
-surprise.
-
-“Yet it cannot remain a secret from him for ever; he is almost certain to
-hear of it sooner or later, and it might save him a severe shock if he
-heard it from you. It would set his mind at rest about you?”
-
-“It is quite at rest at present on that score. He has no idea that the
-discovery would be likely to affect me.”
-
-“You are better able to judge of that, of course, than I am. But it
-grieves me to see you have a secret from your father; I wish it could be
-avoided.”
-
-“But it cannot; indeed it cannot!” she repeated emphatically. “You may
-trust me to speak, if I thought it could be done without injury to both
-of us. It is much better to wait; perhaps by the time it comes to his
-ears I may be able to hear him speak of it without betraying myself and
-paining him.”
-
-Father Henwick acquiesced, but reluctantly. He hoped she was right in
-supposing M. de la Bourbonais quite blind to what had been so palpable
-to a casual observer. But, making even the fullest allowance for the
-absent-minded habits of the studious man, this seemed scarcely probable.
-Franceline had affirmed it herself more confidently, perhaps, than
-was warranted. She had, however, succeeded in lulling her father into
-forgetfulness of his former conjectures and impressions; she was
-certain of this. It had been done at a terrible price of endurance and
-self-control; but she had succeeded, and it would be doubly cruel now to
-revive his suspicions and let him know the truth.
-
-“I will trust you,” said Father Henwick; “it is indeed a mercy that he is
-not called upon to bear such a trial while he is yet so unprepared.”
-
-There was an earnestness about him as he said this that would have caused
-Franceline a deeper emotion than curiosity if her mind were not fixed
-wide of the mark. She replied after a moment’s reflection: “If anything
-should occur to make it necessary to tell him, will you break it to him,
-father?”
-
-“I will,” said the priest simply.
-
-Franceline had not the least fear of Father Henwick. The severity of his
-passionless brow did not frighten her; it never checked the outflow of
-the thoughts and emotions that came surging up from her own perturbed
-heart. He seemed too far removed from strife himself to be affected by
-it, except as a pitying angel might, looking down from his calm heaven
-on poor mortals struggling and striving in the smoke and din of their
-earthly battle-field.
-
-“Father,” said Franceline suddenly, “I wish I cared more for the poor!
-I wish I could love them and pity them as you do; but I don’t. I’m so
-shy of going amongst them. I’m sure I don’t do them any good, and they
-don’t do me any good, they’re so prosy and egotistical--most of them, at
-least.”
-
-He turned an amused, indulgent smile on her.
-
-“There was a time when I thought so too; but persevere, and the love
-will come after a little while. All that is worth having is bought with
-sacrifice. Oh! if we could only understand the blessedness of sacrifice!
-Then we should find the peace passing all understanding that comes of
-passion overcome, of sorrow generously accepted!”
-
-He held out his hand to say good-by. Franceline laid hers in it; but
-did not remove it at once. “Father,” she said, with her eyes lifted in
-childlike fearlessness to his, “one would think, to hear you speak of
-passion overcome and sorrow accepted, that you knew something about them!
-I sometimes wish you did. It would make it easier to me to believe in the
-possibility of overcoming and accepting.”
-
-A change came over Father Henwick’s face for one moment; it was not a
-cloud nor a tremor, but the shadow of some deep emotion that must pass
-away before he could answer. Then the words came with grave simplicity,
-and low, as if they were a prayer:
-
-“Believe, then, my child, and take courage; I have gone through it all!”
-
-He turned and walked back into the wood. Franceline stood looking after
-him through gathering tear-drops. Never had he seemed so far above her,
-so removed from human weakness, as at this moment, when he so humbly
-acknowledged kindred with it.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-A pleasant surprise met Franceline on her return home. Sir Simon was at
-The Lilies, and loudly expressing his indignation at not finding her
-there to greet him. She arrived, however, before he had quite divested
-himself of a cargo of small boxes which he had carried down himself in
-order to have the delight of witnessing her curiosity and pleasure in
-their contents. There was hardly any event which could have given her so
-much pleasure in her present frame of mind as the sight of her kind old
-friend; and she satisfied him to the full by her affectionate welcome
-and her delight in all his presents. He had not forgotten her favorite
-_friandise_--chocolate bonbons--and she set to nibbling them at once,
-in spite of Angélique’s protest against such a proceeding close on
-dinner-time.
-
-“Va, petite gourmande!” exclaimed the _bonne_, tramping off to her
-kitchen, in high glee to see Franceline’s gayety and innocent greediness
-over the dainty.
-
-Sir Simon was, if possible, in brighter spirits than ever; like Job’s
-friends, he was “full of discourse,” so that there was nothing to do
-but listen and laugh as the current rippled on. He had a deal to tell
-about his rambles in the Pyrenees, and a whole budget of adventures to
-retail, and anecdotes about odd people he had come across in all sorts
-of out-of-the-way places. Nothing checked the pleasant flow until M. de
-la Bourbonais had the unlucky inspiration to inquire for Lady Rebecca’s
-health; whereupon the baronet raised his right hand and let it fall
-again with an emphatic gesture, shook his head, and compressed his
-lips in ominous silence. Raymond, who held the key of the pantomime,
-gathered therefrom that Lady Rebecca had for the six-and-thirtieth
-time rallied from the jaws of death, and plunged her long-suffering
-heir once more into dejection and disappointment. He knew what was
-in store for his private ear, and heaved a sigh. “But the present
-hour shall be a respite,” Sir Simon seemed to say; and he quitted the
-subject abruptly, and proceeded to catechise Franceline on her behavior
-since his departure. He was surprised and annoyed to find that she had
-been to no parties; that nothing more exciting than that short visit
-to Rydal had come of his deep-laid scheme with the dowager; and that
-there had been no rivalry of gallant suitors attacking the citadel of
-The Lilies. He had been rather nervous before meeting her; for, though
-it had been made quite clear to him by Raymond’s letters that _he_ had
-received no crushing blow of any description, Sir Simon had a lurking
-fear that recent events might have left a deeper shadow on his daughter’s
-existence than he was conscious of. Her aspect, however, set him at
-ease on this score. He could hardly have lighted on a more favorable
-moment for the confirmation of his sanguine hopes regarding Franceline’s
-heart-wholeness. True, she had been crying, only half an hour ago,
-bitter, burning tears enough; but her face retained no trace of them, and
-it still held the glow of inward triumph that Father Henwick’s last words
-had called up into her eyes, and her cheeks had got a faint color from
-the rapid walking. Sir Simon breathed freely as he took note of these
-outward signs; he could indulge in a little chaffing without remorse or
-_arrière-pensée_. He wanted to know, merely as a matter of curiosity, how
-many hearts she had broken in his absence--how many unfortunates had been
-mortally struck as they passed within reach of her arrows on the wayside.
-Franceline protested that she carried no quiver, and had not inflicted a
-scratch on any one. Humph! Sir Simon invited her to convey that answer to
-the marines.
-
-“And how about Ponsonby Anwyll? Has he been here lately?”
-
-“No; he called twice, but papa and I were out.”
-
-“Poor devil! so much the better for him! But he won’t have the sense to
-keep out of harm’s way; he’ll be at it again before long.”
-
-Franceline gave one of her merry laughs--she was in a mood to enjoy the
-absurdity of the joke--and went to take off her things; for Angélique put
-in her head to say that dinner was ready.
-
-Things fell quickly into their old course at the Court. There was a
-procession of morning callers every day, and pleasant friendly dinners,
-and a few men down in relays to shoot. Sir Simon insisted on M. de la
-Bourbonais coming to join them frequently, and bringing Franceline;
-he had established a precedent, and he was not going to let it drop.
-Franceline, on the whole, was glad of the excitement; she was determined
-to use everything that could help her good resolutions; and the necessity
-for seeming to enjoy soon led to her doing so in reality. After the
-stillness of her little home-life, filled as it was with restless voices
-audible to no ear but hers, the gay stir of the Court was welcome. It
-was a pleasurable sensation, too, to feel herself the object of admiring
-attentions from a number of agreeable gentlemen, to be deferred to and
-made much of, as if she were a little queen amongst them all. Sir Simon
-was more indulgent than ever, and spoiled her to his heart’s content.
-Father Henwick, who was kept _au courant_ of what was going on, could
-not find it in his heart to oppose what seemed to be an innocent
-diversion of her thoughts.
-
-It was, therefore, anything but a welcome break when Lady Anwyll came
-down one morning, accompanied by Sir Simon, to announce her intention
-of carrying off her friend the next day to Rydal. Franceline fought off
-while she could, but Sir Simon pooh-poohed her excuses about not liking
-to leave her father, and so forth; _he_ was there now to look after him,
-and she must go. So she went. Rydal had a dreadful association in her
-mind, and she shrank from going there as from revisiting the scene of
-some horrible tragedy. She shrank, too, from leaving her father. Of late
-they had been more bound up in their daily life than ever; she had coaxed
-him into accepting her services as an amanuensis, and he had quickly
-grown so used to them that he was sure to miss her greatly at his work.
-
-There was nothing, moreover, in the inmates of Rydal to compensate her
-for the sacrifice; they were not the least interesting. It was always
-the same good-natured petting from Lady Anwyll, as if she were a kitten
-or a baby. She knew exactly what the conversation would be--gossip
-about local trifles, about the family, especially Ponce, his boots, his
-eccentricities, his pet dishes, his pranks in the regiment; the old tune
-played over and over again on the same string. As to Ponce himself,
-Franceline knew the big hussar already by heart; he would do his best to
-be entertaining, and would only be awkward and commonplace. Nothing at
-Rydal, in fact, rose above the dead-level of Dullerton.
-
-The dowager had some few young people in for a carpet-dance, in which
-Franceline had to take her part, and did without any repugnance. Dancing
-brought back certain memories that pierced her like steel blades; but
-her heart was proof against the thrusts, and she defied them to wound
-her. Lord Roxham was invited, and showed himself cordial and friendly,
-but nothing more. He said he had been called away to London soon after
-they last met, or else he would have profited by M. de la Bourbonais’
-permission to call at The Lilies; he hoped that the authorization might
-still hold good.
-
-“Oh! yes; do come. I shall be so glad to see you,” was the frank and
-unaffected reply.
-
-Lady Anwyll had meantime felt rather aggrieved at Lord Roxham’s behavior.
-Her little scheme had gone off so swimmingly at first she could not
-understand why it had suddenly collapsed in its prosperous course,
-and come to a dead halt. At any rate, she would give him one more
-chance. The young legislator seemed in no violent hurry to improve it.
-He danced a couple of times with Franceline, and once with two other
-young girls, and then subsided to dummy whist with the rector of Rydal
-and his wife, leaving Franceline to the combined fascinations of Mr.
-Charlton and Ponce, who usurped her between them. The latter bestowed
-such an unequal share of a host’s courtesy on the young French girl,
-indeed, that his mother felt it incumbent on her to explain to the other
-young ladies that Mlle. de la Bourbonais was a foreigner; therefore
-Ponce, being so good-natured, paid her particular attention. And he
-certainly did--not only on that occasion, but while she remained. He
-was continually hovering about her like a huge overshadowing bird
-whose wings were always in the way of its movements. He tripped over
-footstools in attempting to place them under her feet; but then he
-was always so thankful that it was himself, not her, he nearly upset!
-He spilt several cups of tea in handing them to her, and was nearly
-overcome with gratitude when he saw the carpet had got the contents,
-and that her pretty muslin frock was safe! He _would_ hold an umbrella
-open over her because it looked so uncommonly like rain; and it was
-such a mercy to have only spoiled her bonnet and made a hole in her
-veil, when he might so easily have run the point into her eye. Ponce,
-like many wiser men, had endless satisfaction in the contemplation of
-the blunders he might have committed and did not. Yet, with all his
-boyish awkwardness, Franceline was growing very fond of him. He was so
-thoroughly kind-hearted, and so free from the taint of conceit; and then
-there was an undeniable enjoyment in the sense of being cared for, and
-thought of, and watched over; and it was all done in a naïve, boyish
-way, and with a brotherly absence of compliment or constraint that left
-her free to accept it without any sense of undue obligation, or the fear
-of being called upon to repay it except by being pleased and grateful.
-When he followed her into the conservatory with a shawl and wrapped it
-round her unceremoniously, she looked up at his fresh, honest face, and
-said, almost as if he had been a woman: “I wish I had you for a brother,
-Captain Anwyll!” He got very red, and was fumbling somewhere in his mind
-for an answer, when his mother called to him for the watering-pot; Ponce
-seized it, and, dashing out a sudden shower-bath upon the dowager’s
-dress, narrowly escaped drenching Franceline’s. But it did escape. What a
-lucky dog he was!
-
-How pleasant it was riding home in the fresh afternoon! Lady Anwyll came
-in the carriage, while Franceline and Capt. Anwyll cantered on before.
-Nothing was likely to have happened at The Lilies during her absence;
-but as they drew near she grew impatient and rode at a pace, as if she
-expected wonderful tidings at the ride’s end. The air was so clear that
-Dullerton, yet a mile off, sent its hum of life towards the riders with
-sharp distinctness. The panting of the train, as it moved out of the
-station, sounded close by; every street cry and tinkling cart-bell rang
-out like a chime. Soon the soft cooing of the doves came wafted above the
-distant voice of the town; and when the travellers came within sight of
-The Lilies, the flock flew to greet Franceline, wheeling round high up in
-the air several times before alighting on her shoulders and outstretched
-wrist. Then came her father’s delighted exclamation, as he hurried down
-the little garden-walk, and Angélique’s affectionate embrace. And once
-more the small, still home-life, that was so sweet and so rich in a
-restored joy, recommenced. Franceline devoted hours every day now to
-working with her father, and soon she became almost as much absorbed in
-the work as he was. Sometimes, indeed, she hindered rather than helped,
-stopping him in the midst of his dictation to demand an explanation; but
-Raymond never chided her or grudged the delay. Her fresh young eyesight
-and diligent, nimble hand were invaluable to him, and he wondered how he
-had got on so long without them.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Lord Roxham redeemed his promise of calling at The Lilies. He talked
-a good deal to Raymond about politics and current events, saying very
-little to Franceline, who sat by, stitching away at some bit of plain
-sewing. This was just what she liked. Her father was entertained and
-interested. A breeze from the outer world always refreshed him, though
-he was hardly conscious of it, still less of needing any such reviving
-incident in his quiet, monotonous existence; but Franceline always hailed
-it with thankfulness for him, and was well content to remain in the shade
-now while the visitor devoted himself to amusing her father. Was it
-fancy, or did she, on glancing up suddenly from her needle-work, detect
-an expression, half compassionate, half searching, in Lord Roxham’s face,
-as he looked fixedly at her? Whether it was fancy or not, her eyes fell
-at once, and the blood mantled her cheek; she did not venture to let her
-gaze light on him again, and it was with a sense of shyness that she
-shook hands with him at parting.
-
-Ponsonby Anwyll was now a frequent visitor at The Lilies, sometimes
-coming alone, sometimes with Sir Simon; and it was a curious coincidence,
-if quite accidental, that he generally made his appearance as Franceline
-was on the point of starting for her ride; and as he was always on
-horseback, there was no conceivable reason why he should not join the
-party. The burly hussar was a safer companion in the saddle than in the
-drawing-room; he rode with the masterly ease of a cavalryman, and, the
-road being free from the disturbing influence of tea-trays and chairs,
-he spilt nothing and upset nobody, and Franceline was always glad of
-his company. She was too inexperienced and too much absorbed in other
-thoughts to forecast any possible results from this state of things.
-Ponsonby continued the same familiar, kind, brother-like manner to her;
-was mightily concerned in keeping her out of the bad bits of road, and
-out of the way of the cattle that might be tramping to market and prove
-offensive to her mettlesome pony. He never aimed at making himself
-agreeable, only useful. But the eyes of Dullerton looked on at all this
-brotherly attention, and drew its own conclusion. The Langrove young
-ladies, of whom somehow she had of late seen less than ever, grew excited
-to the highest pitch about it, and were already discussing how many of
-them would be bridemaids at the wedding, if bridemaids there were. Most
-likely Sir Simon would settle that and probably give the dresses. Even
-discreet Miss Merrywig could not forbear shaking her finger and her
-barrel curls at Franceline one day when the latter hurried off to get
-ready for her ride, with the excuse that Sir Simon and Capt. Anwyll were
-due at three o’clock. But Franceline knew by this time what Dullerton
-was, and what it could achieve in the way of gossip; spinning a yarn a
-mile long out of a thread the length of your finger. She only laughed,
-and mentally remarked how little people knew. They would be marrying her
-to Sir Simon next, when Ponsonby rejoined his regiment and was seen no
-more at her saddle-bow.
-
-The three had set out for a ride one afternoon, when, as they were
-dashing along at full tilt, Sir Simon pulled up with a strong formula of
-exclamation.
-
-“What’s the matter?” cried Sir Ponsonby, plunging back heavily, while
-Franceline reined in Rosebud, and turned in some alarm to see what had
-occurred.
-
-“If I have not actually forgotten all about Simpson, who comes down from
-London by appointment this afternoon! I dare say he’s waiting for me by
-this, and he must return by the 5:20. I must leave you, and post home as
-quick as Nero will carry me.” And with a “by-by” to Franceline and a nod
-to Capt. Anwyll, coupled with an injunction not to let her ride too fast
-and to keep her out of mischief, the baronet turned his horse’s head and
-galloped away, desiring the groom to follow on with the others.
-
-They went on at a good pace until they reached the foot of a gentle
-ascent, when both of one accord fell into a walk. For the first time in
-their intercourse Franceline was conscious of a certain vague awkwardness
-with Capt. Anwyll; of casting about for something to say, and not finding
-anything. The place was perfectly solitary, the woods on one side,
-the fields sloping down to the river on the other. The groom lagged
-respectfully a long way behind, quite out of ear-shot, often out of
-sight; for the road curved and wheeled abruptly every now and then, and
-hid the foremost riders from his view. Ponsonby broke the silence:
-
-“Miss Franceline”--he would call her Miss Franceline, because it was
-easier and shorter--“I have something on my mind that I want badly to say
-to you. I’ve been wanting to say it for some time. I hope it won’t make
-you angry?”
-
-“I can’t say till I hear it; but if you are in doubt about it, perhaps
-it would be safer not to say it,” remarked Franceline, beginning to
-tremble ominously.
-
-“I wouldn’t vex you for anything in the world! ’Pon my honor I wouldn’t!”
-protested Ponce warmly. “But, you see, I don’t know whether what I’m
-going to say will vex you or not.”
-
-“Then don’t say it; you are sure not to vex me then,” was the encouraging
-advice, and she devoutly hoped he would take it. But he was not so minded.
-
-“That’s true,” he assented; “but then, you see, it might please you. I’m
-half afraid it won’t, though, only I can’t be sure till I try.” After
-musing a moment, in obvious perplexity, he resumed, speaking rapidly, as
-if he had made up his mind to bolt it all out and take the consequences.
-“I’m not a puppy--my worst enemy won’t accuse me of that; but I’m not a
-bad fellow either, as my mother and all the fellows in the Tenth will
-tell you; and the fact is, I’ve grown very fond of you, Miss Franceline,
-and if you’ll take me as I am I’ll do my best to be a good husband to you
-and to make you happy.”
-
-He said it quickly, as if he were reciting a lesson got by heart, and
-then came to a dead halt and “paused for a reply.” He might have paused
-long enough, if he had not at last turned round and read his fate in
-Franceline’s scared, white face and undisguised agitation.
-
-“Oh! now, don’t say no before you think it over!” entreated the young
-man. “I know you’re ten times too good for me; but, for that matter,
-you’re too good for the best fellow that ever lived. I said so myself
-to Sir Simon only this morning. But I do love you with all my heart,
-Franceline; and if only you could care for me ever so little to begin
-with, I’d be satisfied, and you’d make me the happiest man alive!”
-
-Franceline had now recovered her self-possession, and was able to speak,
-though she still trembled.
-
-“I am so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I never dreamed of this; indeed I did
-not! I dare say I have been very selfish, very thoughtless; but it was
-not wilful. I am very unhappy to have given you pain!”
-
-“Oh! don’t say that. You’ll make me miserable if you say that!” pleaded
-Ponsonby. “Of course you never thought of it. It’s great impudence of me
-to think of it, I have so little to offer you! But if you don’t quite
-hate the sight of me, I’m sure I could make you a devoted husband, and
-love you better than many a cleverer fellow. I’ve been fond of you from
-the first, and so has my mother.”
-
-“You are both very good to me; I am very, very grateful!” The tears
-rose to her eyes, and with a frank, impulsive movement she held out her
-hand to him. Ponsonby bent from the saddle and raised it to his lips,
-although it was gloved. If he had not been over-sanguine at heart and a
-trifle stupid, poor fellow, he would have felt that it was all over with
-him. The little hand lay with cold, sisterly kindness in his grasp, and
-Franceline looked at him with eyes that were too kind and pitying to
-promise anything more than sisterly pity and gratitude.
-
-“I cannot, I cannot. You must never think of it any more. Do you not see
-that it is impossible? I am a Catholic!”
-
-“Pshaw! as if that mattered a whit! I mean as if it need make any
-difference between us! I don’t mind it a pin--’pon my honor I don’t!
-I said so to the count. We’ve settled all that, in fact, and if he’s
-satisfied to trust me why will not you?”
-
-“Then you have spoken to my father?”
-
-“Oh! yes; that was the right thing, Sir Simon told me, as he was a
-Frenchman.”
-
-“And what did he say to you?”
-
-“He said that if you said yes, he was quite willing to give you to me. I
-wanted to come to settlements at once--I only wish I was ten times better
-off!--but he would not hear a word about that until I had consulted you.
-Only, he said he would be glad to receive me as his son; he did indeed,
-Franceline!” She was looking straight before her, her eyes dilated, her
-whole face aglow with some strong emotion that his words seemed to have
-stirred in her.
-
-“You remember,” continued Ponsonby, “that you said to me once you
-would like to have me for a brother? Well, it will be nearly the same
-thing. You would get used to me as a husband after a while; you would,
-Franceline!”
-
-“Never, never, never!” she repeated, not passionately, but with a calm
-emphasis that made Ponsonby’s heart die within him. He could not find a
-word to oppose to the strong, quiet protest.
-
-“No, it is all a mistake,” said Franceline. “I don’t know who is to
-blame--I suppose I am. I should not have let you come so often; but you
-were so kind, and I have so few people to care for me; and when one is
-sad at heart, kindness is so welcome! But I should have thought of you; I
-have been selfish!”
-
-“No, no, you have not been selfish at all; it’s all my doing and my
-fault,” affirmed the young man. “I wish I had held my tongue a little
-longer. My mother will come and see you to-morrow; she will explain it
-all, and how it sha’n’t make any trouble to you, my being a Protestant.”
-
-“She must not come,” said Franceline with decision; “there is nothing
-to explain. I am sincerely grateful to her and to you; but I have only
-gratitude to give you. I hope with all my heart that you may soon forget
-me and any pain I am causing you, and that you may meet with a wife who
-will make you happier than I could have done.”
-
-Ponsonby was silent for a few moments, and then he said, speaking with a
-certain hesitation and diffidence:
-
-“I could be satisfied to wait and to go on hoping, if I were sure of one
-thing:… that you did not care for anybody else. Do you?”
-
-She flashed a glance of indignant pride at him.
-
-“What right have you to put such a question to me? I tell you I do not
-care for you, and that I will never marry you! You have no right to ask
-me any more.”
-
-Ponsonby recoiled as if a flash of lightning had forked out of the cold,
-gray sky. “Good heavens! I did not mean to offend you. I declare solemnly
-I did not!”
-
-But he had touched a vibrating chord unawares, and set every fibre in her
-heart thrilling and every pulse throbbing; and the disturbance was not to
-be laid by any words that he could utter. Franceline turned homewards,
-and they did not exchange a word until they reached The Lilies and
-Ponsonby was assisting her to alight.
-
-“Say you forgive me!” he said, speaking very low and penitently.
-
-She had already forgiven him but not herself.
-
-“I do, and I am sorry for being so impetuous. Good-by!”
-
-“And my mother may come and see you to-morrow?”
-
-“No, no! It is no use; it is no use! I say again I wish you were my
-brother, Sir Ponsonby, but, as you care to remain my friend, never speak
-to me again of this.”
-
-He pressed the hand she held out to him; the groom backed up to take the
-reins of her horse, and Ponsonby rode away with a thorn in his honest
-heart.
-
-Miss Merrywig was within, chatting and laughing away with the count.
-Franceline was not in a mood to meet the garrulous old lady or anybody;
-so she went straight to her room, and only came down when the visitor was
-gone.
-
-“Father,” she said, going up behind him and laying a hand on each
-shoulder, “what is this Sir Ponsonby tells me? That you are tired of your
-_clair-de-lune_, and want to get rid of her?”
-
-M. de la Bourbonais drew down the two trembling hands, and clasped them
-on his breast, and lifted his head as if he would look at her.
-
-“It would not be losing her, but gaining a son, who would take care of
-her when I am gone! She has not thought of that!”
-
-“No; and she does not wish to think of it! I will live with you while I
-live. I don’t care to look beyond that; nor must you, petit père. But I
-am very sorry for Sir Ponsonby. You must write and tell him so, and that
-he must not come any more--until he has forgotten me; that you cannot
-give me up.”
-
-“My cherished one! Let us talk about this matter; it is very serious. We
-must not do anything rashly.” He tried to unclasp her hands and draw her
-to his side; but she locked them tighter, and laid her cheek on his head.
-
-“Petit père, there is nothing to talk about; I will never marry him or
-anybody!”
-
-“My child, thou speakest without reflection. Captain Anwyll is a good,
-honorable man, and he loves thee, and it would be a great comfort to me
-to see thee married to him, and not to leave thee friendless and almost
-penniless whenever God calls me away. I understand it has taken thee by
-surprise, and that thou canst not accept the idea without some delay and
-getting used to it; but we must not decide so important a matter hastily.
-Come, sit down, and let us discuss it.”
-
-“No, father,” she answered in a tone of determination that was quite
-foreign to her now, and reminded him of the wilful child of long ago;
-“there is no use in discussing what is already decided. I will never
-marry Ponsonby--or anybody. Why, petit père, do you forget that he is a
-Protestant?”
-
-“Nay, I have forgotten nothing; that has been all arranged. He is most
-liberal about it; consents to leave you to … to have everything your own
-way in that respect, and assures me that it shall make no difference
-whatever to you, his not being of your religion.”
-
-“No difference, father! No difference to a wife that her husband should
-be a heretic! You cannot be in earnest. What blessing could there be on
-such a marriage?”
-
-“But you would soon convert him, my little one; you would make a good
-Catholic of him before the year was out,” said M. de la Bourbonais.
-“Think of that!”
-
-“And suppose it were the other way, and that he made a good Protestant
-of me? It is no more than I should deserve for my presumption. You know
-what happens to those who seek the danger.…”
-
-“Oh! that is a different thing; that warning applies to those who seek
-it rashly, from vain or selfish motives,” protested Raymond, moving his
-spectacles, as he always did instinctively when his argument was weak;
-and he knew right well that now it was slipping into sophistry.
-
-“I cannot see anything but a selfish motive in marrying against the
-express prohibition of the church and without any affection for the
-person, but simply because he could give you a position and the good
-things of this life,” said Franceline.
-
-“The prohibition is conditional,” persisted Raymond, “and those
-conditions would be scrupulously fulfilled; and as to there not being the
-necessary affection, there is enough on his side for both, and his love
-would soon beget thine.”
-
-“Father, it is no use. I am grieved to contradict you; but I cannot,
-cannot do this to please you. You must write and say so to Capt. Anwyll;
-you must indeed.”
-
-Raymond heaved a sigh. He felt as powerless as an infant before this new
-wilfulness of his _clair-de-lune_; it was foolish as well as imprudent to
-yield, but he did not know how to deal with it. There was honest truth
-on her side; no subterfuges could baffle the instinctive logic of her
-childlike faith.
-
-“We will let things remain as they are for a few days, and then, if thou
-dost still insist, I will write and refuse the offer,” he said, seeking a
-last chance in temporizing.
-
-“No, petit père; if you love me, write at once. It is only fair to Sir
-Ponsonby, and it will set my mind at rest. Here, let me find you a pen!”
-She chose one out of a number of inky goose-quills on the little Japan
-tray, and thrust it playfully between his fingers.
-
-The letter was written, and Angélique was forthwith despatched with it to
-the pillar at the park gate.
-
-During the remainder of the afternoon Franceline worked away diligently
-at the Causes of the French Revolution, and spent the evening reading
-aloud. But M. de la Bourbonais could not so lightly dismiss the day’s
-incident from his thoughts. He had experienced a moment of pure joy and
-unutterable thankfulness when Ponsonby had come in and stammered out
-his honest confession of love, and pleaded so humbly with the father to
-“take his part with Miss Franceline.” The pleasure was all the greater
-for being a complete surprise. Sir Simon had cautiously resolved to
-have no hand in negotiating between the parties; he had let things take
-their course from the first, determined not to interfere, but clearly
-foreseeing the issue. Raymond was bewildered by Franceline’s rejection
-of the proposed marriage. He did not try much to explain it to himself;
-it was a puzzle that did not come within the rule and compass of his
-philosophy--a young girl refusing to be married when an eligible husband
-presented himself for her father’s acceptance. He heaved many a deep sigh
-over it, as his anxious gaze rested on the golden-haired young head bent
-over the desk. But he did not ask any questions.
-
-Sir Simon came down next morning in high displeasure. He was angry,
-disappointed, aggrieved. Here he had been at considerable pains of
-ingenuity and forethought to provide a model husband for Franceline,
-a young fellow whom any girl ought to jump at--high-principled,
-unencumbered rent-roll, good-looking, good-tempered--and the little
-minx turns up her nose at him, and sends him to the right-about! Such
-perverseness and folly were not to be tolerated. What did she mean by it?
-What did she see amiss in Anwyll? Sir Simon was for having her up for a
-round lecture. But Raymond would not allow this. He might groan in his
-inmost heart over Franceline’s refusal, but he was not going to let her
-be bullied by anybody; not even by Sir Simon. He stood up for his child,
-and defended her as if he had fully approved of her conduct.
-
-“I’ll tell you what it is, Bourbonais, you’re just as great a fool as
-she is; only she is a child, and knows nothing of life, and can’t see
-the madness of what she is doing. But you ought to know better. I have
-no patience with you. When one thinks of what this marriage would do for
-both of you--lifting you out of penury, restoring your daughter to her
-proper position in the world, and securing her future, so that, if you
-were called away to-morrow, you need have no care or anxiety about her!
-And to think of your backing her up in rejecting it all!”
-
-“I did not back her up in it. I deplore her having done so,” replied
-Raymond. “But I will not coerce her; her happiness is dearer to me than
-her interest or my own.”
-
-“What tomfoolery! As if her interest and her happiness were not identical
-in this case! A man who is fond of her, and rich enough to give her
-everything in life a girl could wish for! What does she want besides?”
-demanded Sir Simon angrily.
-
-“I believe she wants nothing, except to be left with her old father. She
-does not care for Capt. Anwyll,” said Raymond; but his French mind felt
-this was very weak argument.
-
-“The devil she doesn’t! Who does she care for?” retorted the baronet.
-But he had no sooner uttered the words than he regretted them; they
-seemed to recoil on him like a stone flung too near. He seized his hat,
-and, muttering impatiently something about the nonsense of giving into
-childish fancies, etc., strode out of the cottage, and did not show
-himself there for several days.
-
-He was pursued by that question of his own, “Who did Franceline care
-for?” and made uncomfortable by the persistency with which it kept
-dinning in his ears. He had made up his mind long ago that the failure
-of his first matrimonial plot had had no serious effect on her heart or
-spirits. She was looking very delicate when he came back, but that was
-the dulness of the life she had been leading during his absence. She
-had picked up considerably since then. It was plain to everybody she
-had; her spirits were better. There was certainly nothing wrong in that
-direction. How could there be when he, Sir Simon, so thoroughly desired
-the contrary, and did so much to cheer up the child--and himself into
-the bargain--and make her forget any impression that unlucky Clide might
-have made? Still, no matter how emphatically he answered it, the tiresome
-question kept sounding in his ears day after day. He could stand it no
-longer. He must go and see them at The Lilies--see Franceline, and read
-on her innocent young face that all was peace within, and cheer up his
-own depressed spirits by a talk with Raymond. Nobody listened to him and
-sympathized with him as Raymond did. He had no worries of his own to
-distract him, for one thing; and if he had, he was such a philosophical
-being he would carry them to the moon and leave them there. Sir Simon was
-blessed with no such happy faculty. He could forget his troubles for a
-while under the stimulating balm of cheerful society and generous wine;
-but as soon as he was alone they were down on him like an army of ants,
-stinging and goading him. Things were very gloomy just now, and he could
-less than ever dispense with the opiate of sympathetic companionship.
-Lady Rebecca had taken a fresh start, and was less likely to depart than
-she had been for the last ten years. The duns, who watched her ladyship’s
-fluctuations between life and death with almost as sincere and breathless
-an interest as her heir, had got wind of this, and were up and at him
-again, hunting him like a hare--the low, grasping, insolent hounds! His
-revived money annoyances made him the more irascible with Franceline for
-throwing away her chance of being for ever saved and protected from the
-like. But he would harp no more on that string.
-
-He had been into Dullerton on horseback, and, overtaking the postman on
-his way home, he stopped to take his letters, and then asked if there
-were any for The Lilies. He was going there, and would save the postman
-the walk that far.
-
-“Thank you, sir! There is one for the count.” And the man held up a large
-blue envelope, like a lawyer’s letter, which Sir Simon thrust into his
-pocket. He left his horse at the Court, and walked on through the park,
-reading his letters as he went. Their contents were not of the most
-agreeable, to judge by the peevish and angry ejaculations that the reader
-emitted in the course of their perusal. He had not done when he reached
-the cottage.
-
-“Here’s a letter for you, Bourbonais; I’ll finish mine while you’re
-reading it.” He handed the blue envelope to his friend, and, flinging
-himself into a chair, became again absorbed and ejaculatory.
-
-M. de la Bourbonais, meanwhile, proceeded to open his official-looking
-communication. He surveyed it with uplifted eyebrows, examined well the
-large red seal, and scrutinized the handwriting of the address, before
-he tore it open. His eye ran quickly over the page. A nervous twitch
-contracted his features; his hand shook as if a string at his elbow had
-been rudely pulled; but he controlled all further sign of emotion, and,
-after reading the contents twice over, silently folded the letter and
-replaced it in the envelope. Sir Simon had seen nothing; he was deep in
-suppressed denunciations of some rascally dun.
-
-“Hang me if I know what’s to be the end of it, or the end of me--an ounce
-of lead in my skull, most likely!” he burst out, ramming the bundle of
-offending documents into his coat-pocket. “The brutes are in league to
-drive me mad!”
-
-“Has anything new happened?” inquired the count anxiously. “I hoped
-things had arranged themselves of late?”
-
-“Not they! How can they when these vampires are sucking the blood of one?
-It’s pretty much like sucking a corpse!” he laughed sardonically. “The
-fools! If they would but have sense to see that it is their own interest
-not to drive me to desperation! But they will goad me to do something
-that will make an end of their chance of ever being paid!”
-
-M. de la Bourbonais ought to have been hardened to this sort of thing;
-but he was not. The vague threats and dark innuendoes always alarmed
-him. He never knew but that each crisis which called them out might be
-the supreme one that would bring about their fulfilment. At such moments
-he had not the heart to rebuke Sir Simon and add the bitterness of
-self-reproach to his excited feelings. His look of keen distress struck
-Sir Simon with compunction.
-
-“Oh! it will blow off, as it has done so often before, I suppose,” he
-said, tossing his head. “Here’s a letter from L---- to say he is coming
-down next week with a whole houseful of men to shoot. I’ve not seen
-L---- for an age. He’s a delightful fellow; he’ll cheer one up.” And the
-baronet heaved a sigh from the very depths of his afflicted spirit.
-
-“Mon cher, is it wise to be asking down crowds of people in this way?”
-asked Raymond dubiously.
-
-“I did not ask them! Don’t I tell you they have written to invite
-themselves?”
-
-It was true; but Sir Simon forgot how often he had besought his friends
-to do just what they were now doing--to write and say when they could
-come, and to bring as many as they liked with them. That had always been
-the way at the Court; and he was not the man to belie its old traditions.
-But Raymond, who had also his class of noble traditions, could not see
-it.
-
-“Why not write frankly, and, without explaining the precise motive, say
-that you cannot at present receive any one?”
-
-Sir Simon gave an impatient pshaw!
-
-“Nonsense, my dear Bourbonais, nonsense! As if a few fellows more or less
-signified that”--snapping his fingers--“at the end of the year! Besides,
-what the deuce is the good of having a place at all, if one can’t have
-one’s friends about one in it? Better shut up at once. It’s the only
-compensation a man has; the only thing that pulls him through. And then
-the pheasants are there, and must be shot. I can’t shoot them all. But
-it’s no use trying to make you take an Englishman’s view of the case. You
-simply can’t do it.”
-
-M. de la Bourbonais agreed, and inwardly hoped he never might come to see
-the case as his friend did. But, notwithstanding this, Sir Simon went on
-discussing his own misfortunes, denouncing the rascality and rapacity of
-the modern tradesman, and bemoaning the good old times when the world was
-a fit place for a gentleman to live in. When he had sufficiently relieved
-his mind on the subject, and drew breath, M. de la Bourbonais poured what
-oil of comfort he could on his friend’s wounds. He spoke confidently
-of the ultimate demise of Lady Rebecca, and expressed equal trust in
-the powers of Mr. Simpson to perform once again the meteorological feat
-known to Sir Simon as “raising the wind.” Under the influence of these
-soothing abstractions the baronet cheered up, and before long Richard
-was himself again. He overhauled Raymond’s latest work; read aloud some
-notes on Mirabeau which Franceline had taken down at his dictation the
-previous evening, and worked himself into a frenzy of indignation at the
-historian’s partiality for that thundering demagogue. Raymond waxed warm
-in defence of his hero; maintained that at heart Mirabeau had wished to
-save the king; and almost lost his philosophical self-control when Sir
-Simon called him the master-knave of the Revolution, a traitor and a
-bully, and other hard names to the same effect.
-
-“I wash my hands of you, if you are going to play panegyrist to that
-pock-marked ruffian!” was the baronet’s concluding remark; and he
-flung out his hands, as if he were shaking the contamination from his
-fingers. Suddenly his eye fell upon the great blue letter, and, abruptly
-dismissing Mirabeau, he said: “By the way, what a formidable document
-that is that I brought you just now! Has it anything to do with the
-Revolution?”
-
-Raymond shook his head and smothered a rising sigh.
-
-“It has been as good as a revolution to me, at any rate.”
-
-“My dear Bourbonais, what is it? Nothing seriously amiss, I hope?”
-exclaimed Sir Simon, full of alarmed interest.
-
-The count took up the letter and handed it to him.
-
-“Good heavens! Bankrupt! Can pay nothing! How much had you in it?”
-
-“Nearly two hundred--the savings of the last fourteen years,” replied M.
-de la Bourbonais calmly.
-
-“My dear fellow, I’m heartily sorry!” exclaimed his friend in an accent
-of sincere distress; “with all my heart I’m sorry! And to think of
-you having read this and said nothing, and I raving away about my own
-troubles like a selfish dog as I am! Why did you not tell me at once?”
-
-“What good would it have done?” Raymond shrugged his shoulders, and with
-another involuntary sigh threw the letter on the table. “It’s hard,
-though. I was so little prepared for it; the house bore such a good
-name.…”
-
-“I should have said it was the safest bank in the country. So it was,
-very likely; only one did not reckon with the dishonesty of this scheming
-villain of a partner--if it be true that he is the cause of it.”
-
-“No doubt it is; why should they tell lies about it? The whole affair
-will be in the papers one of these days, I suppose.”
-
-“And you can stand there and not curse the villain!”
-
-“What good would cursing him do? It would not bring back my poor
-scrapings.” Raymond laughed gently. “I dare say his own conscience will
-curse him before long--the unhappy man! But who knows what terrible
-temptation may have driven him to the deed? Perhaps he got into some
-difficulty that nothing else could extricate him from, and he may have
-had a wife and children pulling at his conscience by his heart-strings!
-Libera nos a malo, Domine!” And looking upwards, Raymond sighed again.
-
-“What a strange being you are, Raymond!” exclaimed Sir Simon, eyeing him
-curiously. “Verily, I believe your philosophy is worth something after
-all.”
-
-M. de la Bourbonais laughed outright. “Well, it’s worth nearly the money
-to have brought you to that!”
-
-“To see you stand there coolly and philosophize about the motives that
-may possibly have led an unprincipled scoundrel to rob you of every penny
-you possessed! Many a man has got a fit from less.”
-
-“Many a fool, perhaps; but it would be a poor sort of man that such
-a blow would send into a fit!” returned the count with mild contempt.
-“But I must not be forgetful of the difference of conditions,” he added
-quickly. “It all depends on what the money is worth to one, and what its
-loss involves. I don’t want it at present. It was a little hoard for the
-rainy day; and--qui sait?--the rainy day may never come!”
-
-“No; Franceline may marry a rich man,” suggested the baronet, not with
-any intent to wound.
-
-“Just so! I may never want the money, and so never be the poorer for
-losing it.”
-
-“And supposing there was at this moment some pressing necessity for
-it--that your child was in absolute need of it for some reason or
-other--what then?” queried Sir Simon.
-
-Raymond winced and started imperceptibly, as if a pain went through him.
-
-“Thank heaven there is no necessity to answer that,” he said. “We were
-taught to pray to be delivered from temptation; let us be thankful when
-we are, and not set imaginary traps for ourselves.”
-
-“Some men are, I believe, born proof against temptation; I should say you
-are one of them, Bourbonais,” said his friend, looking steadily at him.
-
-“You are mistaken,” replied Raymond quietly. “I don’t know whether any
-human being may be born with that sort of fire-proof covering; but I
-know for certain that I was not.”
-
-“Can you, then, conceive yourself under a pressure of temptation so
-strong as that your principles, your conscience, would give way? Can
-you imagine yourself telling a deliberate lie, for instance, or doing a
-deliberate wrong to some one, in order to save yourself--or, better, your
-child--from some grievous harm?”
-
-Raymond thought for a moment, as if he were poising a balance in his
-mind before he answered; then he said, speaking with slow emphasis, as
-if every word was being weighed in the scales: “Yes, I can fancy myself
-giving way, if, at such a crisis as you describe, I were left to myself,
-with only my own strength to lean on; but I hope I should not be left to
-it. I hope I should ask to be delivered from it.”
-
-The humility of the avowal went further to deepen Sir Simon’s faith in
-his friend’s integrity and in the strength of his principles than the
-boldest self-assertion could have done. It informed him, too, of the
-existence of a certain ingredient in Raymond’s philosophy which the
-careless and light-hearted man of the world had not till then suspected.
-
-“One thing I know,” he said, taking up his hat, and extending a hand to
-M. de la Bourbonais: “if your conscience were ever to play you false, it
-would make an end of my faith in all mankind--and in something more.”
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-QUESTIONS CONCERNING THE SYLLABUS.
-
-DOCTRINAL AUTHORITY OF THE SYLLABUS.
-
-FROM LES ETUDES RELIGIEUSES, ETC.
-
-We enter on a work whose practical usefulness no one, we suspect, will
-dispute, since it concerns perhaps the most memorable act of the reign
-of Pius IX.--the Syllabus. There has been a great deal of discussion
-about the Syllabus--much has been written on it in the way both of attack
-and defence--but it is remarkable that it has scarcely been studied at
-all. The remark was made by one of the editors of this review, Father
-Marquigny, in the General Congress of Catholic Committees at Paris;
-and, so true was it felt to be, that it provoked the approving laughter
-of the whole assembly. But to pass by those who busy themselves about
-this document without having read it, how many are there, even among
-Catholics, who, after having read it, have only the most vague and
-confused notions about it--how many who, if they were asked, “What does
-the Syllabus teach you; what does it make obligatory on you?” would not
-know what to answer! Thus is man constituted. He skims willingly over the
-surface of things; but he has no fancy for stopping awhile and digging
-underneath. If he is pleased with looking at a great many things, he does
-not equally concern himself to gain knowledge; because there is no true
-science without labor, and labor is troublesome. Yet nothing could be
-more desirable for him than to come by this luminous entrance from the
-knowledge to the possession of truth. Christian faith, when it is living
-and active, necessarily experiences the desire of it; for, according to
-the beautiful saying of S. Anselm, it is, by its very nature, a seeker of
-science--of knowing: _Fides quærens intellectum_.
-
-But, not to delay ourselves by these considerations, is it possible to
-exaggerate the importance of the study of the Syllabus in the critical
-circumstances in which we are placed? The uncertainty of the future; the
-impossibility of discovering a satisfactory course in the midst of the
-shadows which surround us; the need of knowing what to seize a firm hold
-of in the formidable problems whose obscurity agitates, in these days,
-the strongest minds; above all, the furious assaults of the enemies of
-the church, and the authority belonging to a solemn admonition coming
-to us from the chair of truth--all these things teach us plainly enough
-how culpable it must be for us to remain indifferent and to neglect the
-illumination offered to us. The teachings of the Vicar of Jesus Christ
-deserve to be meditated on at leisure. It is this which inspires us with
-a hope that our work will be favorably received. Truth, moreover, claims
-the services of all, even of the feeblest, and we must not desert her
-cause for fear our ability may not suffice for her defence.
-
-Certainly, no one will expect us, here, to give an analytical exposition
-of the eighty propositions condemned by Pius IX. Several numbers of the
-_Etudes_ would scarcely suffice for that. General questions dominate
-all others; it is to the careful solution of these that we shall devote
-ourselves. They have always appeared to us to need clear and decisive
-explanation. Often they are incorrectly proposed, oftener still they
-are ill-defined. The object of our efforts will be to point out with
-precision the limits within which they must be restrained, the sense
-in which they must be accepted, and their necessary import; then, to
-give them, as clearly as we are able, a solution the most sure and the
-most conformable to first principles. If it should be objected that in
-this we are entering on a wide theological field, we shall not deny it.
-Proudhon, who desired anarchy in things, in principles--everywhere, in
-fact, except in reasoning--averred that rigorous syllogism lands us
-inevitably at theology. How, then, would it be possible not to find it
-in the Syllabus? They, on the other hand, who are unceasing in their
-violent attacks on this pontifical act, are they not the first to provoke
-theological discussions? We are compelled to take their ground. As Mgr.
-Dupanloup judiciously observed, in his pamphlet on the Encyclical of the
-8th December: “It is needful to recur to first principles in a time when
-thousands of men, and of women even, in France talk theology from morning
-to night without knowing much about it.”
-
-The first and fundamental question to be determined is: What is the
-precise weight to be ascribed to the Syllabus, or, rather, what is its
-doctrinal authority? On the manner in which we reply to this depends the
-solution of numerous practical difficulties which interest consciences,
-and which have more than once been the subject of the polemic of the
-journals themselves. For example, are the decisions of the Syllabus
-unchangeable; is it not possible that they should be modified some day;
-is it certain they will never be withdrawn; are Catholics obliged to
-accept them as an absolute rule of their beliefs, or may they content
-themselves with doing nothing exteriorly in opposition to them? It is
-understood, in fact, that if we are in presence of an act wherein the
-successor of S. Peter exercises his sovereign and infallible authority,
-the doctrine is irrevocably, eternally, fixed without possible recall;
-and, by an inevitable corollary, the most complete submission, not of
-the heart only, but also of the intelligence, becomes an obligation
-binding on the conscience of the Catholic which admits of no reserve or
-subterfuge. If, on the contrary, the step taken by the Pope is merely
-an act of good administration or discipline, the door remains open for
-hopes of future changes, the constraint imposed on the minds of men in
-the interior forum is much less rigorous; a caviller would remain in
-Catholic unity provided that, with the respectful silence so dear to the
-Jansenists, he should also practise proper obedience. Now, the question,
-in the terms in which we have stated it, although treated of at various
-times by writers of merit, has not always been handled in a complete
-manner. Writers have been too often contented with generalities, with
-approaching only the question, and nothing has been precisely determined.
-
-Some have asserted, with much energy, the necessity of this submission,
-but they have not sufficiently defined its extent and nature. Others
-have dwelt upon the deference and profound respect with which every
-word of the Holy Father should be received, but, not having given any
-further explanation, they have left us without the necessary means
-for ascertaining what precisely they intended. Others have ventured
-to insinuate that the Syllabus was perhaps merely an admonition, a
-paternal advice benevolently given to some rash children, to which such
-as are docile are happy to conform, without feeling themselves under
-the absolute necessity of adopting it. Others, more adventurous still,
-have been unwilling to see more in it than a mere piece of information,
-an indication. According to these, Pius IX., wishing to notify to all
-the bishops of Christendom his principal authoritative acts since the
-commencement of his pontificate, had caused a list of them to be drawn
-out, and to be forwarded to them. The Syllabus was this illustrious
-catalogue, neither more nor less.
-
-Is there any excuse to be found for this indecision on one hand,
-presumption on the other? We do not think so; but they do, we must
-confess, admit of a plausible explanation. And here, let it be observed,
-we come to the very marrow of the difficulty. The Syllabus was drawn
-out in an unusual form. It resembles no pontifical documents hitherto
-published. When, in other times, the sovereign pontiffs wished to
-stigmatize erroneous propositions, they did not content themselves
-with reproducing the terms of them, in order to mark them out for the
-reprobation of the people. They were always careful to explain the
-motives of the judgment they delivered, and above all to formulate
-with clearness and precision the judgment itself. Invariably, the
-texts they singled out for condemnation were preceded by grave and
-weighty words, wherein were explained the reasons for and the nature of
-the condemnation. In the Syllabus, there is nothing of the kind. The
-propositions, stated without commentary, are classified and distributed
-under general titles; at the end of each of them we read the indication
-of the Encyclical Letter, or pontifical Allocution, in which it had been
-previously rebuked. For the rest, there is no preamble, no conclusion,
-no discourse revealing the mind or intention of the pontiff, unless it
-be the following words, inscribed at the head of the document, and which
-we here give both in the Latin and in English: _Syllabus complectens
-præcipuos nostræ ætatis errores, qui notantur in Allocutionibus
-consistorialibus, in Encyclicis, aliisque Apostolicis Litteris
-sanctissimi Domini Papæ Pii IX._--Table, or synopsis, containing the
-principal errors of our epoch, noted in the consistorial Allocutions, the
-Encyclicals, and other Apostolic Letters of our most Holy Father, Pope
-Pius IX.
-
-We may add, that nowhere does the Pope formally express an intention
-of connecting the Syllabus with the bull _Quanta cura_, although he
-issued them both on the same day, at the same hour, under the same
-circumstances, and upon the same subjects. He left it to the public
-common sense and to the faith of Christians to decide whether these two
-acts are to be taken together, or whether they are to be considered as
-isolated acts having no common tie between them.
-
-Such are the facts. Minds, either troubled or prejudiced, or, may be,
-too astute, have drawn from them consequences which, if we lay aside
-accessory details of not much importance here, we may reduce to two
-principal ones.
-
-It has been stated--and they who hold this language form, as it were,
-the extreme group of opposers--that the Apostolic Letters mentioned in
-the Syllabus are the only documents which have authoritative force; that
-the latter, on the contrary, has no proper weight of its own--absolutely
-none, whether as a dogmatic definition, or as a disciplinary measure,
-or even as a moral and intellectual direction. To these assertions, not
-a little hazardous, have been added others whose rashness would fain be
-hidden under the veil of rhetorical artifices. We will lift the veil, and
-expose the naked assertions. The meaning of the Syllabus, it is stated,
-must not be looked for in the Syllabus, but in the pontifical letters
-whence it is drawn. The study of the letters may be useful; not only is
-that of the Syllabus not so, but it is dangerous, because it often leads
-to lamentable exaggerations. To know the true doctrines of Rome, we must
-search the letters for them, not the Syllabus. In fact, to sum up all in
-a few words, as a condemnation of error and a manifestation of truth, the
-letters are all, the Syllabus nothing.
-
-The other group, which we may describe as the moderates, knows how to
-guard itself against excess. It does not diminish the authority of the
-Syllabus to the extent of annihilation. Very far from it--it recognizes
-it and proclaims it aloud; but, struck with the peculiar form given
-to the act, it asserts that it is impossible to discover in it the
-marks of a dogmatic definition, and, to borrow a stock expression, of
-a definition _ex cathedra_. The Syllabus, it is said, is undoubtedly
-something by itself--to deny it would be ridiculous and absurd. It has a
-weight of its own; who would venture to dispute it? It may be termed, if
-you please, an universal law of the church, so only that its pretensions
-be not carried further, and that it does not claim to be considered an
-infallible decision of the Vicar of Jesus Christ.
-
-What, then, have we to do but to demonstrate that the Syllabus is
-by itself, and independently of the pontifical acts which supply
-the matter of it, a veritable teaching; that this teaching obliges
-consciences because it issues from the infallible authority of the head
-of the church? We shall not have omitted, it seems to us, any of the
-considerations calculated to throw light on this important subject if,
-after having thus followed it through all its windings and discussed all
-its difficulties, we succeed in illustrating the triple character of the
-pontifical act--its doctrinal character, its obligatory character, and
-its character of infallibility.
-
-To assert that Pius IX., when he denounced with so much firmness to the
-Christian world the errors of our time, did not propose to teach us
-anything, that he had no intention of instructing us, was, even at the
-time of the appearance of the Syllabus, to advance a sufficiently hardy
-paradox; but to state it, to maintain it, at this time of day, when we
-are the fortunate witnesses of the effects produced by that immortal
-act, is to speak against evidence. Undoubtedly--we stated it at the
-commencement--the Syllabus is not sufficiently known nor sufficiently
-studied. Little known as it may be, however, it cannot be denied that
-it has already set right many ideas, and corrected and enlightened
-many minds. Thanks to it, not learned men only and those who are close
-observers of events, but Catholics generally, perceive more clearly the
-dangers with which certain doctrines threaten their faith. They have been
-warned, they keep themselves on their guard, they see more distinctly
-the course they must follow and the shoals they must avoid. Pius IX. has
-lighted a torch and placed it in their hands.
-
-That being the case, what is the use of playing with words, as if
-vain subtleties could destroy the striking evidence of this fact?
-Let them say, as often as they please, “The Syllabus is only a
-list, a catalogue, a table of contents, a memorial of previously
-condemned propositions”--what good will they have done? What matter
-these denominations, more or less disrespectful, if it be otherwise
-demonstrated that this list, catalogue, or table of contents explains
-to us exactly what we must believe or reject, and is imposed upon us
-as a rule to which we owe subjection. The imprudent persons who speak
-thus would seem never to have studied the monuments of our beliefs. Had
-they considered their nature more attentively, would they have allowed
-themselves to indulge in such intemperance of language? If they would
-more closely examine them, their illusions would soon be dissipated. Are
-not all the series of propositions condemned by the Popes, veritable
-lists? Did not Martin V. and the Council of Constance, Leo X. and S.
-Pius V., when they smote with their anathemas the errors of Wycliffe,
-John Huss, Luther, Baïus, draw out catalogues? Are not the canons of
-our councils tables in which are inscribed an abridgment, summary,
-or epitome of the impious doctrines of heretics? Is not every solemn
-definition, every symbol of the faith, a memorial designed to remind the
-Christian what he is obliged to believe? It is, then, useless to shelter
-one’s self behind words of doubtful meaning, and which can only perplex
-the mind without enlightening it. It is to assume gratuitously the air of
-men who wish to deceive others and to deceive themselves. What is the use
-of it?
-
-They are much mistaken who imagine themselves to be proposing a serious
-difficulty when they demand how the Syllabus, which, before its
-publication, existed already in the letters of the Holy Father, can
-possibly teach us anything new? Let us, for the sake of argument, since
-they ask it, reduce it to the humble _rôle_ of echo or reverberator, if
-we may be pardoned such expressions. Let us suppose that its whole action
-consists in repeating what has been already said. We ask if an echo does
-not often convey to the ear a sound which, without it, would not have
-been heard--if it does not sometimes send back the sound stronger, more
-resounding, and even more distinct than the original voice? It is not a
-new voice it brings to us. Be it so. But it does bring it to us in fact,
-and is able to give it to us again fuller and more sonorous.
-
-Comparison, it is true, is not reason. We will therefore abandon the
-redundancy of figurative language, and reply directly to the question
-put to us. What is wanted is to know what the Syllabus is in itself,
-independently of the pontifical letters which are its original sources.
-It is as follows:
-
-It is, at least, a new promulgation, more universal, more authentic,
-and therefore more efficacious, of previous condemnations. Now, it is
-well known, it is a maxim of law, that a second promulgation powerfully
-confirms and, in case of need, supersedes the first. The history of
-human legislation is full of instances of this. When, by reason of the
-negligence of men, of the difficulty of the times, of the inconstancy
-or waywardness of peoples, a law has fallen into partial neglect and
-oblivion, they in whom the sovereign power resides re-establish its
-failing authority by promulgating it anew. It revives thus, and if it has
-been defunct it receives a second life. What can the greater number of
-Christians know of so many scattered condemnations, buried, one may say,
-in the voluminous collection of pontifical encyclicals, if the Syllabus
-had not revealed them? How could they respect them, how obey them? It was
-necessary that they should hear them resound, in a manner, a second time,
-in the utterance of the great Pontiff, in order to be able to submit anew
-to their authority, and to resume a yoke of which many of them did not
-know the very existence. The salvation of the church required this.
-
-The Syllabus is, however, not only a new promulgation, it is often a
-luminous interpretation of the original documents to which it relates;
-an interpretation at times so necessary that, should it disappear,
-from that moment the meaning of those documents would become, on many
-points, obscure or at least doubtful. It is worthy of remark that in
-order to deny the doctrinal value of the Syllabus the following fact
-is relied on--that it is unaccompanied with any explanation, with any
-reflections. “It is a dry nomenclature,” it has been said, “of which we
-cannot determine either the character or the end.” Now, it happens to
-be exactly here that brevity has brought forth light. The eighty-four
-propositions, in fact, isolated from their context, appear to us more
-exact, in stronger relief, more decidedly drawn. One may perceive that in
-the bulls their forms were, as yet, slightly indistinct; here they detach
-themselves vividly, and with remarkable vigor. And we wish that all our
-readers were able to judge of this for themselves. They would better
-understand, possibly, wherefore certain men insist with so much energy
-on our abandoning the Syllabus and applying ourselves exclusively to the
-sources--an excellent mode of preventing certain questions from becoming
-too clear.
-
-We will cite a few examples in illustration of our argument.
-
-The second paragraph of the Syllabus has for its object the condemnation
-of _moderate rationalism_. Some of the seven propositions contained in
-it reproduce the doctrine of a man little known in France, but much
-thought of in Germany--a kind of independent Catholic, who, before he
-opposed himself to the church, from which he is now, we believe, quite
-separated, having transferred his allegiance to the pastoral staff of the
-aged Reinkens, wrote some works destined to sow among the students of
-the university of Munich the damaged grain of infidel science. We allude
-to M. Froschammer, a canon who has lost his hood, professor of misty
-philosophy, as befits a doctor on the other side of the Rhine. Pius IX.
-rebuked his errors in a letter addressed to the Archbishop of Munich the
-12th December, 1862. We will lay aside the Syllabus, and take merely the
-letter. We shall find in it only the condemnation of M. Froschammer and
-his works; nothing whatever else. But who, in this our country, France,
-has ever opened the works of M. Froschammer? The Catholic Frenchman
-who might read the letter of Pius IX. knowing nothing of the condemned
-works, would say to himself: “This Munich professor has doubtless written
-according to his own fancy; he must have been rash, as every good German
-is bound to be who loses himself in the shadowy mazes of metaphysics.
-After all, there is nothing to show that he has written exactly my
-opinions. Why should I trouble myself about the letter of Pius IX.? It
-does not concern me.”
-
-Another example. In Paragraph X. we find the same principle of modern
-liberalism enunciated in the following manner: “In this our age, it is no
-longer expedient that the Catholic religion should be considered as the
-only religion of the state, to the exclusion of all others.” “Ætate hac
-nostra, non amplius expedit religionem Catholicam haberi, tanquam unicam
-status religionem, cæteris quibuscumque cultibus exclusis.” The document
-to which we refer is a consistorial Allocution pronounced the 26th July,
-1855, and it commences with these words, _Nemo vestrum_. What is this
-Allocution? A solemn protest against the criminality of the Spanish
-government, which, in contempt of its word and oath, of the rights of the
-church and the eternal laws of justice, had dared to perjure itself by
-abrogating, of its own single authority, the first and second articles
-of the concordat. Pius IX., full of grief, speaks in these terms: “You
-know, venerable brethren, how, in this convention, amongst all the
-decisions relative to the interests of the Catholic religion, we have,
-above all, established that this holy religion should continue to be the
-only religion of the Spanish nation, to the exclusion of every other
-worship.” The proposition of the Syllabus is not expressed in any other
-way in the Allocution. A man of great ability, or a scientific man,
-taking into account the facts, and weighing carefully the expressions of
-the Pontiff, might perhaps detect it therein. But how many others would
-it wholly escape! How many would not perceive it, or, if they should
-chance to catch sight of it, would remain in suspense, uncertain which
-was rebuked, the application of the doctrine or the doctrine itself! How
-many, in short, would be unwilling to recognize, in these words, aught
-but the sorrowful complaint of the Vicar of Jesus Christ outraged in his
-dearest rights! Return, however, to the Syllabus, and that which was
-obscure comes to light and manifests itself clearly. The two propositions
-we have cited do not appear, in it, confused or uncertain. Detached, on
-the contrary, from the particular circumstances which were calculated
-to weaken their meaning, and clad in a form more lofty, more universal,
-more abstract, they receive an unspeakable signification. No hesitation
-is possible. It is no longer the doctrine of M. Froschammer, nor the
-sacrilegious usurpations of the Spanish government, which are rebuked;
-it is but the doctrine considered in itself and in its substance. And
-since the Roman Pontiff, after having isolated it, fixes on it a mark of
-reprobation by declaring it erroneous, he denounces it to all ages and
-all people as deserving the everlasting censure of the church.
-
-It is for this reason, as far as ourselves, at least, are concerned, we
-shall never accept without restriction a phrase which we find, under one
-form or other, in all directions, even from the pen of writers for whom
-we entertain, in other respects, the highest esteem: “The Syllabus has
-only a relative value, a value subordinate to that of the pontifical
-documents of which it is the epitome.” No! We are unable to admit an
-appreciation of it, in our opinion, so full of danger. We must not allow
-ourselves to weaken truth if we would maintain its salutary dominion
-over souls. They talk of the value of the Syllabus. What is meant by
-this? Its authority? It derives that most undoubtedly from itself, and
-from the sovereign power of him who published it. It is as much an act
-of that supreme authority as the letters or encyclicals to which it
-alludes. The meaning of the propositions it contains? Doubtless many of
-these, if we thus refer to their origin, will receive from it a certain
-illustration. Others, and they are not the fewest, will either lose there
-their precision, or will rather shed more light upon it than they receive
-from it. Between the two assertions--The pontifical letters explain the
-Syllabus, and, The Syllabus explains the pontifical letters--the second
-is, with a few exceptions, the most rigorously true. A very simple
-argument demonstrates it. Suppose that, by accident or an unforeseen
-catastrophe, one or other of these documents were to perish and not leave
-any trace of its existence, which is the one whose preservation we should
-most have desired, in order that the mind of Pius IX. and the judgment of
-the church concerning the errors of our age might be transmitted more
-surely to future generations?
-
-Most fertile in subtleties is the mind of man when he wishes to escape
-from a duty that molests him. We must not, consequently, be astonished
-if many opponents of the Syllabus have lighted on ingenious distinctions
-which allow of their almost admitting, in theory, the doctrines we have
-just explained, whilst contriving to elude their practical consequences.
-For that, what have they done? They have acknowledged the real authority
-of this grand act in so far as it is a doctrinal declaration, or, if it
-is preferred, a manifestation of doctrine; adding, nevertheless, that
-the Pope has not imposed it on us in the way of obligation, but _only
-in the way of guidance_. The expression, only in the way of guidance,
-would have been a happy enough invention, had it been possible, in
-matter so important, and in an act so solemn, to imagine a guidance
-truly efficacious--such, for instance, as the Pope could not but wish
-it to be--which would not be an obligation. But we ourselves must avoid
-reasoning with too much subtlety, and content ourselves with opposing a
-difficulty more specious than solid with a few positive proofs.
-
-We interpose, in the first place, the very title of the Syllabus: “Table,
-or abridgment, of the principal errors of our time, pointed out in
-consistorial Allocutions,” etc. To which we add the titles of various
-paragraphs: “Errors in relation to the church”; “Errors in relation to
-civil society”; “Errors concerning natural and Christian morals,” etc.
-For the Pope, the guardian and protector of truth, obliged by the duty
-of his office to hinder the church from suffering any decline or any
-alteration, to denounce to the Christian world a doctrine by inflicting
-on it the brand of error, is evidently to forbid the employment of
-it, and to command all the faithful to eschew it. What communion is
-there between light and darkness, between life and death? There can
-be no question about guidance or counsel when the supreme interest
-is at stake. The duty speaks for itself. It is imposed by the nature
-of things. When Pius IX. placed at the head of his Syllabus the word
-“error,” and intensified it by adding words even more significant, when
-he expressed himself thus, “Principal errors of this our age,” he as good
-as said, “Here is death! Avoid it.” And if, in order still to escape
-from the consequences, a distinction is attempted to be drawn between
-an obligation created by the force of circumstances and an obligation
-imposed by the legislator, we would wish it to be remembered that the
-same Pius IX. uttered, in reference to the Syllabus, the following
-memorable sentence: “When the Pope speaks in a solemn act, it is to be
-taken literally; what he has said, he intended to say.” For our part, we
-would say, “What the Pope has done, he intended to do.”
-
-But what need is there of so much discussion? The proof of what we
-have urged is written in express terms in the letter accompanying the
-Syllabus--a letter signed by his eminence Cardinal Antonelli, secretary
-of state, and intended to make known to the bishops the will of His
-Holiness. It is sufficient to quote this decisive document, which we do
-in full, on account of its importance:
-
-    “MOST REVEREND EXCELLENCY:
-
-    “Our Holy Father, Pope Pius IX., profoundly solicitous for
-    the safety of souls and of holy doctrine, has never ceased,
-    since the commencement of his pontificate, to proscribe and to
-    condemn by his encyclicals, his consistorial Allocutions, and
-    other apostolic letters already published, the most important
-    errors and false doctrines, above all, those of our unhappy
-    times. But since it may come to pass that all the political
-    acts reach not every one of the ordinaries, it has seemed
-    good to the same sovereign Pontiff that a Syllabus should be
-    drawn out of these same errors, to be sent to all the bishops
-    of the Catholic world, _in order that these same bishops may
-    have before their eyes all the errors and pernicious doctrines
-    which have been reproved and condemned by him_. He has
-    therefore commanded me to see that this printed Syllabus be
-    sent to your most reverend excellency, on this occasion, and
-    at this time. When the same sovereign Pontiff, in consequence
-    of his great solicitude for the safety and well-being of the
-    Catholic Church, and of the whole flock which has been divinely
-    committed to him by the Lord, has thought it expedient to write
-    another encyclical letter to all the Catholic bishops, thus
-    executing, as is my duty, with all befitting zeal and respect,
-    the orders of the same Pontiff, I hasten to send to your
-    excellency this Syllabus with this letter.”
-
-This Syllabus, placed by the order of the Holy Father “before the eyes
-of all the bishops,” what else is it, we ask, than the text of the
-law brought under the observation of the judges charged with the duty
-of causing it to be executed? What is it except a rule to which they
-owe allegiance, and from which they must not swerve? They must not
-lose sight of it. Wherefore? Because it is their duty to be careful
-to promulgate its doctrine in their own teaching, because it is their
-duty to repress every rash opinion which should dare to raise itself
-against and contradict it. It is thus that all have understood the
-commandment given to them. The fidelity and unconquerable courage of
-their obedience prove it. What has taken place in France? In the midst
-of the universal emotion produced by the appearance of the Syllabus, the
-government, abusing its power, had the sad audacity to constitute itself
-judge of it. Through the instrumentality of the keeper of the seals,
-minister of justice and of public worship, it forbade the publication
-of the pontifical document in any pastoral instruction, alleging that
-“it contained propositions contrary to the principles on which the
-constitution of the empire rests.” What was the unanimous voice of the
-episcopate? Eighty-four letters of bishops are in existence to bear
-witness to it. All, united in the same mind, opposed to the ministerial
-letter the invincible word of the apostles, _Non possumus_. All declared
-that they must obey God rather then man; and two amongst them, ascending
-courageously their cathedral thrones, braved the menaces of a susceptible
-government by reading before the assembled people that which they had
-been forbidden to print. Could they have acted all alike with this power
-truly episcopal, if they had not been inspired by the conviction that
-they were fulfilling a duty, and putting into practice the adage of the
-Christian knights, “I do my duty, happen what may”?
-
-We will insist no further on this point. We approach, lastly, the
-question which might well supersede all the others. Let us enquire
-whether the Syllabus is an infallible decision of the Vicar of Jesus
-Christ.
-
-It appears to us that, in reality, we have already settled this question.
-Can a definition _ex cathedra_ be anything else than an instruction
-concerning faith and morals addressed to, and imposed on, the whole
-church by her visible head upon earth? How can we recognize it except
-by this mark, and is not that the idea given to us of it by the Council
-of the Vatican? Read over the words, so weighty and selected with so
-much care by the fathers of that august assembly, and you will find that
-nothing could express more accurately the exact and precise notion of it.
-After that, all doubts ought to disappear. The Syllabus emanates from
-him who is the master and sovereign doctor of Catholic truth. It belongs
-exclusively to faith and morals by the nature of the subjects of which
-it treats. It has received from the circumstances which have accompanied
-its publication the manifest character of an universal law of the church.
-What is wanting to it to be an irreformable decision, an act without
-appeal, of the infallible authority of Peter?
-
-We know the objection with which we shall be met. Peter may speak, it
-will be urged, and not wish to exert the plenitude of his doctrinal
-power. Yes; but when he restrains thus within voluntary limits the
-exercise of his authority, he gives us to understand it clearly. He
-is careful, in order not to overtax our weakness, to apprise us that,
-notwithstanding the obligation with which he binds consciences, it is not
-in his mind, as yet, to deliver a definitive sentence upon the doctrine.
-Frankly, does the Syllabus offer to us an indication, however faint, of
-any such reserve? What more definitive than a judgment formulated in
-these terms: “This is error, that is truth”? Is any revision possible
-of such a judgment? Is it possible to be revoked or abrogated? Does it
-not settle us necessarily in an absolute conclusion which excludes all
-possibility of diminution or of change? In a word, can the assertion
-be ever permissible--“Error in these days, truth in others”? It may be
-added that, by the admission of all, friends and enemies--an admission
-confirmed by the declaration of the cardinal secretary of state, the
-Syllabus is an appendix to, and as it were a continuation of, the bull
-_Quanta cura_, to which no one can reasonably refuse the character of
-a definitive and irreformable decree; and it will be understood how
-unreasonable it would be to despise the evidence of facts, in order to
-cling to an objection without consistency, and which falls of itself for
-want of a solid foundation.
-
-For the rest, the mind of the Holy Father is not concealed, as has been
-at times suggested, under impenetrable veils. It appears the moment
-we look for it; and we find it, for example, in the preparation of
-the Syllabus. It should be known that the Syllabus was not the work
-of a day. Pius IX. has often asserted this. He had early resolved to
-strike a signal blow, and to destroy from top to bottom the monstrous
-edifice of revolutionary doctrines. To this end, immediately after the
-proclamation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, he transformed
-the congregation of cardinals and theologians who had aided him in the
-accomplishment of that work into a congregation charged with the duty of
-singling out for the Apostolic See the new errors which, for a century,
-had been ravaging the church of God. Ten years passed away; encyclicals
-were published, allocutions pronounced; the theologians multiplied
-their labors. At length, on the 8th of December, 1864, the moment of
-action appearing to have arrived, Pius IX. addressed to the world that
-utterance whose prolonged echoes we all have heard. The bull _Quanta
-cura_ and the Syllabus were promulgated. It is obvious that an act so
-long prepared, and with so much anxiety, cannot be likened to an ordinary
-act. The object of the Pontiff was not simply to check the evil--it was
-to uproot it. The object of such efforts could not have been to determine
-nothing. Who is there, then, who will venture to assert that the whole
-thought of an entire reign, and of such a reign as that of Pius IX.,
-should miserably collapse in a measure without authority and without
-effectiveness? To believe it would be an outrage; to affirm it would be
-an insult to the wisdom and prudence of the most glorious of pontiffs.
-
-But what need is there for searching for proofs? A single reflection
-banishes every difficulty. We have in the church two means for
-ascertaining whether a pontifical act is, or is not, a sovereign
-definition, an infallible decision. We have to enquire of the pontiff
-who is the author of it, or the people who subordinate themselves to
-his teaching. Neither one nor the other can deceive us in the answer
-they give. The divine promise continues equally assured in both: in the
-former, when he teaches; in the latter, when they listen and obey. It is
-what the theologians call active and passive infallibility. Admit that
-Pius IX. had left us in ignorance; that he published the Syllabus, but
-did not tell us what amount of assent he required of us. Well, none of
-us are in any doubt as to that. How many times has not this people said,
-how many times has it not repeated with an enthusiasm inspired by love,
-that this Syllabus, despised, insulted by the enemies of the church,
-they accept as the rule of their beliefs, as the very word of Peter, as
-the word of life come down from heaven to save us. Is it not thus that
-have spoken, one after the other, bishops, theologians, the learned and
-the ignorant, the mighty and the humble? Who amongst us has not heard
-this language? A celebrated doctor, Tanner, has said that in order to
-distinguish amongst the teachings of the church those which belong to its
-infallible authority, we must listen to the judgment of wise men, and
-above all consult the universal sentiment of Christians. If we adhere to
-this decision, it reveals to us our duties in regard to the sovereign act
-by which Pius IX. has withdrawn the world from the shadow in which it was
-losing its way, and has prepared for it a future of better destinies.
-
-We have the more reason for acting thus as hell, by its furious hatred,
-gives us, for its part, a similar warning, and proclaims, after its
-fashion, the imperishable grandeur of the Syllabus. Neither has it, nor
-have those who serve it, ever been under any illusion in this respect.
-They have often revealed their mind both by act and word. What implacable
-indignation! what torrents of insults! what clamor without truce or
-mercy! And when importunate conciliators interfered to tell them they
-were mistaken, that the Syllabus was nothing or next to nothing, and need
-not provoke so much anger, how well they knew how to reply to them and to
-bury them under the weight of their contempt! At the end of 1864, at the
-moment when the struggle occasioned by the promulgation of the Encyclical
-and Syllabus was the most furious, an agency of Parisian publicity, the
-agency Bullier, could insert the following notice: “The Encyclical is
-not a dogmatic bull, but only a doctrinal letter. It is observable that
-the Syllabus does not bear the signature of the Pope. This Syllabus
-has besides been published in a manner to allow us to believe that the
-Holy Father did not intend to assign to it a great importance. One may
-conclude, therefore, that the propositions which do not attack either the
-dogma or morals of Catholics, and do not at all impeach faith, are not
-condemned, but merely blamed.” To these words, poor in sense, but crafty
-and treacherous in expression, the journal _Le Siècle_ replied as follows:
-
-“There are now people who tell us that the Encyclical is not a dogmatic
-bull, but a doctrinal letter; that the eighty propositions are not
-condemned, because they do not figure in the Encyclical, but only in the
-Syllabus; that this Syllabus does not bear the signature of the Pope;
-that it has been composed only by a commission of theologians, etc. These
-people would do better to be silent. Encyclical or Syllabus, the fact is
-that the theocracy has just hurled as haughty a defiance against modern
-ideas as it was possible for it to do. We shall soon see what will be the
-result.”
-
-We will leave them to settle their quarrels between themselves. For
-ourselves, listening to these voices of heaven and of hell, of the church
-and of the world, which coincide in exalting the work eternally blessed
-by Pius IX., we repeat with profounder conviction than ever: “Yes, the
-Syllabus is the infallible word of Peter; and if our modern society is
-within the reach of cure, it is by the Syllabus that it is to be saved!”
-
-
-SIR THOMAS MORE.
-
-_A HISTORICAL ROMANCE._
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.
-
-I.
-
-In a sumptuous apartment, whose magnificent furniture and costly
-adornings announced it as the abode of kings, in a large Gothic
-arm-chair--whose massive sides were decorated with carvings in ebony and
-ivory of exquisite delicacy, and which was in itself, altogether, a model
-of the most skilful workmanship--there reclined the form of a stately and
-elegant woman.
-
-Her small feet, but half-concealed beneath the heavy folds of a rich
-blue velvet robe, rested on a footstool covered with crimson brocade,
-embroidered with golden stars. Bands of pearls adorned her beautiful
-neck, contrasted with its dazzling whiteness, and were profusely twined
-amid the raven tresses of her luxuriant hair. An expression of profound
-melancholy was imprinted upon her noble features; her eyes were cast
-down, and the long, drooping lashes were heavy with tears which she
-seemed vainly endeavoring to repress, as she sat absorbed in thought, and
-nervously entwining her snowy fingers with the silk and jewelled cord
-which, according to the fashion of that day, she wore fastened at her
-girdle and hanging to her feet. This royal personage was Catherine of
-Aragon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, wife of Henry VIII.,
-and queen of England.
-
-The king himself was hurriedly pacing to and fro in the apartment, with
-contracted brow, a deeply troubled expression gleaming from his dark eyes
-and obscuring, with a shade of gloomy fierceness, the naturally fine
-features of his face. The ordinary grace of his carriage had disappeared;
-his step was hurried and irregular; and every movement denoted a man
-laboring under some violent excitement. From time to time he approached
-the window, and gazed abstractedly into the distance; then, returning
-to Catherine, he would address her abruptly, with a sharp expression or
-hurried interrogation, neither waiting for nor seeming to desire a reply.
-
-While this strange scene was being enacted within the palace at
-Greenwich, one of an entirely different nature was occurring in the
-courtyard. From the road leading from Greenwich a cavalcade approached,
-headed by a personage invested with the Roman purple, and apparently
-entitled to and surrounded by all the “pomp and circumstance” of royalty.
-He was mounted on a richly caparisoned mule with silver-plated harness,
-adorned with silver bells and tufted with knots of crimson silk. This
-distinguished personage was no other than the Archbishop of York, the
-potent minister, who united in his person all the dignities both of
-church and state--the Cardinal Legate, the king’s acknowledged favorite,
-Wolsey. To increase his already princely possessions, to extend his
-influence and authority, had been this man’s constant endeavor, and the
-sole aim of his life. And so complete had been his success that he was
-now regarded by all as an object of admiration and envy. But how greatly
-mistaken was the world in its opinion!
-
-In his heart, Wolsey suffered the constant agony of a profound
-humiliation. Compelled to yield in all things, and bow with servile
-submission to the haughty will of his exacting and imperious master--who
-by a word, and in a moment, could deprive him of his dignities and
-temporalities--he lived in a state of constant dread, fearing to lose the
-patronage and favor to secure which he had sacrificed both his honor and
-his conscience.
-
-He was accompanied on this journey by a numerous retinue, composed
-of gentlemen attached to his household and young pages carrying his
-standard, all of whom were eagerly pressing upon him the most obsequious
-attentions. They assisted him to dismount, and as he approached the
-palace the guards saluted and received him with the utmost military
-deference and respect; and with an air of grave dignity Wolsey passed on,
-and disappeared beneath the arch of the grand stairway.
-
-Let us again return to the royal apartments. The king, seeing Wolsey
-arrive, immediately turned from the window and, confronting Catherine,
-abruptly exclaimed:
-
-“Come, madam, I wish you to retire; the affairs of my kingdom demand
-instantly all my time and attention.” And hastily turning to the window,
-he looked eagerly into the courtyard.
-
-Catherine arose without uttering a word, and approaching the centre of
-the apartment she took from the table a small silver bell, and rang it
-twice.
-
-On this table was a magnificent cloth cover that she had embroidered
-with her own hands. The design represented a tournament, in which Henry,
-who was devoted to chivalrous amusements, had borne off the prize over
-all his competitors. In those days her husband received such presents
-with grateful affection and sincere appreciation, and, as the souvenir
-recalled to her mind the joy and happiness of the past, tears of
-bitterness flowed afresh from the eyes of the unhappy princess.
-
-In answer to her signal, the door soon opened, the queen’s ladies in
-waiting appeared, and, arranging themselves on either side, stood in
-readiness to follow their royal mistress. She passed out, and was slowly
-walking in silence through the vast gallery leading to the king’s
-apartments, when Wolsey appeared, advancing from the opposite end of the
-gallery, followed by his brilliant retinue.
-
-Catherine, then, instantly understood why the king had so abruptly
-commanded her to retire. Suddenly pausing, she stood transfixed and
-immovable, her soul overwhelmed with anguish; but, with a countenance
-calm and impassible, she awaited the approach of the cardinal, who
-advanced to salute her. In spite of all her efforts, however, she could
-no longer control her feelings.
-
-“My lord cardinal,” she exclaimed in a low voice, trembling with emotion,
-“go, the king waits for you!” And as she uttered these words, the
-unhappy woman fell senseless to the floor.
-
-The hardened soul of the ambitious Wolsey was moved to its very depths
-with compassion as he silently gazed on the noble woman before him, who
-possessed the unbounded love and grateful esteem of all her household,
-not only as their sovereign, but also as their beneficent mother.
-
-The cloud of ambition that forever surrounded him, darkening his soul and
-obscuring his perceptions, was for the moment illuminated, and for the
-first time he realized the enormity of Henry’s proceedings against the
-queen.
-
-As this sudden light flashed on him, he felt remorse for having
-encouraged the divorce, and resolved that henceforward all his influence
-should be used to dissuade his sovereign from it.
-
-At the approach of the royal favorite the ushers hastily made their
-salutations (although the queen had been permitted to pass them with
-scarcely the slightest mark of respect), and seemed to consider the
-most humble and servile attitude they could assume before him as only
-sufficiently respectful. They hastened to throw open the doors before
-him as he advanced, and Wolsey soon found himself in the presence of the
-king, who awaited his arrival in a state of almost angry impatience.
-
-“Well! what do you come to tell me?” he cried. “Do you bring me good
-news?”
-
-Wolsey, whose opinions had so recently undergone a very great change,
-for a moment hesitated. “Sire,” he at length replied, “Campeggio, the
-cardinal legate, has arrived.”
-
-“Has he indeed?” said Henry, with an ironical smile. “After so many
-unsuccessful applications, we have then, at last, obtained this favor.
-Well, I hope now this affair will proceed more rapidly; and, Wolsey,
-remember that it is your business so entirely to compromise and surround
-this man, that he shall not be able even to _think_ without my consent
-and sanction. And, above all, beware of the intrigues of the queen.
-Catherine is a Spaniard, with an artful, unyielding nature and fierce,
-indomitable will. She will, without doubt, make the most determined and
-desperate effort to enlist the legate in favor of her cause.”
-
-“Is the decision of your majesty irrevocable on the subject of this
-divorce?” replied Wolsey, in a hesitating and embarrassed manner. “The
-farther we advance, the more formidable the accumulating difficulties
-become. I must acknowledge, sire, I begin myself to doubt of success.
-Campeggio has already declared that, if the queen appeals to Rome, he
-will not refuse to present her petition, and defend her cause; that
-he himself will decide nothing, and will yield to nothing he cannot
-conscientiously approve.”
-
-On hearing Wolsey express these sentiments, Henry’s face flushed with
-rage, and a menacing scowl contracted his brow.
-
-“Can it be possible,” he cried, “that you dare address me in this manner?
-I will castigate the Pope himself if he refuses his sanction. He shall
-measure his power with mine! He trembles because Charles V. is already on
-his frontier. I will make him tremble now, in my turn! I will marry Anne
-Boleyn--yes, I will marry her before the eyes of the whole world!”
-
-“What do you say, sire? Anne Boleyn!” cried Wolsey.
-
-“Yes, Anne Boleyn!” replied the king, regarding Wolsey with his usual
-haughty and contemptuous expression. “You know her well. She is attached
-to the service of Catherine.”
-
-“Lady Anne Boleyn!” again cried Wolsey after a moment’s silence, for
-astonishment had almost for the time rendered him speechless and
-breathless. “Lady Anne Boleyn! The King of England, the great Henry,
-wishes, then, to marry Anne Boleyn! Why, if contemplating such a marriage
-as that, did you send me to seek the alliance of France, and to offer the
-hand of your daughter in marriage to the Duke of Orleans? And why did
-you instruct me to declare to Francis I. that your desire was to place
-on the throne of England a princess of his blood? It was only by these
-representations and promises that I succeeded in inducing him to sign the
-treaty which deprived Catherine of all assistance. You have assured me of
-your entire approval of these negotiations. This alliance with France was
-the only means by which to secure for yourself any real defence against
-the Pope and the Emperor. Do you suppose that Charles V. will quietly
-permit you to deprive his aunt of her position and title as queen of
-England?” Here Wolsey paused, wholly transported with indignation.
-
-“Charles!” replied the king, “Charles? I can easily manage and pacify him
-by fine promises and long negotiations. As to our Holy Father, I will
-stir up strife enough to fill his hands so full that he will not be able
-to attend to anything else. The quarrels of Austria and France always
-end by recoiling on his head, and I imagine he will not soon forget the
-sacking Rome and his former imprisonment.”
-
-“Yes, but you forget,” said Wolsey, “that the King of France will
-accuse you of flagrant bad faith: and will you bring on yourself their
-abhorrence in order to espouse Anne Boleyn?”
-
-The minister pronounced these last words with an expression and in a
-tone of such contemptuous scorn as to arouse in a fearful degree the
-indignation of the king, accustomed only to the flattery and servile
-adulation of his courtiers. At the same time, he was compelled to feel
-the force of the cardinal’s reasoning, although the truth only served
-still more to irritate and enrage him.
-
-“Cease, Wolsey!” cried Henry, fixing his flashing eyes fiercely upon him;
-“I am not here to listen to your complaints. I shall marry whom I please;
-and your head shall answer for the fidelity with which you assist me in
-executing my will.”
-
-“My head, sire,” replied Wolsey courageously, “has long belonged to you;
-my entire life has been devoted to your service; and yet I shall most
-probably, in the end, have bitter cause to repent having always made
-myself subservient to your wishes. But your majesty will surely reflect
-more seriously on the dishonor you will necessarily incur by such a
-choice as this. The queen’s party will grow stronger and stronger, and I
-tell you frankly, I fear lest the legate be inflexible.”
-
-“Wolsey,” cried Henry, elevating his voice in a threatening manner, “I
-have already declared my intentions--is that not sufficient? As to the
-legate, I repeat, he must be gained over to my cause. Gold and flattery
-will soon secure to us that tender conscience whose scruples you now so
-sorely apprehend. Bring him to me to-morrow.”
-
-“He is suffering too much, sire. The cardinal is aged and very infirm; I
-have no idea he will be in a condition to see your majesty for several
-days yet.”
-
-“Too long, entirely too long to wait!” replied the king. “I must see him
-this very day; he shall be compelled to make his appearance. I wish you
-to be present also, as we shall discuss affairs of importance, and then I
-shall depart.”
-
-With these words Henry withdrew and went to look for a casket, of which
-he alone carried the key, and in which he usually kept his most valuable
-and important papers.
-
-During his absence, Wolsey remained leaning on the table, before which
-he was seated, absorbed in deep and painful reflections. He feared Henry
-too much to oppose him long in any of his designs; besides, he saw no
-possible means to induce him to change his resolution. He had felt, as
-we have seen, a momentary compassion for the misfortunes of the queen,
-but that impression had been speedily effaced by considerations of far
-greater moment to himself.
-
-As a shrewd diplomatist, he regretted the alliance with France; besides,
-he was really too much interested in the welfare of the king not to
-deplore his determination to contract such a marriage.
-
-But the cause of his deepest anxiety was the knowledge he possessed of
-Anne’s great dislike for him, and the consciousness that her family
-and counsellors were his rivals and enemies; in consequence of which
-he clearly foresaw they would induce her to use all the influence she
-possessed with the king in order to deprive him of Henry’s favor
-and patronage. He was suffering this mental conflict when the king
-reappeared, bearing a bronze casket carved with rare perfection. Placing
-it on the table, he unlocked it. Among a great many papers which it
-contained was a very handsome book, the printing beautifully executed,
-and every page ornamented with arabesques exquisitely tinted and shaded.
-The cover, formed of two metal plates, represented in bass-relief the
-figures of Faith, Hope, and Charity as young virgins, bearing in their
-hands and on their foreheads the allegorical emblems of those sublime
-Christian virtues. Emeralds of immense value, surrounded by heavy gold
-settings, adorned the massive gold clasps, and also served to hold them
-firmly in their places.
-
-On the back of this book, deeply engraven in the metal, were the
-following words: _The Seven Sacraments_. Henry had written this work
-in defence of the ancient dogmas of the Catholic Church, when first
-attacked by the violent doctrines of a monk named Luther. Whether the
-king had really composed it himself, or whether he had caused it to be
-secretly done by another, and wished to enjoy the reputation of being
-the author, he certainly attached great importance to the work. Not only
-had he distributed it throughout his own kingdom, but had sent it to the
-Pope and to all the German princes, through the Dean of Windsor, whom he
-instructed to say that he was ready to defend the faith, not only with
-his pen but, if need be, with his sword also. It was at that time that he
-asked and obtained from the court of Rome the title of “Defender of the
-Faith.”
-
-Now he was constantly busy with a manuscript, which he took from the
-mysterious casket, containing a Treatise on Divorce, and to which he
-every day devoted several hours. Greatly pleased with a number of
-arguments he had just found, he came to communicate them to Wolsey. The
-latter, after urging several objections, at length reminded him of the
-fraudulent and persistent means that had been employed to extract from
-the University of Oxford an opinion favorable to divorce. “And yet,”
-added the cardinal, “it has been found impossible to prevent them from
-increasing the number of most important restrictions, and thus rendering
-your case exceedingly difficult, if not entirely hopeless.”
-
-“What!” said the king, “after the good example of the University of
-Cambridge, are we still to encounter scruples? Consider it well,
-cardinal, in order not to forget the recompense, and, above all, the
-punishment, for that is the true secret of success! You will also take
-care to write to the Elector Frederick, and say that I wait to receive
-the humble apologies of that man Luther, whom he has taken so entirely
-under his protection.”
-
-“Sire,” replied the cardinal, “I have received frequent intelligence with
-regard to that matter which I have scarcely dared communicate to you.”
-
-“And why not?” demanded the king. “Do you presume, my lord cardinal, that
-the abuse of an obscure and turbulent monk can affect me? And besides, to
-tell you the truth, I do not know but this man may, after all, be useful
-to me. He has attracted the attention of the court of Rome, and may yet
-have to crave my protection.”
-
-“Well, sire, since you compel me to speak, I will tell you that, far
-from making humble apologies, his violence against you has redoubled. I
-have just received a tract he has recently published. In it I find many
-passages where, in speaking of you, he employs the most abusive epithets
-and expressions. For instance, he repeatedly declares that your majesty
-‘is a fool, an ass, and a madman,’ that you are ‘coarser than a hog,
-and more stupid than a jackass.’ He speaks with equal scurrility of our
-Holy Father the Pope, addressing him, in terms of the most unparalleled
-effrontery, this pretended warning, which is of course intended simply
-as an insult: ‘My petit Paul, my petit Pope, my young ass, walk
-carefully--it is very slippery--you may fall and break your legs. You
-will surely hurt yourself, and then people will say, “What the devil does
-this mean? The petit Pope has hurt himself.”’ Further on, I find this
-ridiculous comparison, which could only emanate from a vile and shameless
-pen: ‘The ass knows that he is an ass, the stone knows that it is a
-stone, but these asses of popes are unable to recognize themselves as
-asses.’ He concludes at length with these words, which fill the measure
-of his impiety and degradation: ‘If I were ruler of an empire, I would
-make a bundle of the Pope and his cardinals, and throw them altogether
-into that little pond, the Tuscan Sea. I pledge my word that such a bath
-would restore their health, and I pledge Jesus Christ as my security!’”
-
-“What fearful blasphemy!” cried Henry. “Could a Christian possibly be
-supposed to utter such absurd, blasphemous vulgarities? I trow not! This
-pretended ‘reformer’ of the ‘discipline and abuses of the church’ seems
-to possess any other than an evangelical character. No one can doubt his
-divine mission and his Christian charity! A man who employs arguments
-like these is too vile and too contemptible to be again mentioned in my
-presence. Let me hear no more of this intolerable apostate! Proceed now
-with business.”
-
-“Sire,” then continued the cardinal, presenting a list to the king,
-“here are the names of several candidates I wish you to consider for
-the purpose of appointing a treasurer of the exchequer. Thomas More has
-already filled, most honorably, a number of offices of public trust, and
-is also a man of equal ability and integrity. I recommend him to your
-majesty for this office.”
-
-“I approve your selection most unhesitatingly,” replied the king. “I am
-extremely fond of More, and perfectly satisfied with the manner in which
-he has performed his official duties heretofore. You will so inform him
-from me. What next?”
-
-“I would also petition your majesty that Cromwell be confirmed as
-intendant-general of the monasteries latterly transformed into colleges.”
-
-“Who is this Cromwell?” inquired Henry. “I have no recollection of him.”
-
-“Sire,” replied Wolsey, “he is of obscure birth, the son of a fuller of
-this city. He served in the Italian wars in his youth; afterwards he
-applied himself to the study of law. His energies and abilities are such
-as to entitle him to the favorable consideration of your majesty.”
-
-“Let him be confirmed as you desire,” replied the king very graciously,
-as he proceeded to sign the different commissions intended for the newly
-appointed officials.
-
-“I wish,” he added, regarding Wolsey with a keen, searching glance, “that
-you would find some position for a young ecclesiastic called Cranmer, who
-has been strongly recommended to me for office.”
-
-The brow of the cardinal contracted into a heavy frown as he heard the
-name of a man but too well known to him. He immediately divined that it
-was from Anne Boleyn alone the king had received this recommendation.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In the meantime, the queen had been carried to her apartments. The
-devoted efforts of the ladies of her household, who surrounded her with
-the tenderest ministrations, soon recalled her to the consciousness and
-full realization of her misery.
-
-Now the night has come, and found Catherine still seated before the
-grate, absorbed in deep thought. Born under the soft skies of Spain,
-she had never become acclimated, nor accustomed to the humid, foggy
-atmosphere of England. Like a delicate plant torn from its native soil,
-she sighed unceasingly for the balmy air and the golden sunlight of
-her own genial southern clime. Such regrets, added to the sorrows she
-had experienced, had thrown her into a state of habitual melancholy,
-from which nothing could arouse her, and which the slightest occurrence
-sufficed to augment. For a long time her firmness of character had
-sustained her; but her health beginning to fail, and no longer able
-to arouse the energy and courage which had before raised her above
-misfortune, she sank beneath the burden and abandoned herself to hopeless
-sorrow.
-
-As she sat all alone in her chamber, she held in her hand a letter but
-recently received from her native country. Reading it slowly, she mused,
-dreaming of the days of her happy childhood, when suddenly the door was
-opened, and a young girl, apparently ten or twelve years of age, ran
-in and threw her arms around the neck of the queen. The figure of the
-child was slight and graceful; around her waist was tied a broad sash
-of rose-colored ribbon, with long ends floating over her white muslin
-dress; her beautiful blonde hair was drawn back from her forehead and
-fastened with bows of ribbon, leaving exposed a lovely little face
-glowing with animation and spirit, and a frank, ingenuous expression,
-at once prepossessing and charming. This was the Princess Mary, the
-daughter of Henry, the future consort of a Spanish prince, to whom the
-shrewd diplomatist Wolsey had promised her hand, in order to deprive the
-unfortunate mother of this her only remaining consolation.
-
-“Why is it, my dearest mamma,” she exclaimed, “that you are again in
-tears?” And, laughingly, she took the handkerchief from the queen and put
-it to her own eyes, pretending to weep.
-
-“See now, this is the way I shall do when I am grown up, for it seems to
-me grown-up people are always weeping. Oh! I wish I could always remain
-a child, and then I should never be miserable! Listen, my dear mamma,”
-she continued, again twining her arms around her mother’s neck, “why is
-it that you are always weeping and so sad? It must surely do you harm.
-Everybody is not like you, constantly sighing and in tears, I do assure
-you. Only this morning, I was at St. James’ Park with Alice, and there
-I met Lady Anne Boleyn; she was laughing gaily as she promenaded with a
-number of her friends. I ran immediately to her to say good morning, for
-I was really very glad to see her. How is it, mamma--I thought you told
-me she had gone to Kent to visit her father?”
-
-“My child,” replied the queen, her tears flowing afresh, “what I told you
-was true; but she has since returned without my being informed.”
-
-“But, mamma, since this is your own house, why has she not yet presented
-herself? I am very sorry she has acted so, for I love her better than any
-of the other ladies. She told me all she saw in France when she travelled
-with my aunt, the Duchess of Suffolk. Oh! how I would love to see France.
-Lady Anne says it is a most beautiful country. She has described to me
-all the magnificent entertainments that King Louis XII. gave in honor of
-my aunt. Mamma, when I marry, I want the King of France to be my husband.”
-
-“And you--you also love Anne Boleyn?” replied the queen.
-
-“Oh! yes, mamma, _very_ much, very much indeed!” innocently answered the
-child. “I am very sorry she is no longer to be here, she is so amiable,
-and when she plays with me she always amuses me so much!”
-
-“Well, my dear child,” replied the queen, “I will tell you now why people
-weep when they are grown up, as you say: it is because they very often
-love persons who no longer return their affection.”
-
-“And do you believe she no longer loves me?” replied the impulsive little
-Mary with a thoughtful expression. “And yet, mamma, I kissed her this
-morning and embraced her with all my heart. However, I now remember that
-she scarcely spoke a word to me; but I had not thought of it before. She
-seemed to be very much embarrassed. But why should she no longer love me
-when I still love her so dearly?”
-
-As Mary uttered these words, a woman entered the room and, whispering a
-moment in the ear of the queen, placed a note in her hand.
-
-Catherine arose and approached the light; after reading the note, she
-called the young princess and requested her to retire to her chamber, as
-she had something to write immediately that was very important.
-
-Mary ran gaily to her mother, and, after kissing and embracing her fondly
-and tenderly again and again, she at last bade her good-night, and with a
-smiling face bounded from the room in the same light and buoyant manner
-that she had entered it.
-
-“Leonora,” said the queen, “my dear child, you have left for my sake our
-beautiful Spain, and have ever served me with faithful devotion. Listen,
-now, to the request I shall make--go bring me immediately the dress and
-outer apparel belonging to one of the servant women.”
-
-“Why so, my lady?”
-
-“Ask no questions--I have use for them; you will accompany me; I must go
-to London this night.”
-
-“Good heaven! my dear mistress, what are you saying?” cried Leonora in
-great alarm. “Go to London to-night? It is five miles; you will never be
-able to walk it, and you well know it would be impossible to attempt the
-journey in any other way--they would detect us.”
-
-“Leonora,” answered the queen, “I am resolved to go. Faithful friends
-inform me that the legate has arrived. Henry will now redouble his
-vigilance. I have but one day--if I lose this opportunity, I shall
-never succeed. My last remaining hope rests upon this. If you refuse to
-accompany me, I shall go alone.”
-
-“Alone!--oh! my beloved mistress,” cried Leonora, her hands clasped and
-her eyes streaming tears, “you can never do this! Think of what you are
-going to undertake! If you were recognized, the king would be at once
-informed, and we would both be lost.”
-
-“Even so, Leonora; but what have I to lose? Is it possible for me to be
-made more wretched? Shall I abandon this, my last hope? No, no, Leonora;
-I am accountable to my children for the honor of their birth. Go now, my
-good girl! fly--there is not a moment to lose. Fear nothing; God will
-protect us!”
-
-Leonora, shrewd and adroit like the women of her country, was very soon
-in possession of the desired habiliments. Her actions might have excited
-suspicion, perhaps; but entirely devoted to the queen as she was she felt
-no fear, and would, without hesitation, have exposed herself to even
-greater danger, had it been necessary, in the execution of her mistress’
-wishes.
-
-Catherine feigned to retire; and, after her attendants had been
-dismissed, she left the palace, closely enveloped in a long brown cloak,
-such as was habitually worn by the working-women of that period. The
-faithful Leonora tremblingly followed the footsteps of her mistress. They
-breathed more freely when they found themselves at last beyond the limits
-of the castle. Leonora, however, when they entered the road leading to
-London, anxiously reflected on the danger of meeting some one who would
-probably recognize them. Her excited imagination even began to conjure up
-vague apprehensions of the dead, to blend with her fears of the living.
-She also dreaded lest the strength of the queen should prove unequal
-to the journey--in fine, she feared everything. The sighing winds, the
-rustling leaves, the sound of her own footsteps as she walked over the
-stones, startled and filled her with apprehension. Very soon there was
-another cause for alarm. The wind suddenly arose with violence; dark
-clouds overspread the heavens; the moon disappeared; large drops of
-rain began to fall, and soon poured in torrents, deluging the earth and
-drenching their garments.
-
-In vain they increased their speed; the storm raged with such fury they
-were compelled to take refuge under a tree by the roadside.
-
-“My poor Leonora,” said the queen, supporting herself against the trunk
-of the tree, whose wide-spread branches were being lashed and bent by the
-fury of the storm, “I regret now having brought you with me. I am already
-sufficiently miserable without the additional pain of seeing my burdens
-laid upon others.”
-
-“My beloved lady and mistress,” cried Leonora, “I am not half so unhappy
-at this moment as I was when I feared my brothers would prevent me from
-following you to England. It seems to me I can see the vessel now,
-with its white sails unfurled, bearing you away, whilst I, standing on
-the shore, with frantic cries, entreated them to let me rejoin you.
-That night, I remember, being unable to sleep, I went down into the
-orange-grove, the perfume of whose fruits and flowers embalmed the air
-of the palace gardens. Wiping away the sad tears, I fixed my eyes upon
-your windows, which the light of our beautiful skies rendered distinctly
-visible even at night. In Spain, at that hour, we can walk by the light
-of the stars; but in this land of mud and water, this horrid England,
-one has to be wrapped to the ears in furs all the year round, or shiver
-with cold from morning till night. This is doubtless the reason why
-the English are so dull and so tiresome to others. In what a condition
-is this light mantle that covers our heads!” said Leonora, shaking the
-coarse woollen cloak dripping with water, that enveloped Catherine.
-“These Englishwomen,” she resumed, “know no more about the sound of a
-guitar than they do about the rays of the sun; they are all just as
-melancholy as moles. There is not one of them, except the Princess Mary,
-who seems to have the slightest idea of our beautiful Spain.”
-
-“Ah!” sighed the queen, “she is just as I was at her age. God forbid that
-her future should resemble that of her mother!”
-
-In the meantime the storm had gradually abated; time pressed, and
-Catherine again resumed her journey with renewed courage and accelerated
-speed. In spite of the mud, in which she sank at every step, she
-redoubled her efforts. For what cannot the strong human will accomplish,
-when opposed to feeble, physical strength alone, or even when the
-obstacles interposed proceed from the elements themselves? She at length
-arrived at the gate of the palace of Lambeth, situated on the banks of
-the Thames, where the cardinal Campeggio, according to the intelligence
-conveyed to her, would hold his court.
-
-The courtyards, the doors, the ante-chambers, were thronged with servants
-and attendants, eager and active in the performance of their duties, for
-Henry had ordered that the cardinal should be entertained in a style
-of princely munificence, and entirely free from personal expense. All
-these valets, being strangers to their new masters, and unaccustomed to
-their new employments, permitted the queen to pass without question or
-detention, not, however, without a stare of stupid curiosity at her muddy
-boots and draggled garments.
-
-Catherine, being perfectly familiar with the interior of the palace, had
-no difficulty in finding the legate’s cabinet.
-
-The venerable prelate was slightly lame, and in a feeble and precarious
-state of health. She found him seated before the fire in a large velvet
-arm-chair, engaged in reading his Breviary. His face was pale and
-emaciated; a few thin locks of snow-white hair hung about his temples.
-Hearing the door open, he rested the book on his knee, casting upon the
-queen, as she entered, a keen, penetrating glance.
-
-Without hesitation, Catherine advanced towards him. “My lord cardinal,”
-she exclaimed, removing the hood from her face, “you see before you the
-queen of England, the legitimate spouse of Henry VIII.”
-
-Hearing these words, Campeggio was unable to suppress an exclamation of
-surprise. He arose at once to his feet, and, perceiving the extraordinary
-costume in which Catherine was arrayed, he cast upon her a look of
-incredulous astonishment. He was about to speak when she, with great
-vehemence, interrupted him.
-
-“Yes,” she cried, raising her hands towards heaven, “I call upon God to
-witness the truth of what I say--I am Queen Catherine! You are astonished
-to see me here at this hour, and in this disguise. Know, then, that I am
-a prisoner in my own palace; my cruel husband would have prevented me
-from coming to you. They tell me you are sent to sit in judgment on my
-case. Surely, then, you should be made acquainted with my bitter woes and
-grievances. Lend not your aid to the cause of injustice and wrong, but be
-the strength of the weak, the defence of the innocent. A stranger in this
-country, I have no friends; fear of the king drives them all from me.
-I cannot doubt it--no, you will not refuse to hear my appeal. You will
-defend the cause of an injured mother and her helpless children. What!
-would you be willing to condemn me without first hearing my cause--I,
-the daughter of kings? Have I been induced to marry Henry of Lancaster
-to enjoy the honors of royalty, when all such honors belong to me by my
-birthright? Catherine of Aragon has never been unfaithful to her husband;
-but to-day, misled by a criminal passion, he wishes to place upon the
-throne of England a shameless woman, to deny his own blood, and brand his
-own children with the stigma of illegitimacy! Yes, I solemnly declare to
-you that nothing can shake my resolution or divert me from my purpose!
-Strong in my innocence and in the justice of my cause, I will appeal to
-the whole world--aye, even to God himself!”
-
-The cardinal stood motionless, regarding Catherine with reverence, as an
-expression of haughty indignation lighted up her noble features. He was
-struck with admiration at her courage and filled with compassion for her
-woes.
-
-“No, madam,” he replied, “I am not to be your judge. I know that it is
-but too true that you are surrounded by enemies. But let me assure you
-that in me, at least, you will not find another. I shall esteem myself
-most happy if, by my counsel or influence, I may be of service to your
-cause, and it is from the depths of my heart that I beg you to rely upon
-this assurance.”
-
-Catherine would have thanked him, but a noise was that moment heard of
-the ushers throwing the doors violently open and announcing, in a loud
-voice, “His Eminence Cardinal Wolsey!”
-
-“Merciful heaven!” cried Catherine, “must this odious man pursue me for
-ever?” She hurriedly lowered her veil, and took her place at the left of
-the door, and the moment he entered passed out behind him. Wolsey glanced
-at her sharply, the appearance of a woman arousing instantly a suspicion
-in his mind, but, being compelled to respond with politeness to the
-legate’s salutations, he had no time to scrutinize, and Catherine escaped
-without being recognized.
-
-Wolsey was passionately fond of pomp and pageant. The principal positions
-in his house were filled by barons and chevaliers. Among these attendants
-were numbered the sons of some of the most distinguished families, who,
-under his protection and by the aid of his all-powerful patronage and
-influence, aspired to civil or military preferment.
-
-On this occasion, he considered it necessary to make an unusual display
-of luxurious magnificence. It was with great difficulty and trepidation
-that the queen threaded her way through the crowd of prelates, noblemen,
-and young gentlemen who awaited in the ante-chambers the honor of being
-presented by the king’s favorite to the cardinal-legate.
-
-The courtyard was filled with their brilliant equipages, conspicuous
-among which were observed a great number of mules, richly caparisoned,
-and carrying on their backs immense chests, covered with crimson cloth,
-trimmed with fringe and embroidered with gold.
-
-A crowd of idle valets were engaged in conversation at the foot of the
-stairs. The queen, in passing them, attracted their attention, exciting
-their ridicule and coarse gibes, and she heard them also indulge in the
-most insolent conjectures regarding her.
-
-“Who is that woman?” said one. “See how dirty she is.” “She looks like
-a beggar, indeed,” cried another, addressing himself to one of the
-new-comers engaged to attend the legate. “Your master receives strange
-visitors; we, on the contrary, have nothing to do with people like that,
-except quickly to show them the door.”
-
-“Ha! ha! you will have your hands full,” exclaimed the most insolent
-of the crowd, “if your master gives audience to such rabble as that.”
-Emboldened by these remarks, one of the porters approached the queen,
-and, rudely pushing her, exclaimed with an oath: “Well, beldame, what
-brought you here? Take yourself off quickly. My lord is rich, but his
-crowns were not made for such as you.” These words excited the loudest
-applause from the whole crowd, who clapped their hands and cheered
-vociferously. Catherine trembled with mortification.
-
-“It is thus,” she mentally exclaimed, “that the poor are received in
-the palaces of the rich. And I myself have probably more than once,
-without knowing it, permitted them to sigh in vain at the gates of my own
-palace--mothers weeping for their children, or men, old and helpless,
-making a last appeal for assistance.”
-
-The queen, entirely absorbed in these reflections, together with the
-impression made upon her by the appearance of the venerable legate, the
-sudden apparition of Wolsey, the snares that had been laid for her, and
-the temptations with which they had surrounded her, mechanically followed
-Leonora, to whom the fear that her mistress might be pursued and arrested
-seemed to have given wings.
-
-“Leonora,” at length cried the queen, “I feel that I can go no farther.
-Stop, and let us rest for a moment; you walk too quickly.” Exhausted with
-fatigue, she seated herself on a rock by the roadside.
-
-She had scarcely rested a moment when a magnificent carriage passed.
-The silken curtains were drawn back, and the flaming torches, carried
-by couriers, who surrounded the carriage, completely illuminated the
-interior. Seated in this princely equipage was a young girl, brilliant
-in her youthful beauty and the splendor of her elegant dress and
-jewelled adornings. At a glance, Catherine recognized Anne Boleyn, who
-was returning from a grand entertainment given her by the Lord Mayor of
-London.
-
-She passed like the light; the carriage rapidly whirling through the mud
-and water, that flew from the wheels and covered anew the already soiled
-garments of the hapless queen.
-
-Catherine, completely overcome by painful emotions, felt as though she
-were dying.
-
-“Leonora, listen!” she said in a faint voice, scarcely audible--“Leonora,
-come near me--give me your hand; I feel that I am dying! You will carry
-to my daughter my last benediction!”
-
-She sought in the darkness the hand of Leonora; the film of death
-seemed gathering over her eyes; she did not speak, her head sank on her
-shoulder, and poor Leonora thought the queen had ceased to breathe. She
-at first held her in her arms; but at length, overcome by fatigue, she
-sank upon the earth as she vainly endeavored to revive her by breathing
-into her mouth her own life-breath. But seeing all her efforts to restore
-animation useless, she came to the terrible conclusion that Catherine was
-indeed dead.
-
-“My dear mistress,” she cried wildly, wringing her hands, “my good
-mistress is dead! What will become of me? It is my fault: I should
-have prevented her from going. Ah! how miserable I am!” And her tears
-and cries redoubled. At length she heard in the distance the sound of
-approaching footsteps, and was soon able to distinguish a litter, borne
-by a number of men. “Help!” she cried, her hopes reviving at the sight,
-and very soon they were near her--“help! come to my assistance; my
-mistress is dying!” Seeing two women, one lying on the ground supported
-in the arms of another, who appeared half-deranged, the person who
-occupied the litter commanded the men to stop immediately, and he quickly
-alighted. It was the king! He also was going to London to see the
-legate; to prevent his anxious haste from being known, and commented on,
-he had adopted this secret conveyance. When she saw him, Leonora was
-paralyzed with apprehension and alarm. The king instantly recognized
-the queen and the unhappy Leonora. In a furious voice, he demanded what
-she was doing there and where she had been. But in vain she endeavored
-to reply--her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth--she was unable to
-articulate a word. Transported with rage at her silence, and by what
-he suspected, he immediately had the queen placed in the litter, and
-ordering the men to walk slowly, he followed them on foot to the palace.
-
-Catherine was carried to her own apartment, and soon restored to
-consciousness; but on opening her eyes she looked around, vainly hoping
-to behold her faithful Leonora. She never saw her again! She had been
-taken away, and the punishment that was meted out to her, or the fate
-that befel the unfortunate girl, was for ever involved in mystery.
-
-While discord filled the royal palace with perplexity and sorrow a
-statesman, simple and peaceful, awaited, with happiness mingled with
-impatience, the arrival of a friend. In his house, all around him seemed
-possessed of redoubled activity. The family table was more elegantly
-spread, fresh flowers decorated all the apartments, the children ran to
-and fro in the very excess of their joy and delight, until at length,
-in every direction, the glad announcement was heard, “He has come! he
-has come!” The entire family eagerly descended to the court-yard to meet
-and welcome the visitor, and Sir Thomas, with feelings of inexpressible
-joy, folded in his embrace the Bishop of Rochester, the wise and virtuous
-Fisher, whom he loved with the purest and tenderest sentiments of
-friendship.
-
-“At last you are here,” he exclaimed; “how happy I am to see you once
-more!”
-
-While the good bishop was ascending the stairs, surrounded by a troop
-of Sir Thomas’ youngest children, Margaret, the eldest daughter, came
-forward and saluted him, accompanied by Lady More, her step-mother,
-and young William Roper, her affianced husband. They all entered the
-drawing-room together, and, after engaging a short time in general
-conversation, Sir Thomas bade the children retire, that he might converse
-with more freedom.
-
-“My dear friend,” he exclaimed, taking the bishop’s hand again in his
-own, “I cannot express the joy I feel at your return. I have been so long
-deprived of your presence, and I have so many things to say to you. But
-my heart is too full at this moment to permit me to express all I feel or
-would say! But why have you not answered my letters?”
-
-“Your letters!” replied the bishop. “Why, it has been more than a month
-since I received one from you.”
-
-“How can that be possible unless they have been intercepted?” replied
-More. “The king every day becomes more and more suspicious. If this
-continues, it will soon be considered high treason for a man to think.”
-
-“I cannot tell what has become of your letters. I only know I have
-not received them, and it has caused me a great deal of anxiety and
-apprehension. But my friend, since I find you full of life and health,
-I am quite satisfied and happy. Now, let me hear all that has happened
-at court; but let me begin by first telling you that the king has sent
-me, through Cardinal Wolsey, a document he has written on the subject
-of divorce, asking my opinion and advice. I have answered him with all
-frankness and candor, expressing myself strongly against his views.
-Certainly, there is nothing more absurd than the idea of the king’s
-wishing to repudiate, after so many years of marriage, a princess so
-virtuous and irreproachable, to whom he can find no other objection
-than that she was betrothed to his brother, Prince Arthur. Besides, a
-dispensation was obtained on that account at the time of his marriage,
-therefore it would seem his conscience ought to be perfectly satisfied.”
-
-“Yes, yes, his conscience should be entirely at rest,” replied Sir
-Thomas. “And if he sincerely believes the marriage has been void
-until this time, why does he not make the effort to have it rendered
-legitimate, instead of endeavoring to annul it entirely? It is because he
-wishes to marry one of the queen’s ladies--the young Anne Boleyn!”
-
-“Oh! horrible,” cried Fisher. “Are you sure, my friend, of what you say?
-Gracious heaven! If I had only suspected it! But I assure you I have
-had entire confidence in him. I have, therefore, examined the subject
-conscientiously and with the greatest possible diligence before giving
-him my reply. Had I suspected any such scheme as this, I should never
-have had the patience to consider the arguments he has presented with so
-much duplicity.”
-
-“Well, my dear Fisher,” replied Sir Thomas, “such is the sad truth, and
-such are the ‘scruples’ that disturb the tender conscience of the king.
-To repudiate the queen and the Princess Mary, his daughter, is his sole
-aim, his only desire. I also have received an order to read and give my
-opinion on the divorce question; but I have asked to be excused, on the
-ground of my very limited knowledge of theological matters. Moreover, all
-these debates and hypocritical petitions for advice are entirely absurd
-and unnecessary. Cardinal Campeggio, the Pope’s legate, has already
-arrived from Rome, and the queen will appear before a court composed of
-the legate and Wolsey, together with several other cardinals.”
-
-“The queen brought to trial!” cried the Bishop of Rochester. “The queen
-arraigned to hear her honor and her rank disputed? What a shame upon
-England! Who will speak for her? I would give my life to be called to
-defend her! But how is it that Wolsey--the all-powerful Wolsey--has not
-diverted the king from his unworthy purpose?”
-
-“He is said to have tried; but he stands in awe of the king. You know an
-ambitious man never opposes him to whom he owes his power. Nevertheless,”
-added More, “I cannot believe he will dare to pronounce the Princess Mary
-illegitimate. For, all laws aside, supposing even that the marriage were
-annulled, the good faith in which it was contracted invests her birth
-with an inalienable right.”
-
-“I hope it may be so,” said Fisher; “but what immense calamities this
-question will bring on our unhappy country!”
-
-“I fear so, my friend,” replied More. “At present, the people are pledged
-to the queen’s cause; it could not be otherwise, she is so much beloved
-and esteemed; and they declare, if the king does succeed in repudiating
-Catherine, that he will find it impossible to deprive his daughter of her
-right to reign over them.”
-
-“And Wolsey,” replied the bishop thoughtfully, “will be called to
-sit in judgment on his sovereign! He will be against her! And this
-Campeggio--what says he in the matter?”
-
-“We believe,” replied More, “that he will sustain the queen; he seems to
-possess great firmness and integrity of character. His first interview
-with the king gave us great hopes. Henry has overwhelmed him with
-protestations of his entire submission, but all his artifices have been
-frustrated by the discernment and prudence of the Italian cardinal. His
-impenetrable silence on the subject of his own personal opinions has
-plunged the king into despair. Since that day he has honored him with
-incessant visits, has offered him the rich bishopric of Durham, and
-worked unceasingly to corrupt his integrity by promises and flattery.”
-
-“How keenly the queen must suffer,” said Fisher--“she that I saw, at
-the time of her arrival in the kingdom, so young, so beautiful, and so
-idolized by Henry!”
-
-“Alas! I think so,” said More. “For some time I have found it impossible
-to approach her. However, she appears in public as usual, always gracious
-and affable; there is no change in her appearance. The queen is truly
-a most admirable woman. During your absence, an epidemic made its
-appearance called the ‘sweating sickness,’ which made terrible ravages.
-Wolsey fled from his palace, several noblemen belonging to his household
-having died very suddenly of the disease. The king was greatly alarmed;
-he never left the queen for a moment, and united with her in constant
-prayers to God, firmly believing that her petitions would avail to stay
-the pestilence. He immediately despatched Anne Boleyn to her father,
-where she was attacked by the disease, and truly we would have felt
-no regret at her loss if the Lord in taking her had only deigned to
-show mercy to her soul. At one time we believed the king had entirely
-reformed, but, alas! the danger had scarcely passed when he recalled Anne
-Boleyn, and is again estranged from the queen.”
-
-“Death gives us terrible lessons,” replied the Bishop of Rochester. “In
-his presence we judge of all things wisely. The illusions of time are
-dissipated, to give place to the realities of eternity!” As the bishop
-said these words, several persons who had called to see Sir Thomas
-entered the room. Conspicuous among them was Cromwell, the protégé of
-Wolsey. This man was both false and sinister, who made use of any means
-that led to the acquisition of fortune. He possessed the arts of intrigue
-and flattery. To a profound dissimulation he added an air of politeness
-and a knowledge of the world that, in general, caused him to be well
-received in society. A close scrutiny of his character, however, made
-it evident that there was something in the depths of this man’s soul
-rendering him unworthy of any confidence. To him, vice and virtue were
-words devoid of any meaning. When he found a man was no longer necessary
-to his designs, or that he could not in some manner use him, he made no
-further effort to conciliate or retain his friendship. He saluted Sir
-Thomas and the Bishop of Rochester with a quiet ease, and seated himself
-beside young Cranmer--“with whom I am very well acquainted,” he remarked.
-For Cromwell, like all other intriguers, assumed intimacy with all the
-world.
-
-Scarcely had he uttered the words when a Mr. Williamson was ushered in,
-who had returned to London a few days before, after a long absence on the
-Continent.
-
-“And so you are back, Mr. Williamson,” cried More, taking his hand. “You
-are just from Germany, I believe? Well, do tell us how matters stand in
-that country. It seems, from what we hear, everything is in commotion
-there.”
-
-“Your supposition is quite correct, sir,” replied Williamson in a
-half-serious, half-jesting manner. “The emperor is furious against our
-king, and has sent ambassadors to Rome to oppose the divorce. But the
-empire is greatly disturbed by religious dissensions, therefore I doubt
-if he will be able to give the subject as much attention as he desires.
-New reformers are every day springing up. The foremost now is Bacer,
-a Dominican monk; then comes Zwingle, the curate of Zürich--where he
-endeavored to abolish the Mass, to the great scandal of the people--and
-there is still another, named Œcolampadius, who has joined Zwingle. But
-strangest of all is that these reformers, among themselves, agree in
-nothing. The one admits a dogma, the other rejects it; to-day they think
-this, to-morrow that. Every day some new doctrine is promulgated. Luther
-has a horror of Zwingle, and they mutually damn each other. The devil is
-no longer able to recognize himself. They occasionally try to patch up a
-reconciliation, and agree altogether to believe a certain doctrine, but
-the compact is scarcely drawn up before the whole affair is upset again.”
-
-Cranmer, while listening to this discourse, moved uneasily in his chair,
-until at length, unable to restrain himself longer, he interrupted
-Williamson in a sharp, cutting manner that he endeavored to soften.
-
-“In truth, sir, you speak very slightingly of these learned and
-distinguished men. And only, it seems, because they demand a reform in
-the morals of the clergy, and preach against and denounce the abuses of
-the church in the matter of indulgences.”
-
-“Beautiful reformers!” cried Williamson. “They protest to-day against an
-abuse which they alone have felt as such, and that but for a very short
-time. And permit me to insist on your observing a fact, which it is by no
-means necessary or expedient to forget, that this quarrel originated in
-the displeasure felt by Luther because it was not to his own order, but
-to that of the Dominicans, to whom the distribution of indulgences was
-entrusted.”
-
-“That may be possible, sir,” interrupted Cranmer, “but at least you will
-not deny that the immorality of the German clergy imperatively demanded a
-thorough reformation.”
-
-“It is quite possible, my dear sir, that I may not be ready at once to
-agree with you in your opinions. But if the German church has become
-relaxed in morals, it is the fault of those only who before their
-elevation to the holy office had not, as they were bound to have, the
-true spirit of their vocation. But I pray you, on this point of morals,
-it will not do to boast of the severity of these new apostles. The
-disciples of Christ left their wives, when called to ‘go into all the
-world and preach the Gospel,’ but these men begin by taking wives. Luther
-has married a young and beautiful nun, an act that has almost driven his
-followers to despair, and scandalized and excited the ridicule of the
-whole city. As to Bucer, he is already married to his second wife!”
-
-“What!” cried the bishop, “these men marry! Marry--in the face of the
-holy church! Do they forget the solemn vows of chastity they have
-made?--for they are all either priests or monks.”
-
-“Their vows! Oh! they _retract_ their vows, they say. These ‘vows’ are
-what they call _abuses_; and the priests of this so severely reformed
-church will hereafter enjoy the inestimable privilege of marrying.”
-
-Whilst this conversation had been going on, Sir Thomas kept his eyes
-closely fixed on Cranmer, trying to discover, from the expression of his
-pale, meagre face, the impression made on him by the conversation. He
-was well convinced that latterly Cranmer, although he had already taken
-orders, maintained the new doctrines with all the influence he possessed.
-And the reason why he had so thoroughly espoused them was because of a
-violent passion conceived for the daughter of Osiander, one of the chief
-reformers.
-
-Born of a poor and obscure family, he had embraced the ecclesiastical
-state entirely from motives of interest and ambition, and without the
-slightest vocation, his sole aim being to advance his own interests
-and fortunes by every possible means, and he had already succeeded in
-ingratiating himself with the Earl of Wiltshire, who, together with all
-the family of Anne Boleyn, were his devoted patrons and friends. It was
-by these means that he was afterwards elevated to the archiepiscopal see
-of Canterbury, where we will find him servilely devoting himself to the
-interests of Henry VIII., and at last dying the death of a traitor.
-
-Influenced by such motives, Cranmer warmly defended the new doctrines,
-bringing forward every available argument, and ended by declaring he
-thought it infinitely better that the priests should be allowed to marry
-than be exposed to commit sin.
-
-“Nothing obliges them to commit sin,” cried the Bishop of Rochester, who
-was no longer able to maintain silence. “On the contrary, sir, every
-law and regulation of the discipline and canons of the church tends to
-inspire and promote the most immaculate purity of morals. These rules
-may seem hard to those who have embraced the ecclesiastical state from
-motives of pride and an ambitious self-interest, and without having
-received from God the graces necessary for the performance of the duties
-of so exalted and holy a ministry. This is why we so often have to grieve
-over the misconduct of so many of the clergy. But if they complain of
-their condition now, what will it be when they have wives and families
-to increase their cares and add to their responsibilities? The priest!”
-continued the bishop, seeming to penetrate the very depths of Cranmer’s
-narrow, contracted soul, “have you ever reflected upon the sublimity of
-his vocation? The priest is the father of the orphan, the brother of the
-poor, the consoler of the dying, the spiritual support of the criminal
-on the scaffold, the merciful judge of the assassin in his dungeon. Say,
-do you not think the entire human race a family sufficiently large, its
-duties sufficiently extended, its responsibilities, wants, and cares
-sufficiently arduous and pressing? How could a priest do more, when his
-duty now requires him to devote, and give himself entirely to, each and
-every one of the human family? No; a priest is a man who has made a
-solemn vow to become an angel. If he does not intend to fulfil that vow,
-then let him never pronounce it!”
-
-“O Rochester!” cried Sir Thomas More, greatly moved, “how I delight to
-hear you express yourself in this manner!”
-
-And Sir Thomas spoke with all sincerity, for the bishop, without being
-conscious of it, had faithfully described his own life and character,
-and those who knew and loved him found no difficulty in recognizing the
-portrait.
-
-As Sir Thomas spoke, the door again opened, and all arose respectfully
-on seeing the Duke of Norfolk appear--that valiant captain, to whom
-England was indebted for her victory gained on the field of Flodden.
-He was accompanied by the youngest and best-beloved of his sons, the
-young Henry, Earl of Surrey. Even at his very tender age, the artless
-simplicity and graceful manners of this beautiful child commanded the
-admiration of all, while his brilliant intellect and lively imagination
-announced him as the future favorite and cherished poet of the age.
-
-Alas! how rapidly fled those golden years of peace and happiness. Later,
-and Norfolk, this proud father, so happy in being the parent of such a
-son, lived to behold the head of that noble boy fall upon the scaffold!
-The crime of which Henry VIII. will accuse him will be that of having
-united his arms with those of Edward the Confessor, whose royal blood
-mingled with that which flowed in his own veins.
-
-Sir Thomas approached the duke and saluted him with great deference. The
-Bishop of Rochester insisted on resigning him his chair, but the duke
-declined, and seated himself in the midst of the company.
-
-“I was not aware,” said he, turning graciously towards the bishop, “that
-Sir Thomas was enjoying such good company. I congratulate myself on the
-return of my Lord of Rochester. He will listen, I am sure, with lively
-interest to the recital I have come to make; for I must inform you,
-gentlemen, I am just from Blackfriars, where the king summoned me this
-morning in great haste, to assist, with some of the highest dignitaries
-of the kingdom, at the examination of the queen before the assembly of
-cardinals.”
-
-He had scarcely uttered these words when an expression of profound
-amazement overspread the features of all present. More was by no means
-the least affected.
-
-“The queen!” he cried. “Has she then appeared in person? And so
-unexpectedly and rudely summoned! They have done this in order that she
-might not be prepared with her defence!”
-
-“I know not,” replied the duke; “but I shall never be able to forget
-the sad and imposing scene. When we entered, the cardinals and the two
-legates were seated on a platform covered with purple cloth; the king
-seated at their right. We were arranged behind his chair in perfect
-silence. Very soon the queen entered, dressed in the deepest mourning.
-She took her seat on the left of the platform, facing the king. When the
-king’s name was called he arose, and remained standing and in silence.
-But when the queen was in her turn summoned, she arose, and replied,
-with great dignity, that she boldly protested against her judges for
-three important reasons: first, because she was a stranger; secondly,
-because they were all in possession of royal benefices, which had been
-bestowed on them by her adversary; and, thirdly, that she had grave and
-all-important reasons for believing that she would not obtain justice
-from a tribunal so constituted. She added that she had already appealed
-to the Pope, and would not submit to the judgment of this court. Having
-said these words, she stood in silence, but when she heard them declare
-her appeal should not be submitted to the Pope, she passed before the
-cardinals, and, walking proudly across the entire hall, she threw herself
-at the feet of the king.
-
-“It would be impossible,” continued Norfolk, “to describe the emotion
-excited by this movement.
-
-“‘Sire,’ she cried, with a respectful but firm and decided tone, ‘I beg
-you to regard me with compassion. Pity me as a woman, as a stranger
-without friends on whom I can rely, without a single disinterested
-adviser to whom I can turn for counsel! I call upon God to witness,’
-she continued, raising her expressive eyes towards heaven, ‘that I have
-always been to you a loyal, faithful wife, and have made it my constant
-duty to conform in all things to your will; that I have loved those whom
-you have loved, whether I knew them to be my enemies or my friends. For
-many years I have been your wife; I am the mother of your children. God
-knows, when I married you, I was an unsullied virgin, and since that time
-I have never brought reproach on the sanctity of my marriage vows. Your
-own conscience bears witness to the truth of what I say. If you can find
-a single fault with which to reproach me, then will I pledge you my word
-to bow my head in shame, and at once leave your presence; but, if not, I
-pray you in God’s holy name to render me justice.’
-
-“While she was speaking, a low murmur of approbation was heard throughout
-the assembly, followed by a long, unbroken silence. The king grew deadly
-pale, but made no reply to the queen, who arose, and was leaving the
-hall, when Henry made a signal to the Duke of Suffolk to detain her. He
-followed her, and made every effort to induce her to return, but in vain.
-Turning haughtily round, she said, in a tone sufficiently distinct to be
-heard by the entire assembly:
-
-“‘Go, tell the king, your master, that until this hour I have never
-disobeyed him, and that I regret being compelled to do so now.’
-
-“Saying these words, she immediately turned and left the hall, followed
-by her ladies in waiting.
-
-“Her refusal to remain longer in the presence of her judges, and the
-touching, unstudied eloquence of the appeal she had made, cast the
-tribunal into a state of great embarrassment, and the honorable judges
-seemed to wish most heartily they had some one else to decide for them;
-when suddenly the king arose, and, turning haughtily towards them, spoke:
-
-“‘Sirs,’ he said, ‘most cheerfully and with perfect confidence do
-I present my testimony, bearing witness to the spotless virtue and
-unsullied integrity of the queen. Her character, her conduct, in every
-particular, has been above reproach. But it is impossible for me to
-live in the state of constant anxiety this union causes me to suffer.
-My conscience keeps me in continual dread because of having married
-this woman, who was the betrothed wife of my own brother. I will use no
-dissimulation, my lords; I know very well that many of you believe I
-have been persuaded by the Cardinal of York to make this appeal for a
-divorce. But I declare in your presence this day, this is an entirely
-false impression, and that, on the contrary, the cardinal has earnestly
-contended against the scruples which have disturbed my soul. But, I
-declare, against my own will, and in spite of all my regrets, his
-opinions have not been able to restore to me the tranquillity of a heart
-without reproach. I have, in consequence, found it necessary to confer
-again with the Bishop of Tarbes, who has, unhappily, only confirmed the
-fears I already entertain. I have consulted my confessor and many other
-prelates, who have all advised me to submit this question to the tribunal
-of our Holy Father, the Sovereign Pontiff. To this end, my lords, you
-have been invested by him with his own supreme authority and spiritual
-power. I will listen to you as I would listen to him--that is to say,
-with the most entire submission. I wish, however, to remind you again
-that my duty towards my subjects requires me to prevent whatever might
-have the effect in the future of disturbing their tranquillity; and,
-unfortunately, I have but too strong reasons for fearing that, at some
-future day, the legitimacy of the right of the Princess Mary to the
-throne may be disputed. It is with entire confidence that I await your
-solution of a question so important to the happiness of my subjects and
-the peace of my kingdom. I have no doubt that you will be able to remove
-all the obstacles placed in my way.’
-
-“Saying these words, the king retired, and started instantly for his
-palace at Greenwich. The noblemen generally followed him, but I remained
-to witness the end of what proved to be a tumultuous and stormy debate.
-Nevertheless, after a long discussion, they decided to go on with the
-investigation, to hear the advocates of the queen, and continue the
-proceedings in spite of her protest.”
-
-“Who is the queen’s advocate?” demanded the Bishop of Rochester.
-
-“He has not yet been appointed,” replied Norfolk. “It seems to me it
-would only be just to let the queen select her own counsel.”
-
-“But she will refuse, without a doubt,” replied Cromwell, “after the
-manner she has adopted to defend herself.”
-
-They continued to converse for a long time on this subject, which filled
-with anxious apprehension the heart of Sir Thomas, as well as that of his
-faithful friend, the good Bishop of Rochester.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-THE BIRTH-PLACE OF S. VINCENT DE PAUL
-
-                            “I love all waste
-    And solitary places where we taste
-    The pleasure of believing what we see
-    Is boundless as we wish our souls to be:
-    And such was this wide ocean and the shore
-    More barren than its billows.”
-
-                                  --_Shelley._
-
-The Landes--that long, desolate tract on the western coast of France
-between the Gironde and the Adour, with its vast forests of melancholy
-pines, its lone moors and solitary deserts, its broad marshes, and its
-dunes of sand that creep relentlessly on as if they had life--appeal
-wonderfully to the imagination, that _folle du logis_, as Montaigne calls
-it, but which, in spite of him, we love to feed. One may travel for hours
-through these vast steppes covered with heather without discovering the
-smoke of a single chimney, or anything to relieve the monotonous horizon,
-unless a long line of low sand-hills that look like billows swayed to
-and fro in the wind; or some low tree standing out against the cloudless
-heavens, perhaps half buried in the treacherous sands; or a gaunt
-peasant, the very silhouette of a man, on his stilts, “five feet above
-contradiction,” like Voltaire’s preacher, perhaps with his knitting-work
-in his hands, or a distaff under his arm, as if fresh from the feet of
-Omphale, driving his flock before him--all birds of one feather, or
-sheep of one wool; for he is clad in a shaggy sheepskin coat, and looks
-as if he needed shearing as much as any of them. Or perhaps this Knight
-of the Sable Fleece--for the sheep of the Landes are mostly black--is
-on one of the small, light horses peculiar to the region, said to have
-an infusion of Arabian blood--thanks to the Saracen invaders--which are
-well adapted to picking their way over quaking bogs and moving sands, but
-unfortunately are fast degenerating from lack of care in maintaining the
-purity of the breed.
-
-During the winter season these extensive heaths are converted by the
-prolonged rains into immense marshes, as the impermeable _alios_ within
-six inches of the surface prevents the absorption of moisture. The
-peasant is then obliged to shut himself up with his beasts in his low,
-damp cottage, with peat for his fuel, a pine torch for his candle,
-brackish water relieved by a dash of vinegar for drink, meagre broth,
-corn bread, and perhaps salt fish for his dinner. Whole generations are
-said to live under one roof in the Landes, so thoroughly are the people
-imbued with the patriarchal spirit. Woman has her rights here--at least
-in the house. The old _dauna_ (from _domina_, perhaps) rules the little
-kingdom with a high hand, including her sons and her sons’ wives down to
-the remotest generation, with undisputed sway. It is the very paradise
-of mothers-in-law. The _paterfamilias_ seldom interferes if his soup is
-ready at due time and she makes both ends meet at the end of the year,
-with a trifle over for a barrel of _pique-pout_ to be indulged in on
-extraordinary occasions. From La Teste to the valley of the Gave this
-old house-mother is queen of the hive, active, thrifty, keen of eye, and
-sharp of tongue. The slightest murmur is frozen into silence beneath the
-arctic ray of her Poyser-like glance. She is a hawk by day and an owl by
-night. She directs the spinning and weaving of the wool and flax, orders
-the meals, and superintends the wardrobe of the whole colony. The land
-is so poor that it is seldom divided among the children. The oldest heir
-becomes head of the family, and they all fare better by sharing in the
-general income. In unity there is safety--and economy.
-
-At every door is the clumsy machine for breaking the flax that is spun
-during the long winter evenings for the sail-makers of Bayonne or the
-weavers of Béarn, whose linen, if not equal to that of Flanders, is
-as good as that of Normandy. Before every house is also the huge oven
-where the bread is baked for general consumption. Flocks of geese paddle
-from pool to pool in the marshes, and wild ducks breed undisturbed in
-the fens. In the villages on the borders of the Landes you hear in the
-morning a sharp whistle that might serve for a locomotive. It is the
-swineherd summoning his charge, which issue in a gallop, two or three
-from each house, to seek their food in the moors. They all come back in
-the evening, and go to their own pens to get the bucket of bran that
-awaits them. Feeding thus in the wild, their meat acquires a peculiar
-flavor. Most of these animals go into the market. The hams of Bayonne
-have always been famous. We might say they are historic, for Strabo
-speaks of them.
-
-When the rainy season is at an end, these bogs and stagnant pools give
-out a deadly miasma in the burning sun, engendering fevers, dysentery,
-and the fatal pellagra. The system is rapidly undermined, and the peasant
-seldom attains to an advanced age. He marries at twenty and is old at
-forty.
-
-A kind of awe comes over the soul in traversing this region, and yet
-it has a certain mysterious attraction which draws us on and on, as
-if nature had some marvellous secret in store for us. The atmosphere
-is charged with a thin vapor that quivers in the blazing sun. Strange
-insects are in the air. A sense of the infinite, such as we feel in the
-midst of the ocean, comes over us. We grow breathless as the air--grow
-silent as the light that gilds the vast landscape before us. One of the
-greatest of the sons of the Landes--the Père de Ravignan--says: “Solitude
-is the _patrie des forts_: silence is their prayer.” One feels how true
-it is in these boundless moors. It is the only prayer fit for this realm
-of silence, where one is brought closer and closer to the heart of
-nature, and restored, as it were, at least in a degree, to the primeval
-relation of man with his Creator.
-
-Carlyle says the finest nations in the world, the English and the
-American, are all going away into wind and tongue. We recommend a season
-in the Landes, where one becomes speedily impressed that “silence is the
-eternal duty of man.”
-
-We wonder such a region should be inhabited. The _daunas_, we hope, never
-have courage enough to raise their still voices in the open air. We fancy
-wooing carried on in true Shaksperian style:
-
-    “O Imogen! I’ll speak to thee in silence.”
-
-    --“What should Cordelia do? Love and be silent.”
-
-However this may be, the Landes are peopled, though thinly. Here and
-there at immense distances we come to a cottage. The men are shepherds,
-fishermen, or _résiniers_, as the turpentine-producers are called.
-Pliny, Dioscorides, and other ancient writers speak of the inhabitants
-as collecting the yellow amber thrown up by the sea, and trafficking in
-beeswax, resin, and pitch. The Phœnicians and Carthaginians initiated
-them into the mysteries of mining and forging. The Moors taught them the
-value of their cork-trees. They still keep bees that feed on the purple
-bells of the heather, and sell vast quantities of wax for the candles
-used in the churches of France--_cierges_, as they are called, from _cire
-vierge_--virgin wax, wrought by chaste bees, and alone fit for the sacred
-altars of Jesus and Mary.
-
-Ausonius thus speaks of the pursuits of the people:
-
-    “Mercatus ne agitas leviore numismate captans,
-    Insanis quod mox pretiis gravis auctio vendat,
-    Albentisque sevi globulos et pinguia ceræ
-    Pondera, Naryciamque picem, scissamque papyrum
-    Fumantesque olidum paganica lumina tœdas.”
-
-They are devoting more and more attention to the production of turpentine
-by planting the maritime pine which grew here in the days of Strabo,
-and thereby reclaiming the vast tracts of sand thrown up by the sea.
-A priest, the Abbé Desbiez, and his brother are said to have first
-conceived the idea of reclaiming their native deserts and staying the
-progress of the quicksands which had buried so many places, and were
-moving unceasingly on at the rate of about twenty-five yards a year,
-threatening the destruction of many more. That was about a hundred
-years ago. A few years after M. Brémontier, a French engineer, tested
-the plan by planting, as far as his means allowed, the maritime pine,
-the strong, fibrous roots of which take tenacious hold of the slightest
-crevice in the rock, and absorb the least nutriment in the soil. But this
-experiment was slow to lead to any important result, as the _pinada_, or
-pine plantations, involve an outlay that makes no return for years. It
-was not till Louis Philippe’s time that the work was carried on with any
-great activity. Napoleon III. also greatly extended the plantations--the
-importance of which became generally acknowledged--not only to arrest the
-progress of the sands, but to meet the want of turpentine in the market,
-so long dependent on imports.
-
-In ten years the trees begin to yield an income. Each acre then furnishes
-twelve or fifteen thousand poles for vineyards or the coalman. The
-prudent owner does not tap his trees till they are twenty-five years old.
-By that time they are four feet in circumference and yield turpentine
-to the value of fifty or sixty francs a year. Then the _résinier_ comes
-with his hatchet and makes an incision low down in the trunk, from which
-the resin flows into an earthern jar or a hollow in the ground. These
-jars are emptied at due intervals, and the incision from time to time
-is widened. Later, others are made parallel to it. These are finally
-extended around the tree. With prudence this treatment may be continued
-a century; for this species of pine is very hardy if not exhausted. When
-the poor tree is near its end, it is hacked without any mercy and bled to
-death. Then it is only fit for the sawmill, wood-pile, or coal-pit.
-
-Poor and desolate as the Landes are, they have had their share of great
-men. “Every path on the globe may lead to the door of a hero,” says some
-one. We have spoken of La Teste. This was the stronghold of the stout old
-Captals de Buch,[4] belonging to the De Graillys, one of the historic
-families of the country. No truer specimen of the lords of the Landes
-could be found than these old captals, who, poor, proud, and adventurous,
-entered the service of the English, to whom they remained faithful as
-long as that nation had a foothold in the land. Their name and deeds are
-familiar to every reader of Froissart. The nearness of Bordeaux, and the
-numerous privileges and exemptions granted the foresters and herdsmen of
-the Landes, explain the strong attachment of the people to the English
-crown. The De Graillys endeavored by alliances to aggrandize their
-family, and finally became loyal subjects of France under Louis XI. They
-intermarried with the Counts of Foix and Béarn, and their vast landed
-possessions were at length united with those of the house of Albret.
-Where would the latter have been without them? And without the Albrets,
-where the Bourbons?
-
-And this reminds us of the Sires of Albret, another and still more
-renowned family of the Landes.
-
-Near the source of the Midou, among the pine forests of Maremsin, you
-come to a village of a thousand people called Labrit, the ancient
-Leporetum, or country of hares, whence Lebret, Labrit, and Albret. Here
-rose the house of Albret from obscurity to reign at last over Navarre and
-unite the most of ancient Aquitaine to the crown of France. The history
-of these lords of the heather is a marvel of wit and good-luck. Great
-hunters of hares and seekers of heiresses, they were always on the scent
-for advantageous alliances, not too particular about the age or face of
-the lady, provided they won broad lands or a fat barony. Once in their
-clutches, they seldom let go. They never allowed a daughter to succeed to
-any inheritance belonging to the _seigneurie_ of Albret as long as there
-was a male descendant. Always receive, and never give, was their motto.
-Their daughters had their wealth of beauty for a dowry, with a little
-money or a troublesome fief liable to reversion.
-
-The Albrets are first heard of in the XIth century, when the Benedictine
-abbot of S. Pierre at Condom, alarmed for the safety of Nérac, one of
-the abbatial possessions, called upon his brother, Amanieu d’Albret, for
-aid. The better to defend the monk’s property, the Sire of Albret built a
-castle on the left bank of the Baïse, and played the _rôle_ of protector
-so well that at last his descendants are found sole lords of Nérac, on
-the public square of which now stands the statue of Henry IV., the most
-glorious of the race. The second Amanieu went to the Crusades under the
-banner of Raymond of St. Gilles, and entered Jerusalem next to Godfrey
-of Bouillon, to whom an old historian makes him related, nobody knows
-how. Oihenard says the Albrets descended from the old kings of Navarre,
-and a MS. of the XIVth century links them with the Counts of Bigorre;
-but this was probably to flatter the pride of the house after it rose to
-importance. We find a lord of Albret in the service of the Black Prince
-with a thousand lances (five thousand men), and owner of Casteljaloux,
-Lavazan, and somehow of the abbey of Sauve-Majour; but not finding the
-English service sufficiently lucrative, he passed over to the enemy.
-Charles d’Albret was so able a captain that he quartered the lilies of
-France on his shield, and held the constable’s sword till the fatal
-battle of Agincourt. Alain d’Albret made a fine point in the game by
-marrying Françoise de Bretagne, who, though ugly, was the niece and only
-heiress of Jean de Blois, lord of Périgord and Limoges. His son had still
-better luck. He married Catherine of Navarre. If he lost his possessions
-beyond the Pyrenees, he kept the county of Foix, and soon added the lands
-of Astarac. Henry I. of Navarre, by marrying Margaret of Valois, acquired
-all the spoils of the house of Armagnac. Thus the princely house of
-Navarre, under their daughter Jeanne, who married Antoine de Bourbon, was
-owner of all Gascony and part of Guienne. It was Henry IV. of France who
-finally realized the expression of the blind faith of the house of Albret
-in its fortune, expressed in the prophetic device graven on the Château
-de Coarraze, where he passed his boyhood: “_Lo que ha de ser no puede
-faltar_”--That which must be will be!
-
-But we have not yet come to the door of our hero. There is another native
-of the Landes whose fame has gone out through the whole earth--whose
-whole life and aim were in utter contrast with the spirit of these
-old lords of the heather. The only armor he ever put on was that of
-righteousness; the only sword, that of the truth; the only jewel, that
-which the old rabbis say Abraham wore, the light of which raised up the
-bowed down and healed the sick, and, after his death, was placed among
-the stars! It need not be said we refer to S. Vincent de Paul, the great
-initiator of public charity in France, who by his benevolence perhaps
-effected as much for the good of the kingdom as Richelieu with his
-political genius. He was born during the religious conflicts of the XVIth
-century, in the little hamlet of Ranquine, in the parish of Pouy, on the
-border of the Landes, a few miles from Dax. It must not be supposed the
-_particule_ in his name is indicative of nobility. In former times people
-who had no name but that given them at the baptismal font often added the
-place of their birth to prevent confusion. S. Vincent was the son of a
-peasant, and spent his childhood in watching his father’s scanty flock
-among the moors. The poor cottage in which he was born is still standing,
-and near it the gigantic old oak to the hollow of which he used to retire
-to pray, both of which are objects of veneration to the pious pilgrim
-of all ranks and all lands. Somewhere in these vast solitudes--whether
-among the ruins of Notre Dame de Buglose, destroyed a little before by
-the Huguenots, or in his secret oratory in the oak, we cannot say--he
-heard the mysterious voice which once whispered to Joan of Arc among
-the forests of Lorraine--a voice difficult to resist, which decided his
-vocation in life. He resolved to enter the priesthood. The Franciscans
-of Dax lent him books and a cell, and gave him a pittance for the love
-of God; but he finished his studies and took his degree at Toulouse, as
-was only discovered by papers found after his death, so unostentatious
-was his life. He partly defrayed his expenses at Toulouse by becoming
-the tutor of some young noblemen of Buzet. Near the latter place was a
-solitary mountain chapel in the woods, not far from the banks of the
-Tarn, called Notre Dame de Grâce. Its secluded position, the simplicity
-of its decorations, and the devotion he experienced in this quiet
-oratory, attracted the pious student, and he often retired there to pray
-before the altar of Our Lady of Grace. It was there he found strength to
-take upon himself the yoke of the priesthood--a yoke angels might fear
-to bear. It was there, in solitude and silence, assisted by a priest and
-a clerk, that he offered his first Mass; for, so terrified was he by the
-importance and sublimity of this divine function, he had not the courage
-to celebrate it in public. This chapel is still standing, and is annually
-crowded with pilgrims on the festival of S. Vincent of Paul. It is good
-to kneel on the worn flag-stones where the saint once prayed, and pour
-out one’s soul before the altar that witnessed the fervor of his first
-Mass. The superior-general of the Lazarists visited this interesting
-chapel in 1851, accompanied by nearly fifty Sisters of Charity. They
-brought a relic of the saint, a chalice and some vestments for the use of
-the chaplain, and a bust of S. Vincent for the new altar to his memory.
-
-Every step in S. Vincent’s life is marked by the unmistakable hand of
-divine Providence. Captured in a voyage by Algerine pirates, he is sold
-in the market-place of Tunis, that he might learn to sympathize with
-those who are in bonds; he falls into the hands of a renegade, who,
-with his whole family, is soon converted and makes his escape from the
-country. S. Vincent presents them to the papal legate at Avignon, and
-goes to Rome, whence he returns, charged with a confidential mission by
-Cardinal d’Ossat. He afterwards becomes a tutor in the family of the
-Comte de Gondi--another providential event. The count is governor-general
-of the galleys, and the owner of vast possessions in Normandy. S. Vincent
-labors among the convicts, and, if he cannot release them from their
-bonds, he teaches them to bear their sufferings in a spirit of expiation.
-He establishes rural missions in Normandy, and founds the College of
-Bons-Enfants and the house of S. Lazare at Paris.
-
-A holy widow, Mme. Legros, falls under his influence, and charitable
-organizations of ladies are formed, and sisters for the special service
-of the sick are established at S. Nicolas du Chardonnet. Little children,
-abandoned by unnatural mothers, are dying of cold and hunger in the
-streets; S. Vincent opens a foundling asylum, and during the cold winter
-nights he goes alone through the most dangerous quarters of old Paris
-in search of these poor waifs of humanity.[5] Clerical instruction is
-needed, and Richelieu, at his instance, endows the first ecclesiastical
-seminary. The moral condition of the army excites the saint’s compassion,
-and the cardinal authorizes missionaries among the soldiers. The province
-of Lorraine is suffering from famine. Mothers even devour their own
-children. In a short time S. Vincent collects sixteen hundred thousand
-livres for their relief. Under the regency of Anne of Austria he becomes
-a member of the Council of Ecclesiastical Affairs. In the wars of
-the Fronde he is for peace, and negotiates between the queen and the
-parliament. The foundation of a hospital for old men marks the end of
-his noble, unselfish life. The jewel of charity never ceases to glow
-in his breast. It is his great bequest to his spiritual children. How
-potent it has been is proved by the incalculable good effected to this
-day by the Lazarists, Sisters of Charity, and Society of S. Vincent of
-Paul--beautiful constellations in the firmament of the church!
-
-In the midst of his honors S. Vincent never forgot his humble origin, but
-often referred to it with the true spirit of _ama nesciri et pro nihilo
-reputari_. Not that he was inaccessible to human weakness, but he knew
-how to resist it. We read in his interesting _Life_ by Abbé Maynard that
-the porter of the College of Bons-Enfants informed the superior one day
-that a poorly-clad peasant, styling himself his nephew, was at the door.
-S. Vincent blushed and ordered him to be taken up to his room. Then he
-blushed for having blushed, and, going down into the street, embraced his
-nephew and led him into the court, where, summoning all the professors of
-the college, he presented the confused youth: “Gentlemen, this is the
-most respectable of my family.” And he continued, during the remainder of
-his visit, to introduce him to visitors of every rank as if he were some
-great lord, in order to avenge his first movement of pride. And when, not
-long after, he made a retreat, he publicly humbled himself before his
-associates: “Brethren, pray for one who through pride wished to take his
-nephew secretly to his room because he was a peasant and poorly dressed.”
-
-S. Vincent returned only once to his native place after he began his
-apostolic career. This was at the close of a mission among the convicts
-of Bordeaux. During his visit he solemnly renewed his baptismal vows
-in the village church where he had been baptized and made his First
-Communion, and on the day of his departure he went with bare feet on a
-pilgrimage to Notre Dame de Buglose, among whose ruins he had so often
-prayed in his childhood, but which was now rebuilt. He was accompanied,
-not only by his relatives, but by all the villagers, who were justly
-proud of their countryman. He sang a solemn Mass at the altar of Our
-Lady, and afterwards assembled the whole family around the table for a
-modest repast, at the end of which he rose to take leave of them. They
-all fell at his feet and implored his blessing. “Yes, I give you my
-blessing,” replied he, much affected, “but I bless you poor and humble,
-and beg our Lord to continue among you the grace of holy poverty.
-Never abandon the condition in which you were born. This is my earnest
-recommendation, which I beg you to transmit as a heritage to your
-children. Farewell for ever!”
-
-His advice was religiously kept. By mutual assistance his family might
-have risen above its original obscurity. Some of his mother’s family were
-advocates at the parliament of Bordeaux, and it would have been easy to
-obtain offices that would have given them, at least, prominence in their
-own village; but they clung to their rural pursuits. The advice of their
-sainted relative was too precious a legacy to be renounced.
-
-Not that S. Vincent was insensible to their condition or unambitious
-by nature, but he knew the value of the hidden life and the perils
-of worldly ambition. We have on this occasion another glimpse of his
-struggles with nature. Hardly had he left his relatives before he gave
-vent to his emotion in a flood of tears, and he almost reproached himself
-for leaving them in their poverty. But let us quote his own words: “The
-day I left home I was so filled with sorrow at separating from my poor
-relatives that I wept as I went along--wept almost incessantly. Then came
-the thought of aiding them and bettering their condition; of giving so
-much to this one, and so much to that. While my heart thus melted within
-me, I divided all I had with them. Yes, even what I had not; and I say
-this to my confusion, for God perhaps permitted it to make me comprehend
-the value of the evangelical counsel. For three months I felt this
-importunate longing to promote the interests of my brothers and sisters.
-It constantly weighed on my poor heart. During this time, when I felt a
-little relieved, I prayed God to deliver me from this temptation, and
-persevered so long in my prayer that at length he had pity on me and
-took away this excessive tenderness for my relations; and though they
-have been needy, and still are, the good God has given me the grace to
-commit them to his Providence, and to regard them as better off than if
-they were in an easier condition.”
-
-S. Vincent was equally rigid as to his own personal necessities, as may
-be seen by the following words from his own lips: “When I put a morsel of
-bread to my mouth, I say to myself: Wretched man, hast thou earned the
-bread thou art going to eat--the bread that comes from the labor of the
-poor?”
-
-Such is the spirit of the saints. In these days, when most people are
-struggling to rise in the world, many by undue means, and to an unlawful
-height, it is well to recall this holy example; it is good to get a
-glimpse into the heart of a saint, and to remember there are still many
-in the world and in the cloister who strive to counterbalance all this
-ambition and love of display by their humility and self-denial.
-
-Immediately after S. Vincent’s canonization, in 1737, the inhabitants of
-Pouy, desirous of testifying their veneration for his memory, removed the
-house where he was born a short distance from its original place, without
-changing its primitive form in the least, and erected a small chapel
-on the site, till means could be obtained for building a church. The
-great Revolution put a stop to the plan. In 1821 a new effort was made,
-a committee appointed, and a subscription begun which soon amounted to
-thirty thousand francs; but at the revolution of 1830 material interests
-prevailed, and the funds were appropriated to the construction of roads.
-
-The ecclesiastical authorities at length took the matter in hand, and
-formed the plan, not only of building a church, but surrounding it with
-the various charitable institutions founded by S. Vincent--a hospital
-for the aged, asylums for orphans and foundlings, and perhaps a _ferme
-modèle_ in the Landes.
-
-In 1850 the Bishop of Aire appealed to the Catholic world for aid. Pius
-IX. blessed the undertaking. On the Festival of the Transfiguration,
-1851, the corner-stone was laid by the bishop, assisted by Père Etienne,
-the superior-general of the Lazarists. Napoleon III. and the Empress
-Eugénie largely contributed to the work, and in a few years the church
-and hospice were completed. The consecration took place April 24, 1864,
-in the presence of an immense multitude from all parts of the country.
-From three o’clock in the morning there were Masses at a dozen altars,
-and the hands of the priests were fatigued in administering the holy
-Eucharist. Among the communicants were eight hundred members of the
-Society of S. Vincent de Paul, from Bordeaux, who manifested their joy
-by enthusiastic hymns. At eight in the forenoon Père Etienne, surrounded
-by Lazarists and Sisters of Charity, celebrated the Holy Sacrifice at
-the newly-consecrated high altar, and several novices made their vows,
-among whom was a young African, a cousin of Abdel Kader. A _châsse_
-containing relics of S. Vincent was brought in solemn procession from the
-parish church of Pouy, where he had been held at the font and received
-the divine Guest in his heart for the first time. The road was strewn
-with flowers and green leaves. The weather was delightful and the heavens
-radiant. At the head of the procession was borne a banner, on which S.
-Vincent was represented as a shepherd, followed by all the orphans of
-the new asylum and the old men of the hospice. Then came a long line
-of _Enfants de Marie_ dressed in white, carrying oriflammes, followed
-by the students of the colleges of Aire and Dax. Behind were fifteen
-hundred members of the Society of S. Vincent de Paul, and a file of
-sisters of various orders, including eight hundred Sisters of Charity,
-with a great number of Lazarists in the rear. Then came thirty relatives
-of S. Vincent, wearing the peasant’s costume of the district, heirs of
-his virtues and simplicity--_Noblesse oblige_. Then the Polish Lazarists
-with the flag of their nation, beloved by S. Vincent, and after them
-the clergy of the diocese and a great number from foreign parts, among
-whom was M. Eugène Boré, of Constantinople, now superior-general of the
-two orders founded by the saint. The shrine came next, surrounded by
-Lazarists and Sisters of Charity. Behind the canons and other dignitaries
-came eight bishops, four archbishops, and Cardinal Donnet of Bordeaux,
-followed by the civil authorities and an immense multitude of people
-nearly two miles in extent, with banners bearing touching devices.
-
-This grand procession of more than thirty thousand people proceeded with
-the utmost order, to the sound of chants, instrumental music, and salutes
-from cannon from time to time, to the square in front of the new church,
-where, before an altar erected at the foot of S. Vincent’s oak, they were
-addressed by Père Etienne in an eloquent, thrilling discourse, admirable
-in style and glowing with imagery, suited to the fervid nature of this
-southern region. He spoke of S. Vincent, not only as the man of his age
-with a providential mission, but of a type suited to all ages.
-
-The man who loved his brethren, reconciled enemies, brought the rich and
-poor into one common field imbued with a common idea of sacrifice and
-devotion, fed the orphan, aided the needy, and wiped away the tears of
-the sufferer, is the man of all times, and especially of an age marked by
-the fomentation of political passions.
-
-The old oak was gay with streamers, the hollow was fitted up as an
-oratory, before which Cardinal Donnet said Mass in the open air, after
-which thousands of voices joined in the solemn _Te Deum Laudamus_, and
-the thirteen prelates terminated the grand ceremony by giving their
-united benediction to the kneeling crowd.
-
-A whole flock of Sisters of Charity, with their dove-like plumage of
-white and gray, took the same train as ourselves the pleasant September
-morning we left Bayonne for the birth-place of S. Vincent of Paul. They
-seemed like birds of good omen. They were also going to the _Berceau_
-(cradle), as they called it, not on a mere pilgrimage, but to make their
-annual retreat. What for, the saints alone know; for they looked like the
-personification of every amiable virtue, and quite ready to spread their
-white wings and take flight for heaven. It was refreshing to watch their
-gentle, unaffected ways, wholly devoid of those demure airs of superior
-sanctity and repulsive austerity so exasperating to us worldly-minded
-people. They all made the sign of the cross as the train moved out of
-the station--and a good honest one it was, as if they loved the sign
-of the Son of Man, and delighted in wearing it on their breast. Some
-had come from St. Sebastian, others from St. Jean de Luz, and several
-from Bayonne; but they mingled like sisters of one great family of
-charity. Some chatted, some took out their rosaries and went to praying
-with the most cheerful air imaginable, as if it were a new refreshment
-just allowed them, instead of being the daily food of their souls; and
-others seemed to be studying with interest the peculiar region we were
-now entering. For we were now in the Landes--low, level, monotonous, and
-melancholy. The railway lay through vast forests of dusky-pines, varied
-by willows and cork-trees, with here and there, at long distances, an
-open tract where ripened scanty fields of corn and millet around the low
-cottages of the peasants. The sides of the road were purple with heather.
-The air was full of aromatic odors. Each pine had its broad gash cut by
-some merciless hand, and its life-blood was slowly trickling down its
-side. Passing through this sad forest, one could not help thinking of
-the drear, mystic wood in Dante’s _Inferno_, where every tree encloses a
-human soul with infinite capacity of suffering, and at every gash cut,
-every branch lopped off, utters a despairing cry:
-
-                “Why pluck’st thou me?
-    Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side,
-    These words it added: Wherefore tear’st me thus?
-    Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast?
-    Men once were we that now are rooted here.”
-
-Though the sun was hot, the pine needles seemed to shiver, the branches
-swayed to and fro in the air, and gave out a kind of sigh which sometimes
-increased into an inarticulate wail. We look up, almost expecting to see
-the harpies sitting
-
-    “Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade.”
-
-Could we stop, we might question these maimed trees and learn some
-fearful tragedy from the imprisoned spirits. Perhaps they recount them
-to each other in the wild winter nights when the peasants, listening
-with a kind of fear in their lone huts, start up from their beds and
-say it is Rey Artus--King Arthur--who is passing by with his long train
-of dogs, horses, and huntsmen, from an old legend of the time of the
-English occupation which says that King Arthur, as he was hearing Mass on
-Easter-day, attracted by the cries of his hounds attacking their prey,
-went out at the elevation of the Host. A whirlwind carried him into the
-clouds, where he has hunted ever since, and will, without cessation or
-repose, till the day of judgment, only taking a fly every seven years.
-The popular belief that he is passing with a great noise through space
-when the winds sweep across the vast moors on stormy nights probably
-embodies the old tradition of some powerful lord whose hounds and
-huntsmen ruined the crops of the poor, who, in their wrath, consigned
-them to endless barren hunting-fields in the spirit-land--a legend which
-reminds us of the _Aasgaardsreja_ of whom Miss Bremer tells us--spirits
-not good enough to merit heaven, and yet not bad enough to deserve
-hell, and are therefore doomed to ride about till the end of the world,
-carrying fear and disaster in their train.
-
-In a little over an hour we arrived at Dax, a pleasant town on the banks
-of the Adour, with long lines of sycamores, behind which is a hill
-crowned with an old château, now belonging to the Lazarists. The place
-is renowned for its thermal springs and mud-baths, known to the Romans
-before its conquest by the Cæsars. It was from Aquæ Augustæ, the capital
-of the ancient Tarbelli (called in the Middle Ages the _ville d’Acqs_,
-or _d’Acs_, whence Dax), that the name of Aquitaine is supposed to be
-derived. Pliny, the naturalist, speaking of the Aquenses, says: _Aquitani
-indè nomen provinciæ_. The Bay of Biscay was once known by the name of
-Sinus Tarbellicus, from the ancient Tarbelli. Lucan says:
-
-              “Tunc rura Nemossi
-    Qui tenet et ripas Aturri, quo littore curvo
-    Molliter admissum claudit Tarbellicus æquor.”
-
-S. Vincent of Saintonge was the first apostle of the region, and fell a
-martyr to his zeal. Dax formed part of the dowry of the daughter of Henry
-II. of England when she married Alfonso of Castile, but it returned to
-the Plantagenets in the time of Edward III. The city was an episcopal
-see before the revolution of 1793. François de Noailles, one of the
-most distinguished of its bishops, was famous as a diplomatist in the
-XVIth century. He was sent to England on several important missions, and
-finally appointed ambassador to that country in the reign of Mary Tudor.
-Recalled when Philip II. induced her to declare war against France, he
-landed at Calais, and, carefully examining the fortifications, his keen,
-observant eye soon discovered the weak point, to which, at his arrival
-in court, he at once directed the king’s attention, declaring it would
-not be a difficult matter to take the place. His statements made such an
-impression on King Henry, who had always found him as judicious as he was
-devoted to the interests of the crown, that he resolved to lay siege to
-Calais, notwithstanding the opposition of his ministers, and the Duke of
-Guise began the attack January 1, 1558. The place was taken in a week.
-It had cost the English a year’s siege two hundred and ten years before.
-Three weeks after its surrender Cardinal Hippolyte de Ferrara, Archbishop
-of Auch (the son of Lucretia Borgia, who married Alphonso d’Este, Duke
-of Ferrara) wrote François de Noailles as follows: “No one can help
-acknowledging the great hand you had in the taking of Calais, as it was
-actually taken at the very place you pointed out.” French historians have
-been too forgetful of the hand the Bishop of Dax had in the taking of a
-place so important to the interests of the nation, which added so much to
-the glory of the French arms, and was so humiliating to England, whose
-anguish was echoed by the queen when she exclaimed that if her heart
-could be opened the very name of Calais would be found written therein!
-
-This great churchman was no less successful in his embassy to Venice,
-where he triumphed over the haughty pretensions of Philip II., and, as
-Brantôme says, “won great honor and affection.” After five years in Italy
-he returned to Dax, where he devoted most of his revenues to relieve
-the misery that prevailed at that fearful time of religious war. Dax,
-as he said, was “the poorest see in France.” In 1571 he was appointed
-ambassador to Constantinople by Charles IX. Florimond de Raymond, an old
-writer of that day, tells us the bishop was at first troubled as to his
-presentation to the sultan, who only regarded the highest dignitaries
-as the dust of his feet, and exacted ceremonies which the ambassador
-considered beneath the dignity of a bishop and a representative of
-France. He resolved not to submit to them, and, thanks to his pleasing
-address, and handsome person dressed for the occasion in red _cramoisie_
-and cloth of gold, he was not subjected to them. Moreover, by his
-fascinating manners and agreeable conversation, he became a great
-favorite of the sultan, and took so judicious a course that his embassy
-ended by rendering France mistress of the commerce of the Mediterranean,
-and giving her a pre-eminence in the East which she has never lost.
-
-It was after his return from the Levant that, in an interview with Henry
-III., the sagacious bishop urged the king to declare war against Spain,
-as the best means of delivering France from the horrors of a civil war.
-De Thou says the king seemed to listen favorably to the suggestion; but
-it was opposed by the council, and it was not till ten years later that
-Henry IV. declared war against that country, as Duruy states, “the better
-to end the civil war.”
-
-The Bishop of Dax seems to have been poorly remunerated for his eminent
-services. Like Frederick the Great’s father, he said kings were always
-hard of hearing when there was a question of money, and complained
-that, notwithstanding his long services abroad, he had never received
-either honors or profit. Even his appointments as ambassador to Venice,
-amounting to more than thirty thousand livres, were still due. Many of
-his letters to the king and to Marie de Médicis have been preserved,
-which show his elevation of mind, and his broad political and religious
-views, which give him a right to be numbered among the great churchmen of
-the XVIth century.
-
-At Dax we took a carriage to the _Berceau_ of S. Vincent, and, after
-half an hour’s drive along a level road bordered with trees, we came
-in sight of the great dome of the church rising up amid a group of fine
-buildings. Driving up to the door, the first thing we observed was the
-benign statue of the saint standing on the gable against the clear, blue
-sky, with arms wide-spread, smiling on the pilgrim a very balm of peace.
-Before the church there is a broad green, at the right of which is the
-venerable old oak; at the left, the cottage of the De Pauls; and in the
-rear of the church, the asylums and hospice--fine establishments one is
-surprised to find in this remote region. We at once entered the church,
-which is in the style of the Renaissance. It consists of a nave without
-aisles, a circular apsis, and transepts which form the arms of the cross,
-in the centre of which rises the dome, lined with an indifferent fresco
-representing S. Vincent borne to heaven by the angels. Directly beneath
-is the high altar where are enshrined relics of the saint. Around it,
-at the four angles of the cross, are statues of four S. Vincents--of
-Xaintes, of Saragossa, of Lerins, and S. Vincent Ferrer. The whole life
-of S. Vincent of Paul is depicted in the stained-glass windows. And on
-the walls of the nave are four paintings, one representing him as a boy,
-praying before Our Lady of Buglose; the second, his first Mass in the
-chapel of Notre Dame de Grâce; in the third he is redeeming captives, and
-in the fourth giving alms to the poor.
-
-We next visited the asylums, admiring the clean, airy rooms, the
-intelligent, happy faces of the orphans, and the graceful cordiality of
-the sister who was at the head of the establishment--a lady of fortune
-who has devoted her all to the work.
-
-At length we came to the cottage--the door of the true hero to which
-our path had led. The broad, one-story house in which S. Vincent was
-born is now a mere skeleton within, the framework of the partitions
-alone remaining, so one can take in the whole at a glance. There is the
-kitchen, with the huge, old-fashioned chimney, around which the family
-used to gather--so enormous that in looking up one sees a vast extent of
-blue sky. Saint’s house though it was, we could not help thinking--Heaven
-forgive us the profane thought!--it must have been very much like the
-squire’s chimney in _Tylney Hall_, the draught of which, like the Polish
-game of draughts, was apt to take backwards and discharge all the smoke
-into his sitting-room! The second room at the left, where the saint was
-born, is an oratory containing an altar, the crucifix he used to pray
-before, some of the garments he wore, shoes broad and much-enduring as
-his own nature, and many other precious relics. Not only this, but every
-room has an altar. We counted seven, all of the simplest construction,
-for the convenience of the pilgrims who come here with their _curés_ at
-certain seasons of the year to honor their sainted countryman who in his
-youth here led a simple, laborious life like themselves. We found several
-persons at prayer in the various compartments, all of which showed the
-primitive habits and limited resources of the family, though not absolute
-poverty. The floor was of earth, the walls and great rafters only
-polished with time and the kisses of the pilgrims, and above the rude
-stairway, a mere loft where perchance the saint slept in his boyhood.
-Everything in this cottage, where a great heart was cradled, was from its
-very simplicity extremely touching. It seemed the very place to meditate
-on the mysterious ways of divine Providence--mysterious as the wind that
-bloweth where it listeth--the very place to chant the _Suscitans à terrâ
-inopem: et de stercore erigens pauperem; ut collocet eum cum principibus,
-cum principibus populi sui_.
-
-S. Vincent’s oak, on the opposite side of the green, looks old enough to
-have witnessed the mysterious rites of the Druids. It is surrounded by
-a railing to protect it from the pious depredations of the pilgrim. It
-still spreads broad its branches covered with verdure, though the trunk
-is so hollowed by decay that one side is entirely gone, and in the heart,
-where young Vincent used to pray, stands a wooden pillar on which is a
-statue of the Virgin, pure and white, beneath the green bower. A crowd of
-artists, _savants_, soldiers, and princes have bent before this venerable
-tree. In 1823 the public authorities of the commune received the Duchess
-of Angoulême at its foot. The learned and pious Ozanam, one of the
-founders of the Society of S. Vincent of Paul, came here in his last days
-to offer a prayer. On the list of foreign visitors is the name of the
-late venerable Bishop Flaget of Kentucky, of whom it is recorded that he
-kissed the tree with love and veneration, and plucked, as every pilgrim
-does, a leaf from its branches.
-
-There is an herb, says Pliny, found on Mt. Atlas; they who gather it see
-more clearly. There is something of this virtue in the oak of S. Vincent
-of Paul. One sees more clearly than ever at its foot the infinite moral
-superiority of a nature like his to the worldly ambition of the old lords
-of the Landes. Famous as the latter were in their day, who thinks of them
-now? Who cares for the lords of Castelnau, the Seigneurs of Juliac, or
-even for the Sires of Albret, whose ancient castle at Labrit is now razed
-to the ground, and, while we write, its last traces obliterated for ever?
-The shepherd whistles idly among the ruins of their once strong holds,
-the ploughman drives thoughtlessly over the place where they once held
-proud sway, as indifferent as the beasts themselves; but there is not a
-peasant in the Landes who does not cherish the memory of S. Vincent of
-Paul, or a noble who does not respect his name; and thousands annually
-visit the poor house where he was born and look with veneration at the
-oak where he prayed.
-
-Charity is the great means of making the poor forget the fearful
-inequality of worldly riches, and its obligation reminds the wealthy they
-are only part of a great brotherhood. Its exercise softens the heart and
-averts the woe pronounced on the rich. S. John of God, wishing to found
-a hospital at Granada, and without a ducat in the world, walked slowly
-through the streets and squares with a hod on his back and two great
-kettles at his side, crying with a loud voice: “Who wishes to do good to
-himself? Ah! my brethren, for the love of God, do good to yourselves!”
-And alms flowed in from every side. It was these appeals in the divine
-name that gave him his appellation. “What is your name?” asked Don
-Ramirez, Bishop of Tuy. “John,” was the reply. “Henceforth you shall be
-called John of God,” said the bishop.
-
-And so, that we may all become the sons of God, let us here, at the foot
-of S. Vincent’s oak, echo the words that in life were so often on his
-lips:
-
-CARITATEM, PROPTER DEUM!
-
-
-LORD CASTLEHAVEN’S MEMOIRS.[6]
-
-In the year 1638 the Earl of Castlehaven, then a young man, made the
-Grand Tour, as became a nobleman of his family in that age. Being at
-Rome, whither the duty of paying his respects to the Holy Father had
-carried him--for this lord was the head of one of those grand old
-families which had declined to forswear its faith at the behest of Henry
-or Elizabeth--he received a letter from King Charles I., requiring him to
-attend the king in his expedition against the Scots, then revolted and
-in arms. With that instant loyalty which was the return made by those
-proscribed families to an ungrateful court from the Armada down, Lord
-Castlehaven, two days after the messenger had placed the royal missive
-in his hands, took post for England. Near Turin he fell in with an army
-commanded by the Marquis de Leganes, Governor of Milan for the King of
-Spain, who was marching to besiege the Savoy capital. But the siege was
-soon raised, and Lord Castlehaven entered the town. There he found her
-Royal Highness the Duchess of Savoy in great confusion, as if she had got
-no rest for many nights, so much had she been occupied with the conduct
-of the defence; for even the wives of this warlike and rapacious family
-soon learned to defend their own by the strong hand, and could stretch it
-out to grasp still more when occasion served. But as yet the ambition of
-the House of Savoy stopped short of sacrilege--or stooped to it like a
-hawk on short flights--nor dreamed of aggrandizing itself with the spoils
-of the whole territory of the church. When Lord Castlehaven came to
-take leave of the duchess, her royal highness gave him a musket-bullet,
-much battered, which had come in at her window and missed her narrowly,
-charging him to deliver it safely to her sister, the Queen of England--as
-it proved, a present of ill omen; for of musket-balls, in a little time,
-the English sister had more than enough.
-
-Arriving in London, Lord Castlehaven followed the king to Berwick,
-where he found the royal army encamped, with the Tweed before it, and
-the Scotch, under Gen. Leslie, lying at some distance. A pacification
-was soon effected, and both armies partially disbanded. After this the
-earl passed his time “as well as he could” at home till 1640. In that
-year the King of France besieged Arras, and Lord Castlehaven set out to
-witness the siege. Within was a stout garrison under Owen Roe O’Neal,
-commanding for the Prince Cardinal, Governor of the Low Countries. This
-was the first meeting of Castlehaven with the future victor of Benburb,
-with whom he was afterwards brought into closer relations in the Irish
-Rebellion. The French pressed Arras close, and the confederates being
-defeated, and the hope of the siege being raised grown desperate,
-the town was surrendered on honorable terms. This action over, Lord
-Castlehaven returned to England and sat in Parliament till the attainder
-of the Earl of Strafford. When that great nobleman fell, deserted by
-his wavering royal master, and the king’s friends were beginning to
-turn about--they scarce knew whither--to prepare for the storm that all
-men saw was coming, Lord Castlehaven went to Ireland, where he had some
-estate and three married sisters. While there the Rebellion of 1641 broke
-out. Although innocent of any complicity in the outbreak, his faith
-made him suspected, and he was imprisoned on a slight pretext by the
-lords-justices. Escaping, his first design was to get into France, and
-thence to England to join the king at York, and petition for a trial by
-his peers. But coming to Kilkenny, he found there the Supreme Council
-of the Confederate Catholics just assembled--many of them being of his
-acquaintance--and was persuaded by them to throw in his lot with theirs,
-seeing, as they truly told him, that they were all persecuted on the same
-score, and ruined so that they had nothing more to lose but their lives.
-From that time till the peace of 1646 he was engaged in the war of the
-Confederate Catholics, holding important commands in the field under the
-Supreme Council. His _Memoirs_ is the history of this war.
-
-After the peace of 1646, concluded with the Marquis of Ormond, the king’s
-lord-lieutenant, but which shortly fell through, Lord Castlehaven retired
-to France, and served as a volunteer under Prince Rupert at the siege of
-Landrecies. Then, returning to Paris, he remained in attendance on the
-Queen of England and the Prince of Wales (Charles II.) at St. Germain
-till 1648. In that year he returned to Ireland with the lord-lieutenant,
-the Marquis of Ormond, and served the royal cause in that kingdom
-against the parliamentary forces under Ireton and Cromwell. The battle
-of Worcester being lost, and Cromwell the undisputed master of the three
-kingdoms, Castlehaven again followed the clouded fortunes of Charles II.
-to France. There he obtained permission to join the Great Condé. In the
-campaigns under that prince he had the command of eight or nine regiments
-of Irish troops, making altogether a force of 5,000 men. Thus we find
-the Irish refugees already consolidated into a brigade some years before
-the Treaty of Limerick expatriated those soldiers whose valor is more
-commonly identified with that title.
-
-Lord Castlehaven returned to England at the Restoration. In the war
-with Holland he served as a volunteer in some of the naval engagements.
-In 1667, the French having invaded Flanders, he was ordered there with
-2,400 men to recruit the “Old English Regiment,” of which he was made
-colonel. The peace of Aix-la-Chapelle ended this war. Peace reigned in
-the Low Countries till the breaking out, in 1673, of the long and bloody
-contest between the Prince of Orange and the confederate Spaniards and
-Imperialists on the one side, and Louis XIV. on the other. This was
-the age of grand campaigns, conducted upon principles of mathematical
-precision by the great captains formed in the school of M. Turenne,
-before the “little Marquis of Brandenburg”[7] and the “Corsican
-corporal” in turn revolutionized the art of war. Castlehaven entered
-the Spanish service, and shared the checkered but generally disastrous
-fortunes of the Duke of Villahermosa and the Prince of Orange (William
-III.) against Condé and Luxembourg, till the peace of Nymegen put an end
-to the war in 1678.
-
-Then, after forty years’ hard service, this veteran retired from the
-field, and returning to England, like another Cæsar, set about writing
-his commentaries on the wars. Thus he spent his remaining years. First
-he published, but without acknowledging the authorship, his _Memoirs
-of the Irish Wars_. This first edition was suppressed. Then, in 1684,
-appeared the second edition, containing, besides the _Memoirs_,
-his “Appendix”--being an account of his Continental service--his
-“Observations” on confederate armies and the conduct of war, and a
-“Postscript,” which is a reply to the Earl of Anglesey. And right well
-has the modern reader reason to be thankful for his lordship’s literary
-spirit. His _Memoirs_ is one of the most authentic and trustworthy
-accounts we have of that vexed passage of Irish history--the Rebellion
-of 1641. Its blunt frankness is its greatest charm; it has the value of
-an account by an actor in the scenes described; and it possesses that
-merit of impartiality which comes of being written by an Englishman
-who, connected with the Irish leaders by the ties of faith, family, and
-property, and sympathizing fully with their efforts to obtain redress
-for flagrant wrongs was yet not blind to their mistakes and indefensible
-actions.
-
-Castlehaven, neglected for more than a century, has received more
-justice at the hands of later historians. He is frequently referred to by
-Lingard, and his work will be found an admirable commentary on Carte’s
-_Life of Ormond_. There is a notice of him in Horace Walpole’s _Catalogue
-of Royal and Noble Authors_ (vol. iii.)
-
-“If this lord,” says Walpole, “who led a very martial life, had not
-taken the pains to record his own actions (which, however, he has done
-with great frankness and ingenuity), we should know little of his
-story, our historians scarce mentioning him, and even our writers of
-anecdotes, as Burnet, or of tales and circumstances, as Roger North,
-not giving any account of a court quarrel occasioned by his lordship’s
-_Memoirs_. Anthony Wood alone has preserved this event, but has not
-made it intelligible. … The earl had been much censured for his share
-in the Irish Rebellion, and wrote the _Memoirs_ to explain his conduct
-rather than to excuse it; for he freely confesses his faults, and imputes
-them to provocations from the government of that kingdom, to whose
-rashness and cruelty, conjointly with the votes and resolutions of the
-English Parliament, he ascribes the massacre. There are no dates nor
-method, and less style, in these _Memoirs_--defects atoned for in some
-measure by a martial honesty. Soon after their publication the Earl of
-Anglesey wrote to ask a copy. Lord Castlehaven sent him one, but denying
-the work as his. Anglesey, who had been a commissioner in Ireland for
-the Parliament, published Castlehaven’s letter, with observations and
-reflections very abusive of the Duke of Ormond, which occasioned first
-a printed controversy, and this a trial before the Privy Council; the
-event of which was that Anglesey’s first letter was voted a scandalous
-libel, and himself removed from the custody of the Privy Seal; and that
-the Earl of Castlehaven’s _Memoirs_, on which he was several times
-examined, and which he owned, was declared a scandalous libel on the
-government--a censure that seems very little founded; there is not a word
-that can authorize that sentence from the Council of Charles II. but
-the imputation on the lords-justices of Charles I.; for I suppose the
-Privy Council did not pique themselves on vindicating the honor of the
-republican Parliament! Bishop Morley wrote _A True Account of the Whole
-Proceeding between James, Duke of Ormond, and Arthur, Earl of Anglesey_.”
-
-Immediately after the Restoration, as it is well known, an act was
-passed, commonly called in that age “the Act of Oblivion,” by which all
-penalties (except certain specified ones) incurred in the late troublous
-and rebellious times were forgiven. So superfine would have been the net
-which the law of treason would have drawn around the three kingdoms, had
-its strict construction been enforced, that it was quite cut loose, a few
-only of the greatest criminals and regicides being held in its meshes.
-So harsh had been Cromwell’s iron rule that there were few counties of
-England in which the stoutest squires, and even the most loyal, might
-not have trembled had the king’s commission inquired too closely into
-the legal question of connivance at the late tyrant’s rule. And in the
-great cities, London especially, the tide of enthusiasm which now ran
-so strongly for the king could not hide the memory of those days when
-the same fierce crowds had clamored for the head of the “royal martyr.”
-Prudent it was, as well as benign, therefore, for the “merry monarch”
-to let time roll smoothly over past transgressions. But though the law
-might grant oblivion, and even punish the revival of controversies,
-the old rancor between individuals and even parties was not so easily
-appeased after the first joyful outburst. Books and pamphlets by the
-hundred brought charges and counter charges. But these “authors of
-slander and lyes,” as Castlehaven calls them, outdid themselves in their
-tragical stories of the Irish Rebellion of 1641. Nor have imitators been
-wanting in this age, as rancorous and more skilful, in the production
-of “fictions and invectives to traduce a whole nation.” To answer those
-calumnies by “setting forth the truth of his story in a brief and plain
-method” was the design of Castlehaven’s work.
-
-Then, as now, it was the aim of the libellers of the Irish people to
-make the whole nation accountable for the “massacre,” so called, of
-1641, and to confound the war of the Confederate Catholics and the
-later loyal resistance to Cromwell in one common denunciation with the
-first sanguinary and criminal outbreak. Lord Castlehaven’s narrative
-effectually disposes of this charge. In a singularly clear and candid
-manner he narrates the rise and progress of the insurrection, and
-shows the wide difference between the aims and motives of those who
-planned the uprising of October 23, 1641, and of those who afterwards
-carried on the war under the title of the Confederate Catholics of
-Ireland. The former he does not hesitate to denounce as a “barbarous
-and inhumane” conspiracy, but the responsibility for it he fixes in the
-right quarter--the malevolent character of the Irish government and the
-atrocious spirit of the English Puritan Parliament, which, abandoning all
-the duties of protection, kept only one object in view--the extirpation
-of the native Irish.
-
-With the successful example of the Scotch Rebellion immediately before
-them, it was a matter of little wonder to observant and impartial minds
-in that age that the Irish should have seized upon the occasion of the
-growing quarrel between the king and Parliament as the opportune moment
-for the redress of their grievances. For in the year 1640, two years
-after the pacification of Berwick, the Scotch Rebellion, primarily
-instigated by the same cause as the Irish--religious differences--broke
-out with greater violence than ever. The Scots’ army invaded England,
-defeated the king’s troops at Newburn, and took Newcastle. Then,
-driven to extremity by those Scotch rebels, as mercenary as they
-were fanatical,[8] and his strength paralyzed by the growing English
-sedition, Charles I. called together “that unfortunate Parliament” which,
-proceeding from one violence to another, first destroyed its master,
-and then was in turn destroyed by its own servant. Far from voting the
-Scotch army rebels and traitors, the Parliament at once styled them “dear
-brethren” and voted them £300,000 for their kindness. Mr. Gervase Holles
-was expelled from the House for saying in the course of debate “that the
-best way of paying them was by arms to expel them out of the kingdom.”
-The quarrel between King and Commons grew hotter, until finally it became
-evident that, notwithstanding Charles’ concessions, a violent rupture
-could not be long delayed.
-
-No fairer opportunity could be hoped for by the Irish leaders,
-dissatisfied with their own condition, and spurred on by the hope of
-winning as good measure of success as the Scotch. The plan to surprise
-the Castle of Dublin and the other English garrisons was quickly matured;
-but failing, some of the conspirators were taken and executed, and the
-rest forced to retire to the woods and mountains. But the flame thus
-lighted soon spread over the whole kingdom, and occasioned a war which
-lasted without intermission for ten years.
-
-The following reasons are declared by Castlehaven to have been afterwards
-offered to him by the Irish as the explanation of this insurrection:
-
-First, that, being constantly looked upon by the English government as
-a conquered nation, and never treated as natural or free-born subjects,
-they considered themselves entitled to regain their liberty whenever they
-believed it to be in their power to do so.
-
-Secondly, that in the North, where the insurrection broke out with the
-greatest violence, six whole counties had been escheated to the crown at
-one blow, on account of Tyrone’s rebellion; and although it was shown
-that a large portion of the population of those counties was innocent of
-complicity in that rising, nothing had ever been restored, but the whole
-bestowed by James I. upon his countrymen. To us, who live at the distance
-of two centuries and a half from those days of wholesale rapine, these
-confiscations still seem the most gigantic instance of English wrong;
-but who shall tell their maddening effect upon those who suffered from
-them in person in that age--the men flying to the mountains, the women
-perishing in the fields, the children crying for food they could not get?
-
-Thirdly, the popular alarm was heightened by the reports, current during
-Strafford’s government in Ireland, that the counties of Roscommon, Mayo,
-Galway, and Cork, and parts of Tipperary, Limerick, and Wicklow, were to
-share the fate of the Ulster counties. It hardly needs the example of our
-own Revolution to prove the truth of Castlehaven’s observation upon this
-project: “That experience tells us where the people’s property is like
-to be invaded, neither religion nor loyalty is able to keep them within
-bounds if they find themselves in a condition to make any considerable
-opposition.” And this brings to his mind the story related by Livy of
-those resolute ambassadors of the Privernates, who, being reduced to such
-extremities that they were obliged to beg peace of the Roman Senate, yet,
-being asked what peace should the Romans expect from them, who had broken
-it so often, they boldly answered--which made the Senate accept their
-proposals--“If a good one, it shall be faithful and lasting; but if bad,
-it shall not hold very long. For think not,” said they, “that any people,
-or even any man, will continue in that condition whereof they are weary
-any longer than of necessity they must.”
-
-Fourthly, it was notorious that from the moment Parliament was convened
-it had urged the greatest severities against the English Roman Catholics.
-The king was compelled to revive the penalties of the worst days of
-Edward and Elizabeth against them. His own consort was scarce safe from
-the violence of those hideous wretches who concealed the vilest crimes
-under the garb of Puritan godliness. Readers even of such a common and
-one-sided book as Forster’s _Life of Sir John Eliot_ will be surprised
-to find the prominence and space the “Popish” resolutions and debates
-occupied in the sittings of Parliament. The popular leaders divided their
-time nearly equally between the persecution of the Catholics and assaults
-upon the prerogative. The same severities were now threatened against the
-Irish Catholics. “Both Houses,” says Castlehaven, “solicited, by several
-petitions out of Ireland, to have those of that kingdom treated with the
-like rigor, which, to a people so fond of their religion as the Irish,
-was no small inducement to make them, while there was an opportunity
-offered, to stand upon their guard.”
-
-Fifthly, the precedent of the Scotch Rebellion, and its successful
-results--pecuniarily, politically, and religiously--encouraged the
-Irish so much at that time that they offered it to Owen O’Conally as
-their chief motive for rising in rebellion; “which,” says he (quoted by
-Castlehaven), “they engaged in to be rid of the tyrannical government
-that was over them, and to imitate Scotland, who by that course had
-enlarged their privileges” (O’Conally’s _Exam._, October 22, 1641;
-Borlace’s _History of the Irish Rebellion_, p. 21).
-
-To the same purpose Lord Castlehaven quotes Mr. Howell in his _Mercurius
-Hibernicus_ in the year 1643; “whose words, because an impartial author
-and a known Protestant, I will here transcribe in confirmation of what I
-have said and for the reader’s further satisfaction”:
-
-    “Moreover,” says Mr. Howell, “they [the Irish] entered into
-    consideration that they had sundry grievances and grounds of
-    complaint, both touching their estates and consciences, which
-    they pretended to be far greater than those of the Scots. For
-    they fell to think that if the Scot was suffered to introduce
-    a new religion, it was reason they should not be punished in
-    the exercise of their old, which they glory never to have
-    altered; and for temporal matters, wherein the Scot had no
-    grievance at all to speak of, the new plantations which had
-    been lately afoot to be made in Connaught and other places; the
-    concealed lands and defective titles which were daily found
-    out; the new customs which were enforced; and the incapacity
-    they had to any preferment or office in church or state, with
-    other things, they considered to be grievances of a far greater
-    nature, and that deserved redress much more than any the Scot
-    had. To this end they sent over commissioners to attend this
-    Parliament in England with certain propositions; but they were
-    dismissed hence with a short and unsavory answer, which bred
-    worse blood in the nation than was formerly gathered. And this,
-    with that leading case of the Scot, may be said to be the first
-    incitements that made them rise.… Lastly, that army of 8,000
-    men which the Earl of Strafford had raised to be transported
-    into England for suppressing the Scot, being by the advice of
-    our Parliament here disbanded, the country was annoyed by some
-    of those straggling soldiers. Therefore the ambassadors from
-    Spain having propounded to have some numbers of those disbanded
-    soldiers for the service of their master, his majesty, by the
-    mature advice of his Privy Council, to occur the mischiefs
-    that might arise to his kingdom of Ireland from those loose
-    cashiered soldiers, yielded to the ambassadors’ motion. But as
-    they were in the height of that work (providing transports),
-    there was a sudden stop made of those promised troops; and this
-    was the last, though not the least, fatal cause of that horrid
-    insurrection.
-
-    “Out of these premises it is easy for any common understanding,
-    not transported with passion or private interest, to draw
-    this conclusion: That they who complied with the Scot in his
-    insurrection; they who dismissed the Irish commissioners with
-    such a short, impolitic answer; they who took off the Earl of
-    Strafford’s head, and afterwards delayed the despatching of the
-    Earl of Leicester; they who hindered those disbanded troops in
-    Ireland to go for Spain, may be justly said to have been the
-    true causes of the late insurrection of the Irish.
-
-“Thus,” continues Castlehaven, “concludes this learned and ingenious
-gentleman, who, as being then his majesty’s historiographer, was as
-likely as any man to know the transactions of those times, and, as an
-Englishman and a loyal Protestant, was beyond all exception of partiality
-or favor of the Papists of Ireland, and therefore could have no other
-reason but the love of truth and justice to give this account of the
-Irish Rebellion, or make the Scotch and their wicked brethren in the
-Parliament of England the main occasion of that horrid insurrection.”
-
-As for the “massacre,” so called, that ensued, Lord Castlehaven speaks
-of it with the abhorrence it deserves. But this very term “massacre” is
-a misnomer plausibly affixed to the uprising by English ingenuity. In a
-country such as Ireland then was--in which, though nominally conquered,
-few English lived outside the walled towns--an intermittent state of
-war was chronic; and therefore there was none of that unpreparedness
-for attack or absence of means of defence on the part of the English
-settlers which, in other well-known historical cases, has rightfully
-given the name of “massacre” to a premeditated murderous attack upon
-defenceless and surprised victims. To hold the English as such will be
-regarded with contemptuous ridicule by every one acquainted with the
-system of English and Scotch colonization in Ireland in that age. The
-truth is, the cruelties on both sides were very bloody, “and though
-some,” says Lord Castlehaven, “will throw all upon the Irish, yet ’tis
-well known who they were that used to give orders to their parties sent
-into the enemies’ quarters to spare neither man, woman, nor child.”
-And as to the preposterous muster-rolls of Sir John Temple--from whom
-the subsequent scribblers borrowed all their catalogues--giving _fifty
-thousand (!)_ British natives as the number killed, Lord Castlehaven’s
-testimony is to the effect that there was not one-tenth--or scarcely
-five thousand--of that number of British natives then living in Ireland
-outside of the cities and walled towns where no “massacre” was committed.
-Lord Castlehaven also shows that there were not 50,000 persons to be
-found even in Temple’s catalogue, although it was then a matter of common
-notoriety that he repeats the same people and the same circumstances
-twice or thrice, and mentions hundreds as then murdered who lived many
-years afterwards. Some of Temple’s, not the Irish, victims were alive
-when Castlehaven wrote.
-
-But the true test of the character of this insurrection is to be found,
-not in the exaggerated calumnies of English libellers writing after the
-event, but in the testimony of the English settlers themselves when in a
-position where lies would have been of no avail. We will therefore give
-here, though somewhat out of the course of our narrative, an incident
-related by Castlehaven to that effect.
-
-Shortly after he had been appointed General of the Horse under Preston,
-Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate Catholics in Leinster, that general
-took, among other places, Birr, in King’s County. Here Castlehaven
-had the good fortune, as he says, to begin his command with an act of
-charity. For, going to see this garrison before it marched out, he came
-into a large room where he found many people of quality, both men and
-women. They no sooner saw him but, with tears in their eyes, they fell
-on their knees, desiring him to save their lives. “I was astonished,”
-says Castlehaven, “at their posture and petition, and, having made them
-rise, asked what the matter was? They answered that from the first day of
-the war there had been continued action and bloodshed between them and
-their Irish neighbors, and little quarter on either side; and therefore,
-understanding that I was an Englishman, begged I would take them into
-my protection.” It is enough to say that Lord Castlehaven, with some
-difficulty, and by personally taking command of a strong convoy, obtained
-for them the protection they prayed for from the exasperated and outraged
-population around them. But what we wish to point out is this: that here
-are those victims of Sir John Temple’s “massacre”--not the garrison of
-the fort, observe, but the English settlers driven in by the approach of
-Preston’s army, after terrorizing the country for months--now, with the
-fear of death before them, confessing on their knees that from the first
-day of the war they had arms in their hands, and that little quarter was
-given on either side!
-
-How well the English were able to take care of themselves at this time,
-and what _their_ “massacres” were like, are shown by the following
-extract from a letter of Colonel the Hon. Mervin Touchett to his brother,
-Lord Castlehaven. Col. Touchett is describing a raid made by Sir Arthur
-Loffens, Governor of Naas, with a party of horse and dragoons, killing
-such of the Irish as they met, to punish an attack upon an English party
-a few days before: “But the most considerable slaughter was in a great
-strength of furze, scattered on a hill, where the people of several
-villages (taking the alarm) had sheltered themselves. Now, Sir Arthur,
-having invested the hill, set the furze on fire on all sides, where the
-people, being a considerable number, were all burned or killed, men,
-women, and children. I saw the bodies and the furze still burning.”
-
-We remember the horror-stricken denunciations of the English press some
-years ago when it was stated, without much authentication, that some of
-the French commanders in the Algerine campaigns had smoked some Arabs to
-death in caves. But it would seem from Col. Touchett’s narrative that
-the English troopers would have been able to give their French comrades
-lessons in the culinary art of war some centuries ago. A grilled Irishman
-is surely as savory an object for the contemplation of humanity as a
-smoked Arab!
-
-But whatever the atrocities on the English side, we will not say that
-the cruelties committed by the Irish were not deserving of man’s
-reprobation and God’s anger. Only this is to be observed: that whereas
-the “massacres” by the Irish were confined to the rabble and Strafford’s
-disbanded soldiers, those committed by the English side were shared in,
-as the narratives of the day show, by the persons highest in position
-and authority. They made part of the English system of government of
-that day. On the other hand, the leading men of the Irish Catholic body
-not only endeavored to stay those murders, but sought to induce the
-government to bring the authors of them on both sides to punishment. But
-in vain! On the 17th of March, 1642, Viscount Gormanstown and Sir Robert
-Talbot, on behalf of the nobility and gentry of the nation, presented a
-remonstrance, praying “that the murders on both sides committed should
-be strictly examined, and the authors of them punished according to
-the utmost severity of the law.” Which proposal, Castlehaven shrewdly
-remarks, would never have been rejected by their adversaries, “but that
-they were conscious of being deeper in the mire than they would have the
-world believe.”
-
-So far the “massacre” and first uprising.
-
-Now, as to the inception of the war of the Confederate Catholics, and its
-objects, Lord Castlehaven’s narrative is equally convincing and clear.
-
-Parliament met in the Castle of Dublin, Nov. 16, 1641. The Rebellion
-was laid before both Houses by the lords-justices, Sir William Parsons
-and Sir John Borlace. Concurrent resolutions were adopted, without a
-dissenting voice, by the two Houses, declaring their abhorrence of
-the Rebellion, and pledging their lives and fortunes to suppress it.
-Castlehaven had a seat in the Irish House of Lords as an Irish peer,
-and being then in Ireland, as before related, took his seat at the
-meeting of Parliament. Besides Castlehaven, most of the leaders of
-the war that ensued were members of the Irish House of Lords. These
-Catholic peers were not less earnest than the rest in their unanimous
-intention to put down the Rebellion. Both Houses thereupon began to
-deliberate upon the most effectual means for its suppression. “But this
-way of proceeding,” says Castlehaven, “did not, it seems, square with
-the lords-justices’ designs, who were often heard to say that ‘the
-more were in rebellion, the more lands should be forfeit to them.’”
-Therefore, in the midst of the deliberations of Parliament on the
-subject, a prorogation was determined on. The lords, understanding this,
-sent Castlehaven and Viscount Castelloe to join a deputation from the
-commons to the lords-justices, praying them not to prorogue, at least
-till the rebels--then few in number--were reduced to obedience. But the
-address was slighted, and Parliament prorogued the next day, to the great
-surprise of both Houses and the “general dislike,” says Castlehaven, “of
-all honest and knowing men.”
-
-The result was, as the lords-justices no doubt intended, that the
-rebels were greatly encouraged, and at once began to show themselves in
-quarters hitherto peaceful. The members of Parliament retired to their
-country-houses in much anxiety after the prorogation. Lord Castlehaven
-went to his seat at Maddingstown. There he received a letter, signed by
-the Viscounts of Gormanstown and Netterville, and by the Barons of Slane,
-Lowth, and Dunsany, containing an enclosure to the lords-justices which
-those noblemen desired him to forward to them, and, if possible, obtain
-an answer. This letter to the lords-justices, Castlehaven says, was very
-humble and submissive, asking only permission to send their petitions
-into England to represent their grievances to the king. The only reply
-of the lords-justices was a warning to Castlehaven to receive no more
-letters from them.
-
-Meanwhile, parties were sent out from Dublin and the various garrisons
-throughout the kingdom to “kill and destroy the rebels.” But those
-parties took little pains to distinguish rebels from loyal subjects,
-provided they were only Catholics, killing promiscuously men, women, and
-children. Reprisals followed on the part of the rebels. The nobility and
-gentry were between two fires. A contribution was levied upon them by the
-rebels, after the manner of the Scots in the North of England in 1640.
-But although to pay that contribution in England passed without reproach,
-in Ireland it was denounced by the lords-justices as treason. The English
-troopers insulted and openly threatened the most distinguished Irish
-families as favorers of the Rebellion. “This,” says Castlehaven, “and
-the sight of their tenants, the harmless country people, without respect
-to age or sex, thus barbarously murdered, made the Catholic nobility and
-gentry at last resolved to stand upon their guard.” Nevertheless, before
-openly raising the standard of revolt against the Irish government,
-which refused to protect them, they made several efforts to get their
-petitions before Charles I. Sir John Read, a Scotchman, then going to
-England, undertook to forward petitions to the king; but, being arrested
-on suspicion at Drogheda, was taken to Dublin, and there put upon the
-rack by the lords-justices to endeavor to wring from him a confession of
-Charles I.’s complicity in the Rebellion. This Col. Mervin Touchett heard
-from Sir John Read himself as he was brought out of the room where he was
-racked. But that unfortunate monarch knew not how to choose his friends
-or to be faithful to them when he found them. He referred the whole
-conduct of Irish affairs to the English Parliament, thus increasing
-the discontent to the last pitch by making it plain to the whole Irish
-people that he abandoned the duty of protecting them, and had handed them
-over to the mercy of their worst enemies--the English Parliament. That
-Parliament at once passed a succession of wild votes and ordinances,
-indicating their intention of stopping short at nothing less than utter
-extirpation of the native race. Dec. 8, 1641, they declared they would
-never give consent to any toleration of the Popish religion in Ireland.
-In February following, when few of any estate were as yet engaged in
-the Rebellion, they passed an act assigning two million five hundred
-thousand acres of cultivated land, besides immense tracts of bogs, woods,
-and mountains, to English and Scotch adventurers for a small proportion
-of money on the grant. This money, the act stated, was to go to the
-reduction of the rebels; but, with a fine irony of providence upon the
-king’s weak compliance, every penny of it was afterwards used to raise
-armies by the English rebels against him. “But the greatest discontent
-of all,” says Castlehaven, “was about the lords-justices proroguing
-the Parliament--the only way the nation had to express its loyalty and
-prevent their being misrepresented to their sovereign, which, had it
-been permitted to sit for any reasonable time, would in all likelihood,
-without any great charge or trouble, have brought the rebels to justice.”
-
-Thus all hopes of redress or safety being at an end--a villanous
-government in Dublin intent only upon confiscation, a furious Parliament
-in London breathing vengeance against the whole Irish race, and a king
-so embroiled in his English quarrels that he could do nothing to help
-his Irish subjects, even had he wished it--what was left those loyal,
-gallant, and devoted men but to draw the sword for their own safety?
-The Rebellion by degrees spread over the whole kingdom. “And now,”
-says Castlehaven, “there’s no more looking back; for all were in arms
-and full of indignation.” A council of the leading Catholic nobles,
-military officers, and gentry met at Kilkenny, and formed themselves
-into an association under the title of the Confederate Catholics of
-Ireland. Four generals were appointed for the respective provinces of the
-kingdom--Preston for Leinster, Barry for Munster, Owen Roe O’Neale for
-Ulster, and Burke for Connaught. Thus war was declared.
-
-When the Rebellion first broke out in the North, Lord Castlehaven
-had immediately repaired to Dublin and offered his services to the
-lords-justices. They were declined with the reply that “his religion
-was an obstacle.” After the prorogation of Parliament, as we have seen,
-he retired to his house in the country. Then, coming again to Dublin to
-meet a charge of corresponding with the rebels which had been brought
-against him, he was arrested by order of the lords-justices, and, after
-twenty weeks of imprisonment in the sheriff’s house, was committed to the
-Castle. “This startled me a little,” says Castlehaven--as it well might
-do; for the state prisoner’s exit from the Castle in Dublin in those days
-was usually made in the same way as from the Tower in London, namely, by
-the block--“and brought into my thoughts the proceedings against the Earl
-of Strafford, who, confiding in his own innocence, was voted out of his
-life by an unprecedented bill of attainder.” Therefore, hearing nothing
-while in prison but rejoicings at the king’s misfortunes, who at last
-had been forced to take up arms by the English rebels, and knowing the
-lords-justices to be of the Parliament faction, and the lord-lieutenant,
-the Marquis of Ormond, being desperately sick of a fever, not without
-suspicion of poison, and his petition to be sent to England, to be tried
-there by his peers, being refused, he determined to make his escape,
-shrewdly concluding, as he says, that “innocence was a scurvy plea in an
-angry time.”
-
-Arriving at Kilkenny, he joined the confederacy, as has been related.
-
-From this time the war of the Confederate Catholics was carried on with
-varying success until the cessation of 1646, and then until the peace of
-1648, when the Confederates united, but too late, with the Marquis of
-Ormond to stop the march of Cromwell.
-
-
-A SWEET SINGER: ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.
-
-    She sang of Love--the love whose fires
-      Burn with a pure and gentle flame,
-    No passion lights of wild desires
-      Red with the lurid glow of shame.
-
-    She sang of angels, and their wings
-      Seemed rustling through each soft refrain;
-    Gladness and sorrow, kindred things
-      She wove in many a tender strain.
-
-    She sang of Heaven and of God,
-      Of Bethlehem’s star and Calvary’s way,
-    Gethsemane--the bloody sod,
-      Death, darkness, resurrection-day.
-
-    She sang of Mary--Mother blest,
-      Her sweetest carols were of thee!
-    Close folded to thy loving breast
-      How fair her home in heaven must be!
-
-
-THE COLPORTEURS OF BONN.
-
-I was very stupid in my youth, and am still far from being sharp. I could
-not master knotty questions like other boys; so this natural deficiency
-had to be supplemented by some plan that would facilitate the acquisition
-of knowledge. The advantage to be derived from a garrulous preceptor,
-whose mind was stored with all sorts of learning without dogmatism or
-hard formularies, were fully appreciated by my parents. John O’Neil was
-a very old man when I was a boy, and he was just the person qualified
-to impart an astonishing quantity of all sorts of facts, and perhaps
-fancies. I hold him in affectionate remembrance though he be dead over
-twenty-five years, and rests near the remains of his favorite hero,
-O’Connell, in Glasnevin Cemetery. When he became the chief architect of
-my intellectual structure, I thought him the most learned man in the
-world. On account of my dulness, he adopted the method of sermonizing
-to me instead of giving me unintelligible lessons to be learned out of
-books. I took a great fancy to him, because I found him exceedingly
-interesting, and he evinced a strong liking for me because I was docile.
-We became inseparable companions, notwithstanding the great discrepancy
-in our years. His tall, erect, lank figure and lantern jaw were to me the
-physiological signs of profundity, firmness, and power, and his white
-head was the symbol of wisdom. Our tastes--well, I had no tastes save
-such as he chose to awaken in me, and hence there came to be very soon
-a great similitude in our respective inclinations. I was like a ball of
-wax, a sheet of paper, or any other original impressionable thing you
-may name, in his hands for ten years, after which very probably I began
-to harden, though I was not conscious of the process. However, the large
-fund of knowledge that he imparted to me crystallized, as it were, and
-became fixed in my possession as firmly as if it had been elaborately
-achieved by a severe mental training. After I went to college he was
-still my friend, and rejoiced in my subsequent successes, and followed me
-with a jealous eye and a sort of parental anxiety in my foreign travels,
-and even in death he did not forget me, for he made me the custodian of
-his great heaps of literary productions, all in manuscript, embracing
-sketches, diaries, notes of travel, learned fragments on scientific
-and scholastic topics, essays, tales, letters, the beginnings and the
-endings and the middles of books on history, politics, and polemics,
-pieces of pamphlets and speeches, with a miscellaneous lot of poetry in
-all measures. He was a great, good man, who never had what is called
-an aim in life, but he certainly had an aim _after_ life; and yet no
-one could esteem the importance of this pilgrimage more than he did. He
-would frequently boast of being heterodox on that point. “You will hear,”
-he would remark, “people depreciating this life as a matter of little
-concern. Don’t allow their sophistry to have much weight with you. The
-prevalent opinions which are flippantly spoken thereon will not stand the
-test of sound Christian reasoning. That part of human existence which
-finds its scene and scope of exertion in this life is filled with eternal
-potentialities. You have heard it said that man wants but little here
-below. Where else does he want it? Here is where he wants everything.
-Then do not hesitate to ask, but be careful not to ask amiss. When the
-battle is over, it will be too late to make requisitions for auxiliaries.
-If you conquer, assistance will not be wanted; if you are defeated,
-assistance cannot reach you. The fight cannot be renewed; the victory or
-defeat will be final. This life is immense. You cannot think too much of
-it, cannot estimate it too highly. A minute has almost an infinite value.
-Man wants much here, and wants it all the time.” I thought his language
-at that time fantastical; now I regard it as profound. From a survey
-of his own aimless career, it is evident he did not reduce the good of
-earthly existence of which he spoke to any sort of money value. Those
-elements and forces of life to which he attached such deep significance
-and importance could not have their equivalent in currency, nor in
-comforts, nor in real estate, nor even in fame. My old preceptor had
-spent most of his youth in travelling, and the picturesque meanderings
-of the Rhine furnished subjects for many of his later recollections. I
-recall now with a melancholy regret the many pleasant evenings I enjoyed
-listening to his narratives of travel on that historic river, and in
-imagination sat with him on the Drachenfels’ crest, looking down upon
-scenes made memorable by the lives and struggles of countless heroes
-and the crowds of humanity that came and went through the course of a
-hundred generations--some leaving their mark, and others erasing it
-again; some leaving a smile behind them on the face of the country, and
-others a scar. He loved to talk about the beautiful city of Bonn, where
-he had spent some years, it being the most attractive place, he said,
-from Strasbourg to the sea--for learning was cheap there, and so were
-victuals--the only things he found indispensable to a happy life. He
-would glide into a monologue of dramatic glow and fervor in reciting how
-he procured access to the extensive library of its new university, and,
-crawling up a step-ladder, would perch himself on top like a Hun, who,
-after a sleep of a thousand years, had resurrected himself, gathered his
-bones from the plains of Chalons, and having procured a second-hand suit
-of modern clothes from a Jew in Cologne, traced with eager avidity the
-vicissitudes of war and empire since the days of Attila. It was there, no
-doubt, he discovered the materials of this curious paper, which I found
-among his literary remains. Whether he gathered the materials himself,
-or merely transcribed the work of some previous writer, I am unable to
-determine. Without laying any claim to critical acumen, I must confess
-it appears to me to be a meritorious piece, and I picked it out, because
-I thought it unique and brief, for submission to the more extensive
-experience and more impartial judgment of THE CATHOLIC WORLD’S readers.
-Having entire control of these productions of my friend and preceptor, I
-took the liberty of substituting modern phraseology for what was antique,
-and of putting the sketch in such style that the most superficial reader
-will have no difficulty in running it over. Objection may be raised to
-the title on the score of fitness. I did not feel authorized to change
-it, believing the one chosen by the judgment of my old friend as suitable
-as any I could substitute.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In the year 1250 the mind of man was as restless and impatient of
-restraint as now, and some people in Bonn, under a quiet exterior,
-nursed in their bosoms latent volcanoes of passion, and indulged the
-waywardness of rebellious fancy to a degree that would have proved
-calamitous to the placid flow of life and thought could instrumentality
-for action have been found. There is indubitable proof that the principle
-of the Reformation, which three hundred years later burst through the
-environment of dogma and spread like a flood of lava over Europe,
-existed actively in Bonn in the year named, and would have arrived at
-mature strength if nature had not interposed an impassable barrier to
-the proceeding. It is hard to rebel against nature, and it is madness
-to expect success in such a revolt. Fourteen men, whose names have come
-down to us, gave body and tone, and a not very clearly defined purpose,
-to this untimely uprising against the inevitable in Bonn. How many others
-were in sympathy or in active affiliation with them is not shown. Those
-fourteen were bold spirits, who labored under the misfortune of having
-come into the world three or four centuries too soon. They were great
-men out of place. There is an element of rebellion in great spirits
-which only finds its proper antidote in the stronger and more harmonious
-principle of obedience. Obedience is the first condition of creatures.
-Those fourteen grew weary of listening to the Gospel preached every
-Sunday from the pulpit of S. Remigius, when they attended Mass with the
-thousands of their townsmen. The Scriptures, both New and Old, were given
-out in small doses, with an abundant mixture of explanation and homily
-and salutary exhortation. Their appetites craved a larger supply of
-Scripture, and indeed some of them were so unreasonable as to desire the
-reading of the whole book, from Genesis to Revelations, at one service.
-“Let us,” said Giestfacher, “have it all. No one is authorized to give a
-selection from the Bible and hold back the rest. It is our feast, and we
-have a right to the full enjoyment thereof.”
-
-“Well,” said Heuck, his neighbor, to whom he addressed the remonstrance;
-“go to the scrivener’s and purchase a copy and send your ass to carry
-it home. Our friend Schwartz finished a fine one last week. It can be
-had for sixteen hundred dollars. When you have it safe at home, employ
-a reader, who will be able to mouth it all off for you in fifty hours,
-allowing a few intervals for refreshment, but none for sleep.” And Heuck
-laughed, or rather sneered, at Giestfacher as he walked away.
-
-Giestfacher was a reformer, however, and was not to be put down in
-that frivolous manner. He had been a student himself with the view of
-entering the ministry, but, being maliciously charged with certain grave
-irregularities, his prospects in that direction were seriously clouded,
-and in a moment of grand though passionate self-assertion he threw up
-his expectations and abandoned the idea of entering the church, but
-instead took to the world. He was a reformer from his infancy, and
-continually quarrelled with his family about the humdrum state of things
-at home; was at enmity with the system of municipal government at Bonn;
-and held very animated controversies with the physicians of the place
-on the system of therapeutics then pursued, insisting strongly that all
-diseases arose from bad blood, and that a vivisection with warm wine
-would prove a remedy for everything. He lacked professional skill to
-attempt an experiment in the medical reforms he advocated; besides, that
-department would not admit of bungling with impunity. For municipal
-reforms he failed in power, and the reward in fame or popular applause
-that might follow successful operations in that limited sphere of action
-was not deemed equivalent to the labor. But in the field of religion
-there was ample room for all sorts of tentative processes without danger;
-and, in addition to security, notoriety might be obtained by being
-simply _outré_. He had settled upon religious reform, and his enthusiasm
-nullified the cautionary suggestions of his reason, and reduced mountains
-of difficulty to the insignificant magnitude of molehills; even Heuck
-could be induced to adopt his views by cogent reasoning and much
-persuasion. Enthusiasm is allied to madness--a splendid help, but a
-dangerous guide.
-
-Giestfacher used his tongue, and in the course of a year had made twelve
-or fourteen proselytes. Those who cannot enjoy the monotony of life and
-the spells of _ennui_ that attack the best-regulated temperaments, fly
-to novelty for relief. The fearful prospect of an unknown and nameless
-grave and an oblivious future drives many restless spirits into
-experiments in morals and in politics as well as in natural philosophy,
-in the vain hope of rescuing their names from the “gulf of nothingness”
-that awaits mediocrity. The new reformers, zealous men and bold, met
-in Giestfacher’s house on Corpus Christi in 1251, the minutes of which
-meeting are still extant; and from that record I learn there were present
-Stein the wheelwright, Lullman the baker, Schwartz the scrivener, Heuck
-the armorer, Giestfacher the cloth merchant, Braunn, another scrivener,
-Hartzwein the vintner, Blum the advocate, Werner, another scrivener,
-Reudlehuber, another scrivener, Andersen, a stationer, Esch the
-architect, Dusch the monk, discarded by his brethren for violations of
-discipline, and Wagner the potter. Blum was appointed to take an account
-of the proceedings, and Giestfacher was made president of the society.
-
-“We are all agreed,” said Giestfacher, “that the Scriptures ought to be
-given to the people. From these divine writings we learn a time shall
-come when wars shall cease, and the Alemanni and the Frank and the Tartar
-may eat from the same plate and drink out of the same cup in peace and
-fraternity, and wear cloth caps instead of brass helmets, and plough the
-fields with their spears instead of letting daylight through each other
-therewith, and the shepherds shall tend their flocks with a crook and
-not with a bow to keep off the enemy. How can that time come unless the
-people be made acquainted with those promises? I believe we, who, like
-the apostles, number fourteen, are divinely commissioned to change things
-for the better, and initiate the great movements which will bring about
-the millennium. Let us rise up to the dignity of our position. Let us
-prove equal to the inspiration of the occasion. We are called together by
-heaven for a new purpose. The time is approaching when universal light
-will dispel the gloom, and peace succeed to all disturbance. Let us give
-the Scriptures to the people. They are the words of God, that carry
-healing on their wings. They are the dove that was sent out from the ark.
-They are the pillar of light in the desert. They are the sword of Joshua,
-the sling of David, the rod of Moses. Let us fourteen give them to the
-people, and start out anew, like the apostles from Jerusalem, to overturn
-the idols of the times and emancipate the nations. We have piled up heaps
-of stones in every town and monuments of brass, and still men are not
-changed. We see them still lying, warring, hoarding riches, and making
-gods of their bellies--all of which is condemned by the word of God. What
-will change all this? I say, let the piles of stone and the monuments of
-brass slide, and give the Scriptures a chance. Let us give them to the
-people, and the reign of brotherhood and peace will commence, wars shall
-cease, nation will no longer rise up against nation, rebellion will erect
-its horrid front no more. Men will cease hoarding riches and oppressing
-the poor. There will be no more robbing rings in corporate towns, and men
-in power will not blacken their character and imperil the safety of the
-state by nepotism. The whole world will become pure. No scandals will
-arise in the church, and there will be no blasphemy or false swearing,
-and Christian brethren shall not conspire for each other’s ruin.”
-
-“We see,” remarked Heuck, “that those who have the Scriptures are no
-better than other people. They too are given to lying, hoarding riches,
-warring one against another, and making gods of their bellies. How is
-that?”
-
-“Yes,” said Blum, “I know three scriveners of this town who boast of
-having transcribed twenty Bibles each, and they get drunk thrice a week
-and quarrel with their wives; and there’s Giebricht, the one-legged
-soldier, who can repeat the Scriptures until you sleep listening to
-him, says he killed nine men in battle and wounded twenty others. The
-Scriptures did not make him very peaceful. The loss of a leg had a more
-quieting effect on him than all his memorizing of the sacred books.”
-
-“We did not get together,” said Werner, “to discuss that phase of the
-subject. It was well understood, and thereunto agreed a month ago, that
-the spread of the Scriptures was desirable; and to this end we met, that
-means wise and effective may be devised whereby we can supply every one
-with the word of God, that all may search therein for the correct and
-approved way of salvation.”
-
-“So be it,” said Dusch the monk.
-
-“Hear, hear!” said Schwartz.
-
-“Let us agree like brethren,” said Braunn.
-
-“We are subject to one spirit,” said Hartzwein the vintner, “and all
-moved by the same inspiration. Discord is unseemly. We must not dispute
-on the subject of drunkenness. Let us have the mature views of Brother
-Giestfacher, and his plans. The end is already clear if the means be of
-approved piety and really orthodox. In addition to the Scriptures, I
-would rejoice very much to see prayer more generally practised. We ought
-to do nothing without prayer. Let us first of all consult the Lord. What
-says Brother Blum?”
-
-Blum rose and said it was a purely business meeting. He had no doubt
-it ought to have been opened with prayer. It was an old and salutary
-practice that came down from the days of the apostles, and Paul
-recommended it. But as they were now in the midst of business, he thought
-it would be as wise and as conformable with ancient Christian and saintly
-practice to go on with their work, and rest satisfied with mental
-ejaculation, as to inaugurate a formal prayer-meeting.
-
-Esch thought differently; he held that prayer was always in season.
-
-Reudlehuber meekly said that the Scriptures showed there was a time for
-everything, whence it was plain that prayer might be out of place as well
-as penitential tears on some occasions. It would not look well for a man
-to rise up in the midst of a marriage feast and, beating his breast, cry
-out _Mea culpa_.
-
-“We have too many prayers in the church,” said Giestfacher, “and not
-enough of Scripture; that is the trouble with us. Brethren must rise
-above the weaknesses of the mere pietist. Moses was no pietist; he was a
-great big, leonine character. We must be broad and liberal in our views;
-not given to fault-finding nor complaining. Pray whenever you feel like
-it, and drink when you have a mind to. Noah got drunk. I’d rather be
-the prodigal son, and indulge in a hearty natural appetite for awhile,
-than be his cautious, speculating, avaricious brother, who had not soul
-enough most likely to treat his acquaintances to a pint of wine once in
-his lifetime. Great men get tipsy. Great nations are bibulous. We are
-not here to make war on those who drink wine and cultivate the grape, nor
-are we authorized in making war on weavers because Dives was damned for
-wearing fine linen. It is our mission to spread the Scriptures. The world
-wants light. He is a benefactor of mankind who puts two rays where there
-was only one before.”
-
-“Let us hear your plans, Brother Giestfacher,” cried out a number of
-voices simultaneously.
-
-In response, Brother Giestfacher stated that there were no plans
-necessary. All that was to be done was to circulate the Scriptures. Let
-us get one hundred thousand sheets of vellum to begin with, and set a
-hundred scriveners to work transcribing copies of the Bible, and then
-distribute these copies among the people.
-
-The plan was plain and simple and magnificent, Braunn thought, but there
-were not ten thousand sheets of vellum in the town nor in the whole
-district, and much of that would be required for civil uses; besides, the
-number of sheep in the neighborhood had been so reduced by the recent war
-that vellum would be scarce and costly for ten years to come.
-
-Werner lamented the irremediable condition of the world when the free
-circulation of the word of God depended on the number of sheep, and the
-number of sheep was regulated by war, and war by the ambition, jealousy,
-or pride of princes.
-
-“It is painfully true,” said Heuck, “that the world stands in sad need
-of reform, if souls are to be rescued from their spiritual perils only
-by the means proposed in the magnificent sheep-skin scheme of Brother
-Giestfacher.” It was horrible to think that the immortal part of man was
-doomed to perish, to be snuffed out, as it were, in eternal darkness,
-because soldiers had an unholy appetite for mutton.
-
-Braunn said the work could be started on three or four thousand hides,
-and ere they were used up a new supply might arrive from some unexpected
-quarter.
-
-Esch said that they ought to have faith; the Hand that fed the patriarch
-in the desert would provide vellum if he was prayerfully besought for
-assistance. _He_ would be willing to commence on one sheet, feeling
-convinced there would be more than enough in the end.
-
-Blum did not take altogether so sanguine a view of things as Brother
-Esch. He was especially dubious about that vellum supply; not that he
-questioned the power of Providence at all, but it struck him that it
-would be just as well and as easy for the society to prayerfully ask for
-an ample supply of ready-made Bibles as to expect a miracle in prepared
-sheep-skin; and he was still further persuaded that if the books were
-absolutely necessary to one’s salvation, they would be miraculously
-given. But he did not put the movement on that ground. It is very easy
-for men, and particularly idiotic men, to convince themselves that God
-will answer all their whims and caprices by the performance of a miracle.
-We are going upon the theory that the work is good, just as it is good to
-feed the hungry and clothe the naked. We expect to find favor in heaven
-because we endeavor to do a work of charity according to our honest
-impression.
-
-“How many persons,” inquired Heuck, “do you propose to supply with
-complete copies of the Scriptures?”
-
-“Every one in the district,” replied Giestfacher.
-
-“Brother Dusch,” continued Heuck, “how many heads of families are there
-in the district? Your abbot had the census taken a few month’s ago, while
-you were yet in grace and favor at the monastery.”
-
-Brother Dusch said he heard there were twenty-two thousand from the
-Drachenfels to within six miles of Cologne, but all of them could not
-read.
-
-“We will send out,” said Giestfacher enthusiastically, “an army of
-colporteurs, who will distribute and read at the same time.”
-
-“I perceive,” said Blum, “that this discussion will never stop. New
-avenues of thought and new mountains of objection are coming to view
-at every advance in the debate. Let us do something first, and talk
-afterwards. To supply twenty-two thousand persons with expensive volumes
-will require considerably more than mere resolves and enthusiasm. I
-propose that we buy up all the vellum in the city to-day, and that we
-all go security for the payment. I propose also that we employ Brothers
-Braunn, Schwartz, Werner, and Reudlehuber to commence transcribing, and
-that we all go security for their pay. Unless we begin somewhere, we can
-never have anything done. What says Brother Giestfacher?”
-
-Giestfacher said it did not become men of action, reformers who proposed
-to turn over the world and inaugurate a new era and a new life and a
-new law, to stop at trifles or to consider petty difficulties. The
-design that had been developed at that meeting contemplated a sweeping
-change. Instead of having a few books, here and there, at every church,
-cathedral, monastery, and market-place, learnedly and laboriously
-expounded by saints of a thousand austerities and of penitential garb,
-every house would be supplied, and there should be no more destitution in
-the land. The prophecies and the gospels and the mysteries of revelation
-would be on the lips of sucking babes, and the people who stood at the
-street-corners and at the marts of trade, the tiller of the soil, the
-pedler, the sailor, the old soldier, and the liberated prisoner, together
-with the man who sold fish and the woman who sold buttermilk, would
-stand up and preach the Gospel and display a mission, schoolboys would
-discuss the contents of that book freely, and even the inmates of lunatic
-asylums would expound it with luminous aptitude and startling fancy. The
-proposition of Brother Blum met his entire approval. He would pledge
-everything he had, and risk even life itself, to start the new principle,
-so that the world might bask in sunshine and not in shadow. It was about
-time that men had their intellects brightened up some. Even in the days
-of the apostles those pious men did not do their whole duty. They labored
-with much assiduity and conscientiousness, but they neglected to adopt
-measures looking to the spread of the Scriptures. He had no doubt but
-they fell a long way short of their mission, and were now enduring the
-pangs of a peck of purgatorial coal for their remissness. There were
-good men who perhaps found heaven without interesting themselves in the
-multiplication of copies of the Bible. They were not called to that work;
-but what was to be thought of those who had the call, the power, the
-skill, and yet neglected to spread the word. He believed SS. Gregory
-Nazianzen, Athanasius, Jerome, Chrysostom, Augustine, and others of those
-early doctors of the church, had a fearful account to render for having
-neglected the Scriptures. S. Paul, too, was not free from censure. It was
-true he wrote a few things, but he took no thought of multiplying copies
-of his epistles.
-
-“How many copies,” inquired Heuck, “do you think S. Paul ought to have
-written of his letters before you would consider him blameless?”
-
-“He ought,” said Giestfacher, “to have written all the time instead of
-making tents. ‘How many copies’ is a professional question which I will
-leave the scriveners to answer. I may remark that it would evidently be
-unprofitable for us to enter on a minute and detailed discussion on that
-point here. It is our duty to supplement the shortcomings of those early
-workers in the field, and finish what they failed to accomplish. They
-were bound to give the new principle a fair start. The plan suggested was
-the best, simplest, and clearest, and he hoped every one of the brethren
-would give it a hearty and cordial support.”
-
-The principle of communism, or the right of communities to govern
-themselves in certain affairs and to carry on free trade with certain
-other communities, had been granted the previous century, and Bonn
-was one of the towns that enjoyed the privilege; but the people still
-respected religion and did no trafficking on holydays. Giestfacher could
-not therefore purchase the vellum on Corpus Christi, but had to wait till
-next day, at which time he could not conveniently find the other members
-of the new Bible society, and, fearing that news of their project would
-get abroad and raise the price of the article he wanted, he hastened to
-the various places where it was kept for sale, and bought all of it up in
-the course of two hours, paying his own money in part and giving his bond
-for the balance. The parchment was delivered to the four scriveners, who
-gathered their families about them, and all the assistants (journeymen)
-that could be found in the town, and proceeded with the transcribing of
-the Bible. At the next meeting each scrivener reported that he had about
-half a book ready, that the work was going rapidly and smoothly forward,
-and that the scribes were enthusiastic at the prospect of brisk business
-and good pay. The report was deemed very encouraging. It went to show
-that the society could have four Bibles every two weeks, or about one
-hundred a year, and that in the course of two hundred and twenty years
-every head of a family in the district could be provided with a Bible of
-his own. The scriveners stated, moreover, that they had neglected their
-profane business, for which they could have got cash, to proceed in the
-sacred work, and as there were several people depending on them for means
-of living, a little money would be absolutely necessary with the grace of
-God.
-
-Giestfacher also stated that he spent all the money he had in part
-payment for the parchment, and pledged his property for the balance. His
-business was somewhat crippled already in consequence of the outlay,
-and he expected to have part of the burden assumed by every one of the
-society.
-
-Werner said he had fifteen transcribers working for him, and each one
-agreed to let one-third of the market value of his work remain in the
-hands of the society as a subscription to the good work, but the other
-two-thirds would have to be paid weekly, as they could not live without
-means. They were all poor, and depending solely on their skill in
-transcribing for a living.
-
-The debate was long, earnest, eloquent, and more or less pious.
-
-Blum made a motion that the bishop of the diocese and the Pope be made
-honorary members of the society. Giestfacher opposed this with eloquent
-acrimony, saying it was a movement outside of all sorts of church
-patronage; that it was designed to supersede churches and preaching; for
-when every man had the Bible he would be a church unto himself, and would
-not need any more teaching. He also had a resolution adopted pledging
-each and every member to constitute himself a colporteur of the Bible,
-and to read and peddle it in sun and rain; and it was finally settled
-that a subscription should be taken up; that each member of the society
-be constituted a collector, and proceed at once to every man who loved
-the Lord and gloried in the Gospel to get his contribution.
-
-At the next meeting the brethren were all present except Dusch, who was
-reported as an absconder with the funds he had collected, and was said to
-be at that moment in Cologne, drunk perhaps. Four complete Bibles were
-presented as the result of two weeks’ hard labor and pious effort and the
-aggregate production of forty-five writers. The financial reports on the
-whole were favorable; and the scriveners were provided with sufficient
-means and encouragement to begin another set of four Bibles. Brother
-Giestfacher was partially secured in his venture for the parchment,
-while it was said that the article had doubled in price during the past
-fortnight, and very little of it could be got from Cologne, as there was
-a scarcity of it there also, coupled with an extraordinary demand. It
-was also stated that the monks at the monastery had to erase the works
-of Virgil in order to find material for making a copy of the homilies
-of S. John Chrysostom which was wanted for the Bishop of Metz. In like
-manner, it was decided to erase the histories of Labanius and Zozirnus,
-as being cheaper than procuring original parchment on which to transcribe
-a fine Greek copy of the whole Bible, to take the place of one destroyed
-by the late war. The heavy purchase that Brother Giestfacher had made
-created a panic in the vellum market that was already felt in the heart
-of Burgundy. The scriveners’ business had also experienced a revulsion.
-People of the world who wanted testamentary and legal documents, deeds,
-contracts, and the like properly engrossed, were offering fabulous
-sums to have the work done, as most of the professionals of that class
-were now engaged by the society, and had no time to do any other sort
-of writing. A debate sprung up as to the proper disposition to be made
-of the four Bibles on hand, and also as to the manner of beginning and
-conducting the distribution. In view of the demand for the written word,
-and of the scarcity of copies and the high price of parchment, it was
-suggested by Heuck to sell them, and divide the proceeds among the poor
-and the cripples left after the late war. Five hundred dollars each could
-be readily got for the books, he said, and it was extremely doubtful
-whether those who would get them as gifts from the society would resist
-the temptation of selling them to the first purchaser that came along.
-In addition to this heavy reason in favor of his line of policy, Heuck
-suggested the possibility of trouble arising when they should come to
-grapple with the huge difficulties of actual distribution; to give one of
-those volumes, he said, would be like giving an estate and making a man
-wealthy for life.
-
-Giestfacher said it would be impracticable to make any private
-distribution among the destitute for some time. The guilds of coopers,
-tailors, shoemakers, armorers, fullers, tanners, masons, artificers,
-and others should be first supplied; and in addition to the Bible kept
-chained in the market-place for all who wished to read, he would have one
-placed at the town-pump and one at the town-house, so that the thirsty
-might also drink the waters of life, and those who were seeking justice
-at the court might ascertain the law of God before going in.
-
-Blum said another collection would have to be raised to erect a shed over
-the Bibles that were proposed to be placed at the town-pump and at the
-town-house and to pay for suitable chains and clasps to secure them from
-the depredations of the pilfering.
-
-Esch was of opinion that another subscription could not be successfully
-taken up until their work had produced manifest fruit for good. The
-people have much faith, but when they find salt mixed with their drink
-instead of honey, credulity is turned into disgust. A Bible chained to
-the town-pump will be a sad realization of their extravagant hopes.
-Every man who subscribed five dollars expects to get a book worth five
-hundred, an illuminated Bible fit for a cathedral church. He warned them
-that they were getting into a labyrinth, and that they would have to
-resort to prayer yet to carry them through in safety. Werner thought it
-would be wisest to pursue a quiescent policy for some time, and to forego
-the indulgence of their anxious desire for palpable results until they
-should be in a condition to make an impression. He advocated the wisdom
-of delay. They also serve, he said, who only stand and wait, and it might
-prove an unwise proceeding to come out with their public exhibition just
-then. In a few months, when thirty or forty Bibles would be on hand, a
-larger number than could be found in any library in the world, they might
-hope, by the show of so much labor, to create enthusiasm.
-
-“But still,” urged Heuck, “you will have the difficulty to contend
-with--who is to get them?”
-
-“There will,” remarked Blum, “be a greater difficulty to contend with
-about that time: the settlement of obligations for parchment and the pay
-of the scriveners who are employed in transcribing. Our means at present,
-even if we pay the scriveners but one-third their wages, will not suffice
-to bring out twenty volumes. So we are just in this difficulty: in order
-to do something, we must have means, and in order to get means, we must
-do something. It is a sort of vicious circle projected from logic into
-finance. It will take the keen-edged genius of Brother Giestfacher to cut
-this knot.”
-
-“The work,” said Giestfacher, “in which we are engaged is of such merit
-that it will stand of itself. I have no fears of ultimate triumph. If
-you all fail, God and I will carry it on. Heaven is in it. I am in it.
-It must succeed. I am a little oldish, I confess, but there is twenty
-years of work in me still. I feel my foot sufficiently sure to tread the
-perilous path of this adventure to the goal.”
-
-“Let us,” interposed Schwartz, “stop this profitless debate, and give
-a cheer to Brother Giestfacher. He is the blood and the bone of this
-movement. We are in with him. We are all in the same boat. If we have
-discovered a pusillanimous simpleton among us, it is not too late to cast
-him out. I feel my gorge and my strength rise together, and I swear to
-you by S. Remigius, brethren, that I am prepared to sink or swim, and
-whoever attempts to scuttle the ship shall himself perish first.”
-
-Two or three other brethren, feeling the peculiar inspiration of the
-moment, rose up and, stamping their feet on the floor, proclaimed their
-adherence to the principles of the society, and vowed to see it through
-to the end.
-
-This meeting then adjourned.
-
-There is no minute of any subsequent meeting to be found among the
-manuscripts that I have consulted, but I discovered a statement made by
-Heuck, dated six months later, who, being called before the municipal
-authorities to testify what he knew about certain transactions of a
-number of men that had banded themselves together secretly for the
-purpose of creating a panic in the vellum market, and of disturbing
-the business of the scriveners, said he was one of fourteen citizens
-interested in the promulgation of the Gospel free to the poor. That,
-after five or six meetings, he left the society in company with two
-others; that two of the members became obnoxious, and were expelled--the
-one, Dusch, for embezzling money collected for Scripture-writing and
-Scripture-diffusing purposes, the other, Werner, for having retained
-one of their volumes, and disposed of it to the lord of Drachenfels
-for four hundred dollars; that they did not pursue and prosecute these
-delinquents for fear of bringing reproach on the project; and then he
-went on to state: “I left the society voluntarily and in disgust. We had
-fourteen Bibles on hand, but could not agree about their distribution.
-They were too valuable to give away for nothing, and it was discovered
-that they were all written in Latin, and not in the vernacular, and they
-would prove of as little value to the great mass of people for whom
-they were originally designed as if they had been written in Hebrew.
-In addition to this I found, for I understand the language perfectly,
-that no two of them were alike, and, in conjunction with scrivener
-Schwartz, I minutely examined one taken at random from the pile, and
-compared it with the volume at the Cathedral. We found fifteen hundred
-discrepancies. In some places whole sentences were left out. In others,
-words were made to express a different sense from the original. In
-others, letters were omitted or put in redundantly, in such a way as to
-change the meaning; and the grammatical structure was villanously bad.
-Seeing that the volumes were of no use as a representation of the word
-of God, and being conscientiously convinced that the books contained
-poison for the people instead of medicine, I made a motion in meeting
-to have them all burned. Schwartz opposed it on the ground that they
-were innoxious anyhow, there being none of the common people capable
-of understanding the language in which they were written, and, though
-they were a failure as Bibles, the vellum might be again used; and as
-the scriveners were not paid for their labor, they had a claim upon the
-volumes. The scriveners got the books, to which, in my opinion, they had
-no just claim, for the villanous, bad work they did on them deserved
-censure and not pay. I have heard since that some of those scriveners
-made wealth by selling the books to Englishmen for genuine and carefully
-prepared transcripts from authorized texts. The president and founder of
-the society, Giestfacher, is now in jail for debt, he having failed to
-meet his obligations for the vellum he purchased when he took it into
-his head to enlighten mankind--more especially that portion of it that
-dwells on the Rhine adjacent to the city of Bonn--by distributing corrupt
-copies of Latin Bibles to poor people who are not well able to read their
-own language. The ‘good work’ still occupies the brains and energies of
-three or four enthusiasts, who have already arrived at the conclusion
-that the apostles were in league with hell to keep the people ignorant,
-because they did not give every man a copy of the Bible. The founder sent
-me a letter two days ago, in which he complains of being deserted by his
-companions in his extremity. His creditors have seized on all his goods,
-and there is a considerable sum yet unpaid. He blames the Pope and the
-bishop in unmeasured terms for this; says it is a conspiracy to keep the
-Bible from the people. He sees no prospect of being released unless the
-members of the society come to his speedy relief. The principles, he
-says, for which he suffers will yet triumph. The time will come when
-Bibles will be multiplied by some cheap and easy process. Until then,
-the common run of humanity must be satisfied to be damned, drawing what
-little consolation they may from the expectation that their descendants
-a few centuries hence will enjoy the slim privilege of reading Bibles
-prepared with as little regard to accuracy as these were. I am sorry to
-see such a noble intellect as Giestfacher undoubtedly possesses show
-signs of aberration. The entire failure of his project was more than
-he could bear. He had centred his hopes upon it. He indulged dreams of
-fame and greatness arising out of the triumph of his idea. Esch has
-become an atheist. He says the Christian’s God would not have given
-a book to be the guide and dependence of man for salvation, and yet
-allow nature, an inferior creation, to interpose insuperable barriers
-to its promulgation. Every time a sheep-skin is destroyed, says Esch,
-a community is damned. The dearness and scarcity of parchment keep the
-world in ignorance. Braunn says the world cannot be saved except by a
-special revelation to every individual, for there is hardly a copy of the
-Bible without errors, so that whether every human creature got one or
-not, they would be still unsafe. One of the common herd must learn Latin
-and Greek and Hebrew well, and then spend a lifetime tracing up, through
-all its changes, transcriptions, and corruptions of idiom, one chapter,
-or at most one book, and die before he be fully assured of the soundness
-of one text, a paragraph, a line, a word. In fact, says Braunn, there
-can be no certainty about anything. Language may have had altogether a
-different meaning twelve hundred years ago to what it has now. Braunn
-and Schwartz and myself wanted to have a committee of five of our number
-appointed to revise and correct the text of each book that was produced
-by comparing it with such Greek and Hebrew copies as were represented of
-sound and correct authority; but Giestfacher laughed at us, saying we
-knew nothing of Greek or Hebrew; that we would have to hire some monks
-to do the job for us, which would be going back again to the very places
-and principles and practices against which we had revolted and protested.
-Moreover, continued Giestfacher, we cannot tell whether the oldest, most
-original copies that can be found are true in every particular. How can
-we know from any sort of mere human testimony that this copy or that is
-in accordance with what the prophets and apostles wrote. The whole Bible
-may be wrong as far as our _knowledge_, as such, is able to testify. We
-are reduced to _faith_ in this connection and must rest on that alone.
-
-“I thought, and so did Schwartz, that the faith of Giestfacher must be
-peculiar when it could accept copies as good enough and true enough after
-we had discovered hundreds of palpable and grievous errors in them. A
-book of romance would do a person of Giestfacher’s temper as well as the
-Bible--faith being capable of making up for all deficiencies. I saw that
-an extravagance of credulity, called faith, on the part of Giestfacher,
-led to monomania; and a predominance of irrational reason on the part of
-Esch had led to utter negation. I did not covet either condition, and I
-concluded to remain safe at anchor where I had been before, rather than
-longer follow those adventurers in a wild career after a fancied good--a
-mere phantom of their own creation. I lost twenty-five dollars by the
-temporary madness. That cannot be recalled. I rejoice that I lost no
-more, and I am grateful that the hallucination which lasted nearly a year
-has passed away without any permanent injury.”
-
-The remainder of Heuck’s statement had partially faded from the parchment
-by time and dampness, and could not be accurately made out. Sufficient
-was left visible, however, to show that he expressed a desire to be held
-excusable for whatever injuries to souls might result from the grave
-errors that existed in the Bibles disseminated by the cupidity of the
-scriveners with the guilty knowledge of such errors.
-
-I interested myself in rescuing from oblivion such parts of the record
-of those curious mediæval transactions as served to show to the people
-of later times what extraordinary mental and religious activity existed
-in those ages, when it was foolishly and stupidly thought there were but
-henchmen and slaves on the one side, and bloody mailed despots on the
-other. The arrogance of more favored epochs has characterized those days
-by the epithet of “dark.” Pride is apt to be blind. The characterization
-is unjust. All the lights of science could not come in one blaze. The
-people of those days looked back upon a period anterior to their own as
-“dark,” and those looked still further backward upon greater obscurity,
-as they thought. The universal boastfulness of man accounts for this
-increasing obscurity as we reach back into antiquity. Philosophers and
-poets and men of learning, thinking themselves, and wishing to have other
-people think them, above personal egotism, adopted the method of praising
-their age, and thus indirectly eulogizing, themselves; and as they could
-not compare their times with the future of which they knew nothing, they
-naturally fell into the unfilial crime of drawing disparaging comparisons
-with their fathers. There is an inclination, too, in the imperfection
-of human nature to belittle what is remote and magnify what is near at
-hand. Even now, men as enthusiastic and conscientious and religious as
-Heuck and Giestfacher and Schwartz find themselves surrounded by the same
-difficulties, and as deeply at a loss to advance a valid reason for their
-revolt and their protest.
-
-
-EARLY PERSECUTIONS OF THE CHRISTIANS.
-
-In one of his bold Apologies[9] the great African writer Tertullian said
-to the rulers of the Roman Empire that “it was one and the same thing for
-the truth [of Christianity] to be announced to the world, and for the
-world to hate and persecute it.” This persecution of the church began
-on the very spot that was her birth-place; for soon after the ascension
-of our Lord the wicked Jews tried by every means to crush her. “From
-the days of the apostles,” wrote Tertullian in the IIId century, “the
-synagogue has been a source of persecutions.” At first the church was
-attacked by words only; but these were soon replaced by weapons, when
-Stephen was stoned, the apostles were thrown into prison and scourged,
-and all the East had risen in commotion against the Christians. The
-Gentiles soon followed the example of the Jews, and those persecutions
-which bore an official character throughout the Roman Empire, and lasted
-for three centuries, are commonly called the Ten General Persecutions.
-Besides these, there were partial persecutions at all times in some part
-or other of the empire. Nero, whose name is synonymous with cruelty, was
-the first emperor to begin a general persecution of the Christians; and
-Tertullian made a strong point in his favor when he cried out to the
-people (_Apol. v._), saying, “That our troubles began at such a source,
-we glory; for whoever has studied his nature knows well that nothing
-but what is good and great was ever condemned by Nero.” This persecution
-began in the year 64, and lasted four years. Its pretext was the burning
-of Rome, the work of the emperor himself, who ambitiously desired, when
-he would have rebuilt the city and made it still more grand, to call
-it by his own name; but the plan not succeeding, he tried to avert the
-odium of the deed from his own person, and accused the Christians. Their
-extermination was decreed. The pagan historian Tacitus has mentioned,
-in his _Annals_ (xv. 44), some of the principal torments inflicted on
-the Christians. He says that they were covered with the skins of wild
-beasts and torn to pieces by savage hounds, were crucified, were burned
-alive, and that some, being coated with resinous substances, were put up
-in the imperial garden at night to serve as human torches. The _Roman
-Martyrology_ makes a special commemoration, on the 24th of June, of these
-martyrs for having all been disciples of the apostles and the firstlings
-of the Christian flock which the church in Rome presented to the Lord.
-In this persecution S. Peter was crucified with his head downwards; S.
-Paul was beheaded; and among the other more illustrious victims we find
-S. Mark the Evangelist, S. Thecla, the first martyr of her sex, SS.
-Gervase and Protase at Milan, S. Vitalis at Ravenna, and S. Polycetus at
-Saragossa in Spain. The number of the slain, and the hitherto unheard-of
-cruelties practised upon them, moved to pity many of the heathen, and
-the sight of so much fortitude for a principle of religion was the
-means, through divine grace, of many conversions. After this, as after
-every succeeding persecution, the great truth spoken by Tertullian was
-exemplified: that the blood of the martyrs was the seed of Christians.
-
-By a law of the empire, which was not revoked until nearly three hundred
-years afterwards, under Constantine, the profession of the Christian
-religion was made a capital offence. This law, it is true, was not
-enforced at all times, especially under benign or indifferent rulers; but
-it hung continually suspended over the heads of the Christians like a
-sword of Damocles.
-
-The second persecution was that of Domitian, from 94 to 96. Tertullian
-calls him “a portion of Nero by his cruelty.” At first he only imposed
-heavy fines upon the wealthy Christians; but, thirsting for blood, he
-soon published more cruel edicts against them. Among his noblest victims
-were his cousin-german, Flavius Clemens, a man of consular dignity; John
-the Evangelist, who was thrown into a caldron of boiling oil (from which,
-however, he miraculously escaped unhurt); Andrew the Apostle, Dionysius
-the Areopagite, and Onesimus, S. Paul’s convert. Hegesippus, quoted by
-Eusebius in his _Ecclesiastical History_, has recorded a very interesting
-fact about the children of Jude, surnamed Thaddeus in the Gospel,
-telling us that, having confessed the faith under this reign, they were
-always honored in the church of Jerusalem, not alone as martyrs, but as
-relatives of Jesus Christ according to the flesh.
-
-The third persecution was Trajan’s, from 97 to 116. In answer to a
-letter from his friend Pliny the Younger, who had command in Asia Minor,
-the emperor ordered that the Christians were not to be sought out, but
-that, if accused, and they remained obstinate in their faith, they
-were to be put to death. Under an appearance of mercy a large field
-was opened for the cruelty and exactions of Roman officials, which
-they were not slow to work. A single circumstance attests the severity
-of the persecution. This was that the Tiberian governor of Palestine
-wrote to the emperor complaining of the odious duty imposed upon him,
-since the Christians were forthcoming in greater numbers than he could,
-without tiring, have executed. The persecution was particularly severe
-in the East. Simeon, bishop of Jerusalem, Ignatius of Antioch, and the
-virgin Domitilla, who was related to three emperors, are among the more
-illustrious martyrs of the period.
-
-Next came the persecution of Hadrian, lasting from 118 to about 129. We
-have the authority of S. Jerome for saying that it was very violent.
-This emperor was a coward and, perhaps as a consequence, intensely
-superstitious. One of his particular grievances against the Christians
-was that they professed a religion in which he had no share. Under him
-perished, with countless others, Pope Alexander I. and his priests,
-Eventius and Theodulus; Eustace, a celebrated general, with his wife and
-little children; Symphorosa and her seven sons; Zoe, with her husband and
-two children.
-
-The fifth was the persecution of Marcus Aurelius. Although he was by
-nature well inclined, he was certainly the author of much innocent
-bloodshed, which may be in part ascribed to the powerful influence
-of the so-called philosophers whose company and tone he affected. The
-persecution raged most severely among the Gauls; and elsewhere we find
-the illustrious names of Justin the great Apologist, Polycarp, bishop of
-Smyrna, and Felicitas and her seven children.
-
-Followed the persecution of Septimius Severus, which lasted from 200
-to 211, and was so extremely violent that many Christians believed
-Antichrist had come. It reaped from the church such distinguished
-persons as Pope Victor at Rome; Leonidas, father of the great Origen, at
-Alexandria; Irenæus and companions at Lyons; Perpetua and Felicitas in
-Mauritania. Egypt was particularly rich in holy martyrs.
-
-After this one came the persecution of Maximinus, from 235 to 237. It was
-in the beginning more especially directed against the sacred ministers
-of the church. Several popes were put to death; and among the inferior
-clergy we find the deacon Ambrose, who was the bosom friend of Origen and
-one of his principal assistants in his work on the Holy Scriptures.
-
-The persecution of Decius lasted from 249 to 251. The Christians, in
-spite of all repressive measures, had steadily increased in numbers; but
-this emperor thought to do what his predecessors had failed in, and was
-hardly seated on the throne before he published most cruel edicts against
-them. Among the more celebrated names of this persecution are those
-of Popes Fabian and Cornelius; Saturninus, first bishop of Toulouse;
-Babylas, bishop of Antioch; the famous Christopher in Lycia, about whom
-there is a beautiful legend; and the noble virgin Agatha in Sicily. The
-great scholar Origen was put to the torture during this persecution, but
-escaped death. Like Maximinus, this emperor singled out the heads of
-the various local churches, the most active and learned ministers, the
-highest of both sexes in the social scale, aiming less at the death than
-the apostasy of Christians, hoping in this way to destroy the faith;
-whence S. Cyprian laments in one of his epistles that the Christians
-suffer atrocious torments without the final consolation of martyrdom.
-One effect of this persecution was of immense benefit to the church in
-the East; for S. Paul, surnamed First Hermit, took refuge from the storm
-in Upper Egypt, where he peopled by his example the region around Thebes
-with those holy anchorites since called the Fathers of the Desert.
-
-The ninth persecution was that of Valerian, who, although at first
-favorable to the Christians, became one of their greatest opposers at
-the instigation of their sworn enemy, Marcian. At this date we find upon
-the list of martyrs the eminent names of Popes Stephen and Sixtus II.,
-Lawrence the Roman deacon, and Cyprian, the great convert and bishop of
-Carthage.
-
-The persecution of Diocletian was the last and the bloodiest of all. It
-raged from 303 to 310. Maximian, the emperor’s colleague, had already
-put to death many Christians, and among others, on the 22d of September,
-286, Maurice and his Theban legion, before the persecution became
-general throughout the Roman Empire. It began in this form at Nicomedia
-on occasion of a fire that consumed a part of the imperial palace, and
-which was maliciously ascribed to the Christians; and it is remarkable
-that the two extreme persecutions of the early church should both have
-begun with a false charge of incendiarism. Diocletian used to sit upon
-his throne at Nicomedia, watching the death-pangs of his Christian
-subjects who were being burned, not singly, but in great crowds. Many
-officers and servants of his household perished, and, to distinguish
-them from the rest, they were dropped into the sea with large stones
-fastened about their necks. A special object of the persecutors was to
-destroy the churches and tombs of earlier martyrs, to seize the vessels
-used in the Holy Sacrifice, and to burn the liturgical books and the
-Holy Scriptures. The _Roman Martyrology_ makes a particular mention on
-the 2d of January of those who suffered death rather than deliver up
-these books to the tyrant. Although innumerable copies of the Scriptures
-perished, not a few were saved, and new copies multiplied either by favor
-of the less stringent executors of the law, or because the privilege
-was bought by the faithful at a great price. Some years ago the German
-Biblical critic Tischendorf discovered on Mount Sinai a Greek codex of
-extraordinary antiquity and only two removes from an original of Origen.
-It is connected with one of the celebrated martyrs of this persecution,
-and bears upon what we have just said of the Sacred Scriptures. In this
-codex, at the end of the Book of Esther, there is a note attesting that
-the copy was collated with a very ancient manuscript that had itself
-been corrected by the hand of the blessed martyr Pamphilus, priest
-of Cæsarea in Palestine, while in prison, assisted by Antoninus, his
-fellow-prisoner, who read for him from a copy of the Hexapla of Origen,
-which had been revised by that author himself. The touching spectacle of
-these two men, both of whom gave their blood for the faith, occupied,
-in the midst of the inconveniences, pain, and weariness of captivity,
-in transcribing good copies of the Bible, is one of the many instances,
-discovered in every age, showing the care that the church has had to
-multiply and guard from error the holy written Word of God.
-
-Among the petty sources of annoyance during this persecution, was the
-difficulty of procuring food, drink, or raiment that had not been offered
-to idols; for the pagan priests had set up statues of their divinities
-in all the market-places, hostelries, and shops, and at the private and
-public fountains. They used also to go around city and country sprinkling
-with superstitious lustral water the gardens, vineyards, orchards, and
-fields, so as to put the Christians to the greatest straits to obtain
-anything that had not been polluted in this manner. We learn from the
-Acts of S. Theodotus, a Christian tradesman of Ancyra, the obstacles he
-had to surmount at this time to procure pure bread and wine to be used
-by the priests in the Mass. We can appreciate the intense severity of
-this persecution in many ways; but one of the most singular proofs of
-it is that pagans in Spain inscribed upon a marble monument, erected in
-Diocletian’s honor, _that he had abolished the very name of Christian_.
-This emperor had also the rare but unenviable privilege of giving his
-name to a new chronological period, called by the pagans, in compliment
-to his bloody zeal for their rites, the Era of Diocletian; but the
-Christians called it the Era of the Martyrs. It began on the 29th of
-August, 284, and was long in use in Egypt and Abyssinia. Some of the more
-renowned victims of this persecution are Sebastian, an imperial officer;
-Agnes, a Roman virgin; Lucy, a virgin of Syracuse, and the Forty Martyrs
-of Sebaste.
-
-It may be interesting to note briefly the chief causes of so much cruel
-bloodshed, even under princes of undoubted moderation in the general
-government of affairs, as were Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, Antoninus the
-Pious, and a few others.
-
-The most continual, if not the deepest, source of persecution were the
-passions of the populace. Calumny of the subtlest and most popular kind,
-and pressed at all times with patient effort, had so inflamed the minds
-of the brutal lower classes that only a word or a sign was required to
-set them upon the Christians. These were called disloyal to the empire,
-unfriendly to the princes, of a foreign religion, people who refused to
-fall into the ways of the majority, and enemies of the human race. From
-the remains of ancient histories, from the Acts of martyrs, from pagan
-inscriptions, and from other sources, more than fifty-seven different
-opprobrious qualifications, applied to the Christians as a body, have
-been counted up. But when particular calumnies became any way stale, the
-Christians could always be accused as the cause of every calamity that
-befell the state; so that, in the words of Tertullian (_Apol. xl._), “If
-the Tiber exceeded its limits, if the Nile did not rise to irrigate the
-fields, if the rain failed to fall, if the earth quaked, if famine or
-pestilence scourged the land, at once the cry was raised, Christians to
-the lions!”
-
-The next most constant source of trouble was the pernicious influence of
-the Philosophers--a set of men who pretended to be seekers after wisdom,
-and distinguished themselves from the vulgar by a certain style of dress.
-Puffed up as they were with their own knowledge, nothing irritated
-their pride so much as that men of the despised Christian class should
-presume to dispute their doctrines and teach that profane philosophy
-was naught, since man could not be made perfect by human wisdom, but
-only by the testimony of Christ who was crucified. Among the Christians,
-too, a special order of men whom we call Apologists, and among whom we
-count Justin, Tertullian, Tatian, Arnobius, Minutius Felix, Origen,
-Aristides, Quadratus, Athenagoras, and Miltiades the chief, exposed in
-their eloquent writings the vanity, contradictions, and vices of their
-opponents, succeeding sometimes in silencing false accusations, and even
-in arresting the course of persecution. Their apologies and memorials
-form one of the most instructive branches of early Christian literature,
-and are a considerable compensation for the loss of so many Acts of
-martyrs and other venerable documents destroyed by the pagans or which
-have otherwise perished.
-
-The third great cause of persecution was found (to use a comparatively
-modern word) in the Erastianism of the Roman Empire. The emperor was, by
-right of the purple, high-pontiff, and no religion was recognized that
-did not profess its existence and authority dependent upon the state.
-Naturally, a religion whose followers would reply to every iniquitous
-command, “We ought to obey God rather than men,” could expect no mercy,
-but only continual war.
-
-Sometimes the Christians were put to death in the same manner as the
-common malefactors, such as by decapitation, crucifixion, or scourging;
-sometimes in the manner reserved for particular classes of criminals, as
-being hurled down a precipice, drowned, devoured by wild beasts, left to
-starve. But sometimes, also, the exquisite cruelty of the persecutors
-delighted to feed upon the sufferings of its victims, and make dying as
-long and painful as possible. Thus, there are innumerable examples of
-Christians being flayed alive, the skin being neatly cut off in long
-strips, and pepper or vinegar rubbed into the raw flesh; or slowly
-crushed between two large stones; or having molten lead poured down the
-throat. Some Christians were tied to stakes in the ground and gored to
-death by wild bulls, or thinly smeared with honey and exposed under a
-broiling sun to the insects which would be attracted; some were tied to
-the tails of vicious horses and dragged to pieces some were sewed up
-in sacks with vipers, scorpions, or other venomous things, and thrown
-into the water; some had their members violently torn from the trunk of
-the body; some were tortured by fire in ways almost unknown to the most
-savage Indians of America; some were slowly scourged to death with whips
-made of several bronze chainlets, at the extremity of each of which was
-a jagged bullet; while jerking out of the teeth in slow succession;
-cutting off the nose, ears, lips, and breasts; tearing of the flesh with
-hot pincers; sticking sharp sticks up under the finger-nails; being held
-suspended, head downward, over a smoking fire; stretching upon a rack,
-and breaking upon the wheel, were some only of the commonest tortures
-that preceded the final death-stroke by sword or lance. Many instruments
-used in tormenting the martyrs have been found at different times, and
-are now carefully preserved in collections of Christian antiquities;
-and from these, from early-written descriptions, and from the rude
-representations on the tombs of martyrs in the Catacombs, it is known
-positively that over one hundred different modes of torture were used
-upon the Christians.
-
-From the earliest period particular pains were taken by the pastors of
-the church to have the remains of the martyrs collected and some account
-of their sufferings consigned to letters; and Pope S. Clement, a disciple
-of the Apostle Peter, instituted a college of notaries, one for each
-of the seven ecclesiastical districts into which he had divided Rome,
-with the special charge of collecting with diligence all the information
-possible about the martyrs. They were not to pass over even the minutest
-circumstances of their confession of faith and death. This attendance on
-the last moments of the martyrs was often accompanied by great personal
-risk, or at least a heavy expense in the way of buying the good-will of
-venal officers; but it was a thing of the utmost importance, in view
-of the church’s doctrine concerning the veneration and invocation of
-saints, that nothing should be left undone which prudence would suggest
-to leave it beyond a doubt that the martyrs had confessed the _true_
-faith, and had suffered death _for_ the faith. The pagans soon discovered
-the value that was set upon such documents, and very many of them were
-seized and destroyed. The fact that the Act of the martyrs were objects
-of careful search is so well attested--as is also the other fact, that
-an immense number perished--that it is a wonder and a grace of divine
-Providence how any, however few comparatively, have come down to us. It
-has been calculated that at least five million Christians--men, women,
-and children--were put to death for the faith during the first three
-centuries of the church.
-
-The French historian Ampère has very justly remarked that amidst the
-moral decay of the Roman Empire, when all else was lust and despotism,
-the Christians alone saved the dignity of human nature; and the Spaniard
-Balmes, when treating of the progress of individuality under the
-influence of Catholicity (_European Civilization_, ch. xxiii.), remarks
-that it was the martyrs who first gave the great example of proclaiming
-that “the individual should cease to acknowledge power when power exacts
-from him what he believes to be contrary to his conscience.” The patience
-of the martyrs rebuked the sensualism of the pagans; and their fearless
-assertions that matters of conscience are beyond the jurisdiction of any
-civil ruler proved them to be the best friends of human liberty; while
-their constancy and number during three hundred years of persecution,
-that only ceased with their triumph, is one of the solid arguments to
-prove that the Catholic Church has a divine origin, and a sustaining
-divinity within her.
-
-    “A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchang’d,
-    Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang’d;
-    Without unspotted, innocent within,
-    She fear’d no danger, for she knew no sin:
-    Yet had she oft been chas’d with horns and hounds,
-    And Scythian shafts, and many wingèd wounds
-    Aim’d at her heart; was often forc’d to fly,
-    And doom’d to death, tho’ fated not to die.”
-
-                                                --DRYDEN.
-
-
-THE UNREMEMBERED MOTHER.
-
-    Unknown, beloved, thou whose shadow lies
-      Across the sunny threshold of my years;
-    Whom memory with never-resting eyes
-      Seeks thro’ the past, but cannot find for tears;
-    How bitter is the thought that I, thy child,
-      Remember not the touch, the look, the tone,
-      Which made my young life thrill--that I alone
-    Forget the face that o’er my cradle smil’d!
-      And yet I know that if a sudden light
-    Reveal’d thy living likeness, I should find
-      That my poor heart hath pictur’d thee aright.
-    So I will wait, nor think the lot unkind
-      That hides thee from me, till I know by sight
-    The perfect face thro’ love on earth divin’d.
-
-
-DURATION.
-
-Time and duration are usually considered synonymous, as no duration is
-perceived by us, except the duration of movement, or of such things as
-are subject to movement; and such duration is time. But, rigorously
-speaking, time and duration are not synonymous; for they are to one
-another in the same relation as place and space. As no place is possible
-without real absolute space, so no time is possible without real absolute
-duration; and as place consists of intervals in space, so time consists
-of intervals in duration. Yet there may be duration independently of
-time, just as there may be space independent of places; and for this
-reason the nature of duration must be determined apart from the nature
-of time. In treating of this subject we shall have to answer a series of
-questions altogether similar to those which we have answered in treating
-of space and place. Hence we shall follow the same order and method in
-our present treatise which we have followed in our articles on space,
-with this difference, however: that, to avoid useless repetitions, we
-will omit the development of some of those reasonings which the reader
-himself can easily transfer from space to duration.
-
-Duration is commonly defined as “the permanence of a being in its
-actuality”--_Permanentia rei in esse_. The duration of a being which
-perseveres in existence without any intrinsic change is called “standing
-duration”--_Duratio stans_. The duration of a being which is actually
-subject to intrinsic mutations is called “flowing duration”--_Duratio
-fluens_.
-
-Flowing duration evidently implies succession, and succession involves
-time; for succession is a relation between something which follows
-and something which precedes. On the other hand, time also involves
-succession; whence it would seem that neither time nor succession can be
-defined apart from one another, the definition of the latter presupposing
-that of the former, and that of the former presupposing the notion of
-the latter. Although we need not be anxious about this point (for time
-and succession really involve one another, and therefore may well be
-included under the same definition), we must observe that the notion
-of succession, though ordinarily applied to duration, extends to other
-things also whenever they follow one another in a certain order. Thus
-the crust of the earth is formed by a succession of strata, the Alps by
-a succession of mountains, the streets of the city by a succession of
-houses, etc. Hence the notion of succession is more general than the
-notion of time, and consequently there must be some means of defining it
-independently of the consideration of time.
-
-Balmes explains succession, without mentioning time, in the following
-manner: “There are things which exclude one another from the same
-subject, and there are other things which do not exclude one another from
-the same subject. The existence of those things which exclude one another
-implies succession. Take a line _ABC_. A body placed in _A_ cannot pass
-over to the place _B_ without ceasing to be in _A_, because the situation
-_B_ excludes the situation _A_, and in a similar manner the situation
-_C_ excludes the situation _B_. If, then, notwithstanding this mutual
-exclusion, the three places are really occupied by the same body, there
-is succession. This shows that succession is really nothing else than
-_the existence of such things as exclude one another_. Hence succession
-implies the existence of the thing that excludes, and the non-existence
-of the things that are excluded. All variations involve some such
-exclusion; hence all variations involve succession.… To perceive the
-existence of things which exclude one another is to perceive succession
-and time; to measure it is to measure time.” Thus far Balmes.[10]
-
-But, if the _flowing_ duration can be easily conceived as the existence
-of such things as exclude one another, the case is very different with
-regard to _standing_ duration. For, since we measure all duration by time
-or by successive intervals, we can scarcely conceive that there may be
-duration without succession. Even the word “permanence” which we employ
-in the definition of duration, and which seems to exclude all notion of
-change, is always associated in our thought with succession and time.
-The difficulty we experience in forming a concept of standing duration
-is as great at least as that which we find in conceiving absolute space
-without formal extension and parts. In fact, formal extension is to
-absolute space what formal succession is to absolute standing duration.
-To get over this difficulty we shall have to show that there is a
-duration altogether independent of contingent changes, as there is a
-space altogether independent of existing bodies, and that the succession
-which we observe in the duration of created things is not to be found in
-the fundamental reason of its existence, as our imagination suggests, but
-only in the changes themselves which we witness in created things.
-
-The following questions are to be answered: Is there any standing
-duration? and if so, is it an objective reality, or a mere negation of
-movement? Is standing duration anything created? What sort of reality
-is it? Is it modified by the existence of creatures? What is a term of
-duration? What is relative duration? What is an interval of duration, and
-how is it measured? These questions are all parallel to those which we
-have answered in our first and second articles on space, and they admit
-of a similar solution.
-
-_First question._--“Is there any duration absolutely standing?”
-Certainly. For if there is a being whose entity remains always the same
-without any intrinsic change, its duration will be absolutely standing.
-But there is such a being. For there is, as we have proved, an infinite
-reality absolutely immovable and unchangeable--that is, absolute space.
-Its permanence is therefore altogether exempt from succession; and
-consequently its duration is absolutely standing.
-
-Again: As there is no movement in space without immovable space, so there
-is no flowing in duration without standing duration. For as a thing
-cannot change its ubication in space unless there be a field for real
-ubications between the initial and the final term of the movement, so a
-thing cannot change its mode of being (the _when_) in duration, unless
-there be a field for real modes of being between the initial and the
-final term of its duration. Now, this real field, owing to the fact that
-it is, in both cases, prerequired for the possibility of the respective
-changes, is something necessarily anterior to, and independent of, any of
-such changes. Therefore, as the field of all local movements is anterior
-to all movements and excludes movement from itself, so also the field of
-all successive durations is anterior to all successivity and therefore
-excludes succession.
-
-Although these two arguments suffice to establish our conclusion, what we
-have to say concerning the next question will furnish additional evidence
-in its support.
-
-_Second question._--“Is standing duration an objective reality or a mere
-abstract conception?” We answer that standing duration is an objective
-reality as much as absolute space. For, as movement cannot extend in
-space, if space is nothing real, so movement cannot extend in duration,
-if the field of its extension is nothing real. But we have just seen that
-the field through which the duration of movement extends is standing
-duration. Therefore standing duration is an objective reality.
-
-Secondly, a mere nothing, or a mere fiction, cannot be the foundation of
-real relations. But standing duration is the foundation of all intervals
-of real succession, which are real relations. Therefore standing duration
-is not a fiction, but an objective reality. The major of this argument
-is well known. The minor is proved thus: In all real relations the terms
-must communicate with each other through one and the same reality; and
-therefore the foundation of a real relation must reach by one and the
-same reality the terms related. But the terms of successive duration
-are _before_ and _after_. Therefore the foundation of their relation
-must reach both _before_ and _after_ with one and the same reality,
-and therefore it has neither _before_ nor _after_ in itself. Had it
-_before_ and _after_ in itself, its _after_ would not be its _before_;
-and thus the reality by which it would reach the terms of succession
-would not be the same. It is therefore manifest that the foundation of
-all real intervals of succession is a reality whose duration ranges above
-succession.
-
-This proof may be presented more concisely as follows: Succession is a
-relation between two terms, as _past_ and _present_. Its foundation must
-therefore reach all the past as it reaches the present. But what reaches
-the past as well as the present, is always present; for if it were
-past, it would be no more, and thus it could not reach the past and the
-present. Therefore the foundation of succession has no past, but only an
-invariable present. Therefore there is a real standing duration, a real
-field, over which successive duration extends.
-
-Thirdly, in all intervals of succession the _before_ is connected
-with the _after_ through real duration. But this real duration has
-in itself neither _before_ nor _after_. For if it had _before_ and
-_after_, it would fall under the very genus of relation of which it is
-the foundation; which is evidently impossible, because it would then be
-the foundation of its own entity. It is therefore plain that the real
-connection between the _before_ and the _after_ is made by a reality
-which transcends all _before_ and all _after_, and which is nothing else
-than absolute standing duration.
-
-Fourthly, if standing duration were not an objective reality, but a mere
-fiction or a mere negation of movement, there would be no real length
-of duration. For the terms of successive duration are indivisible,
-and consequently they cannot give rise to any continuous quantity of
-duration, unless something lies between them which affords a real ground
-for continuous extension. That the terms of successive duration are
-indivisible is evident, because the same term cannot be before itself nor
-after itself, but is wholly confined to an indivisible instant. Now, that
-according to which an interval of successive duration can be extended
-from one of these terms to another, is nothing but absolute and standing
-duration. For, if it were flowing, it would pass away with the passing
-terms, and thus it would not lie between them, as is necessary in order
-to supply a ground for the extension of the interval intercepted. In the
-same manner, therefore, as there cannot be distance between two ubicated
-points without real absolute space, there cannot be an interval between
-two terms in succession without real absolute duration.
-
-A fifth proof of the same truth may be drawn from the reality of the
-past. Historical facts are real facts, although they are all past. There
-really was a man called Solomon, who really reigned in Jerusalem; there
-really was a philosopher called Plato, whose sublime doctrines deserved
-for him the surname of Divine; there really was a man called Attila,
-surnamed the Scourge of God. These men existed in different intervals
-of duration, and they are no more; but their past existence and their
-distinct duration constitute three distinct facts, which are _real facts_
-even to the present day, and such will remain for ever. Now, how can
-we admit that what has wholly ceased to exist in successive duration
-is still a real and indelible fact, unless we admit that there is an
-absolute duration which is, even now, as truly united with the past as it
-is with the present, and to which the past is not past, but perpetually
-present? If there is no such duration, then all the past must have been
-obliterated and buried in absolute nothingness; for if the succession of
-past things extended upon itself alone, without any distinct ground upon
-which its flowing could be registered, none of past things could have
-left behind a real mark of their existence.
-
-Against this conclusion some will object that the relation between
-_before_ and _after_ may be explained by a mere negation of simultaneous
-existence. But the objection is futile. For the intervals of successive
-duration can be greater or less, whilst no negation can be greater or
-less; which shows that the negation of simultaneous existence must not be
-confounded with the intervals of succession.
-
-The following objection is more plausible. The duration of movement
-suffices to fill up the whole interval of succession and to measure its
-extent; and therefore the reality which connects the _before_ with the
-_after_ is movement itself, not standing duration. To this we answer
-that the duration of movement is essentially successive and relative;
-and therefore it requires a real foundation in something standing and
-absolute. In fact, although every movement formally extends and measures
-its own duration, nevertheless it does not extend it upon itself, but
-upon a field extrinsic to itself; and this field is permanently the
-same. It is plain that the beginning and the end of movement cannot be
-connected in mutual relation through movement alone, because movement is
-always _in fieri_, and when it passes through one term of its duration
-it loses the actuality it had in the preceding term; so that, when it
-reaches its last term, it has nothing left of what it possessed in its
-initial term or in any other subsequent term. This suffices to show that,
-although the duration of the movement fills up the whole interval, yet,
-owing to its very successivity, it cannot be assumed as the ground of the
-relation intervening between its successive terms.
-
-_Third question._--“Is absolute and standing duration a created or
-an uncreated reality?” This question is easily answered; for, in the
-first place, standing duration is the duration of a being altogether
-unchangeable; and nothing unchangeable is created. Hence standing
-duration is an uncreated reality. On the other hand, all that is created
-is changeable and constantly subject to movement; hence all created (that
-is, contingent) duration implies succession. Therefore standing duration
-is not to be found among created realities. Lastly, standing duration,
-as involving in itself all conceivable past and all possible future,
-is infinite, and, as forming the ground of all contingent actualities,
-is nothing less than the formal possibility of infinite terms of real
-successive duration. But such a possibility can be found in God alone.
-Therefore the reality of standing duration is in God alone; and we need
-not add that it must be uncreated.
-
-_Fourth question._--“What reality, then, is absolute standing duration?”
-We answer that this duration is the infinite virtuality or extrinsic
-terminability of God’s eternity. For nowhere but in God’s eternity can
-we find the reason of the possibility of infinite terms and intervals of
-duration. Of course, God’s eternity, considered absolutely _ad intra_,
-is nothing else than the immobility of God’s existence; but its virtual
-comprehension of all possible terms of successive duration constitutes
-the absolute duration of God’s existence, inasmuch as the word “duration”
-expresses a virtual extent corresponding to all possible contingent
-duration; for God’s duration, though formally simultaneous, virtually
-extends beyond all imaginable terms and intervals of contingent duration.
-Hence standing duration is the duration of God’s eternity, the first and
-fundamental ground of flowing duration, the infinite range through which
-the duration of changeable things extend. In other words, the infinite
-virtuality of God’s eternity, as equivalent to an infinite length of
-time, is _duration_; and as excluding from itself all intrinsic change,
-is _standing_ duration. This virtuality of God’s eternity is really
-nothing else than its extrinsic terminability; for eternity is conceived
-to correspond to all possible differences of time only inasmuch as it can
-be compared with the contingent terms by which it can be extrinsically
-terminated.
-
-Secondly, if nothing had been created, there would have been no extrinsic
-terms capable of extending successive duration; but, since God would
-have remained in his eternity, there would have remained the reality in
-which all extrinsic terms of duration have their virtual being; and
-thus there would have remained, eminently and without formal succession,
-in God himself the duration of all the beings possible outside of God.
-For he would certainly not have ceased to exist in all the instants of
-duration in which creatures have existed; the only change would have
-been this: that those instants, owing to a total absence of creatures,
-would have lacked their formal denomination of _instants_, and their
-formal successivity. Hence, if nothing had been created, there would have
-remained infinite real duration without succession, simply because the
-virtuality of God’s eternity would have remained in all its perfection.
-It is therefore this virtuality that formally constitutes standing
-duration.
-
-From this the reader will easily understand that in the concept of
-standing duration two notions are involved, viz.: that of _eternity_,
-as expressing the standing, and that of its _virtuality_, as connoting
-virtual extent. In fact, God’s eternity, absolutely considered, is
-simply the actuality of God’s substance, and, as such, does not connote
-duration; for God’s substance is not said _to endure_, but simply
-_to be_. The formal reason of duration is derived from the extrinsic
-terminability of God’s eternity; for the word “duration” conveys the idea
-of continuation, and continuation implies succession. Hence it is on
-account of its extrinsic terminability to successive terms of duration
-that God’s eternity is conceived as equivalent to infinite succession;
-for what virtually contains in itself all possible terms and intervals of
-succession virtually contains in itself all succession, and can co exist,
-without intrinsic change, with all the changes of contingent duration.
-Balmes, after defining succession as the existence of such things as
-exclude one another, very properly remarks: “If there were a being which
-neither excluded any other being nor were excluded by any of them,
-that being would co-exist with all beings. Now, one such being exists,
-viz.: God, and God alone. Hence theologians do but express a great and
-profound truth when they say (though not all, perhaps, fully understand
-what they say) that God is present to all times; that to him there is no
-succession, no _before_ or _after_; that to him everything is present, is
-_Now_.”[11]
-
-We conclude that standing duration is infinite, all-simultaneous,
-independent of all contingent things, indivisible, immovable, formally
-simple and unextended, but equivalent to infinite intervals of successive
-duration, and virtually extending through infinite lengths. This duration
-is absolute.
-
-_Fifth question._--“Does the creation of a contingent being in absolute
-duration cause any intrinsic change in standing duration?” The answer
-is not doubtful; for we have already seen that standing duration is
-incapable of intrinsic modifications. Nevertheless, it will not be
-superfluous to remark, for the better understanding of this answer, that
-the “when” (the _quando_) of a contingent being has the same relation
-to the virtuality of God’s eternity as has its “where” (the _ubi_) to
-the virtuality of God’s immensity. For, as the “where” of every possible
-creature is virtually precontained in absolute space, so is the “when”
-of all creatures virtually precontained in absolute duration. Hence the
-creation of any number of contingent beings in duration implies nothing
-but the _extrinsic_ termination of absolute duration, which accordingly
-remains altogether unaffected by the existence in it of any number of
-extrinsic terms. The “when” of a contingent being, as contained in
-absolute duration, is virtual; it does not become formal except in the
-contingent being itself--that is, by extrinsic termination. Thus the
-subject of the contingent “when” is not the virtuality of God’s eternity
-any more than the subject of the contingent “where” is the virtuality of
-God’s immensity.
-
-This shows that the formal “when” of a contingent being is a mere
-relativity, or a _respectus_. The formal reason, or the foundation,
-of this relativity is the reality through which the contingent being
-communicates with absolute standing duration, viz.: the real instant
-(_quando_) which is common to both, although not in the same manner;
-for it is _virtual_ in standing duration, whilst it is _formal_ in the
-extrinsic term. Hence a contingent being, inasmuch as it has existence in
-standing duration, is nothing but a term related by its “when” to divine
-eternity as existing in a more perfect manner in the same “when.” But,
-since the contingent “when” of the creature exclusively belongs to the
-creature itself, God’s standing duration receives nothing from it except
-a relative extrinsic denomination.
-
-The relation resulting from the existence of a created term in standing
-duration consists in this: that the created term by its formal “when”
-really imitates the eminent mode of being of God himself in the same
-“when.” This relation is called _simultaneousness_.
-
-Simultaneousness is often confounded with presence and with
-co-existence. But these three notions, rigorously speaking, differ from
-one another. _Presence_ refers to terms in space; _simultaneousness_ to
-terms in duration; _co-existence_ to terms both present and simultaneous.
-Thus presence and simultaneousness are the constituents of co-existence.
-Presence is to be considered as the material constituent, because it
-depends on the “where,” which belongs to the thing on account of its
-matter or potency; simultaneousness must be considered as the formal
-constituent, because it depends on the “when,” which belongs to the thing
-on account of its act or of its resulting actuality.
-
-Before we proceed further, we must yet remark that in the same manner as
-the infinite virtuality of divine immensity receives distinct extrinsic
-denominations from the contingent terms existing in space, and is thus
-said to imply _distinct virtualities_, so also the infinite virtuality
-of God’s eternity can be said to imply distinct virtualities, owing to
-the distinct denominations it receives from distinct terms of contingent
-duration. It is for this reason that we can speak of virtualities of
-eternity in the plural. Thus when we point out the first instant of any
-movement as distinct from any following instant, we consider the flowing
-of the contingent “when” from _before_ to _after_ as a passage from one
-to another virtuality of standing duration. These virtualities, however,
-are not distinct as to their absolute beings, but only as to their
-extrinsic termination and denomination; and therefore they are really but
-one infinite virtuality. As all that we have said of the virtualities
-of absolute space in one of our past articles equally applies to the
-virtualities of absolute duration, we need not dwell here any longer on
-this point.
-
-_Sixth question._--“In what does the ‘when’ of a contingent being
-precisely consist?” From the preceding considerations it is evident
-that the “when” of a contingent being may be understood in two manners,
-viz., either _objectively_ or _subjectively_. Objectively considered,
-the “when” is nothing else than _a simple and indivisible term in
-duration_ formally marked out in it by the actuality of the contingent
-being. We say _a simple and indivisible term_, because the actuality
-of the contingent being by which it is determined involves neither
-past nor future, neither _before_ nor _after_, but only its present
-existence, which, as such, is confined to an indivisible _Now_. Hence
-we do not agree with those philosophers who confound the _quando_ with
-the _tempus_--that is, the “when” with the extent of flowing duration.
-We admit with these philosophers that the “when” of contingent things
-extends through movement from _before_ to _after_, and draws, so to say,
-a continuous line in duration; but we must remind them that the _before_
-and the _after_ are distinct modes of being in duration, and that every
-term of duration designable between them is a distinct “when” independent
-of every other “when,” either preceding or following; which shows that
-the _tempus_ implies an uninterrupted series of distinct “whens,” and
-therefore cannot be considered as synonymous with _quando_.
-
-If the “when” is considered subjectively--that is, as an appurtenance of
-the subject of which it is predicated--it may be defined as _the mode of
-being of a contingent thing in duration_. This mode consists of a mere
-relativity; for it results from the extrinsic termination of absolute
-duration, as already explained. Hence the “when” is not _received_ in
-the subject of which it is predicated, and does not _inhere_ in it, but,
-like all other relativities and connotations, simply connects it with its
-correlative, and intervenes or lies between the one and the other.
-
-But, although it consists of a mere relativity, the “when” still admits
-of being divided into _absolute_ and _relative_, according as it is
-conceived absolutely as something real in nature, or compared with
-some other “when”; for, as we have already explained when treating of
-ubications, relative entities may be considered both as to what they are
-in themselves, and as to what they are to one another.
-
-If the “when” is considered simply as a termination of standing duration,
-without regard for anything else, it is called _absolute_, and is defined
-as _the mode of being of a thing in absolute duration_. This absolute
-“when” is an _essential mode_ of the contingent being no less than its
-dependence from the first cause, and is altogether immutable so long
-as the contingent being exists; for, on the one hand, the contingent
-being cannot exist but within the domain of divine eternity, and, on the
-other, it cannot have different modes of being with regard to it, as the
-standing duration of eternity is all uniform in its infinite virtual
-extension, and the contingent being, however much we may try to vary its
-place in duration, must always be in the very middle of eternity. Hence
-the absolute “when” is altogether unchangeable.
-
-If the “when” of a contingent being is compared with that of another
-contingent being in order to ascertain their mutual relation, then the
-“when” is called _relative_, and, as such, it may be defined as _the mode
-of terminating a relation in duration_. This “when” is changeable, not
-in its intrinsic entity, but in its relative formality; and it is only
-under this formality that the “when” (_quando_) can be ranked among the
-predicamental accidents; for this changeable formality is the only thing
-in it which bears the stamp of an accidental entity.
-
-The _before_ and the _after_ of the same contingent being are considered
-as two distinct relative terms, because the being to which they refer,
-when existing in the _after_, excludes the _before_; though the absolute
-“when” of one and the same being is one term only. But of this we shall
-treat more fully in the sequel.
-
-_Seventh question._--“What is relative duration?” Here we meet again the
-same difficulty which we have encountered in explaining relative space;
-for in the same manner as relations in space are usually confounded
-with space itself, so are the intervals in duration confounded with the
-duration which is the ground of their extension. But, as the reasonings
-by which we have established the precise notion of relative space can be
-easily brought to bear on the present subject by the reader himself, we
-think we must confine ourselves to a brief and clear statement of the
-conclusions drawn from those reasonings, as applied to duration.
-
-Relative duration is _the duration through which any movement extends_;
-that is, the duration through which the “when” of anything in movement
-glides from _before_ to _after_, and by which the _before_ and the
-_after_ are linked in mutual relation. Now, the duration through which
-movement extends is not exactly the duration of the movement itself, but
-the ground upon which the movement extends its own duration; because
-movement has nothing actual but a flowing instant, and therefore it has
-no duration within itself except by reference to an extrinsic ground
-through which it successively extends. This ground, as we have already
-shown, is standing duration. And therefore relative duration is nothing
-else than _standing duration as extrinsically terminated by distinct
-terms_, or, what amounts to the same terminated by one term which, owing
-to any kind of movement, acquires distinct and opposite formalities. This
-conclusion is based on the principle that the foundation of all relations
-between _before_ and _after_ must be something absolute, having in itself
-neither _before_ nor _after_, and therefore absolutely standing. This
-principle is obviously true. The popular notion, on the contrary, that
-relative duration is the duration of movement, is based on the assumption
-that movement itself engenders duration--which assumption is false;
-for we cannot even conceive movement without presupposing the absolute
-duration upon which the movement has to trace the line of its flowing
-existence.
-
-Thus relative duration is called relative, not because it is itself
-related, but because it is the ground through which the extrinsic
-terms are related. It is actively, not passively, relative; it is the
-_ratio_, not the _rationatum_, the foundation, not the result, of the
-relativities. In other terms, relative duration is absolute as to its
-entity, and relative as to the extrinsic denomination derived from the
-relations of which it is the formal reason. Duration, as absolute, may
-be styled “the region of all possible _whens_,” just as absolute space is
-styled “the region of all possible ubications”; and, as relative, it may
-be styled “the region of all possible succession,” just as relative space
-is styled “the region of all local movements.” Absolute standing duration
-and absolute space are the ground of the _here_ and _now_ as statical
-terms. Relative standing duration and relative space are the ground of
-the _here_ and _now_ as gliding--that is, as dynamically considered.
-
-_Eighth question._--“What is an interval of duration?” It is a relation
-existing between two opposite terms of succession--that is, between
-_before_ and _after_. An interval of duration is commonly considered as a
-continuous extension; yet it is primarily a simple relation by which the
-extension of the flowing from _before_ to _after_ is formally determined.
-Nevertheless, since the “when” cannot acquire the opposite formalities,
-_before_ and _after_, without continuous movement, all interval of
-duration implies movement, and therefore may be considered also as a
-continuous quantity. Under this last aspect, the interval of duration is
-nothing else than the duration of the movement from _before_ to _after_.
-
-We have already noticed that the duration of movement, or the interval
-of duration, is not to be confounded with the duration through which the
-movement extends. But as, in the popular language, the one as well as the
-other is termed “relative duration,” we would suggest that the duration
-through which the movement extends might be called _fundamental_ relative
-duration, whilst the relation which constitutes an interval between
-_before_ and _after_ might be called _resultant_ relative duration.
-
-The philosophical necessity of this distinction is obvious, first,
-because the _standing_ duration, through which movement extends, must not
-be confounded with the _flowing_ duration of movement; secondly, because
-the relation and its foundation are not the same thing, and, as we have
-explained at length when treating of relative space, to confound the one
-with the other leads to Pantheism. Intervals of relation are not _parts_
-of absolute duration, though they are so conceived by many, but they are
-mere relations, as we have stated. Absolute duration is all standing,
-it has no parts, and it cannot be divided into parts. What is called an
-interval _of_ duration should rather be called an interval _in_ duration;
-for it is not a portion of standing duration, but an extrinsic result;
-it is not a length of absolute duration, but the length of the movement
-extending through that duration; it is not a divisible extension, but the
-ground on which movement acquires its divisible extension from _before_
-to _after_. In the smallest conceivable interval of duration there is
-God, with all his eternity. To affirm that intervals of duration are
-distinct durations would be to cut God’s eternity to pieces by giving it
-a distinct being in really distinct intervals. Hence it is necessary to
-concede that, whilst the intervals are distinct, the duration on which
-they have their foundation is one and the same. The only duration which
-can be safely confounded with those intervals is the flowing duration of
-the movement by which they are measured. This is the duration which can
-be considered as a continuous quantity divisible into parts; and this is
-the duration which we should style “_resultant_ relative duration,” to
-avoid all danger of error or equivocation.
-
-The objections which can be made against this manner of viewing things do
-not much differ from those which we have solved in our second article on
-space; and therefore we do not think it necessary to make a new answer
-to them. The reader himself will be able to see what the objections are,
-and how they can be solved, by simply substituting the words “eternity,”
-“duration,” etc., for the words “immensity,” “space,” etc., in the
-article referred to.
-
-Yet a special objection can be made against the preceding doctrine about
-the duration of movement, independently of those which regard relations
-in space. It may be presented under this form. “The foundation of the
-relation between _before_ and _after_ is nothing else than movement
-itself. It is therefore unnecessary and unphilosophical to trace the
-duration of movement to the virtuality of God’s eternity as its extrinsic
-foundation.” The antecedent of this argument may be proved thus: “That
-thing is the foundation of the relation which gives to its terms their
-relative being--that is, in our case, their opposite formalities,
-_before_ and _after_. But movement alone gives to the _when_ these
-opposite formalities. Therefore movement alone is the foundation of
-successive duration.”
-
-We answer that the antecedent of the first argument is absolutely false.
-As to the syllogism which comes next, we concede the major, but we deny
-the minor. For it is plain that movement cannot give to the absolute
-_when_ the relative formalities _before_ and _after_, except by flowing
-through absolute duration, without which it is impossible for the
-movement to have its successive duration. And surely, if the movement has
-no duration but that which it borrows from the absolute duration through
-which it extends, the foundation of its duration from _before_ to _after_
-can be nothing else than the same absolute duration through which the
-movement acquires its _before_ and _after_. Now, this absolute duration
-is the virtuality of God’s eternity, as we have proved. It is therefore
-both philosophical and necessary to trace the duration of movement to
-the virtuality of God’s eternity, as its extrinsic foundation. That
-movement is also necessary to constitute the relation between _before_
-and _after_, we fully admit; for there cannot be _before_ and _after_
-without movement. But it does not follow from this that movement is
-the _foundation_ of the relation; it merely follows that movement is
-a _condition_ necessary to give to the absolute _when_ two distinct
-actualities, according to which it may be compared with itself on the
-ground of standing duration. For, as every relation demands two opposite
-terms, the same absolute _when_ must acquire two opposite formalities,
-that it may be related to itself.
-
-The only other objection which may perhaps be made against our
-conclusions is the following: The foundation of a real relation is that
-reality through which the terms related communicate with one another.
-Now, evidently, the _before_ and the _after_, which are the terms of
-the relation in question, communicate with one another through the same
-absolute _when_; for they are the same absolute _when_ under two opposite
-formalities. Hence it follows that the foundation of the relation
-between _before_ and _after_ is nothing else than the absolute _when_ of
-a moving being.
-
-To this we answer that the foundation of the relation is not all reality
-through which the terms related communicate with one another, but only
-that reality by the common termination of which they become formally
-related to one another. Hence, since the _before_ and the _after_ do
-not receive their relative formalities from the absolute _when_, it
-is idle to pretend that the absolute _when_ is the foundation of the
-interval of duration. The _before_ and the _after_ communicate with the
-same absolute _when_ not as a formal, but as a material, cause of their
-existence--that is, inasmuch as the same _when_ is the subject, not the
-reason, of both formalities. The only relation to which the absolute
-_when_ can give a foundation is one of identity with itself in all the
-extent of its flowing duration. But such a relation presupposes, instead
-of constituting, an interval in duration. And therefore it is manifest
-that the absolute _when_ is not the foundation of the relation between
-_before_ and _after_.
-
-Having thus answered the questions proposed, and given the solution of
-the few difficulties objected, we must now say a few words about the
-_division_ and _measurement_ of relative duration, whether fundamental or
-resultant.
-
-Fundamental or standing duration is divided into _real_ and _imaginary_.
-This division cannot regard the entity of standing duration, which is
-unquestionably real, as we have proved. It regards the reality or the
-unreality of the extrinsic terms conceived as having a relation in
-duration. The true notion of real, contrasted with imaginary, duration,
-is the following: Standing duration is called _real_ when it is _really_
-relative, viz., when it is extrinsically terminated by real terms
-between which it founds a real relation; on the contrary, it is called
-_imaginary_ when the extrinsic terms do not exist in nature, but only in
-our imagination; for, in such a case, standing duration is not really
-terminated and does not found real relations, but both the terminations
-and the relations are simply a figment of our imagination. Thus standing
-duration, as containing none but imaginary relations, may justly be
-called “imaginary,” though in an absolute sense it is intrinsically real.
-Accordingly, the _indefinite_ duration which we imagine when we carry
-our thought beyond the creation of the world, and which is also called
-“imaginary,” is not absolute but relative duration, and is not imaginary
-in itself, but only as to its denomination of relative, because, in the
-absence of all real terms, there can be none but imaginary relations.
-
-It is therefore unphilosophical to confound imaginary and indefinite
-duration with absolute and infinite duration. This latter is not an
-object of imagination, but of the intellect alone. Imagination cannot
-conceive duration, except in connection with some movement from _before_
-to _after_; hence absolute and infinite duration, which has no _before_
-and no _after_, is altogether beyond the reach of imagination. Indeed,
-our intellectual conception of infinite standing duration is always
-accompanied in our minds by a representation of indefinite time; but
-this depends, as we have stated in speaking of space, on the well-known
-connection of our imaginative and intellectual operations, inasmuch
-as our imagination strives to follow the intellect, and to represent
-after its own manner what the intellect conceives in a totally different
-manner. It was by confounding the objective notion of duration with our
-subjective manner of imagining it that Kant came to the conclusion that
-duration was nothing but a subjective form or a subjective condition,
-under which all intuitions are possible in us. This conclusion is
-evidently false; but its refutation, to be successful, must be based on
-the objectivity of absolute standing duration, without which, as we have
-shown, there can be no field for real and objective succession.
-
-Resultant relative duration--that is, an interval of flowing
-duration--admits of the same division into _real_ and _imaginary_. It
-is real when a real continuous flowing connects the _before_ with the
-_after_; in all other suppositions it will be imaginary. It may be
-remarked that the “real continuous flowing” may be either intrinsic or
-extrinsic. Thus, if God had created nothing but a simple angel, there
-would have been no other flowing duration than a continuous succession
-of intellectual operations connecting the _before_ with the _after_ in
-the angel himself, and thus his duration would have been measured by a
-series of intrinsic changes. It is evident that in this case one absolute
-_when_ suffices to extend the interval of duration; for by its gliding
-from _before_ to _after_ it acquires opposite formalities through which
-it can be relatively opposed to itself as the subject and the term of
-the relation. If, on the contrary, we consider the interval of duration
-between two distinct beings--say Cæsar and Napoleon--then the real
-continuous flowing by which such an interval is measured is extrinsic to
-the terms compared; for the _when_ of Cæsar is distinct from, and does
-not reach, that of Napoleon; which shows that their respective _whens_
-have no intrinsic connection, and that the succession comprised between
-those _whens_ must have consisted of a series of changes extrinsic to
-the terms compared. It may seem difficult to conceive how an interval of
-continuous succession can result between two terms of which the one does
-not attain to the other; for, as a line in space must be drawn by the
-movement of a single point, so it seems that a length in duration must be
-extended by the flowing of a single _when_ from _before_ to _after_. The
-truth is that the interval between the _whens_ of two distinct beings is
-not obtained by comparing the _when_ of the one with that of the other,
-but by resorting to the _when_ of some other being which has extended its
-continuous succession from the one to the other. Thus, when Cæsar died,
-the earth was revolving on its axis, and it continued to revolve without
-interruption up to the existence of Napoleon, thus extending the duration
-of its movement from a _when_ corresponding to Cæsar’s death to a _when_
-corresponding to Napoleon’s birth; and this duration, wholly extrinsic to
-Cæsar and Napoleon, measures the interval between them.
-
-As all intervals of duration extend from _before_ to _after_, there
-can be no interval between co-existent beings, as is evident. In the
-same manner as two beings whose ubications coincide cannot be distant
-in space, so two beings whose _whens_ are simultaneous cannot form an
-interval of duration.
-
-All real intervals of duration regard the past; for in the past alone
-can we find a real _before_ and a real _after_. The present gives no
-interval, as we have just stated, but only simultaneousness. The future
-is real only potentially--that is, it will be real, but it is not yet.
-What has never been, and never will be, is merely imaginary. To this
-last class belong all the intervals of duration corresponding to those
-conditional events which did not happen, owing to the non-fulfilment of
-the conditions on which their reality depended.
-
-As to the measurement of flowing duration a few words will suffice. The
-_when_ considered absolutely is incapable of measuring an interval of
-duration, for the reason that the _when_ is unextended, and therefore
-unproportionate to the mensuration of a continuous interval; for the
-measure must be of the same kind with the thing to be measured. Just
-as a continuous line cannot be made up of unextended points, so cannot
-a continuous interval be made up of indivisible instants; hence, as a
-line is divisible only into smaller and smaller lines, by which it can
-be measured, so also an interval of duration is divisible only into
-smaller and smaller intervals, and is measured by the same. These smaller
-intervals, being continuous, are themselves divisible and mensurable by
-other intervals of less duration, and these other intervals are again
-divisible and mensurable; so that, from the nature of the thing, it is
-impossible to reach an absolute measure of duration, and we must rest
-satisfied with a relative one, just as in the case of a line and of any
-other continuous quantity. The smallest unit or measure of duration
-commonly used is the second, or sixtieth part of a minute.
-
-But, since continuous quantities are divisible _in infinitum_, it may be
-asked, what prevents us from considering a finite interval of duration
-as containing an infinite multitude of infinitesimal units of duration?
-If nothing prevents us, then in the infinitesimal unit we shall have
-the true and absolute measure of duration. We answer that nothing
-prevents such a conception; but the mensuration of a finite interval by
-infinitesimal units would never supply us the means of determining the
-relative lengths of two intervals of duration. For, if every interval is
-a sum of infinite terms, and is so represented, how can we decide which
-of those intervals is the greater, since we cannot count the infinite?
-
-Mathematicians, in all dynamical questions, express the conditions of the
-movement in terms of infinitesimal quantities, and consider every actual
-instant which connects the _before_ with the _after_ as an infinitesimal
-interval of duration in the same manner as they consider every shifting
-ubication as an infinitesimal interval of space. But when they pass from
-infinitesimal to finite quantities by integration between determinate
-limits, they do not express the finite intervals in infinitesimal terms,
-but in terms of a finite unit, viz., a second of time; and this shows
-that, even in high mathematics, the infinitesimal is not taken as the
-measure of the finite.
-
-Since infinitesimals are considered as evanescent quantities, the
-question may be asked whether they are still conceivable as quantities.
-We have no intention of discussing here the philosophical grounds of
-infinitesimal calculus, as we may have hereafter a better opportunity
-of examining such an interesting subject; but, so far as infinitesimals
-of duration are concerned, we answer that they are still quantities,
-though they bear no comparison with finite duration. What mathematicians
-call an infinitesimal of time is nothing else rigorously than the
-flowing of an actual “when” from _before_ to _after_. The “when” as
-such is no quantity, but its flowing is. However narrow the compass
-within which it may be reduced, the flowing implies a relation between
-_before_ and _after_; hence every instant of successive duration,
-inasmuch as it actually links its immediate _before_ with its immediate
-_after_, partakes of the nature of successive duration, and therefore
-of continuous quantity. Nor does it matter that infinitesimals are
-called _evanescent_ quantities. They indeed vanish, as compared with
-finite quantities; but the very fact of their vanishing proves that they
-are still something when they are in the act of vanishing. Sir Isaac
-Newton, after saying in his _Principia_ that he intends to reduce the
-demonstration of a series of propositions to the first and last sums and
-ratios of nascent and evanescent quantities, propounds and solves this
-very difficulty as follows: “Perhaps it may be objected that there is no
-ultimate proportion of evanescent quantities; because the proportion,
-before the quantities have vanished, is not the ultimate, and, when they
-are vanished, is none. But by the same argument it may be alleged that
-a body arriving at a certain place, and there stopping, has no ultimate
-velocity; because the velocity, before the body comes to the place, is
-not its ultimate velocity; when it has arrived, is none. But the answer
-is easy; for by the ultimate velocity is meant that with which the body
-is moved, neither _before_ it arrives at its last place and the motion
-ceases, nor _after_, but at the _very instant_ it arrives; that is,
-the velocity with which the body arrives at its last place, and with
-which the motion ceases. And in like manner, by the ultimate ratio of
-evanescent quantities is to be understood the ratio of the quantities,
-not before they vanish, not afterwards, but with which they vanish. In
-like manner, the first ratio of nascent quantities is that with which
-they begin to be.” From this answer, which is so clear and so deep, it
-is manifest that infinitesimals are real quantities. Whence we infer
-that every instant of duration which actually flows from _before_ to
-_after_ marks out a real infinitesimal interval of duration that might
-serve as a unit of measure for the mensuration of all finite intervals
-of succession, were it not that we cannot reckon up to infinity.
-Nevertheless, it does not follow that an infinitesimal duration is an
-absolute unit of duration; for it is still continuous, even in its
-infinite smallness; and accordingly it is still divisible and mensurable
-by other units of a lower standard. Thus it is clear that the measurement
-of flowing duration, and indeed of all other continuous quantity, cannot
-be made except by some arbitrary and conventional unit.
-
-
-THE STARS.
-
-    As I gaze in silent wonder
-      On the countless stars of night,
-    Looking down in mystic stillness
-      With their soft and magic light
-
-    Seem they from my eyes retreating
-      With their vast and bright array,
-    Till they into endless distance
-      Almost seem to fade away.
-
-    And my thoughts are carried with them
-      To their far-off realms of light;
-    Yet they seem retreating ever,
-      Ever into endless night.
-
-    Whither leads that silent army,
-      With its noiseless tread and slow?
-    And those glittering bands, who are they?
-      Thus my thoughts essay to know.
-
-    But my heart the secret telleth
-      That to thee, my God, they guide;
-    That they are thy gleaming watchmen,
-      Guarding round thy palace wide.
-
-    Then, when shall those gates be opened
-      To receive my yearning soul,
-    Where its home shall be for ever,
-      While the countless ages roll?
-
-    Thou alone, O God! canst know it:
-      Till then doth my spirit pine.
-    Father! keep thy child from falling,
-      Till for ever I am thine.
-
-
-WILLIAM TELL AND ALTORF.
-
-Brunnen, the “fort of Schwytz,” standing at that angle of the lake of
-Lucerne where it turns abruptly towards the very heart of the Alps,
-has always been a central halting-place for travellers; but since the
-erection of its large hotel the attraction has greatly increased. We
-found the Waldstätterhof full to overflowing, and rejoiced that, as
-usual, we had wisely ordered our rooms beforehand. Our surprise was
-great, as we threaded the mazes of the _table-d’hôte_ room, to see Herr
-H---- come forward and greet us cordially. We expected, it is true,
-to meet him here, but not until the eve of the feast at Einsiedeln,
-whither he had promised to accompany us. An unforeseen event, however,
-had brought him up the lake sooner, and he therefore came on to Brunnen,
-in the hope of finding us. A few minutes sufficed to make him quit his
-place at the centre table and join us at a small one, where supper had
-been prepared for our party, and allow us to begin a description of our
-wanderings since we parted from him on the quay at Lucerne. Yes, “begin”
-is the proper word; for before long the harmony was marred by George,
-who, with his usual impetuosity, and in spite of Caroline’s warning
-frowns and Anna’s and my appealing looks, betrayed our disappointment at
-having missed the Hermitage at Ranft, and the reproaches we had heaped on
-Herr H----’s head for having mismanaged the programme in that particular.
-The cheery little man, whose eyes had just begun to glisten with
-delight, grew troubled.
-
-“I am _so_ sorry!” he exclaimed. “But the ladies were not so enthusiastic
-about Blessed Nicholas when I saw them. And as for you, Mr. George, I
-never could have dreamt you would have cared for the Hermit.”
-
-“Oh! but _he_ is a real historical character, you see, about whom there
-can be no doubt--very unlike your sun-god, your mythical hero, William
-Tell!” replied George.
-
-“Take care! take care! young gentleman,” said Herr H----, laughing.
-“Remember you are now in Tell’s territory, and he may make you rue the
-consequences of deriding him! Don’t imagine, either, that your modern
-historical critics have left even Blessed Nicholas alone! Oh! dear, no.”
-
-“But he is vouched for by documents,” retorted George.“No one can doubt
-them.”
-
-“Your critics of this age would turn and twist and doubt anything,” said
-Herr H----. “They cannot deny his existence nor the main features of his
-life; yet some have gone so far as to pretend to doubt the most authentic
-fact in it--his presence at the Diet of Stanz--saying that _probably_ he
-never went there, but only wrote a letter to the deputies. So much for
-their criticism and researches! After that specimen you need not wonder
-that I have no respect for them. But I am in an unusually patriotic
-mood to-day; for I have just come from a meeting at Beckenried, on
-the opposite shore, in Unterwalden. It was that which brought me here
-before my appointment with you. It was a meeting of one of our Catholic
-societies in these cantons, which assembled to protest against the
-revision of the constitution contemplated next spring. Before separating
-it was suggested that they should call a larger one at the Rütli, to
-evoke the memories of the past and conform themselves to the pattern of
-our forefathers.”
-
-“Why do you so much object to a revision?” inquired Mr. C----. “Surely
-reform must sometimes be necessary.”
-
-“Sometimes, of course, but not at present, my dear sir. ‘Revision’
-nowadays simply means radicalism and the suppression of our religion and
-our religious rights and privileges. It is a word which, for that reason
-alone, is at all times distasteful to these cantons. Moreover, it savors
-too much of French ideas and doctrines, thoroughly antagonistic to all
-our principles and feelings. Everything French is loathed in these parts,
-especially in Unterwalden, in spite of--or I should perhaps rather say in
-consequence of--all they suffered from that nation in 1798.”
-
-“I can understand that,” said Mr. C----, “with the memory of the massacre
-in the church at Stanz always in their minds.”
-
-“Well, yes; but that was only one act in the tragedy. The desolation they
-caused in that part of the country was fearful. Above all, their total
-want of religion at that period can never be forgotten.”
-
-“As for myself,” remarked Mr. C----, “though not a Catholic, I confess
-that I should much rather rely on the upright instincts of this pious
-population than on the crooked teachings of our modern philosophers. I
-have always noticed in every great political crisis that the instincts of
-the pure and simple-minded have something of an inspiration about them;
-they go straight to the true principles where a Macchiavelli is often at
-fault.” Herr H---- completely agreed with him, and the conversation soon
-became a deep and serious discussion on the tendencies of modern politics
-in general, so that it was late that evening before our party separated.
-
-The first sound that fell upon my ear next morning was the splashing of
-a steamer hard by. It had been so dark upon our arrival the night before
-that we had not altogether realized the close proximity of the hotel to
-the lake, and it was an unexpected pleasure to find my balcony almost
-directly over the water, like the stern gallery of a ship of war. A
-small steamer certainly was approaching from the upper end of the lake,
-with a time-honored old diligence in the bows and a few travellers,
-tired-looking and dust-stained, scattered on the deck, very unlike the
-brilliant throngs that pass to and fro during the late hours of the
-day. But this early morning performance was one of real business, and
-the magical words “Post” and “St. Gothard,” which stood out in large
-letters on the yellow panels of the diligence, told at once of more than
-mere pleasure-seeking. What joy or grief, happiness or despair, might
-not this old-fashioned vehicle be at this moment conveying to unknown
-thousands! It was an abrupt transition, too, to be thus brought from
-pastoral Sarnen and Sachslen into immediate contact with the mighty Alps.
-Of their grandeur, however, nothing could be seen; for, without rain
-or wind, a thick cloud lay low upon the lake, more like a large flat
-ceiling than aught else. Yet, for us, it had its own peculiar interest,
-being nothing more nor less than the great, heavy, soft mass which we
-had noticed hanging over the lake every morning when looking down from
-Kaltbad, whilst we, revelling in sunshine and brightness above, were
-pitying the poor inhabitants along the shore beneath. There was a kind
-of superiority, therefore, in knowing what it meant, and in feeling
-confident that it would not last long. And, as we expected, it did clear
-away whilst we sat at our little breakfast-table in the window, revealing
-in all its magnificence the glorious view from this point up the Bay of
-Uri, which we have elsewhere described. Huge mountains seemed to rise
-vertically up out of the green waters; verdant patches were dotted here
-and there on their rugged sides; and, overtopping all, shone the glacier
-of the Urirothstock, more dazzlingly white and transparent than we had
-ever yet beheld it.
-
-“Now, ladies!” exclaimed Herr H----, “I hope you have your Schiller
-ready; for the Rütli is yonder, though you will see it better by and by.”
-
-“Why, I thought you disapproved of Schiller,” retorted the irrepressibly
-argumentative George.
-
-“To a certain degree, no doubt,” replied Herr H----. “But nothing can
-be finer than his _William Tell_ as a whole. My quarrel with it is that
-the real William Tell would have fared much better were it not for this
-play, and especially for the opera. They have both made the subject so
-common--so _banale_, as the French say--that the world has grown tired
-of it, and for this reason alone is predisposed to reject our hero.
-Besides, the real history of the Revolution is so fine that I prefer it
-in its simplicity. Schiller is certainly true to its spirit, but details
-are frequently different. For instance, the taking of the Castle of the
-Rossberg, which you passed on the lake of Alpnach: Schiller has converted
-that into a most sensational scene, whereas the true story is far more
-characteristic. That was the place where a young girl admitted her
-betrothed and his twelve Confederate friends by a rope-ladder at night,
-which enabled them to seize the castle and imprison the garrison “without
-shedding a drop of blood or injuring the property of the Habsburgs,” in
-exact conformity with their oath on the Rütli. You will often read of
-the loves of Jägeli and Ameli in Swiss poetry. They are great favorites,
-and, in my opinion, far more beautiful than the fictitious romance
-of Rudenz and Bertha. And so in many other cases. But every one does
-not object to Schiller as I do; for in 1859, when his centenary was
-celebrated in Germany, the Swiss held a festival here on the Rütli,
-and subsequently erected a tablet on that large natural pyramidal rock
-you see at the corner opposite. It is called the Wytenstein, and you
-can read the large gilt words with a glass. It is laconic enough, too;
-see: ‘To Frederick Schiller--The Singer of Tell--The Urcantone.’ The
-original cantons! Miss Caroline! let me congratulate you on being at last
-in the ‘Urschweiz’--the cradle of Switzerland,” continued Herr H----,
-as we sauntered out on the quay, pointing at the same time to some bad
-frescos of Swen and Suiter on a warehouse close by. Stauffacher, Fürst,
-and Van der Halden also figured on the walls--the presiding geniuses
-of this region. “Brunnen is in no way to be despised, I assure you,
-ladies; you are treading on venerated soil. This is the very spot that
-witnessed the foundation of the Confederacy, where the oath was taken
-by the representatives of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwalden the day after
-the battle of Morgarten. They swore ‘to die, each for all and all for
-each’--the oath which made Switzerland renowned, and gave the name of
-‘Ridsgenossen,’ or ‘oath-participators,’ to its inhabitants. The document
-is still kept in the archives at Schwytz, with another dated August 1,
-1291. Aloys von Reding raised his standard against the French here in
-1798; and he was quite right in beginning his resistance to them at
-Brunnen. It is full of memories to us Swiss, and is a most central point,
-as you may see, between all these cantons. The increase in the hotels
-tells what a favorite region it also is with tourists.”
-
-On this point Mr. and Mrs. C----’s astonishment was unbounded. They
-had passed a fortnight at Brunnen in 1861, at a small inn with scanty
-accommodation, now replaced by the large and comfortable Waldstätterhof,
-situated in one of the most lovely spots imaginable, at the angle of
-the lake, one side fronting the Bay of Uri and the other looking up
-towards Mount Pilatus. The _pension_ of Seelisberg existed on the heights
-opposite even then--only, however, as a small house, instead of the
-present extensive establishment, with its pretty woods and walks; but
-Axenstein and the second large hotel now building near it, with the
-splendid road leading up to them, had not been thought of. The only
-communication by land between Schwytz and Fluelen, in those days, was
-a mule-path along the hills, precipitous and dangerous in many parts.
-The now famed Axenstrasse was not undertaken until 1862; and is said to
-have been suggested by the French war in Italy. With the old Swiss dread
-of the French still at heart, the Federal government took alarm at that
-first military undertaking on the part of Napoleon III., and, seeing
-the evil of having no communication between these cantons in case of
-attack, at once took the matter seriously in hand. This great engineering
-achievement was opened to the public in 1868. It looked most inviting
-to-day, and we quickly decided to make use of it by driving along it to
-Fluelen, and thence to Altorf, returning in the evening by the steamer.
-Some were anxious to visit the Rütli; but Mr. and Mrs. C---- had been
-there before, and knew that it was more than an hour’s expedition
-by boat, so that the two excursions on the same day would be quite
-impossible; consequently, we chose the longer one.
-
-It was just ten o’clock when we started; Mrs. C----, Caroline, Herr
-H----, and myself in one carriage, with George on the box, the others
-following us in a second vehicle. We had not proceeded far when Herr
-H---- made us halt to look at the Rütli, on the shore right opposite. We
-distinctly saw that it was a small meadow, formed by earth fallen from
-above on a ledge of rock under the precipitous heights of Seelisberg,
-and now enclosed by some fine chestnut and walnut trees. Truly, it was
-a spot fitted for the famous scene. So unapproachable is it, except by
-water, that even that most enterprising race--Swiss hotel-keepers--have
-hitherto failed to destroy it. Some years ago, however, it narrowly
-escaped this fate; for Herr Müller, of Seelisberg, is said to have been
-on the point of building a _pension_ on the great meadow. But no sooner
-did this become known than a national subscription was at once raised,
-the government purchased it, and now it has become inalienable national
-property for ever.
-
-“You may well be proud of your country, Herr H----,” exclaimed Mr.
-C---- from the other carriage. “I always look on that tiny spot with
-deep reverence as the true cradle of freedom. Look at it well, George!
-It witnessed that wonderful oath by which these mountaineers bound
-themselves ‘to be faithful to each other, just and merciful to their
-oppressors’--the only known example of men--and these men peasants,
-too--binding themselves, in the excitement of revolt, not to take revenge
-on their oppressors.”
-
-“Quite sublime!” ejaculated George.
-
-“Well, it has borne good fruit,” returned Herr H---- in gleeful tones;
-“for here we are still free! Except on the one occasion of the French in
-’98, no foreign troops have ever invaded this part of Switzerland since
-those days. Yes, there are three springs at the Rütli, supposed to have
-jutted forth where the three heroes stood; but I do not pledge my word
-for that,” he answered smilingly to Caroline, “nor for the legend which
-says that their spirits sleep in the rocky vale under Seelisberg, ready
-to come forth and lead the people in moments of danger.”
-
-“I hope their slumbers may never be disturbed,” she replied; “but I wish
-some one would prevent these cattle from frightening the horses,” as a
-large drove swept past our carriages, making our steeds nervous. Splendid
-animals they were, with beautiful heads, straight backs, light limbs, and
-of a grayish mouse color.
-
-“All of the celebrated Schwytz breed,” said Herr H----. “This part of
-the country is renowned for its cattle. Each of these probably cost from
-five to six hundred francs. The Italians take great advantage of this new
-road, and come in numbers to buy them at this season, when the cattle
-are returning from the mountains. These are going across the St. Gothard
-to Lombardy. Those of Einsiedeln are still considered the best. Do you
-remember, Miss Caroline, that the first mention of German authority in
-this land was occasioned by a dispute between the shepherds of Schwytz
-and the abbots of Einsiedeln about their pasturage--the emperor having
-given a grant of land to the abbey, while the Schwytzers had never heard
-of his existence even, and refused to obey his majesty’s orders?”
-
-“Ah! what historical animals: that quite reconciles me to them,” she
-answered, as we drove on again amongst a group that seemed very uneasy
-under their new masters, whose sweet language George averred had no power
-over them.
-
-Who can describe the exquisite beauty of our drive?--winding in and
-out, sometimes through a tunnel; at others along the edge of the high
-precipice from which a low parapet alone separated us; at another passing
-through the village of Sisikon, which years ago suffered severely from a
-fragment of rock fallen from the Frohnalp above. Time flew rapidly, and
-one hour and a half had glided by, without our perceiving it, when we
-drew up before the beautiful little inn of “Tell’s Platte.”
-
-“But there is no Platform here,” cried George. “We are hundreds of feet
-above the lake. The critics are right, Herr H----, decidedly right! I
-knew it from the beginning. How can you deny it?”
-
-“Wait, my young friend! Don’t be so impatient. Just come into the inn
-first--I should like you to see the lovely view from it; and then we can
-look for the Platform.” Saying which, he led us upstairs, on through the
-_salon_ to its balcony on the first floor. This is one of the smaller
-inns of that olden type which boast the enthusiastic attachment of
-regular customers, and display with pride that old institution--the
-“strangers’ book”--which has completely vanished from the monster hotels.
-It lay open on the table as we passed, and every one instinctively
-stopped to examine it.
-
-“The dear old books!” exclaimed Mrs. C----. “How they used to amuse me in
-Switzerland! I have missed them so much this time. Their running fire of
-notes, their polyglot verses--a sort of album and scrap-book combined,
-full, too, of praise or abuse of the last hotel, as the humor might be.”
-
-“Yes,” said Mr. C----, “I shall never forget the preface to one--an
-imprecation on whoever might be tempted to let his pen go beyond bounds.
-I learned it by rote:
-
-    “May the mountain spirits disturb his slumbers;
-    May his limbs be weary, and his feet sore;
-    May the innkeepers give him tough mutton and
-    Sour wine, and charge him for it as though he were
-    Lord Sir John, M.P.!”
-
-“How very amusing!--a perfect gem in its way,” cried Anna. “Lord Sir
-John, M.P., must have been the model of large-pursed Britons in his
-time.” Here, however, everything seemed to be _couleur de rose_. The
-book’s only fault was its monotony of praise. Two sisters keep the hotel,
-and “nowhere,” said its devoted friends, “could one find better fare,
-better attendance, and greater happiness than at Tell’s Platform.” The
-testimony of a young couple confessedly on their bridal tour had no
-weight. We know how, at that moment, a barren rock transforms itself into
-a paradise for them; but three maiden ladies had passed six weeks of
-unalloyed enjoyment here once upon a time, and had returned often since;
-English clergymen and their families found no words of praise too strong;
-while German students and professors indulged in rhapsodical language not
-to be equalled out of fatherland.
-
-Duchesses, princesses, and Lords Sir John, M.P., were alone wanting
-amongst the present guests. “But they come,” said Herr H----, “by the
-mid-day steamers, dine and rest here awhile, and return in the evenings
-to the larger hotels in other places.”
-
-And standing on the balcony of the _salon_, facing all the grand
-mountains, with the green lake beneath, it truly seemed a spot made for
-brides and bridegrooms, for love and friendship. So absorbed were we in
-admiration of the enchanting view that we did not at first notice two
-little maidens sitting at the far end. They were pretty children, of nine
-and thirteen, daughters of an English family stopping here, and their
-countenances brightened as they heard our exclamation of delight; for
-Tell’s Platte was to them a paradise. Like true Britons, however, they
-said nothing until George and Caroline commenced disputing about the
-scenery. Comment then was irresistible. “No,” said the youngest, “that
-is the Isenthal,” pointing to a valley beneath the hills opposite; “and
-that the Urirothstock, with its glacier above, and the Gütschen. Those
-straight walls of rock below are the Teufel’s-Münster.”
-
-“Don’t you remember where Schiller says:
-
-    ‘The blast, rebounding from the Devil’s Minster,
-      Has driven them back on the great Axenberg’?
-
-That is it, and this here is the Axenberg,” said Emily, the elder girl.
-
-“But I see no Platform here,” remarked George with mischief in his eye,
-as he quickly detected the young girl’s faith in the hero.
-
-“It would be impossible to see it,” she rejoined, “as it is three hundred
-feet below this house.”
-
-“But we can show you the way, if you will come,” continued the younger
-child, taking George’s hand, who, partly from surprise and partly
-amusement, allowed himself to be led like a lamb across the road and
-through the garden to the pathway winding down the cliff, followed by us,
-under guidance of the elder sister, Emily.
-
-“Yes,” the children answered, “they had spent the last two years in
-France and Germany.” And certainly they spoke both languages like
-natives. Emily was even translating _William Tell_ into English blank
-verse. “Heigho!” sighed Mr. C----, “for this precocious age.” But the
-lake of the Forest Cantons was dearer to them than all else. They had
-climbed one thousand feet up the side of the Frohnalpstock that very
-morning with their father; knew every peak and valley, far and near,
-with all their legends and histories; even the _ranz des vaches_ and
-the differences between them--the shepherds’ calls to the cows and the
-goats. Annie, our smaller friend, entertained George with all their
-varieties, as she tripped daintily along, like a little fairy, with
-her tiny alpenstock. Very different was she from continental children,
-who rarely, if ever, take interest in either pastoral or literary
-matters. She knew the way to the platform well; for did she not go up
-and down it many times a day? A difficult descent it was, too--almost
-perpendicular--notwithstanding the well-kept pathway; but not dangerous
-until we reached the bottom, when each one in turn had to jump on to a
-jutting piece of rock, in order to get round the corner into the chapel.
-Most truly it stands on a small ledge, with no inch of room for aught but
-the small building raised over it. The water close up to the shore is
-said to be eight hundred feet deep, and it made one shudder to hear Herr
-H----’s story of an artist who a few years ago fell into the lake while
-sketching on the cliffs above. Poor man! forgetful of the precipice, he
-had thoughtlessly stepped back a few steps to look at his painting, fell
-over, and was never seen again. His easel and painting alone remained to
-give pathetic warning to other rash spirits.
-
-The chapel, open on the side next the water, is covered with faded
-frescos of Tell’s history, which our little friends quaintly described;
-and it contains, besides, an altar and a small pulpit. Here Mass is said
-once a year on the Friday after the Ascension, when all the people of
-the neighborhood come hither, and from their boats, grouped outside,
-hear Mass and the sermon preached to them from the railing in front.
-This was the feast which my Weggis guide so much desired to see. It is
-unique in every particular, and Herr H---- was eloquent on the beauty and
-impressiveness of the scene, at which he had once been present, and which
-it was easy to understand amidst these magnificent surroundings. Nor is
-it a common gathering of peasants, but a solemn celebration, to which the
-authorities of Uri come in state with the standard of Uri--the renowned
-Uri ox--floating at the bows. As may be supposed, the sermon is always
-national, touching on all those points of faith, honor, and dignity which
-constitute true patriotism. Mr. C---- had Murray’s guide-book in his
-hand, and would not allow us to say another word until he read aloud Sir
-James Macintosh’s remarks on this portion of the lake, which there occur
-as follows:
-
-    “The combination of what is grandest in nature with whatever is
-    pure and sublime in human conduct affected me in this passage
-    (along the lake) more powerfully than any scene which I had
-    ever seen. Perhaps neither Greece nor Rome would have had such
-    power over me. They are dead. The present inhabitants are a
-    new race, who regard with little or no feeling the memorials
-    of former ages. This is, perhaps, the only place on the globe
-    where deeds of pure virtue, ancient enough to be venerable,
-    are consecrated by the religion of the people, and continue
-    to command interest and reverence. No local superstition so
-    beautiful and so moral anywhere exists. The inhabitants of
-    Thermopylæ or Marathon know no more of these famous spots than
-    that they are so many square feet of earth. England is too
-    extensive a country to make Runnymede an object of national
-    affection. In countries of industry and wealth the stream of
-    events sweeps away these old remembrances. The solitude of
-    the Alps is a sanctuary destined for the monuments of ancient
-    virtue; Grütli and Tell’s chapel are as much reverenced by
-    the Alpine peasants as Mecca by a devout Mussulman; and the
-    deputies of the three ancient cantons met, so late as the year
-    1715, to renew their allegiance and their oaths of eternal
-    union.”
-
-“All very well,” said George, “if there really had been a Tell; but
-this seems to me a body without a soul. Why, this very chapel is in the
-Italian style, and never could have been founded by the one hundred and
-twenty contemporaries who are said to have known Tell and to have been
-present at its consecration.”
-
-“I never heard that any one insisted on this being the original
-building,” said Herr H----. “It is probably an improvement on it;
-but it was not the fashion in those times--for people were not then
-incredulous--to put up tablets recording changes and renovations,
-as nowadays at Kaltbad and Klösterle, for instance. But speaking
-dispassionately, Mr. George, it seems to me quite impossible that the
-introduction of any legend from Denmark or elsewhere could have taken
-such strong hold of a people like these mountaineers without some
-solid foundation, especially here, where every inhabitant is known to
-the other, and the same families have lived on in the same spots for
-centuries. Why is it not just as likely that the same sort of event
-should have occurred in more than one place? And as to its not being
-mentioned in the local documents, that is not conclusive either; for we
-all know how careless in these respects were the men of the middle ages,
-above all in a rude mountain canton of this kind. Transmission by word of
-mouth and by religious celebrations is much more in character with those
-times. I go heart and hand with your own Buckle, who places so much
-reliance on local traditions. The main argument used against the truth
-of the story is, you know, that it was first related in detail by an old
-chronicler called Ægidius Tschudi, a couple of hundred years after the
-event. But I see nothing singular in that; for most probably he merely
-committed to writing, with all the freshness of simplicity, the story
-which, for the previous two hundred years, had been in the hearts and
-on the lips of the peasants of this region. No invention of any writer
-could have founded chapels or have become ingrained in the hearts of the
-locality itself in the manner this story has done. It was never doubted
-until the end of the last century, when a Prof. Freudenberger, of Bern,
-wrote a pamphlet entitled _William Tell: a Danish Fable_.”
-
-“Yes,” broke in little Emily, latest translator of Schiller, and who had
-been listening attentively to our discussion, “and the people of the
-forest cantons were so indignant that the authorities of Uri had the
-pamphlet burned by the common hangman, and then they solemnly proclaimed
-its author an outlaw.”
-
-“I told you, Mr. George, that you were on dangerous ground here,” said
-Herr H----, laughing.
-
-“I must make him kiss this earth before he leaves,” said Mrs. C----, “as
-I read lately of a mother making her little son do when passing here
-early in this century, regarding it as a spot sacred to liberty. She
-little thought a sceptic like you would so soon follow.”
-
-“Well! I am _almost_ converted,” he answered, smiling, “but I wish Miss
-Emily would tell us the story of Tell’s jumping on shore here,” trying to
-draw out the enthusiastic little prodigy.
-
-“Oh! don’t you remember that magnificent passage in Schiller where,
-after the scene of shooting at the apple, Gessler asked Tell why he put
-the second arrow into his quiver, and then, promising to spare his life
-if he revealed its object, evades his promise the instant he hears that
-it was destined to kill him if Tell had struck his son instead of the
-apple? He then ordered him to be bound and taken on board his vessel at
-Fluelen. The boat had no sooner left Fluelen than one of those sudden
-storms sprang up so common hereabouts. There was one two days ago. Annie
-and I tried to come down here, but it was impossible--the wind and waves
-were so high we could not venture, so we sat on the pathway and read out
-Schiller. Oh! he is a great genius. He never was in Switzerland. Yes!
-just fancy that; and yet he describes everything to perfection. Well!
-Tell was as good a pilot as a marksman, and Gessler, in his fright, again
-promised to take off his fetters if he would steer the vessel safely. He
-did, but steered them straight towards this ledge of rock, sprang out
-upon it, climbed up the cliff, and, rushing through the country, arrived
-at the Hohle-Gasse near Küssnacht before the tyrant had reached it.”
-
-“Schiller decidedly has his merit, it must be confessed, when he can get
-such ardent admirers as these pretty children,” said Herr H---- when we
-bade farewell to our dear little friends.
-
-“Yes,” answered the incorrigible George from the box seat, “poetry,
-poetry!--an excellent mode of transmitting traditions, making them
-indelible on young minds; but I am so far converted, Herr H----,”
-continued he, laughing, “that I am sorry the doubts were ever raised
-about the Tell history. It is in wonderful keeping with the place and
-people, and it will be a great pity if _they_ give it up. ‘Se non è vero,
-è ben trovato,’[12] at least.”
-
-Hence onwards to Fluelen is the finest portion of the Axenstrasse, and
-the opening views of the valley of the Reuss and the Bristenstock,
-through the arches of the galleries or tunnels, every minute increased
-in beauty. Several of us got out the better to enjoy them, sending the
-carriages on ahead. The Schwytz cattle had quite escaped our memories,
-when suddenly a bell sounded round a sharp angle of the road and a large
-drove instantly followed.
-
-A panic seized us ladies. The cliff rose vertically on the inner side,
-without allowing us the possibility of a clamber, and in our fright,
-before the gentlemen could prevent us, we leaped over a low railing,
-which there served as a parapet, on to a ledge of rock, a few yards
-square, rising straight up from the lake hundreds of feet below. All
-recollection of their historical interest vanished from our minds; for,
-as the cattle danced along, they looked as scared and wild as ourselves,
-and it was not until they had passed without noticing us, and that their
-dark-eyed masters had spoken some soft Italian words to us, that we fully
-realized the extent of our imprudence. Had any one of these animals
-jumped up over the railing, as we afterwards heard they have sometimes
-done, who can say what might not have happened? Fortunately, no harm
-ensued beyond a flutter of nerves, which betrayed itself by Anna’s
-turning round to a set of handsome goats that soon followed the cattle,
-crying out to them in her own peculiar German: “Nix kommen! nix kommen!”
-
-Fluelen has nothing to show beyond the picturesqueness of a village
-situated in such scenery and a collection of lumbering diligences and
-countless carriages, awaiting the hourly arrival of the steamers from
-Lucerne. The knell of these old diligences, however, has tolled, for the
-St. Gothard Railway tunnel has been commenced near Arnsty, and though
-it may require years to finish it, its “opening day” will surely come.
-Half an hour’s drive up the lovely valley brought us to Altorf, at the
-foot of the Grünwald, which, in accord with its name, is clothed with a
-virgin forest, now called the “Bann forest,” because so useful is it in
-protecting the town from avalanches and landslips that the Uri government
-never permits it to be touched. Altorf, like so many of the capitals in
-these forest cantons, has a small population, 2,700 inhabitants only,
-but it has many good houses, for it was burnt down in 1799 and rebuilt
-in a better manner. Tell’s story forms its chief interest, and certainly
-did so in our eyes. We rushed at once to the square, where one fountain
-is said to mark the spot where Tell took aim, and another that upon
-which his boy stood. Tradition says that the latter one replaced the
-lime-tree against which the son leant, portions of which existed until
-1567. A paltry plaster statue of the hero is in the same square, but the
-most remarkable relic of antiquity is an old tower close by, which Herr
-H---- assured us is proved by documents to have been built before 1307,
-the date of Tell’s history. Had the young friends we left at “Tell’s
-Platform” accompanied us hither, Emily might have quoted Schiller to
-us at length. But George, having recently bought a Tauchnitz edition
-of Freeman’s _Growth of the English Constitution_, which opens with a
-fine description of the annual elections of this canton, he earnestly
-pleaded a prolongation of our drive to the spot where this takes place,
-three miles further inland. Accordingly, after ordering dinner to be
-ready on our return at a hotel which was filled with Tell pictures, and
-an excellent one of the festival at the Platform, we left the town and
-proceeded up the valley. Soon we crossed a stream, the same, Herr H----
-told us, in which Tell is said to have been drowned while endeavoring to
-save a child who had fallen into it. He also pointed out to us Bürglen,
-his home, and an old tower believed to have been his house, attached to
-which there is now a small ivy-clad chapel. It stands at the opening
-of the Schächen valley, celebrated to this day for its fine race of
-men--likewise corresponding in this respect with the old tradition.
-But more modern interest attaches to this valley, for it was along its
-craggy sides and precipices that Suwarow’s army made its way across the
-Kinzig-Kulm to the Muotta. The whole of this region was the scene of
-fearful fighting--first between the French and the Austrians, who were
-assisted by the natives of Uri, in 1799, and then, a month later, between
-the Russians coming up from Lombardy and the French.
-
-“That was the age of real fighting,” said Herr H----, “hand-to-hand
-fighting, without _mitrailleuses_ or long ranges. But the misery it
-brought this quarter was not recovered from for years after. Altorf
-was burnt down at that time, and everything laid waste. The memory of
-the trouble lingers about here even yet. What wonder! Certainly, in
-all Europe no more difficult fighting ground could have been found. In
-the end, the French General Lecourbe was all but cut off, for he had
-destroyed every boat on the lake; in those days a most serious matter,
-as neither steamers nor Axenstrasse existed. When he therefore wished to
-pursue the Russians, who by going up this Schächen valley intended to
-join their own corps, supposed to be at Zürich, he too was obliged to
-make a bold manœuvre. And then it was that he led his army by torchlight
-along the dangerous mule-path on the Axenberg! Sad and dreadful times
-they were for these poor cantons.”
-
-Herr H---- showed us Attinghausen, the birth-place of Walter Fürst, and
-the ruins of a castle near, which is the locality of a fine scene in
-Schiller, but the last owner of which died in 1357, and is known to have
-been buried in his helmet and spurs. Shortly after, about three miles
-from Altorf, we reached the noted field, and George, opening Freeman,
-read us the following passage aloud:
-
-    “Year by year, on certain spots among the dales and the
-    mountain-sides of Switzerland, the traveller who is daring
-    enough to wander out of beaten tracks and to make his journey
-    at unusual seasons, may look on a sight such as no other corner
-    of the earth can any longer set before him. He may there gaze
-    and feel, what none can feel but those who have seen with their
-    own eyes, what none can feel in its fulness more than once in a
-    lifetime--the thrill of looking for the first time face to face
-    on freedom in its purest and most ancient form. He is there in
-    a land where the oldest institutions of our race--institutions
-    which may be traced up to the earliest times of which history
-    or legend gives us any glimmering--still live on in their
-    primeval freshness. He is in a land where an immemorial
-    freedom, a freedom only less eternal than the rocks that guard
-    it, puts to shame the boasted antiquity of kingly dynasties,
-    which, by its side, seem but as innovations of yesterday.
-    There, year by year, on some bright morning of the springtide,
-    the sovereign people, not entrusting its rights to a few of
-    its own number, but discharging them itself in the majesty of
-    its corporate person, meets, in the open market-place or in
-    the green meadow at the mountain’s foot, to frame the laws
-    to which it yields obedience as its own work, to choose the
-    rulers whom it can afford to greet with reverence as drawing
-    their commission from itself. Such a sight there are but few
-    Englishmen who have seen; to be among these few I reckon among
-    the highest privileges of my life. Let me ask you to follow me
-    in spirit to the very home and birth-place of freedom, to the
-    land where we need not myth and fable to add aught to the fresh
-    and gladdening feeling with which we for the first time tread
-    the soil and drink in the air of the immemorial democracy of
-    Uri. It is one of the opening days of May; it is the morning
-    of Sunday; for men there deem that the better the day the
-    better the deed; they deem that the Creator cannot be more
-    truly honored than in using in his fear and in his presence the
-    highest of the gifts which he has bestowed on man. But deem not
-    that, because the day of Christian worship is chosen for the
-    great yearly assembly of a Christian commonwealth, the more
-    directly sacred duties of the day are forgotten. Before we,
-    in our luxurious island, have lifted ourselves from our beds,
-    the men of the mountains, Catholics and Protestants alike,
-    have already paid the morning’s worship in God’s temple. They
-    have heard the Mass of the priest or they have listened to the
-    sermon of the pastor, before some of us have awakened to the
-    fact that the morn of the holy day has come. And when I saw
-    men thronging the crowded church, or kneeling, for want of
-    space within, on the bare ground beside the open door, when I
-    saw them marching thence to do the highest duties of men and
-    citizens, I could hardly forbear thinking of the saying of
-    Holy Writ, that ‘where the spirit of the Lord is, there is
-    liberty.’ From the market-place of Altorf, the little capital
-    of the canton, the procession makes its way to the place of
-    meeting at Bözlingen. First marches the little army of the
-    canton, an army whose weapons never can be used save to drive
-    back an invader from their land. Over their heads floats the
-    banner, the bull’s-head of Uri, the ensign which led men to
-    victory on the fields of Sempach and Morgarten. And before
-    them all, on the shoulders of men clad in a garb of ages past,
-    are borne the famous horns, the spoils of the wild bull of
-    ancient days, the very horns whose blast struck such dread into
-    the fearless heart of Charles of Burgundy. Then, with their
-    lictors before them, come the magistrates of the commonwealth
-    on horseback, the chief-magistrate, the Landamman, with his
-    sword by his side. The people follow the chiefs whom they have
-    chosen to the place of meeting, a circle in a green meadow,
-    with a pine forest rising above their heads, and a mighty spur
-    of the mountain range facing them on the other side of the
-    valley. The multitude of freemen take their seats around the
-    chief ruler of the commonwealth, whose term of office comes
-    that day to an end. The assembly opens; a short space is given
-    to prayer--silent prayer offered up by each man in the temple
-    of God’s own rearing. Then comes the business of the day. If
-    changes in the law are demanded, they are then laid before the
-    vote of the assembly, in which each citizen of full age has an
-    equal vote and an equal right of speech. The yearly magistrates
-    have now discharged all their duties; their term of office is
-    at an end; the trust that has been placed in their hands falls
-    back into the hands of those by whom it was given--into the
-    hands of the sovereign people. The chief of the commonwealth,
-    now such no longer, leaves his seat of office, and takes his
-    place as a simple citizen in the ranks of his fellows. It
-    rests with the free-will of the assembly to call him back to
-    his chair of office, or to set another there in his stead.
-    Men who have neither looked into the history of the past, nor
-    yet troubled themselves to learn what happens year by year
-    in their own age, are fond of declaiming against the caprice
-    and ingratitude of the people, and of telling us that under a
-    democratic government neither men nor measures can remain for
-    an hour unchanged. The witness alike of the present and of the
-    past is an answer to baseless theories like these. The spirit
-    which made democratic Athens year by year bestow her highest
-    offices on the patrician Pericles and the reactionary Phocion,
-    still lives in the democracies of Switzerland, alike in the
-    Landesgemeinde of Uri and in the Federal Assembly at Bern.
-    The ministers of kings, whether despotic or constitutional,
-    may vainly envy the sure tenure of office which falls to
-    the lot of those who are chosen to rule by the voice of the
-    people. Alike in the whole confederation and in the single
-    canton, re-election is the rule; the rejection of the outgoing
-    magistrate is the rare exception. The Landamman of Uri, whom
-    his countrymen have raised to the seat of honor, and who has
-    done nothing to lose their confidence, need not fear that when
-    he has gone to the place of meeting in the pomp of office, his
-    place in the march homeward will be transferred to another
-    against his will.”
-
-The grand forms of the Windgälle, the Bristenstock, and the other
-mighty mountains, surrounded us as we stood in deep silence on this
-high green meadow, profoundly impressed by this eloquent tribute to a
-devout and liberty-loving people, all the more remarkable as coming from
-a Protestant writer. There was little to add to it, for Herr H----’s
-experience could only confirm it in every point. Dinner had to be got
-through rapidly on our return to Altorf, as we wished to catch the
-steamer leaving Fluelen at five o’clock. Like all these vessels, it
-touched at the landing-place beside Tell’s Platform, whence our young
-friends of the morning, who had been watching for our return, waved us a
-greeting. Thence we sat on deck, tracing Lecourbe’s mule-path march of
-torch-light memory along the Axenberg precipices, and finally reached
-the Waldstätterhof at Brunnen in time to see the sun sink behind Mont
-Pilatus, and leave the varied outlines clearly defined against a deep-red
-sky.
-
-
-S. PHILIP’S HOME.[13]
-
-    O Mary, Mother Mary! our tears are flowing fast,
-    For mighty Rome, S. Philip’s home, is desolate and waste:
-    There are wild beasts in her palaces, far fiercer and more bold
-    Than those that licked the martyrs’ feet in heathen days of old.
-
-    O Mary, Mother Mary! that dear city was thine own,
-    And brightly once a thousand lamps before thine altars shone;
-    At the corners of the streets thy Child’s sweet face and thine
-    Charmed evil out of many hearts and darkness out of mine.
-
-    By Peter’s cross and Paul’s sharp sword, dear Mother Mary, pray!
-    By the dungeon deep where thy S. Luke in weary durance lay;
-    And by the church thou know’st so well, beside the Latin Gate,
-    For love of John, dear Mother, stay the hapless city’s fate.
-
-    For the exiled Pontiffs sake, our Father and our Lord,
-    O Mother! bid the angel sheathe his keen avenging sword;
-    For the Vicar of thy Son, poor exile though he be,
-    Is busied with thy honor _now_ by that sweet southern sea.
-
-    Oh! by the joy thou hadst in Rome, when every street and square
-    Burned with the fire of holy love that Philip kindled there,
-    And by that throbbing heart of his, which thou didst keep at Rome,
-    Let not the spoiler waste dear Father Philip’s Home!
-
-    Oh! by the dread basilicas, the pilgrim’s gates to heaven,
-    By all the shrines and relics God to Christian Rome hath given,
-    By the countless Ave Marias that have rung from out its towers,
-    By Peter’s threshold, Mother! save this pilgrim land of ours.
-
-    By all the words of peace and power that from S. Peter’s chair
-    Have stilled the angry world so oft, this glorious city spare!
-    By the lowliness of Him whose gentle-hearted sway
-    A thousand lands are blessing now, dear Mother Mary, pray.
-
-    By the pageants bright, whose golden light hath flashed through
-        street and square,
-    And by the long processions that have borne thy Jesus there;
-    By the glories of the saints; by the honors that were thine;
-    By all the worship God hath got from many a blazing shrine;
-
-    By all heroic deeds of saints that Rome hath ever seen;
-    By all the times her multitudes have crowned thee for their queen;
-    By all the glory God hath gained from out that wondrous place,
-    O Mary, Mother Mary! pray thy strongest prayer for grace.
-
-    O Mary, Mother Mary! thou wilt pray for Philip’s Home,
-    Thou wilt turn the heart of him who turned S. Peter back to Rome.
-    Oh! thou wilt pray thy prayer, and the battle will be won,
-    And the Saviour’s sinless Mother save the city of her Son.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    THE TROUBLES OF OUR CATHOLIC FOREFATHERS, RELATED BY
-    THEMSELVES. Second Series. Edited by John Morris, S. J.
-    London: Burns & Oates. 1875. (New York: Sold by The Catholic
-    Publication Society.)
-
-Whilst our ears are deafened and our feelings shocked by the calumnies
-and lying vituperation heaped upon all that is most worthy of love
-and veneration upon earth by the Satanic societies which the Popes
-have smitten with repeated excommunications, it is consoling to be
-supplied--by limners, too, who are themselves no mean exemplars of the
-noble development which the Church can give to virtue when it follows
-her counsels--with lifelike portraits of Christian athletes in times
-gone by. We do not know how soon our courage, patience, and charity may
-be put to a similar test. Multitudes of our fellow-Catholics are already
-subjected to every suffering but the martyrdom of death; and this seed of
-the Church our enemies, more wily than the sanguinary heretics of the age
-of Elizabeth, seem to be unwilling to sow. But they will not long be able
-to restrain their passion. The word of persecution has gone forth; and so
-bitter is the hatred of the very name of Christ, that before very long
-nothing but the blood of Christians will satiate its instincts.
-
-The persecution of the Church in England in the time of Elizabeth
-resembled the persecution which is now raging against it, in the
-political complexion given to it. But there were far stronger grounds for
-it then than now. The superior claims of Mary to the throne, her virtues,
-and her surpassing beauty, were a just subject of jealousy and uneasiness
-to Elizabeth, and she might very naturally suppose that her Catholic
-subjects were not likely to regard with any fondness the usurpation of an
-illegitimate daughter of her apostate and tyrannical father.
-
-In the present persecutions there is no political pretext, but one is
-made under cover of which to extirpate from among mankind the religion
-and very name of Christ.
-
-This volume is the second of a series which promises to supply us with a
-whole gallery of Christian heroes, which we of this age of worldliness,
-cowardice, and self-seeking will do well to study attentively. As is
-often the case, it is to the untiring zeal of the Society of Jesus we
-owe so interesting as well as edifying a work. Father Morris, formerly
-Secretary to Cardinal Wiseman, but who joined the Society after the death
-of that eminent prelate, is its author, and he appears to us to have
-executed his task with rare judgment. By allowing his characters to speak
-in great part for themselves, the biographies and relations he presents
-us with have a dramatic interest which is greatly increased by the quaint
-and nervous style of the time in which they express themselves. We feel,
-too, that it is the very innermost soul and mind of the individual that
-is being revealed to us; and certainly in most of them the revelation
-is so beautiful that we should possibly have ascribed something of
-this to the partiality of a panegyrist, or to his descriptive skill,
-if the picture had been sketched by the pen of any other biographer
-than themselves. It is, indeed, the mean opinion they evidently have
-of themselves, and the naïve and modest manner in which they relate
-incidents evoking heroic virtue, their absolute unconsciousness of aught
-more than the most ordinary qualities, which fascinate us. It bears
-an impress of genuineness impossible to any description by the most
-impartial of historians. They express a beauty which could no more be
-communicated in any other way than can the odor of the flower or the
-music of the streams be conveyed by any touch, how ever magic, of the
-painter.
-
-The present volume of the series contains the “Life of Father William
-Weston, S.J.,” and “The Fall of Anthony Tyrrell,” by Father Persons; for
-“our wish is,” says Father Morris, “to learn not only what was done by
-the strong and brave, but also by the weak and cowardly.”
-
-We are much struck in this history with the resemblance between those
-times and the present in the unsparing calumny of which the purest and
-the holiest men were made the victims.
-
-For confirmation of these remarks, we refer the reader to the book
-itself. But we cannot refrain from quoting, in spite of its length, the
-following incident related by Father Weston. It is a remarkable example
-of the salutary effect of the Sacrament of Penance:
-
-“For there lay in a certain heretical house a Catholic who, with the
-consent of his keeper, had come to London for the completion of some
-urgent business. He had been committed to a prison in the country, a
-good way out of London. He was seized, however, and overpowered by a
-long sickness which brought him near to death. The woman who nursed
-him, being a Catholic, had diligently searched the whole city through
-to find a priest, but in vain. She then sent word to me of the peril of
-that person, and entreated me, if it could be contrived, to come to his
-assistance, as he was almost giving up the ghost. I went to him when the
-little piece of gold obtained for me the liberty to do so. I explained
-that I was a priest, for I was dressed like a layman, and that I had come
-to hear his confession. ‘If that is the reason why you have come, it
-is in vain,’ he said; ‘the time for it is passed away.’ I said to him:
-‘What! are you not a Catholic? If you are, you know what you have to do.
-This hour, which seems to be your last, has been given you that by making
-a good and sincere confession you may, while there is time, wash away
-the stains of your past life, whatever they are.’ He answered: ‘I tell
-you that you have come too late: that time has gone by. The judgment is
-decided; the sentence has been pronounced; I am condemned, and given up
-to the enemy. I cannot hope for pardon.’ ‘That is false,’ I answered,
-‘and it is a most fearful error to imagine that a man still in life can
-assert that he is already deprived of God’s goodness and abandoned by
-his grace, in such a way that even when he desires and implores mercy it
-should be denied him. Since your faith teaches you that God is infinitely
-merciful, you are to believe with all certitude that there is no bond
-so straitly fastened but the grace of God can unloose it, no obstacle
-but grace has power to surmount it.’ ‘But do you not see,’ he asked me,
-‘how full of evil spirits this place is where we are? There is no corner
-or crevice in the walls where there are not more than a thousand of the
-most dark and frightful demons, who, with their fierce faces, horrid
-looks, and atrocious words threaten perpetually that they are just going
-to carry me into the abyss of misery. Why, even my very body and entrails
-are filled with these hateful guests, who are lacerating my body and
-torturing my soul with such dreadful cruelty and anguish that it seems
-as if I were not so much on the point merely of going there, as that
-I am already devoted and made over to the flames and agonies of hell.
-Wherefore, it is clear that God has abandoned me for ever, and has cast
-me away from all hope of pardon.’
-
-“When I had listened in trembling to all these things, and to much more
-of a similar kind, and saw at the same time that death was coming fast
-upon him, and that he would not admit of any advice or persuasion, I
-began to think within myself, in silence and anxiety, what would be
-the wisest course to choose. There entered into my mind, through the
-inspiration, doubtless, of God, the following most useful plan and
-method of dealing with him: ‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘if you are going to
-be lost, I do not require a confession from you; nevertheless, recollect
-yourself just for a moment, and, with a quiet mind, answer me, in a few
-words, either yes or no to the questions that I put to you; I ask for
-nothing else, and put upon you no other burden.’ Then I began to question
-him, and to follow the order of the Commandments. First, whether he had
-denied his faith. ‘See,’ I said, ‘do not worry yourself; say just those
-simple words, yes or no.’ As soon as he had finished either affirming or
-denying anything, I proceeded through four or five Commandments--whether
-he had killed any one, stolen anything, etc. When he had answered with
-tolerable calmness, I said to him, ‘What are the devils doing now? What
-do you feel or suffer from them?’ He replied: ‘They are quieter with
-me; they do not seem to be so furious as they were before.’ ‘Lift up
-your soul to God,’ I said, ‘and let us go on to the rest.’ In the same
-fashion and order I continued to question him about other things. Then
-I enquired again, saying, ‘How is it now?’ He replied; ‘Within I am not
-tormented. The devils stand at a distance; they throw stones; they make
-dreadful faces at me, and threaten me horribly. I do not think that I
-shall escape.’ Going forward as before, I allured and encouraged the man
-by degrees, till every moment he became more reasonable, and at last made
-an entire confession of all his sins, after which I gave him absolution,
-and asked him what he was suffering from his cruel and harassing enemies.
-‘Nothing,’ he said; ‘they have all vanished. There is not a trace of
-them, thanks be to God.’ Then I went away, after strengthening him by
-a few words, and encouraging him beforehand against temptations which
-might return. I promised, at the same time, that I would be with him
-on the morrow, and meant to bring the most Sacred Body of Christ with
-me, and warned him to prepare himself diligently for the receiving of
-so excellent a banquet. The whole following night he passed without
-molestation from the enemy, and on the next day he received with great
-tranquillity of mind the most Holy Sacrament, after which, at an interval
-of a few hours without disturbance, he breathed forth his soul, and
-quietly gave it up to God. Before he died, I asked the man what cause
-had driven him into such desperation of mind. He answered me thus: ‘I
-was detained in prison many years for the Catholic faith. Nevertheless,
-I did not cease to sin, and to conceal my sins from my confessor, being
-persuaded by the devil that pardon must be sought for from God, rather
-by penances and severity of life, than by confession. Hence I either
-neglected my confessions altogether, or else made insincere ones; and so
-I fell into that melancholy of mind and that state of tribulation which
-has been my punishment.’”
-
-    LIGHT LEADING UNTO LIGHT: A Series of Sonnets and Poems. By
-    John Charles Earle, B.A. London: Burns & Oates. 1875.
-
-Mr. Earle has undoubtedly a facility in writing sonnets; and a good
-sonnet has been well called “a whole poem in itself.” It is also, we
-think, peculiarly suitable for didactic poetry. The present sonnets are
-in advance, we consider, of those we first saw from Mr. Earle’s pen. But
-we still observe faults, both of diction and of verse, which he should
-have learnt to avoid. His model seems to be Wordsworth--the greatest
-sonneteer in our language; but, like him, he has too much of the prosaic
-and the artificial.
-
-We wish we could bestow unqualified praise upon the ideas throughout
-these sonnets. And were there nothing for criticism but what may be
-called poetic subtleties--such as the German notion of an “ether body,”
-developed during life, and hatched at death, for our intermediate
-state of being--we should have no quarrel with Mr. Earle. But when we
-meet two sonnets (XLVIII. and XLIX.) headed “Matter Non-Existent,” and
-“Matter Non-Substantial,” we have a philosophical error serious in its
-consequences, and are not surprised to find the two following sonnets
-teach Pantheism. In Sonnet XLVIII. the author’s excellent intention is to
-refute materialism:
-
-    “‘Thought is,’ you say, ‘a function of the brain,
-    And matter all that we can ever know;
-
-    …
-
-    “‘From it we came; to it at last we go,
-    And all beyond it is a phantom vain,’ etc.
-
-    …
-
-    “I answer: ‘Matter is _a form of mind_,
-    _So far as it is aught_. It has no base,
-    Save in the self-existent.’”
-
-Sonnet L. is headed, “As the Soul in the Body, so is God in the
-Universe.” Surely, this is the old “Anima Mundi” theory! Then, in Sonnet
-LI., the poet says of nature, and addressing God:
-
-    “She cannot live detached from thee. Her heart
-      Is beating with thy pulse. _I cannot tell_
-    _How far she is or is not of thee part_;
-      How far in her thou dost or dost not dwell;
-    That _thou her only base and substance art_,
-      This--this at least--I know and feel full well.”
-
-Now, of course, Mr. Earle is unconscious that this is rank Pantheism.
-He has a way of explaining it to himself which makes it sound perfectly
-orthodox. But we do call such a blunder inexcusable in a Catholic writer
-of Mr. Earle’s pretensions. The title of his volume, “Light leading unto
-Light,” has little to do with the contents, as far as we can see; and,
-certainly, there are passages which would more fitly be headed “Darkness
-leading unto Darkness.”
-
-We are sorry to have had to make these strictures. The great bulk of the
-sonnets, together with the remaining poems, are very pleasant reading,
-and cannot fail to do good.
-
-    FIRST ANNUAL REPORT OF THE REV. THEODORE NOETHEN, FIRST
-    CATHOLIC CHAPLAIN OF THE ALBANY PENITENTIARY, TO THE
-    INSPECTORS. April 6, 1875. Albany: J. Munsell. 1875.
-
-    THIRTEEN SERMONS PREACHED IN THE ALBANY COUNTY PENITENTIARY. By
-    the Rev. Theodore Noethen. Published under the auspices of the
-    Society of S. Vincent de Paul. Albany: Van Benthuysen Printing
-    House. 1875.
-
-We are glad to see Father Noethen’s familiar hand thus charitably and
-characteristically engaged. These are the first documents of the kind
-we have observed under the improving state of things in this country,
-in which the priest of the Church is seen occupied in one of his most
-important duties--reclaiming the erring; and in doing this the means
-which he employs will doubtless be found more efficacious than any the
-state has at its command. Did the state fully appreciate its highest
-interest as well as duty, it would afford the Church every facility,
-not only in reclaiming such of her children as have fallen into the
-temptations by which they are surrounded, but also in the use of those
-preventive measures involved in parish schools, which would save
-multitudes from penitentiaries and houses of correction. Our over-zealous
-Protestant friends throw every obstacle in the way of the adequate moral
-and religious training of the class most exposed to the temptations
-arising from poverty and lack of employment, and then blame the Church
-for the result. We heartily welcome these signs of a better time coming.
-
-    AN EXPOSITION OF THE EPISTLES OF S. PAUL AND OF THE CATHOLIC
-    EPISTLES; consisting of an Introduction to each Epistle, an
-    Analysis of each Chapter, a Paraphrase of the Sacred Text,
-    and a Commentary, embracing Notes, Critical, Explanatory, and
-    Dogmatical, interspersed with Moral Reflections. By the Rt.
-    Rev. John MacEvilly, D.D., Bishop of Galway. Third edition,
-    enlarged. Dublin: W. B. Kelly. 1875. (New York: Sold by The
-    Catholic Publication Society.)
-
-After quoting this full, descriptive title-page, it will suffice to say
-that the notes which form the commentary have in the present edition
-been considerably enlarged. The work was originally published under the
-approbation of the Holy Father, the late Cardinals Barnabo and Wiseman,
-and the present venerable Archbishop of Tuam.
-
-
-BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS RECEIVED.
-
-    From Scribner, Armstrong & Co., New York: Personal
-    Reminiscences. By O’Keefe, Kelly, and Taylor. Edited by R. H.
-    Stoddard (Bric-à-Brac Series, No. VIII)
-
-    From the Author: An Address on Woman’s Work in the Church
-    before the Presbytery of New Albany. By Geo. C. Heckman, D.D.
-    Paper, 8vo, pp. 28.
-
-    From Wm. Dennis, G.W.S.: Journal of Proceedings of the Ninth
-    Annual Session of the Grand Lodge of Nova Scotia. Paper, 8vo,
-    pp. 73.
-
-    From the Author: The Battle of Life: An Address. By D. S. Troy,
-    Montgomery, Alabama. Paper, 8vo, pp. 14.
-
-    From Ginn Brothers, Boston: Latin Composition: An Elementary
-    Guide to Writing in Latin. Part I.--Constructions. By J. H.
-    Allen and J. B. Greenough. 12mo, pp. vi., 117.
-
-
-
-
-THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-VOL. XXII., No. 128.--NOVEMBER, 1875.
-
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. I. T.
-HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
-
-
-FREEMASONRY.[14]
-
-The saints have all, whilst yet in the flesh, foretastes of heavenly
-bliss. But in these the closing days of time all the elect have a
-presentiment of coming judgment. And that presentiment is strong in
-proportion to their faith; stronger still in proportion to their charity.
-Let our readers be assured at the outset. We are not about to imitate the
-irreverence of the Scotch Presbyterian minister who, some few years ago,
-pretended that he had discovered in the prophetic visions of S. John the
-year in which will come to pass that event of stupendous awfulness, of
-which He, before whom all mankind will then be judged, said: “Of that day
-or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the
-Father only.”
-
-One fearful catastrophe, however, to befall mankind before the general
-judgment is insisted on so often and with such solemn emphasis by the
-Holy Spirit that the love of God seems to be, as it were, trembling
-for his redeemed creature, and longing to reveal to him more than is
-consistent with his own designs in the trial of his faith. For it must
-be remembered that faith is a merit, and the absolutely indispensable
-condition of our receiving the benefits of the divine atonement. Although
-the gift of God, it is the part we ourselves, by co-operating with the
-gift, contribute towards our own salvation. And what we are required
-to believe is so beautiful and ennobling to the moral sense, and so
-satisfying to the reason, that, supported as it is by the historical
-evidence of the divinity of Christ and of his church, no one can refuse
-to believe but those who deliberately choose darkness rather than light,
-sin rather than virtue, Satan rather than God.
-
-Yet so formidable was to be that last trial of the faith of Christians,
-so crucial that conclusive test of their charity, which was to “deceive,
-if it were possible, even the very elect,”[15] that the Spirit of Love,
-yearning for the safety of his regenerate ones, and compassionating the
-weakness of human nature, revealed its marks and signs in the fullest
-and most circumstantial detail; so that, warned of the danger, and
-recognizing it when it arrived, they might pass through it unhurt, whilst
-those who succumbed to it might be without excuse before the divine
-justice. It is the yearning of the heart of Christ towards his children,
-whom he foresees will fail by thousands in that decisive trial, which
-prompts the ejaculation that sounds almost like a lament over his own
-inability to put any pressure on their free-will: “When the Son of man
-cometh, will he find faith on the earth?” It is his anxiety, as it were,
-about the fate of his elect amidst the seductions of that appalling
-apostasy, which urged him, after he had indicated the signs that would
-accompany it, to be on the perpetual, sleepless lookout for them. “Be
-ever on the alert. Lo! I have foretold you all.”[16]
-
-“Be ever on the alert, watch and pray. For you do not know when the time
-may be.”[17]
-
-“Watch, then, lest when he (the head of the family) shall have come on a
-sudden, you be found sleeping.”[18]
-
-“Moreover, what I say to you I _say to all_: Watch!”[19]
-
-Throughout all the ages that have elapsed since those words of solemn
-import fell from the lips of Jesus Christ it has been the plain duty
-of all Christians--nay, of all to whose knowledge they were brought--to
-narrowly scrutinize events, to keep their attention fixed upon them,
-watching for the signs he foretold, lest they should appear unheeded,
-and they be seduced from the faith; or be the cause, through their
-indifference, of others being carried away in the great misleading.
-
-But who now can be insensible to the predicted portents? So notorious
-are they, and so exactly do they answer to the description of them
-handed down to us from the beginning, that they rudely arouse us from
-sleep; that they force our attention, however indifferent to them we may
-be, however dull our faith or cold our charity. And when we see a vast
-organization advancing its forces in one united movement throughout the
-entire globe in an avowed attack, as insidious as it is formidable, upon
-altars, thrones, social order, Christianity, Christ, and God himself,
-where is the heart that can be insensible to the touching evidence of
-loving solicitude which urged Him whom surging multitudes of his false
-creatures were deliberately to reject in favor of a fouler being than
-Barabbas, to iterate so often the warning admonition, “Be ever on the
-watch”?
-
-To study, therefore, the signs of the times, cannot be without profit to
-all, but especially to us who have but scant respect for the spirit of
-the age, who are not sufficiently enlightened by it to look upon Christ
-as nothing more than a remarkable man, the sublime morality he taught and
-set an example of as a nuisance, and his church as the enemy of mankind,
-to be extirpated from their midst, because it forbids their enjoying the
-illumination of the dagger-guarded secrets of the craft of Freemasonry.
-
-To fix the date of the _Dies iræ_ is completely out of our power. It is
-irreverent, if not blasphemous, to attempt it. It is of the counsels
-of God that it should come with the swiftness of “lightning” and the
-unexpectedness of “a thief in the night”; and that expressly that we
-may be ever on the watch. But the signs of its approach are given to us
-in order to help those who do not abandon “watching” in indifference,
-to escape the great delusion--the imposition of Antichrist--which is to
-immediately precede it. It is these signs we propose to study in the
-following pages.
-
-The predictions of Christ himself on this subject are far more obscure
-than those subsequently given to us by his apostles. But this has always
-been God’s way of revelation to his creature. To Moses alone, in the
-mount, he revealed the moral law and that wondrous theocratic polity
-which remained even after the perversity of his people had given it a
-monarchical form; and Moses communicated it to the people. To the people
-Christ spoke in parables, “and without a parable spake he not unto them.
-But when he was alone with them, he explained all to his disciples.”[20]
-“To you,” he said, “it is given to have known the mystery of the kingdom
-of God; but to those without everything is a parable.”[21] The apostles
-themselves, who were to declare the revelation, in order to increase
-the merit of their faith, were not fully illuminated before the coming
-down of the Holy Spirit. “You do not know this parable?” he said; “and
-how are you going to understand all parables?”[22] To their utterances,
-therefore, it is we shall confine ourselves, as shedding as much light
-as it has seemed good to the Holy Ghost to disclose to us upon the
-profounder and more oracular predictions of God himself in the flesh.
-
-Besides SS. Peter, Paul, and John, S. Jude is the only other apostle, we
-believe, who has bequeathed to the church predictions of the terrible
-apostasy of Antichrist which is to consummate the trial of the faith of
-the saints under the very shadow of the coming judgment. We will take
-them in the order in which they occur. The first is in a letter of S.
-Paul to the church at Thessalonica, where, exhorting them not to “be
-terrified as if the day of the Lord were at hand,” he assures them that
-it will not come “before there shall have first happened an apostasy, and
-the man of sin shall have been revealed, the son of perdition--he who
-opposes himself to, and raises himself above, all that is called God, or
-that is held in honor, so that he may sit in the temple of God, showing
-himself as if he were God.… And you know what now is hindering his
-being revealed in his own time. For the mystery of iniquity is already
-working; only so that he who is now keeping it in check will keep it in
-check until he be moved out of its way. And then will the lawless one be
-revealed, whom the Lord Jesus will slay with the breath of his mouth,
-and destroy with the illumination of his coming; whose coming is after
-the manner of working of Satan, with all strength and symbols, and lying
-absurdities, and in every enticement of iniquity in those who perish;
-for the reason that they did not receive the love of the truth that they
-might be saved. So God will send them the working of error, that they
-may believe falsehood; that all may be judged who have not believed the
-truth, but have consented to iniquity.”[23]
-
-In a letter to Timothy, Bishop of Ephesus, S. Paul writes: “Now, the
-Spirit says expressly that, in the last times, some shall apostatize
-from the faith, giving heed to spirits of error and to doctrines of
-demons, speaking falsehood in hypocrisy, and having their own conscience
-seared.”[24]
-
-In a second letter to the same bishop he writes: “Know this, moreover:
-that in the last days there will be a pressure of perilous times; men
-will be self-lovers, covetous, lifted up, proud, blasphemous, disobedient
-to parents, ungrateful, malicious, without affection, discontented,
-calumniators, incontinent, hard, unamiable, traitors, froward, fearful,
-and lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God, having indeed a form of
-piety, but denying its power.”[25] S. Peter writes that “there will come
-in the last days mockers in deception, walking according to their own
-lusts.”[26]
-
-S. Jude describes them as “mockers, walking in impieties according to
-their own desires. These are they who separate themselves--animals, not
-having the Spirit.”[27]
-
-It would seem from the expressions of S. John-who of all the apostles
-appears to have had most pre-eminently the gift of prophecy--as well as
-from the manner in which the last days of Jerusalem and the last days
-of the world appear to be mingled together in the fore-announcement
-of Christ, that powerful manifestations of Antichrist were to precede
-both events; although the apostasy was to be far more extensive and
-destructive before the latter. “Little children,” writes the favorite
-apostle, “it is the last time; and as you have heard that Antichrist
-comes, so now many have become Antichrists; whence we know that it is the
-last time.… He is Antichrist who denies the Father and the Son.”[28]
-
-“Every spirit who abolishes Jesus is not of God. And he is Antichrist
-about whom we have heard that he is coming, and is even now in the
-world.”[29]
-
-We believe that these are the only passages wherein the Holy Ghost has
-vouchsafed to give us distinct and definite information as to the marks
-and evidences by which we are to know that there is amongst us that
-Antichrist whose disastrous although short-lived triumph is to precede
-by only a short space the end of time and the eternal enfranchisement of
-good from evil.
-
-The prophetic utterances on this subject in the revelations of S. John
-are veiled in such exceedingly obscure imagery that we do not propose to
-attempt any investigation of their meaning in this article. It is our
-object to influence the minds of such Protestants as believe in God the
-Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and of Catholics whose faith is so dull
-and whose charity is so cold that they can listen to the blasphemies of
-Antichrist without emotion.
-
-We may remark here, however, that if we succeed in supplying solid
-reasons for believing that Antichrist is already amongst us, and that
-his dismal career of desolating victory has already begun, the duty of
-studying those utterances of the Holy Ghost, so darkly veiled that the
-faith of those who stand firm may have more merit in the trial of that
-great tribulation, will have assumed a position of importance impossible
-to be overrated. That they are to be understood, the Holy Ghost himself
-implies. He intimates that their meaning is accessible to the spiritually
-minded, and would even seem to make dulness of apprehension of it a
-reproach, a lack of spiritual discernment. “If any one has the ear, let
-him hear,”[30] he writes. And again: “This is wisdom. Let him who has
-understanding reckon the number of the beast.”[31]
-
-It is not necessary to the object we have in view that we should identify
-“the beast” of the Apocalypse, seven-headed and having ten horns crowned
-with diadems, with Antichrist. The question we propose to answer is
-simply, “Are there under our eyes at this moment evidences of a present
-Antichrist, or of his being close at hand?” In other words, “Is what is
-called ‘the spirit of the age’ the spirit of Antichrist?”
-
-For us, that we may be on our guard against his wiles, and armed to the
-teeth to fight against him to the death, it is comparatively unimportant
-whether we decide him to be actually amongst us or only just about to
-appear. His marks and characteristics, his badges or decorations--these
-are all we require.
-
-If the Antichrist of the prophecies is a single, separate impersonation
-of the demoniac attributes described by the Holy Ghost--if, in short, he
-is an individual man, then he has not yet been revealed. In that case,
-our identification of Antichrist will only have exposed that temper and
-spirit with which “the red dragon”--“the devil”--“Satan”--“the ancient
-serpent”--has possessed such vast multitudes of the human race throughout
-the entire globe as to afford ground for calling it “the spirit of the
-age,” and which is to culminate in some terrible personal embodiment--a
-typical personage, as men speak. But if the prophecies do not designate
-an individual man, but only the impersonation of a multitude of
-individuals organized into a unity and animated with the same spirit,
-then we think we shall be able to point the finger of horror and loathing
-at the very Antichrist at present amongst us, and in the midst of
-victory, as decisively and as clearly as the prophet of penance pointed
-the finger of adoring love towards the Lamb of God.
-
-We incline, and strongly, to the latter view. We must withhold our
-reasons, partly because, as we have said, our object is equally subserved
-by either view; but more because to do so would leave us too little space
-for treating the main subject. We will content ourselves with stating
-that those reasons are founded on the internal evidence supplied by the
-several predictions; and also on our aversion to admit the possibility of
-a more depraved _individual_ impersonation of evil than that unhappy man
-whom God in human flesh pronounced a devil!
-
-Whether, however, Antichrist be or not an individual man, one thing is
-certain: that if we can point out an immense army of men, co-extensive
-with the globe, highly organized, animated with the same spirit, and
-acting with as much unity of purpose as if their movements were directed
-by one head, who exhibit precisely those marks and characteristics
-described in the predictions of Antichrist, we may expect even on the
-supposition that they are to have a visible head, an individual leader,
-who has yet to make his appearance; and that they are his hosts, who have
-already achieved a great part of his victories.
-
-What is first noticeable is that the stigma which is to be deeply branded
-on the front of the Antichristian manifestation which is to precede the
-close of time is “_Apostasy_”.
-
-The day of the Lord will not come, “nisi venerit discessio primum;
-Spiritus dicit quia in novissimis temporibus quidam a fide discedunt.”
-
-There can be no need of dwelling on this. It is sufficiently obvious
-that the great apostasy inaugurated by Luther was the first outbreak of
-Antichristian victory. The success of that movement assured the spirit
-of error of a career of victory. He was lurking in the fold, watching
-for his opportunity, and snatching away stray souls, as S. John tells
-us, in the time of the apostles. For a millennium and a half has he
-been preparing his manifestation. He inspired Julian, he inspired the
-Arians, he inspired all the heresies against which the definitions
-of the faith were decreed. But when he had seduced men away from the
-church, whole nations at a time, “dominationem contemnentes” (2 S. Peter
-ii. 10), and captivated them to the irrational opinion that there is
-no higher authority for the obligatory dogmas of the Christian Church
-than the conviction of every individual, _solvere Jesum_, and then God,
-was merely a matter of time. What human passion had begun human reason
-would complete. The life of faith could not be annihilated at a blow.
-It has taken three centuries for the sap of charity to wither away in
-the cut-off branches. But sooner or later the green wood could not but
-become dry; and reason, void of charity, would be forced to acknowledge
-that if the Bible has no definite meaning other than what appears to be
-its meaning to every individual, practically it has no definite meaning
-at all; that God cannot have revealed any truth at all, if we have no
-means of ascertaining what it is beyond our own private opinions; that
-a book the text of which admits of as many interpretations as there are
-sects cannot, without an authoritative living expositor, reveal truths
-which it is necessary to believe in order to escape eternal punishment.
-The claim of the Catholic Church to this authority having been pronounced
-an usurpation, the progress, although slow, was sure and easy towards
-pronouncing Christianity itself an usurpation. God himself cannot survive
-Christianity. And we have now literally “progressed” to so triumphant
-a manifestation of Antichrist that the work of persecution of God’s
-Church has set in with a vengeance, and men hear on all sides of them the
-existence of God denied without horror, even without surprise.
-
-The first mark of a present Antichrist we propose to signalize is that
-distinctly assigned to him by S. Paul--ὁ ἄνομος. This epithet is but
-feebly rendered by the Latin _ille iniquus_, or the English “that wicked
-one.” “The lawless one” better conveys the force of the Greek. For the
-root νόμος includes in its meaning not only enacted law of all kinds, but
-whatever has become, as it were, a law by custom; or a law of nature, as
-it were, by the universal observance of mankind.
-
-The first marked sequel of the apostasy, the first outbreak of success
-of Antichrist in the political order, was the first French Revolution,
-during which a harlot was placed for worship upon the altar of Notre Dame.
-
-That fearful outbreak may have sat for its portrait to S. Peter in
-the following description of the members of the Antichrist of the
-“last times”: “Who walk after the flesh in the lust of concupiscence,
-and despise authority; … irrational beasts, following only their own
-brute impulses, made only to be caught and slain; … having eyes full
-of adultery and of ceaseless sin; … speaking proud things of vanity,
-enticing, through the desires of the luxury of the flesh, those who by
-degrees go away from the truth, who become habituated to error; promising
-them liberty, whereas they themselves are the slaves of corruption” (2
-Pet. ii. 10, 12, 14, 18, 19).
-
-That saturnalia of lawlessness, which Freemason writers have ever since
-dared to approve, was the work of the “craft” of Freemasonry, to whose
-organization and plan of action does indeed, in an especial sense,
-apply S. Paul’s designation of τὸ μυστήριον τῆς ανομίας “the mystery
-of lawlessness.” Mirabeau, Sieyès, Grégoire, Robespierre, Condorcet,
-Fauchet, Guillotine, Bonneville, Volney, “Philippe Egalité,” etc., had
-all been initiated into the higher grades.
-
-Louis Blanc, himself a Freemason, writes thus: “It is necessary to
-conduct the reader to the opening of the subterranean mine laid at that
-time beneath thrones and altars by revolutionists, differing greatly,
-both in their theory and their practice, from the Encyclopedists. An
-association had been formed of men of every land, every religion, and
-every class, bound together by mysterious signs agreed upon amongst
-themselves, pledged by a solemn oath to observe inviolable secrecy as to
-the existence of this hidden bond, and tested by proofs of a terrible
-description.… Thus we find Freemasonry to have been widely diffused
-immediately before the outbreak of the Revolution. Spreading over the
-whole face of Europe, it poisoned the thinking minds of Germany, and
-secretly stirred up rebellion in France, showing itself everywhere in the
-light of an association resting upon principles diametrically opposed
-to those which govern civil society.… The ordinances of Freemasonry did
-indeed make great outward display of obedience to law, of respect to the
-outward forms and usages of profane society, and of reverence towards
-rulers; at their banquets the Masons did indeed drink the health of kings
-in the days of monarchy, and of presidents in the time of republics,
-such prudent circumspection being indispensable on the part of an
-association which threatened the existence of the very governments under
-whose eyes it was compelled to work, and whose suspicion it had already
-aroused. This, nevertheless, did not suffice to counteract the radically
-revolutionary influence continually exercised by the craft, even while it
-professed nothing but peaceful intentions.”[32]
-
-In the work from which the above and the greater part of our materials in
-this article are borrowed, we read as follows: “It was precisely these
-revolutionary designs of the secret society which induced its Provincial
-Grand Master, the Prussian Minister Count von Haugwitz, to leave it. In
-the memorial presented by him to the Congress of Monarchs at Verona,
-in 1830, he bids the rulers of Europe to be on their guard against the
-hydra. ‘I feel at this moment firmly persuaded,’ writes the ex-grand
-master, ‘that the French Revolution, which had its first commencement
-in 1788, and broke out soon after, attended with all the horrors of
-regicide, existed heaven knows how long before, having been planned,
-and having had the way prepared for it, by associations and secret
-oaths.’”[33]
-
-And the following:
-
-“After the events of February, 1848, the ‘craft’ sang songs of triumph
-at the open success of its secret endeavors. A Belgian brother, Van der
-Heym, spoke thus: ‘On the day following the revolution of February a
-whole nation rose as one man, overturned the throne, and wrote over the
-frontal of the royal palace the words Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, all
-the citizens having adopted as their own this fundamental principle of
-Freemasonry. The combatants had not to battle long before the victory
-over their oppressors was gained--that freedom won which for centuries
-had formed the theme of Masonic discourses. We, the apostles of
-fraternity, aid the foundation-stone of the Republic.’”[34]
-
-And another master of the Freemasons, one Peigné, said about the same
-time: “In our glorious Revolution of 1792 the Lodge of the Nine Sisters
-gave to the world such men as Garat, Brissot, Bailly, Camille Desmoulins,
-Condorcet, Champfort, Petion; the Lodge of the Iron Mouth gave to it
-Fauchet, Goupil de Prefeln, Sieyès; the Lodge of Candor, Custine, the two
-Lameths, and Lafayette.”
-
-The horrors of that Revolution occasioned a temporary reaction and
-checked the triumphs of the Freemasons. But well they know how to repair
-their broken fortunes, bide their time, and reappear with renewed force.
-
-Barruel, who was an eye-witness of the events of the period, and also
-himself intimately acquainted with many Freemasons in Paris, relates that
-the brethren, considering that the time had come when they were free to
-publish the secret they had sworn to keep, shouted aloud: “At last our
-goal is reached; from this day France will be one vast lodge, and all
-Frenchmen Freemasons.”
-
-A strong reaction of disgust and terror at the satanic orgies of
-Freemasonry in the ascendant, moderated for a while this shout of
-triumph. But in the disasters inflicted on France by the conquering
-Germans, the “craft” thought to find a recurring opportunity. If the
-Communist attempt at Paris in 1871 was not originally planned by the
-Freemasons, they openly and officially joined it. “A procession composed
-of at least five thousand persons, in which members of all the grades
-took part, wearing their insignia, and in which one hundred and fifty
-lodges of France were represented, wended its way to the town hall of
-Paris. Maillet, bearing the red flag as a token of universal peace,
-headed the band, and openly proclaimed, in a speech which met with
-the approval of all present, that the new Commune was the antitype of
-Solomon’s temple and the corner-stone of the social fabric about to be
-raised by the efforts of the craft. The negotiations carried on with the
-government of Versailles on behalf of the socialists, and the way in
-which they planted the banners of the craft on the walls of the capital,
-accompanying this action with a threat of instantly joining the ranks of
-the combatants if a single shot were fired at one of those banners (of
-which a graphic account appeared in the _Figaro_ at the time), was all
-of a piece with the sentiments they expressed” (_The Secret Warfare of
-Freemasonry_, p. 172).
-
-_Figaro_ closed its account of these strange events with the following
-reflections: “But when posterity shall be informed that in the middle
-of the XIXth century, in the midst of an unbelieving generation, which
-openly denied God and his Christ, under the very guns of an enemy in
-possession of all the French fortresses, hostilities were all at once
-suspended, and the course of a portentous and calamitous civil war
-interrupted because, forsooth, Brother Thirifoque, accompanied by two
-Knights Kadosch, went to offer to M. Thiers’ acceptance the golden mallet
-of supreme command (in the craft)--when, I say, this story is told to
-those who come after us, it will sound in their ears as a nursery tale,
-utterly unworthy of credence.”[35]
-
-In _Révélations d’un Franc-maçon au lit de mort, pièce authentique,
-publicé, par_ M. de Hallet (Courtrai, 1826, p. 10), we find the
-following: “We must restore man to his primeval rights, no longer
-recognizing rank and dignity--two things the mere sight of which offends
-the eye of man and wounds his self-love. Obedience is a mere chimera, and
-has no place in the wise plans of Providence.”
-
-In the _Astræa, Taschenbuch für Freimaurer_, von Bruder Sydow (1845), an
-orator thus speaks: “That which is destined to destruction must in the
-course of things be destroyed; and if human powers resist this law, at
-the behest of fate, a stronger power will appear upon the scene to carry
-out the eternal decrees of Providence. The Reformation of the church,
-as well as the French Revolution, proves the existence of this law.…
-Revolution is a crisis necessary to development.”
-
-The _Révélations_ says: “The poison must be neutralized by means of its
-antidote, revolution must succeed to obedience, vengeance follow upon
-effeminacy, power must grapple with power, and the reign of superstition
-yield before that of the one true natural religion.”
-
-Barruel, who had been a master Mason, states that the oath administered
-to him was: “My brother, are you prepared to execute every command you
-may receive from the Grand Master, even should contrary orders be laid on
-you by king or emperor, or any other ruler whatever?”
-
-“The grade of Kadosch”--the thirtieth grade--writes Barruel (p. 222),
-“is the soul of Freemasonry, and the final object of its plots is the
-reintroduction of absolute liberty and equality through the destruction
-of all royalty and the abrogation of all religious worship.”
-
-“Socialism, Freemasonry, and communism have, after all, a common origin”
-(The _Latomia_--an organ of the craft--vol. xii. p. 237).
-
-_Le Libertaire_, a Masonic journal published in this city, had the
-following in 1858: “The _Libertaire_ knows no country but that which is
-common to all. He is a sworn foe to restraints of every kind. He hates
-the boundaries of countries; he hates the boundaries of fields, houses,
-workshops; he hates the boundaries of family.”
-
-Is it within the power of the human mind to conceive of any possible
-individual or spiritual incarnation more deeply, vividly, and distinctly
-branded with the note-mark or sign of Antichrist, given to us by the
-Holy Spirit some two thousand years ago, by which we might recognize him
-when he appeared--“the lawless one,” “spurning authority”--ὁ ἄνομος, qui
-contemnunt dominationem?
-
-And when we add to this, the one special and most wicked and lawless
-characteristic of the “craft”--its portentous mystery--to our thinking,
-they must willingly, and of set purpose, close their eyes who fail
-to detect in it the very Antichrist whom the apostle declares shall
-be manifested in the last days, after the apostasy, and whom he
-designates by the epithet τὸ μυστήριον τῆς ἀνομίας--“the mystery of
-lawlessness”--which he tells us had even then, at the very cradle of
-the church, begun to put in movement its long conspiracy against the
-salvation of mankind: τὸ γὰρ μυστηριον ἢδη ενεργεῖται τῆς ἀνομίας--“for
-the mystery of lawlessness is even now already working.”
-
-No sooner was Christ born than his infant life was sought; no sooner
-did he begin to teach than “the ancient serpent” sought his ruin; just
-before the triumph of his resurrection the enemy of mankind seemed to
-have finally and completely triumphed in his crucifixion; no sooner had
-his church, brought to life by his resurrection, begun her work of saving
-mankind than the devil was at work with his “mystery of lawlessness”
-for her destruction. All along it is Antichrist dogging the steps of
-Christ; before the second coming of Christ there is to be the second
-coming of Antichrist; before the final triumph over evil and revelation
-of the sons of God, Antichrist is to have that his last open and avowed
-manifestation--ἀποκάλυψις--and success, which the craft of Freemasonry is
-already so far on the road to compassing.
-
-Whether or no he is to receive a serious check before that terrific
-triumph over all but the few remaining elect we know not. But so
-unmistakable is his present manifestation that it is woe to those who
-blink their eyes and follow in his wake! Woe to those whose judicial
-blindness causes them to “believe a lie”! Woe to those who are caught
-napping!
-
-The next of the indications given us by the Holy Spirit of the Antichrist
-is his _modus operandi_--his method--the way in which he will effect
-his purposes, “whose coming is according to the way of working of
-Satan”--_cujus est adventus secundum operationem Satanæ_.
-
-The beast with seven heads and ten horns crowned with diadems described
-in the Apocalypse is, we are there told, fully commissioned with his
-own power by the red dragon, whom we are distinctly informed is the old
-serpent, who is called the devil (διάβολος, or slanderer), “Satan, who
-deceives the whole world.”
-
-Now, Satan is designated as “the prince of darkness” in opposition to
-Christ, “who is the true light, enlightening every one that cometh
-into the world”; he is the father of those who “hate the light because
-their deeds are evil.” When he would destroy Christ, “night was his
-hour and the power of darkness.” But in taking a survey of the craft of
-Freemasonry, what first seizes our attention? Is it not the profound
-darkness in which all its operations are veiled? Those terrible oaths of
-secrecy, made under the assured menace of assassination, attended with
-all that sanguinary gibberish, the lie involved in which is not known
-until the “seared conscience” is already in the chains of hell--surely,
-if anything is, these are “secundum operationem Satanæ.”
-
-In the _Vienna Freemason’s Journal_, MSS. for circulation in the craft,
-second year of issue, No. 1, p. 66, is the following: “We wander amidst
-our adversaries, shrouded in threefold darkness. Their passions serve as
-wires, whereby, unknown to themselves, we set them in motion and compel
-them unwittingly to work in union with us.”
-
-In a work written in High-German, the authorship of which is ascribed
-to a Prof. Hoffman of Vienna, the contents of which are supported by
-documentary evidence, and of which a Dutch translation was published in
-Amsterdam in 1792, which was reprinted at the Hague in 1826, the method
-of working of this “mystery of lawlessness” is thus summed up:
-
-“2. To effect this, a literary association must be formed to promote the
-circulation of our writings, and suppress, as far as possible, those of
-our opponents.
-
-“3. For this end we must contrive to have in our pay the publishers of
-the leading literary journals of the day, in order that they may turn
-into ridicule and heap contempt on everything written in a contrary
-interest to our own.
-
-“4. ‘He that is not with us is against us.’ Therefore we may persecute,
-calumniate, and tread down such an one without scruple; individuals like
-this are noxious insects which one shakes from the blossoming tree and
-crushes beneath one’s foot.
-
-“5. Very few can bear to be made to look ridiculous; let ridicule,
-therefore, be the weapon employed against persons who, though by no means
-devoid of sense, show themselves hostile to our schemes.
-
-“6. In order the more quickly to attain our end, the middle classes of
-society must be thoroughly imbued with our principles; the lower orders
-and the mass of the population are of little importance, as they may
-easily be moulded to our will. The middle classes are the principal
-supporters of the government; to gain them we must work on their
-passions, and, above all, bring up the rising generation in our ideas, as
-in a few years they will be in their turn masters of the situation.
-
-“7. License in morals will be the best means of enabling us to provide
-ourselves with patrons at court--persons who are nevertheless totally
-ignorant of the importance of our cause. It will suffice for our purpose
-if we make them absolutely indifferent to the Christian religion. They
-are for the most part careless enough without us.
-
-“8. If our aims are to be pursued with vigor, it is of absolute necessity
-to regard as enemies of enlightenment and of philosophy all those who
-cling in any way to religious or civil prejudices, and exhibit this
-attachment in their writings. They must be viewed as beings whose
-influence is highly prejudicial to the human race, and a great obstacle
-to its well-being and progress. On this account it becomes the duty of
-each one of us to impede their action in all matters of consequence,
-and to seize the first suitable opportunity which may present itself of
-putting them entirely _hors du combat_.
-
-“9. We must ever be on the watch to make all changes in the state serve
-our own ends; political parties, cabals, brotherhoods, and unions--in
-short, everything that affords an opportunity of creating disturbances
-must be an instrument in our hands. For it is only on the ruins of
-society as it exists at present that we can hope to erect a solid
-structure on the natural system, and ensure to the worshippers of nature
-the free exercise of their rights.”
-
-If this method of working, _operatio_, is not _secundum adventum Satanæ_,
-we should be glad to know what is. Herein we find every feature of
-Antichrist and his hosts which the Holy Ghost has drawn for our warning.
-They are heaped together in such hideous combination throughout this
-summary as scarcely to need particularizing. Our readers may not,
-however, be unwilling that we should single them out one by one as they
-appear more or less prominently in the several paragraphs; premising that
-throughout one characteristic reigns and prevails, and, indeed, lends
-its color to all the rest, that special attribute of “the father of
-lies”--falsehood!
-
-We will take the paragraphs in order, and photograph their most prominent
-Antichristian features.
-
-_The first._--Spurning authority. Giving ear to spirits of error and
-doctrines of demons.
-
-Speaking lies in hypocrisy, having a conscience seared.
-
-Blasphemers.
-
-Mockers, walking according to their own desires; animals, not having the
-Spirit.
-
-Mockers in deception, walking according to their own lusts.
-
-_The second and third._--Lovers of themselves, lawless, proud, malicious,
-traitors, froward, discourteous, fearful, mockers in deception.
-
-_The fourth._--Calumniators, cruel, traitors.
-
-_The fifth._--Mockers in deception.
-
-_The sixth._--Traitors, without affection, without peace.
-
-_The seventh._--Traitors, walking in impieties, walking according to
-their own lusts, incontinent.
-
-_The eighth._--Having their conscience seared, without peace, cruel.
-
-_The ninth._--Spurning authority, traitors, lawless, without peace.
-
-It must be borne in mind, moreover, that these are not merely
-repulsive infirmities of individuals, but the essential and inevitable
-characteristics deliberately adopted by the craft of Freemasons, and
-which it cannot be without, if they are the brand which the finger of
-God has marked upon the loathsome brow of the Antichrist of “the last
-time.”[36]
-
-In illustration of the former of these we quote the words of Brother
-Gotthold Salomon, D.Ph., preacher at the new Synagogue at Hamburg, member
-of the lodge entitled “The Dawn in the East,” in Frankfort-on-Main, who
-thus writes in his _Stimmen aus Osten_, MSS. for the brethren: “Why is
-there not a trace of anything appertaining to the Christian Church to be
-found in the whole ritual of Freemasonry? Why is not the name of Jesus
-once mentioned, either in the oath administered, or in the prayers on the
-opening of the lodges, or at the Masonic banquets? Why do Masons reckon
-time, not from the birth of Christ, but from the creation of the world,
-as do the Jews? Why does not Freemasonry make use of a single Christian
-symbol? Why have we the compasses, the triangle, the hydrometer,
-instead of the cross and other emblems of the Passion? Why have wisdom,
-beauty, and strength superseded the Christian triad of faith, hope, and
-charity?”[37]
-
-Brother Jochmus Müller, president of the late German-Catholic Church at
-Berlin, says in his _Kirchenreform_ (vol. iii. p. 228): “We have more in
-common with a free-thinking, honest paganism than with a narrow-minded
-Christianity.”[38]
-
-In the Waarscherwing (vol. xi. Nos. 2 and 8) we find the following:
-
-“The laws of the Mosaic and Christian religions are the contemptible
-inventions of petty minds bent on deceiving others; they are the most
-extravagant aberrations of the human intellect.
-
-“The selfishness of priests and the despotism of the great have for
-centuries upheld this system (Christianity), since it enabled them to
-rule mankind with a rod of iron by means _of its rigid code of morality_,
-and to confirm their power over weak minds by means of certain oracular
-utterances, in reality the product of their own invention, but palmed off
-on the world as the words of revelation.”[39]
-
-In a review of Kirchenlehre and Ketzerglaube by Dr. A. Drechsler in
-vol. iv. of the _Latomia_, we find: “The last efforts made to uphold
-ecclesiastical Christianity occasioned its complete expulsion from the
-realm of reason; for they proved but too plainly that all negotiations
-for peace must result in failure. Human reason became aware of the
-irreconcilable enmity existing between its own teachings and the dogmas
-of the church.”
-
-At a congress of Masons held at a villa near Locarno, in the district
-of Novara, preparatory to a socialistic demonstration to be held in the
-Colosseum at Rome, in answer to the sapient question, “What new form of
-worship is to supersede Catholicism?” the equally sapient answer was
-returned, “Communist principles with a new religious ideal.”
-
-From a document published, the author of _Secret Warfare of Freemasonry_
-tells us,[40] by the Orient of Brussels, “to the greater glory of the
-Supreme Architect of the world, in the year of _true light_ 5838” (1838),
-we quote the following:
-
-“1. That at the head of every document issued by the brethren, in an
-individual or corporate capacity, should stand a profession of faith
-in our lawgiver Jesus, the son of Mary Amram (the Josue of the Old
-Testament), the invariable formula to be employed being, ‘To the glory of
-the Great Architect of the Universe,’ … to expose and oppose the errors
-of pope and priest, who commence everything in the name of their Trinity.
-
-…
-
-“3. That in remembrance of the Last Supper or Christian love-feast
-of Jesus, the Son of Mary Amram, an account of which is given in the
-Arabic traditions and in the Koran, a solemn festival should be held,
-accompanied by a distribution of bread, in commemoration of an ancient
-custom observed by the slaves of eating bread together, and of their
-deliverance by means of the liberator (Josue). The distribution is to
-be accompanied by these memorable words: ‘This is the bread of misery
-and oppression which our fathers were forced to eat under the Pharaos,
-the priests of Juda; whosoever hungers, let him come and eat; this is
-the Paschal sacrifice; come unto us, all you who are oppressed; yet this
-one year more in Babylon, and the next year shall see us free men!’
-This instructive, and at the same time commemorative, supper of the
-Rosicrucians is the counterpart of the Supper of the Papists.”
-
-Dr. Dupuy, indeed, informs us of the corrupt portion of the Order of
-Templars, that “Receptores dicebant illis quos recipiebant, Christum
-non esse verum Deum, et ipsum fuisse falsum, non fuisse passum pro
-redemptione humani generis, sed pro sceleribus suis”--“They who received
-said to those whom they received that Christ was not really God; that he
-was himself false, and did not suffer for the redemption of the human
-race, but for his own crimes.”
-
-In harmony with all this was the offensively blasphemous utterance of Mr.
-Frothingham at the Masonic hall in this city some weeks ago, at which the
-New York _Tablet_ expressed a just indignation--an indignation which must
-have been shared by all who believe, in any way or form, in Jesus Christ,
-Redeemer of the world: “Tom Paine has keyed my moral being up to a higher
-note than the Jesus of Nazareth.”
-
-The argument we have advanced seems to us to be convincing enough as it
-stands. Could we have taken a historical survey of the μυστήριον τῆς
-ανομίας in the two hemispheres from the “apostasy” up to the present
-time, but especially during the last fifteen years, it would have
-acquired the force of a logical demonstration. The limits to which we
-are necessarily restrained in a monthly periodical put this completely
-out of our power. Whoever he may be who has intelligently appreciated
-the political events of the latter period will be able to supply the
-deficiency for himself. Merely hinting, therefore, at the impossibility
-of getting anti-Freemason appreciations of contemporary events before
-the public--well known to all whose position has invited them to that
-duty--as an illustration of the plan of action laid down in the second
-clause of the above summary; at the recent unconcealed advocacy of the
-“craft” by the New York _Herald_, and the more cautious conversion of
-the London Times,[41] of that in the third; at the ribaldry of the press
-under Freemason influence directed against the bishops, clergy, and
-prominent laymen, as well as against the Pope; the nicknames they are
-for ever coining, such as “clericals,” “ultramontanes,” “retrogrades,”
-“reactionists”; their blasphemous travesties of the solemnities of
-religion in theatres and places of public resort, and so on, of that
-in the fourth and fifth; at the world-wide effort to induce states to
-exclude religious influences from the education of youth, of that of
-the sixth; at Victor Emanuel, the Prince of Wales, etc., of that of the
-seventh; at the assassination of Count Rossi at the beginning of the
-present Pope’s reign, the quite recent assassination of the President of
-Ecuador, the repeated attempts at assassination of Napoleon III., the
-deposition of so many sovereigns, even of the Pope himself--so far as
-it was in their power to depose him--of that of the eighth; and at the
-whole area of Europe strewn with the wreck of revolution, of that of the
-ninth; we pass on to the last two marks of Antichrist with which we brand
-the Freemason confraternity--_Qui solvit Jesum_ (Who abolishes Christ)
-and _Qui adversatur et extollitur supra omne quod dicitur Deus, aut quod
-colitur, ita ut in templo Dei sedeat ostendens se tanquam sit Deus_ (Who
-opposes himself to, and raises himself above, all that is called God, or
-is worshipped, so that he may sit in the temple of God, making himself
-out to be, as it were, God).
-
-Barruel, who was completely versed in Freemasonry, and who had been
-himself a Mason, states (p. 222) that “the grade of Kadosch is the soul
-of Freemasonry, and the final object of its plots is the reintroduction
-of absolute liberty and equality through the destruction of all royalty
-and the abrogation of all religious worship.” And he backs this statement
-by a tragic incident in the history of a friend of his, who, because he
-was a Rosicrucian, fancied himself to be “in possession of the entire
-secret of Freemasonry.” It is too long to admit of our quoting it.
-The reader anxious for information we refer to _The Secret Warfare of
-Freemasonry_ (pp. 142-144).
-
-_Le Libertaire_, a New York paper, in the interests of Freemasonry, about
-the year 1858 had the following: “As far as religion is concerned, the
-_Libertaire_ has none at all; he protests against every creed; he is an
-atheist and materialist, openly denying the existence of God and of the
-soul.”
-
-In 1793 belief in God was a crime prohibited in France under pain of
-death.
-
-Those of our readers who have some acquaintance with modern philosophy
-we need here only remind of the _natura naturans_ and _natura naturata_
-of Spinoza, born a Jew, but expelled from the synagogue for his advocacy
-of these principles of Freemasonry: “The desire to find truth is a noble
-impulse, the search after it a sacred avocation; and ample field for this
-is offered by both the mysterious rites peculiar to the craft and those
-of the Goddess Isis, adored in our temples as the wisest and fairest of
-deities.”--_Vienna Freemason’s Journal_ (3d year, No. 4, p. 78 et seq.)
-
-In the _Rappel_, a French organ of Freemasonry, was the following passage
-a few weeks ago: “God is nothing but a creation of the human mind. In a
-word, God is the ideal. If I am accused of being an atheist, I should
-reply I prefer to be an atheist, and have of God an idea worthy of him,
-to being a spiritualist and make of God a being impossible and absurd.”
-
-In short, the craft is so far advanced in its course of triumph as to
-have at length succeeded in familiarizing the public ear with the denial
-of the existence of a God; so that it is now admitted as one amongst the
-“open questions” of philosophy.
-
-Our illustration of the crowning indications of the satanic mark of
-Antichrist afforded by the Freemasons--the sitting in the temple of God,
-so as to make himself out to be, as it were, God--will be short but
-decisive.
-
-The well-known passage in the last work of the late Dr. Strauss, to the
-effect that any worship paid to a supposed divine being is an outrage on
-_the dignity of human nature_, goes far enough, we should have thought,
-in this direction; but they go beyond even this.
-
-A Dutch Mason, N. J. Mouthan, in a work entitled _Naa een werknur
-in’t Middenvertrek Losse Bladzijde; Zaarboekje voor Nederlandsche
-Vrijmetselaren_ (5872, p. 187 et seq.), says: “The spirit which animates
-us is an eternal spirit; it knows no division of time or individual
-existence. A sacred unity pervades the wide firmament of heaven; it is
-our one calling, our one duty, our one God. Yes, we are God! We ourselves
-are God!”
-
-In the Freemasons’ periodical “for circulation amongst the brethren”
-(Altenberg, 1823, vol. i., No. 1) is the following: “The idea of religion
-indirectly includes all men as men; but in order to comprehend this
-aright, a certain degree of education is necessary, and unfortunately
-the overweening egoism of the educated classes prevents their taking
-in so sublime a conception of mankind. For this reason our temples
-consecrated to the _worship of humanity_ can as yet be opened only to a
-few.[42] We should, indeed, expose ourselves to a charge of idolatry,
-were we to attempt to personify the moral idea of humanity in the way
-in which divinity is usually personified.… On this account, therefore,
-it is advisable not to reveal the cultus of humanity to the eyes of the
-uninitiated, until at length the time shall come when, from east to west,
-this lofty conception of humanity shall find a place in every breast,
-this worship shall alone prevail, and all mankind shall be gathered into
-one fold and one family.”
-
-The principles of this united family, “seated in the temple of God,”
-the Masonic philosopher Helvetius expounds to us; from whom we learn
-that “whatever is beneficial to all in general may be called virtue;
-what is prejudicial, vice and sin. Here the voice of interest has
-alone to speak.… Passions are only the intensified expression of
-self-interest in the individual; witness the Dutch people, who, when
-hatred and revenge urged them to action, achieved great triumphs, and
-made their country a powerful and glorious name. And as sensual love is
-universally acknowledged to afford happiness, purity must be condemned
-as pernicious, the marriage bond done away with, and children declared
-to be the property of the state.”[43] The father of such a “one fold and
-one family” no one not himself signed with the “mark of the beast” could
-hesitate to point out. The consummation above anticipated we are bid to
-expect. Nor is it now far off. They who are not “deceived” have, however,
-the consoling assurance that _our_ Lord will “slay him with the spirit of
-his mouth, and destroy him with the illumination of his coming.”
-
-
-SIR THOMAS MORE.
-
-_A HISTORICAL ROMANCE._
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.
-
-II.
-
-“You understand, M. de Soria,” said Wolsey to one of his secretaries, in
-whom he placed the greatest confidence. “As soon as you see him, present
-yourself before him, give the usual password, and then conduct him
-through the subterranean passage that leads to the banks of the Thames.
-Bring him here by the secret stairway. He will be dressed in a cloak and
-suit of brown clothes, wearing a black felt hat tied round with a red
-ribbon.”
-
-“My lord, you may feel perfectly satisfied,” replied the secretary with a
-self-sufficient air, “that all your orders will be punctually executed.
-But he cannot possibly arrive for an hour yet; I will vouch for that, my
-lord.”
-
-“Go, however, sir,” replied the minister, impatiently; “I fear being
-taken by surprise. Have less confidence in your own calculations, sir,
-and be more prompt in your actions.” And saying this he made a sign for
-him to go at once.
-
-The door had scarcely closed on Soria, when the cardinal, who sat writing
-in silence, heard in the court of the chancellor’s palace an unusual
-noise. For some time he continued his work; but the tumult increasing,
-and hearing loud bursts of laughter, he arose, opened the window and went
-out on a high balcony, whence he had a view of all that was passing in
-the principal court.
-
-There a crowd of servants had assembled, and formed a circle around an
-old woman who was apparently the object of their ridicule. Her large felt
-hat, around which was tied a band of red ribbon, had fallen to the ground
-leaving uncovered, not the head of an old woman, as they had supposed,
-but one thickly covered with short hair, black and curling.
-
-On seeing this head-dress the crowd redoubled their cries, and one of
-them advancing suddenly, raised the mask concealing the features. What
-was their surprise to find under that disguise a great rubicund face,
-the nose and cheeks of which were reddened with the glow that wine
-and strong drink alone produce, and giving sufficient evidence of the
-sex to which it belonged. The man, seeing he was discovered, defended
-himself with vigor, and, dealing sharp blows with his feet and hands,
-endeavored to escape from his tormentors; but he was unable to resist
-their superior numbers. They threw themselves upon him, tearing off his
-brown cloak, and one of his blue cotton petticoats. The wretched creature
-cried out vociferously, loudly threatening them with the indignation of
-the cardinal; but the valets heard nothing, vain were all his efforts
-to escape them. Nevertheless, being exceedingly robust, he at length
-succeeded in overthrowing two of his antagonists, and then, dashing
-across the courtyard, he sprang quickly into the second court, where,
-finding a ladder placed at the window of a granary, he clambered up with
-all the dexterity of a frightened cat, and hid himself under a quantity
-of straw which had been stored there. In the meantime, the cardinal had
-recognized from his elevated position on the balcony the red ribbon that
-announced the messenger for whom he awaited with so much anxiety. Greatly
-enraged at the scene before him, and forgetting his dignity, he hurried
-from the balcony, rushing through the apartments that led from his own
-room (in which were seated the numerous secretaries of state, engaged
-in the work of the government). Without addressing a word to them, he
-descended the stairs so rapidly that in another instant he stood in the
-midst of his servants, who were stupefied at finding themselves in the
-presence of their master, all out of breath, bareheaded, and almost
-suffocated with indignation. He commanded them in the most emphatic terms
-to get out of his sight, which they did without waiting for a repetition
-of the order. From every direction the pages and secretaries had
-assembled, among them being M. de Soria, who was in great trepidation,
-fearing some accident had happened to the individual whom he had been
-instructed to introduce with such great secrecy into the palace. His
-fears were more than realized on seeing the cardinal, who cast on him
-a glance of intense anger, and in a loud voice exclaimed: “Go, sir, to
-the assistance of this unfortunate man who is being subjected to such
-outrages in my own house. Not a few of those who have attempted to drive
-him off shall themselves be sent away!” Then the cardinal, giving an
-authoritative signal, those around him understood that their presence was
-no longer desired, and immediately ascended the stairs and returned to
-their work.
-
-Wolsey himself quickly followed them; and M. de Soria, greatly confused,
-in a short time appeared and ushered into the minister’s cabinet the
-messenger, who was still suffering from the effects of the contest in
-which he had been compelled to engage.
-
-“Your letters! your letters!” said Wolsey eagerly, as soon as they were
-alone. “All is right, Wilson. I am satisfied. I see that you are no
-coward, and all that you have just now suffered will be turned to your
-advantage. Nevertheless, it is quite fortunate that I came to your rescue
-when I did, for I really do not know what those knaves might have done to
-you.”
-
-“They would have thrown me into the water, I believe, like a dog,” said
-Wilson, laughing. “Oh! that was nothing though. I have been through worse
-than that in my life. All I was afraid of was, that they might discover
-the package of letters and the money.”
-
-As he said this, the courier proceeded to unfasten the buckles of an
-undervest, made of chamois leather, that he wore closely strapped around
-his body. After he had taken off the vest he unfastened a number of bands
-of woollen cloth which were crossed on his breast. In each one of these
-bands was folded a great number of letters, of different forms and sizes.
-Then he unstrapped from his waist and laid on the table a belt that
-contained quite a large sum of money in gold coin, that Francis I. had
-sent to the minister. The avarice of Wolsey was so well understood by
-the different princes and sovereigns of Europe that they were accustomed
-to send him valuable presents, or to confer on him rich annuities,
-whenever they wished to gain him over to their interests. Wolsey had for
-a long time been engaged in a correspondence with France. He carried
-it on with the utmost secrecy, for he well understood if discovered by
-Henry he would never be pardoned. His apprehensions were still greater,
-now that he was endeavoring to direct the influence of his political
-schemes, and that of the paid agents whom he had at the different courts
-of Europe, towards bringing about a reconciliation between the Emperor
-Charles V. and the King of France; hoping by such an alliance to prevent
-the marriage of the king with Anne Boleyn, and thus to destroy the hopes
-of that ambitious family. He saw with intense satisfaction his intrigues
-succeeding far beyond his most sanguine expectations.
-
-Francis I. anxiously entreated him to use his influence with the King of
-England, in order to dispose him favorably toward the treaty of peace
-which he was determined to make with Charles V. “I assure you,” he wrote,
-“that I have so great a desire to see my children, held so long now as
-hostages, that I would without hesitation willingly give the half of my
-kingdom to ensure that happiness. If you will aid me in removing the
-obstacles that Henry may interpose to the accomplishment of this purpose,
-you may count on my gratitude. The place of meeting is already arranged;
-we have chosen the city of Cambrai; and I have felt great pleasure in the
-assurance that you prefer, above all other places, that the conference
-should be held in that city.” Charmed with his success, the cardinal sent
-immediately in quest of Cromwell, whom he found every day becoming more
-and more indispensable to him, and to whom he wished to communicate the
-happiness he experienced in receiving this joyful intelligence; but, at
-the same time, closely concealing the manner in which he had obtained the
-information.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-On a terrace of Windsor Castle a tent had been erected of heavy Persian
-cloth interwoven with silk and gold. Voluminous curtains of royal purple,
-artistically looped on each side with heavy silk cords, descended in
-innumerable folds of most graceful drapery. Rare flowers embalmed the
-air in every direction with exquisite perfumes, which penetrated into an
-apartment of the royal palace, through the open windows of which were
-seen the richness and elegance of the interior.
-
-In this apartment were seated three persons apparently engaged in an
-animated conversation.
-
-“So there is yet another difficulty!” cried a young girl, a charming and
-beautiful blonde, who seemed at this moment in an extremely impatient and
-excited mood. “But what say you?” she added presently, addressing herself
-with vivacity to a gentleman seated immediately in front of her; “speak
-now, Sir Cromwell; say, what would you do in this desperate situation? Is
-there no way in which we can prevent this treaty from being concluded?”
-
-“Well truly, madam,” he replied, “it will be useless to attempt it. The
-Duchess of Angoulême has at this moment, perhaps, already arrived at
-Cambrai, for the purpose of signing the treaty; and we cannot reasonably
-hope that the Archduchess Margaret, who accompanies her, will not agree
-with her on every point, since the preliminaries have already been
-secretly concluded between the Emperor and the King of France.”
-
-“Well, my dear Cromwell,” she replied, in a familiar and angry tone,
-“what shall we do then?”
-
-“If I have any counsel to give you, madam,” answered Cromwell, with an
-air of importance, “it is to begin by preventing the king from consenting
-to the departure of Cardinal Wolsey; because his greatest desire now
-is to be sent as envoy to the congress at Cambrai, and you may be well
-assured, if he wishes to go there, it is certainly not with the intention
-of being useful to you, but, on the contrary, to injure you.”
-
-“Do you think so?” replied Lady Anne. “Then I shall most certainly
-endeavor to prevent him from making his appearance there. But has he told
-you nothing about the letter I wrote him the other day?”
-
-“Excuse me, madam,” replied Cromwell, “he has shown me the letter; in
-fact, he conceals nothing from me.”
-
-“Well! and did it not give him pleasure? It seemed to me it ought to
-please him, for I made protestations of friendship sufficient to reassure
-him, and remove all apprehensions he may have felt that I would injure
-him in the estimation of the king.”
-
-“He has said nothing to me on the subject,” replied Cromwell, “but I
-remarked that he read the letter over several times, and when he handed
-it to me it was with a very ominous shake of the head. Understanding so
-well his every gesture and thought, I comprehended perfectly he was but
-little convinced of what you had written, and that he has no confidence
-in it. Moreover, madam, it is necessary that you should know that Wolsey
-has been most active in his endeavors to forward the divorce so long as
-he believed the king would espouse a princess of the house of France; but
-since he knows it is _you_ he has chosen, his mind is entirely changed,
-and he tries in every possible manner to retard the decision and render
-success impossible.”
-
-“It is clear as day, my dear sister!” exclaimed Lord Rochford, earnestly
-interrupting Cromwell. “You know nothing about the affairs you are
-trying to manage; therefore you will never be able to rid yourself of
-this imperious minister. I have already told you that all your efforts
-to flatter or appease him will be in vain. He believes you fear him, and
-he likes you no better on that account. What Cromwell says is but too
-true, and is verified by the fact that nothing advances in this affair.
-Every day some new formalities are introduced, or advantages claimed,
-or they wait for new instructions and powers. They tell us constantly
-that Campeggio is inflexible; that nothing will induce him to deviate
-from his instructions and the usages of the court of Rome. But whom
-has he chosen--with whom has he conferred? Is it not Wolsey? And he
-has certainly prevented us from obtaining anything but what he himself
-designed to accomplish.”
-
-“You are right, brother!” cried Anne Boleyn, with a sudden gesture of
-displeasure. “It is necessary to have this haughty and jealous minister
-removed. Henceforth all my efforts shall be directed to this end. It may,
-perhaps, be less difficult than we suppose. The king has been violently
-opposed to this treaty, which Wolsey has so earnestly labored to bring
-about--or at least the king suspects him of it--and he told me yesterday
-that it was vain for the king of France to address him as ‘his good
-brother and perpetual ally,’ for he regarded as enemies all who presumed
-to oppose his will. ‘Because,’ he added, ‘I understand very well,
-beforehand, what their terms will be. Once become the ally of Charles V.,
-Francis will use all his efforts to prevent the repudiation of his aunt;
-but nothing under heaven shall divert me from my purpose. I will resist
-all the counsels he may give me!’”
-
-“He is much disappointed,” said Lord Rochford, “that the Pope should have
-been raised, as it were, from the dead. His death would have greatly
-lessened these difficulties; for he holds firmly to his opinions. I am
-much deceived, or the commission of legates will pass all their time, and
-a very long time too, without coming to any decision.”
-
-As Lord Rochford made this remark, his wife, the sister-in-law of Anne
-Boleyn, entered the apartment, accompanied by the young wife of Lord
-Dacre. Now, as Lady Rochford belonged entirely to the queen’s adherents,
-and Lady Anne was very much in fear of her, the tone of conversation was
-immediately changed, becoming at once general and indifferent.
-
-“The Bishop of Rochester has returned to London,” carelessly remarked
-Anne Boleyn, as she stooped to pick up a little embroidered glove.
-
-“Yes, madam,” replied Cromwell. “I have seen him, and I find him looking
-quite old and feeble.”
-
-“Ah! I am truly sorry to hear it,” replied Lady Anne; “the king is very
-much attached to him. I have often heard him say he regarded him as the
-most learned and remarkable man in England, and that he congratulated
-himself on possessing in his kingdom a prelate so wise, virtuous, and
-accomplished.”
-
-“What would you wish, madam?” replied Cromwell, who never could suffer
-any one to be eulogized in his presence; “all these old men should give
-place to us--it is but just; they have had their time.”
-
-“Ah! Sir Cromwell,” replied Lady Boleyn, smiling, “you have no desire,
-I am sure, to be made bishop; therefore, the place he will leave vacant
-will not be the one for you.”
-
-“You have decided that question very hastily, madam. Who knows? I may one
-day, perhaps, be a curate. It has been predicted of me.”
-
-“Oh! that would indeed be a very strange sight,” she replied, laughing
-aloud. “You certainly have neither the turn nor the taste for the office.
-How would you ever manage to leave off the habit of frequenting our
-drawing-rooms? Truly we could not afford to lose you, and would certainly
-get up a general revolt, opposing your ordination, rather than be
-deprived of your invaluable society.”
-
-“You are very kind, madam,” said Cromwell; “but I should perhaps not
-be so ridiculous as you imagine. I should wear a grave and severe
-countenance and an air of the greatest austerity.”
-
-“Oh! I understand you now,” she replied; “you would not be converted;
-you would only become a hypocrite!”
-
-“I have a horror of hypocrites!” said Cromwell scornfully.
-
-“I wonder what you are, then?” thought Lady Rochford.
-
-“And I also,” replied Lady Anne. “I have a perfect detestation of
-hypocrites; it is better to be bad out and out!”
-
-“Is it true there has been a riot in the city?” asked Lady Rochford.
-
-“Yes, madam,” replied Cromwell; “but it was suppressed on the spot. It
-was only a hundred wool-spinners, carders, and drapers, who declared they
-were no longer able to live since the market of the Netherlands has been
-closed, and that they would soon starve if their old communications were
-not re-established. The most mutinous were arrested, the others were
-frightened and quickly dispersed.”
-
-“Oh!” said Lord Rochford, “there is nothing to fear from such a rabble
-as that; they are too much afraid of their necks. Let them clamor, and
-let us give ourselves no uneasiness on the subject. I met Sir Thomas More
-this morning going to the king with a petition which they had addressed
-to him yesterday.”
-
-“Why was he charged with the commission?” asked young Lady Dacre.
-
-“In virtue of his office as sheriff of the city,” replied Cromwell.
-
-“He constitutes, then, part of our city council?” she replied. “He is a
-man I have the greatest desire to know; they say such marvellous things
-of him, and I find his poetry full of charming and noble thoughts.”
-
-“I see,” replied Cromwell, “you have not read the spirited satire just
-written by Germain de Brie? It points out the perfectly prodigious
-faults of More’s productions. It is certainly an _anti-Morus_!”
-
-“I am inclined to think your opinion is prompted by a spirit of jealousy,
-Sir Cromwell,” answered Lady Rochford, sharply. “Read, madam,” she
-continued, addressing young Lady Sophia Dacre, “his _History of Richard
-III._; I suppose Sir Cromwell will, at least, accord some merit to that
-work?”
-
-“Entirely too light, and superficial indeed, madam,” said Cromwell;
-“the author has confined himself wholly to a recital of the crimes
-which conducted the prince to the throne. The style of that history is
-very negligent, but, at the same time, very far above that of his other
-works, and particularly of his _Utopia_, which is a work so extravagant,
-a political system so impracticable, that I regard the book simply as
-a wonderful fable, agreeable enough to listen to, but at which one is
-obliged to laugh afterwards when thinking of the absurdities it contains.”
-
-“Your judgment is as invidious as it is false!” exclaimed Lady Rochford,
-who always expressed her opinions bluntly, and without dissimulation. “If
-it is true,” she continued, “that this philosophical dream can never be
-realized, yet it is nevertheless impossible not to admire the wise and
-virtuous maxims it contains. Above all others there is one I have found
-so just, and so beautifully conceived, I could wish every young girl
-capable of teaching it to her future husband. ‘How can it be supposed,’
-says the author, ‘that any man of honor and refinement could resolve
-to abandon a virtuous woman, who had been the companion of his bosom,
-and in whose society he had passed so many days of happiness; only
-because time, at whose touch all things fade, had laid his destroying
-hand upon the lovely features of that gentle wife, once so cherished and
-adored? Because age, which has been the first and most incurable of all
-the infirmities she has been compelled to drag after her, had forcibly
-despoiled her of the charming freshness of her youth? Has that husband
-not enjoyed the flower of her beauty and garnered in the most beautiful
-days of her life, and will he forsake his wife now because she has become
-feeble, delicate, and suffering? Shall he become inconstant and perjured
-at the very moment when her sad condition demands of him a thousand
-sacrifices, and claims a return to the faithful devotion and vows of
-his early youth? Ah! into such a depth of unworthiness and degradation
-we will not presume it possible for any man to descend! It was thus the
-people of the Utopian Isle reasoned, declaring it would be the height of
-injustice and barbarity to abandon one whom we had loved and cherished,
-and who had been so devoted to us, at the moment when suffering and
-affliction demanded of us renewed sympathy and a generous increase of
-our tenderest care and consolations!’[44] And now, my dear sister,” she
-added, fixing her eyes steadfastly on Lady Boleyn, “what do you think
-of that passage? Are you not forcibly struck by the truth and justice
-of the sentiment? Let me advise you when you marry to be well satisfied
-beforehand that your husband entertains the same opinions.”
-
-As she heard these last words the beautiful face of Anne Boleyn became
-suddenly suffused with a deep crimson, and for some moments not a word
-was uttered by any one around her. They understood perfectly well that
-Lady Rochford’s remarks were intended to condemn in the most pointed
-manner the king’s conduct towards the queen, whose failing health was
-entirely attributable to the mortification and suffering she endured on
-account of her husband’s ingratitude and ill-treatment.
-
-In the meantime, the silence becoming every moment more and more
-embarrassing, Anne Boleyn, forcibly assuming an air of gayety, declared
-her sister was disposed to look very far into the future; “but,” she
-added, “happily, my dear sister, neither you nor I are in a condition to
-demand all those tender cares due to age and infirmity.”
-
-“Come, ladies, let us go,” said Cromwell in a jesting tone, hoping to
-render himself agreeable to Lady Anne by relieving the embarrassment the
-conversation had caused her. “I am unable to express my admiration for
-Lady Rochford. She understands too well the practice of the Utopian laws
-not to wish for the position of Dean of the Doctors of the University of
-Oxford.”
-
-“You are very complimentary and jocose, sir,” replied Lady Rochford;
-“and if you wish it, I will introduce you to one who will be personally
-necessary if you should ever aspire to fill a position in that kingdom.
-You must know, however, that their wise law-giver, Utopia, while he
-accorded to each one liberty of conscience, confined that liberty within
-legitimate and righteous bounds, in order to prevent the promulgation
-of the pernicious doctrines of pretended philosophers, who endeavor
-to debase the dignity of our exalted human nature; he also severely
-condemned every opinion tending to degenerate into pure materialism,
-or, what is more deplorable still, veritable atheism. The Utopians were
-taught to believe in the reality of a future state, and in future rewards
-and punishments. They detested and denounced all who presumed to deny
-these truths, and, far from admitting them to the rank of citizens, they
-refused even to class among men those who debased themselves to the
-abject condition of vile animals. ‘What,’ they asked, ‘can be done with
-a creature devoid of principle and without faith, whose only restraint
-is fear of punishment, who without that fear would violate every law
-and trample under foot those wise rules and regulations which alone
-constitute the bulwark of social order and happiness? What confidence
-can be reposed in an individual purely sensual, living without morals
-and without hope, recognizing no obligation but to himself alone; who
-limits his happiness to the present moment; whose God is his body; whose
-law, his own pleasures and passions, in the gratification of which he
-is at all times ready to proceed to the extremity of crime, provided he
-can find means of escaping the vigilant eye of justice, and be a villain
-with impunity? Such infamous characters are of course excluded from all
-participation in municipal affairs, and all positions of honor and public
-trust; they are veritable automatons, abandoned to the “error of their
-ways,” wretched, wandering “cumberers of the earth” on which they live!’
-You perceive, Sir Cromwell,” continued Lady Rochford ironically, “that
-my profound knowledge and retentive memory may prove very useful to you,
-should you ever arrive at the Utopian Isle, for you must be convinced
-that your own opinions would meet with very little favor in that country.”
-
-Cromwell, humiliated to the last degree, vainly endeavored to reply
-with his usual audacity and spirit. Finding all efforts to recover his
-self-possession impossible, he stammered forth a few incoherent words,
-and hastily took his leave.
-
-The desire of winning the approbation of Anne Boleyn at the expense
-of her sister-in-law had caused him to commit a great blunder, and
-he received nothing in return to remove the caustic arrows from his
-humiliated and deeply wounded spirit. Extremely brilliant and animated in
-conversation, Lady Rochford was accustomed to “having the laugh entirely
-on her own side,” which, knowing so very well, Anne had pretended not
-to understand the conversation, although the remarks had been so very
-piquant.
-
-As soon as he had retired Cromwell became the subject of conversation,
-and Anne timidly, and with no little hesitation, ventured to remonstrate
-with her sister-in-law, expressing her regret that the conversation
-should have been made so personal, as she liked Cromwell very much.
-
-“And that is just what you are wrong in doing,” replied Lady Rochford;
-“for he is a deceitful and dangerous man! He pretends to be extremely
-devoted to you, but it is only because he believes he can make you
-useful to himself; and he is full of avarice and ambition. This you
-will discover when it is perhaps too late, and I advise you to reflect
-seriously on the subject. It is so cruel to be mistaken in the choice of
-a friend that, truly, the surer and better way would seem to be, to form
-no friendships at all! There are so few, so very few, whose affections
-are pure and disinterested, that they scarcely ever withstand the ordeal
-of misfortune, or the loss of those extraneous advantages with which they
-found us surrounded.”
-
-“You speak like a book, my dear sister,” cried Lady Boleyn, laughing
-aloud; “just like a book that has been sent me from France, with such
-beautiful silver clasps.”
-
-Saying this, she ran to fetch the book, which she had opened that evening
-in the middle, not having sufficient curiosity to examine the title or
-inquire the name of the author of the volume. She opened it naturally
-at the same place, and read what follows, which was, as far as could be
-discovered, the fragment of a letter:
-
-“You ask me for the definition of a friend! In reply, I am compelled to
-declare that the term has become so vague and so obscure, it has been
-used in so many senses, and applied to so many persons, I shall first
-be obliged to give you a description of what is called a friend in
-the world--a title equivalent, in my estimation, to the most complete
-indifference, intermingled at the same time with no insignificant degree
-of envy and jealousy. For instance, I hear M. de Clèves speaking of his
-friend M. Joyeuse, and he remarks simply: ‘I know more about him than
-anybody else; I have been his most intimate friend for a great many
-years; he is meanly avaricious--I have reproached him for it a hundred
-times.’ A little further on, and I hear the great Prof. de Chaumont
-exclaim, ‘Valentino d’Alsinois is a most charming woman; everybody is
-devoted to her. But this popularity cannot last long--she is full of
-vanity; intolerably conceited and silly; it really amuses me!’ I go
-on still further, and meet a friend who takes me enthusiastically by
-both hands: ‘Oh! I expected a visit from you yesterday, and was quite
-in despair that you did not come! You know how delighted I always am to
-see you, and how highly I appreciate your visits!’ But I happen to have
-very keen eyes, and an ear extremely acute and delicate; and I distinctly
-heard her whisper to her friend as I approached them, ‘How fortunate
-I have been to escape this visit!’ What a change! I did not think it
-could last long. Well, with friends like these you will find the world
-crowded; they will obstruct, so to speak, every hour of your life; but it
-is rare indeed to encounter one who is true and loyal, a friend of the
-heart! A man truly virtuous: and sincerely religious is alone capable
-of comprehending and loving with pure and exalted friendship. A man of
-the world, on the contrary, accustomed to refer everything to himself,
-and consulting his own desires, becomes his own idol, and on the altar
-of _self_ offers up the only sincere worship of which his sordid soul is
-capable. And you will find he will always end by sacrificing to his own
-interests and passions the dearest interests of the being who confided in
-his friendship.
-
-“But with the sincere and earnest friend, love and gratitude are
-necessities of his nature; they constitute the unbroken chain which links
-all pure and reasonable friendship. He will assist his friend in all
-emergencies, for he has assumed in a manner even his responsibilities.
-He will never flatter; his counsel and advice, on the contrary, may be
-severely administered, because it is impossible to be happy without
-being virtuous, and the happiness of his friend is as dear to him as his
-own. He is ready to sacrifice his own interests to those of his friend,
-and none would dare attack his friend’s reputation in his presence;
-for they know he will defend and sustain him under all circumstances,
-sympathizing in his misfortunes, mingling tears with his tears--in a
-word, that it is another self whom they would presume to attack.
-
-“Death itself cannot dissolve the ties of such an affection--the soul,
-nearer to God, will continue to implore unceasingly for him the divine
-benediction. Oh! what joy, what happiness, to participate in a friendship
-so pure and exalted! He who can claim one such friend possesses a source
-of unbounded joy, and an inexhaustible consolation of which cruel
-adversity can never deprive him. If prosperity dazzles him with its
-dangerous splendor, if sorrow pierce him with her dart, if melancholy
-annihilate the life of his soul, then ever near him abides this friend,
-like a precious gift which God alone had power to bestow!”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Queen Catherine was walking in that portion of the vast grounds of
-Greenwich called the Queen’s Garden, which in happier days had often been
-her favorite retreat. Jets of limpid water (conveyed by means of pipes
-through the grounds) burst in every direction, and then fell in silvery
-showers among the lovely parterres of flowers, and covered the green
-velvet turf with a glittering veil of diamond-like spray. On the bosom of
-the murmuring waters floated myriads of leaves and flowers, flung with
-gentle hand by the wooing breeze, while thousands of gold fishes sported
-amid their crystal depths. The eye of the stranger was at once arrested
-and ravished by these marvels of nature and art, admiring the power and
-riches thus united; but the queen, with slow and painful steps, only
-sought this solitude for liberty there to indulge her tears in silence
-and oblivion.
-
-At no great distance Mary, full of joy, engaged in the sportive plays of
-the ladies of the queen. A golden insect or a brilliant butterfly was the
-only conquest to which she aspired. Gaily flitting from place to place,
-with step so light that her little feet scarcely impressed the delicate
-white sand covering the walks, her shouts of expectation and happiness
-were still powerless to rejoice the maternal heart.
-
-Catherine hastily withdrew from the scene. Fatigued and worn with
-suffering, she regarded with painful indifference all that surrounded her.
-
-In the meantime one of the gardeners advanced towards her and presented a
-bouquet.
-
-“Give it,” said she, “to one of my ladies.” And she turned away; but the
-gardener would not withdraw. “The queen does not recognize me,” he said
-at length in a low voice.
-
-“Ah! More,” exclaimed Catherine, greatly agitated. “Friend always
-faithful! But why expose yourself thus to serve me? Go on. I will
-follow!” And Catherine continued her walk until she reached a wide and
-extended avenue planted with venerable old lindens.
-
-“More,” she exclaimed, trembling with fear, yet still indulging a slight
-hope, “what have you to tell me? Speak, oh! speak quickly! I fear we may
-be observed; every step of mine is watched.”
-
-“Madam,” cried More, “a general peace has been concluded. The emperor’s
-difficulty with the Holy See is ended; he consents to surrender all the
-conquered territory originally belonging to the Ecclesiastical States.
-He binds himself to re-establish the dominion of the Medici in Florence;
-he abandons Sforza, leaving the Pope absolute master of the destiny
-of that prince and the sovereignty of the Milanese. Urged on by these
-concessions, the two princesses cut short their negotiations, and the
-treaty between France and Austria was concluded immediately. Your appeal
-and protestation have been despatched, and conveyed safely out of the
-kingdom. The messenger to whom they were entrusted was most rigorously
-searched, but the papers were so securely and adroitly concealed they
-were not discovered. They were carried to Antwerp by Peter Gilles, the
-‘friend of my heart,’ and from thence he despatched them to Rome. Hope,
-therefore hope; let us all hope!”
-
-“Ah! More,” replied the queen, who had listened with deep anxiety, “would
-that I were able to acknowledge your services as I appreciate them.
-Your friendship has been my only consolation. But I know not why it is,
-hope every day grows more and more faint in my heart. And so utterly
-insensible to joy have I become that it seems now I am incapable of aught
-but suffering, and that for me I fear greater sorrow is to be added.”
-
-“What do you say, madam?” replied More. “How sadly discouraging and
-painful to your servants to hear such reflections from you at the very
-moment when everything becomes favorable to your cause. The emperor will
-use his influence at the court of Rome, and Francis, between the two
-allies, will at least be forced to remain neutral.”
-
-“What were the conditions of the Treaty of Cambrai?” asked the queen.
-
-“They were very hard and exacting,” replied More. “The king of France
-entirely renounces his pretensions to Burgundy and Italy; thus nine years
-of war, the battle of Pavia, and a humiliating captivity, become of no
-avail. He sacrifices all, even his allies. Fearing to add to these harsh
-conditions the reconciliation of their interests, he abandoned to the
-mercy of the emperor, without the slightest stipulation, the Venetians,
-the Florentines, the Duke of Ferrara, and the Neapolitan barons who were
-attached to his arms.”
-
-“What a cruel error!” exclaimed the queen. “The prince has surely
-forgotten that even in political and state affairs, he who once
-sacrifices his friends cannot hope to recall them ever again to his
-support. It is very evident that he has not more prudent nor wise
-counsellors in his cabinet than skilful and accomplished generals in the
-field. Who now among them all can be compared with Pescaire, Anthony de
-Lêve, or the Prince of Orange?”
-
-“He might have had them, madam, if his own negligence and the wickedness
-of his courtiers had not alienated and driven them away. The Constable
-of Bourbon, Moran, and Doria would have powerfully counterbalanced the
-talents and influence of the chiefs you have just named, had the king of
-France engaged them in his own cause, instead of having to encounter them
-in the ranks of his enemies. His undaunted courage and personal valor,
-however, have alone caused the unequal and hopeless contest to be so long
-continued.”
-
-“And what does your king say of these affairs?” asked the queen,
-anxiously.
-
-“Alas! madam, he seems but little satisfied,” responded More, hesitating.
-
-“That is just as I suspected,” replied the queen. “Yes, it is because
-he foresees new obstacles to the unjust divorce he is prosecuting with
-so much ardor. O More!” she continued, bursting into tears, “what have
-I done to merit such cruel treatment? When I look back on the happy
-years of my youth, the years when he loved me so tenderly; when I recall
-the devoted and affectionate demonstrations of those days, and compare
-them with the actual rudeness and severity of the present, my bleeding
-heart is crushed by this sorrow! What have I done, More, to lose thus so
-suddenly and entirely my husband’s affection? It is true, the freshness
-of my early youth has faded, but was it to such ephemeral advantages
-alone I owed his devotion? Can a marriage be contracted by a man with
-the intention of dissolving it as soon as the personal attractions, the
-youthful charms, of his wife have faded? Oh! it seems to me it should be
-just the contrary, and that the hour of affliction should only call forth
-deeper proofs of affection. No, More, no! neither you nor any other of my
-friends will be able to accomplish anything for me. I feel that my life
-is rapidly ebbing away; that my spirit is crushed and broken for ever.
-For admitting, even, that Henry will not be successful in his attempt
-to sever the sacred bonds of our union, what happiness could I ever
-hope to enjoy near one to whom I had become an object of aversion--who
-would behold in me only an invincible obstacle to his will and the
-gratification of his criminal and disorderly passions?”
-
-“Alas! madam,” replied More, “we are all grieved at the contemplation of
-the great affliction by which you are overwhelmed, and how much do we
-wish the expression of our sympathy and devotion had power to relieve
-you. But remember the Princess of Wales--you will surely never cease to
-defend her rights.”
-
-“Never, never!” exclaimed the queen passionately. “That is the sole
-inducement I have once more to arouse myself--it sustains my courage
-and animates my resolution, when health and spirits both fail. O More!
-could you but know all that passes in the depths of my soul; could
-you but realize, for one moment, the anguish and agony, the deep
-interior humiliation, into which I am plunged! Oh! fatal and for ever
-unfortunate day when I left my country and the royal house of my father!
-Why was I not born in obscurity? Would not my life then have passed
-quietly and without regret? Far from the tumult of the world and the
-éclat of thrones, I should have been extremely happy. Now I am dying
-broken-hearted and unknown.”
-
-“Is it really yourself, madam,” answered More, “who thus gives way to
-such weakness? Truly, it is unworthy of your rank, and still more of
-your virtues. When adversity overtakes us, we should summon all our
-courage and resolution. You are our queen, and you should remember your
-daughter is born sovereign of this realm, beneath whose soil our buried
-forefathers sleep. No, no! Heaven will never permit the blood of such
-a race to be sullied by that of an ambitious and degraded woman. That
-noble race will triumph, be assured of it; and in that triumph the honor
-of our country will shine forth with renewed glory and splendor. I
-swear it by my head, and hope it in my heart!” As he said these words,
-footsteps were heard, and Catherine perceived the king coming towards
-them. She turned instantly pale, but, remaining calm in the dangerous
-crisis, made a sign for More to withdraw. The king immediately approached
-her, and, observing with heartless indifference the traces of recent
-tears on her cheek, exclaimed:
-
-“Always in tears!” Then, assuming a playful manner, he continued: “Come,
-Kate, you must confess that you are always singularly sad and depressed,
-and the walls of a convent would suit you much better than this beautiful
-garden. You have in your hand a fine bouquet; I see at least you still
-love flowers.”
-
-“I do indeed,” replied the queen, with a deep sigh.
-
-“Well,” said Henry, “I do not mean to reproach you, but it would be
-advisable not to hold those roses so close to your cheek; the contrast
-might be unfavorable--is it not so, my old Kate? Have you seen the
-falcons just sent me from Scotland? They are of a very rare species, and
-trained to perfection. I am going out now to try them.”
-
-“I wish your majesty a pleasant morning,” answered the queen.
-
-“Adieu, Kate,” he continued, proceeding on his way, and giving in the
-exuberance of his spirits a flourish with his trumpet. Very soon the
-notes of the hunting-horns announced his arrival in the outer courtyard.
-He found there assembled a crowd of lords and pages, followed by
-falconers, carrying the new birds on their wrists. These birds were
-fettered, and wore on their heads little leathern hoods, which were to
-be removed at the moment they mounted in the air in search of their
-accustomed prey.
-
-In a very short time the party rode off, and Catherine thoughtfully
-entered the palace, thinking it was a long time since the king had shown
-himself so indulgent and gracious towards her.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-“Are you well assured of the truth of these statements?” said the king,
-returning Cromwell a letter he had just read. “No! I will not believe
-it,” he cried, stamping his foot violently on the richly-tessellated
-floor of his cabinet. “I certainly hoped to have gained the legate over.”
-
-“But your majesty may no longer indulge in this illusion,” replied
-Cromwell, who stood before the king in an attitude the most humble and
-servile possible to assume. “You are furnished with incontrovertible
-proof; Campeggio, in order to escape your imperious commands, urges the
-Pope to evoke the trial to his own tribunal. Of this there is no doubt,
-for this copy of his letter I received from the hand of his confidential
-secretary.”
-
-“You are very adroit, sir,” replied the king, haughtily. “Later, I will
-consider the manner of rewarding you. But I declare to you your patron
-is on the brink of ruin. I shall never pardon him for permitting that
-protest and appeal of the queen to reach Rome.”
-
-“That was truly an unfortunate affair,” replied Cromwell; “but it was
-perhaps not the fault of my lord, Cardinal Wolsey.”
-
-“Whose fault was it then?” demanded Henry in the imperious tone he used
-to disconcert this spy whenever his reports displeased him.
-
-“The queen has friends,” replied Cromwell, whilst on his thin, colorless
-lips hovered a false and treacherous smile, worthy of the wicked instinct
-that prompted and directed all his suspicions, and made him foresee the
-surest plan of injuring those whom he envied or destroying those whose
-reputation he intended to attack.
-
-“And who are they?” demanded the king, his ill-humor increasing with the
-reflection. “Why do you not name them, sir?”
-
-“Well, for instance, Sir Thomas More, whom your Majesty loads with favors
-and distinctions, the Bishop of Rochester, the Duke of Norfolk, and the.…”
-
-“You will soon accuse my entire court, and each one of my servants in
-particular,” cried the king; “and in order still more to exasperate and
-astound me, you have taken particular pains to select and name those whom
-I most esteem, and who have always given me the sincerest proofs of their
-devoted affection. Go!” he suddenly cried in a furious tone; and he fell
-into one of those wild transports of rage that frequently attacked him
-when his will clashed against obstacles which he foresaw he could neither
-surmount nor destroy. He often passed entire days absorbed in these moods
-of violence, shut up in his own apartments, suffering none to speak to or
-approach him nor on any account to attempt to divert him.
-
-Abashed and alarmed, Cromwell hastily withdrew, stammering the most
-humble apologies, none of which, however, reached the ear of Henry
-VIII., who, on returning to his chamber, raving in a demoniacal manner,
-exclaimed:
-
-“Vile slaves! you shall be taught to know and to respect my power. I will
-make you sorely repent the hour you have dared to oppose me!”
-
-Just as he had uttered this threatening exclamation, Cardinal Wolsey
-appeared. He could not have chosen a more inauspicious moment. The
-instant he beheld him, the king, glaring on him with flashing eyes, cried
-out:
-
-“Traitor! what has brought you here? Do you know the ambassadors of
-Charles and Ferdinand, fortified by the queen’s appeal and protest, have
-overthrown all I had accomplished at Rome with so much precaution and
-difficulty? Why have you not foreseen these contingencies, and known that
-the Pope would prove inflexible? Why have you not advised me against
-undertaking an almost impossible thing, which will sully the honor of my
-name and obscure for all time the glory of my reign.”
-
-“Stop, sire,” replied Wolsey; “I do not deserve these cruel reproaches.
-You can readily recall how earnestly I endeavored to dissuade you from
-your purpose, but all my efforts were vain.”
-
-“It is false!” cried the king, giving vent to his rage in the most
-shocking and violent expressions he could command, to inflict upon his
-minister. “And now,” he continued, “remember well, if you fail to extort
-from your legate such a decision as I require, you shall speedily be
-taught what it is to deride my commands.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The sun had scarcely risen above the horizon when already Cardinal
-Campeggio (whose age and infirmities had not changed the long habits of
-an austere and laborious life) was silently kneeling in the midst of the
-choir of the palace chapel.
-
-The velvet cushions of his _prie-dieu_ protected him from the cold marble
-of the sacred pavement, while the rays of the rising sun, descending in
-luminous jets through the arches of the antique windows, fell on the head
-of the venerable old man, giving him the appearance of being surrounded
-by a halo of celestial light. His eyes were cast down, and he seemed to
-be entirely absorbed in pious and profound meditation.
-
-Other thoughts, however, intruded on his agitated mind, and filled him
-with anxious apprehension. “The hour rapidly approaches,” he mentally
-exclaimed--“the hour when it will be essential to come to a decision. I
-have still hoped to receive a reply--it has not yet arrived. I alone am
-made responsible, and doubtless the wrath of the king will burst upon my
-head. His vengeance will be terrible. More than once already he has taken
-occasion to manifest it. What cruel incertitude! What dreadful suspense!
-Yet what shall be done? Speak! O my conscience!” he exclaimed, “let me
-listen, and be guided by thy voice alone!”
-
-“Despise the power of the king who demands of thee an injustice,”
-immediately replied that faithful monitor whose stern and inflexible
-voice will be summoned to testify against us at the last judgment.
-“Sayest thou, thou art afraid? Then thou hast forgotten that the last
-even of those gray hairs still remaining to thee cannot fall without the
-permission of him who created the universe. Know that the anger of man
-is but as a vain report--a sound that vanishes in space; and that God
-permits thee not to hesitate for one instant, O judge! when the cause of
-the feeble and the innocent claims all the strength of thy protection.”
-
-Irrevocably decided, Campeggio continued his prayer, and waited without
-further apprehension the decisive moment, so rapidly approaching.
-
-In the meantime, another cardinal, Wolsey, in great anguish of mind,
-contemplated with terror the approaching day when he would be compelled
-to decide the fate of the queen. Weary after passing a sleepless night,
-spent in reflecting on the punishment threatening him if the will of the
-king was not accomplished, he had scarcely closed his eyes when a troop
-of valets entered the chamber to assist at his toilet. They brought his
-richest vestments, with all the insignia of his elevated rank. Wolsey
-regarded them with a feeling of terror. And when they presented him the
-ivory rod which the high-chancellor is alone empowered to carry, he
-seized it with convulsive eagerness, grasping it in his hand, as though
-he feared they would tear it from him; and with that fear the reflection
-overshadowed his soul that yesterday he had made a last effort to
-ascertain and influence the decision of the legate, without being able to
-succeed!
-
-Followed by his pages and gentlemen, and still harassed by these
-misgivings, he arrived at Blackfriars, where the court awaited him. The
-assembly of cardinals arose deferentially as he entered, though all
-remarked with astonishment the pallor of his countenance and his extreme
-embarrassment of manner, so invariably composed and assured. A portion of
-this visible restraint was communicated to the assembly, on learning that
-the king himself had arrived, and was resolved to sit in the adjoining
-apartment, where he could see and hear the entire proceedings.
-
-Dr. Bell, his advocate, after a long preamble, began a discourse,
-and during its delivery hurried exclamations and hasty comments were
-constantly indulged in by the excited assembly, so different in their
-hopes, desires, and opinions.
-
-“O Rochester,” cried More, invested with the grand official robes of the
-king’s exchequer, “do you think this man will succeed with his arguments
-in carrying the crown by storm?”
-
-“No, no,” replied Rochester, “and especially as he wishes to place it
-upon such a head.”
-
-“But listen, listen!” exclaimed More, “he declares the brief of
-dispensation to have been a fraud.”
-
-“Ah! what notorious bad faith!” murmured the bishop.
-
-“What answer can they make to that?” said Viscount Rochford, in another
-part of the hall, addressing the lords belonging to Anne Boleyn’s party.
-“It is certainly encouraging; we cannot doubt of our success now.”
-
-But at length the arguments, principally dictated by Henry himself, were
-closed; his advocate demanding, in the most haughty and authoritative
-manner, that a decision should at once be rendered, and that it should
-be as favorable as it was prompt. The king during this time, in a state
-of great excitement, paced to and fro before the entrance of the hall,
-the door being left open by every one in passing, as if he were afraid
-to close it behind him. He surveyed from time to time, with a glance
-of stern, penetrating scrutiny, the assembly before him, each member
-of which tried to conceal his true sentiments--some because they were
-secretly attached to the queen, others through fear that the cause of
-Anne Boleyn might ultimately triumph. When the advocate had finished
-his discourse, each one sat in breathless suspense anxiously waiting
-the queen’s reply; but not recognizing the authority or legality of the
-tribunal, she had refused to accept counsel, and no one consequently
-appeared to defend her. Profound silence reigned throughout the assembly,
-and all eyes were turned toward Campeggio, who arose and stood ready to
-speak. The venerable old man, calm and dignified, in a mild but firm and
-decided tone began:
-
-“You ask, or rather you demand,” he said, “that we pronounce a decision
-which it would be impossible for us in justice to render.” Here, on
-seeing the king turn abruptly around and confront him, he paused, looking
-steadily at him. “Knowing that the defendant hath challenged this
-court, and refused to recognize in our persons loyal and disinterested
-judges, I have considered it my duty, in order to avoid error, to submit
-every part of the proceedings of this council to the tribunal of the
-Sovereign Pontiff; and we shall be compelled to await his decision before
-rendering judgment or proceeding further. For myself individually, I will
-furthermore affirm, that I am here to render justice--strict, entire, and
-impartial justice, and no earthly power can induce me to deviate from
-the course I have adopted or the resolutions I have taken; and I boldly
-declare that I am too old, too feeble, and too ill to desire the favor
-or fear the resentment of any living being.” Here he sat down, visibly
-agitated.
-
-Had a thunderbolt fallen in the midst of the assembly, the tumult and
-astonishment could not have been greater. Anger, joy, fear, hope--all
-hearts were agitated by the most contradictory emotions; while nothing
-was heard but the deep murmur of voices, the noise of unintelligible
-words, as they crossed and clashed in an endless diversity of tones.
-The Duke of Suffolk, brother-in-law of the king, cried out, beating his
-fists violently on the table before him, with the gross impetuosity of an
-upstart soldier, that the old adage had again been verified; “Never did
-a cardinal do any good in England.” And with flashing eyes and furious
-gestures he pointed to Cardinal Wolsey. The cardinal at once comprehended
-his danger, but found it impossible not to resent the insult. He arose,
-pale with anger, and with forced calmness replied that the duke, of
-all living men, had the least cause to depreciate cardinals. For,
-notwithstanding he had himself been a very insignificant cardinal, yet,
-if he had not held the office, the Duke of Suffolk would not this day
-actually carry his head on big shoulders. “And you would not now,” he
-added, “be here to exhibit the ostentatious disdain you have manifested
-toward those who have never given you cause of offence. If you were, my
-lord, an ambassador of the king to some foreign power, you would surely
-not venture to decide important questions without first consulting your
-sovereign. We also are commissioners, and we have no power to pronounce
-judgment, without first consulting those from whom we derive our
-authority; we can do neither more nor less than our commissions permit.
-Calm yourself, then, my lord, and no more address, in this insulting
-manner, your best friend. You very well know all I have done for you,
-and you must also acknowledge that on no occasion have I ever referred to
-your obligations before.”
-
-But the Duke of Suffolk heard nothing of the last words uttered by
-Wolsey. Exasperated beyond measure, he abruptly turned his back on the
-cardinal and went to join the king in the next apartment. He found the
-latter in the act of retiring, being no longer able to restrain his wrath
-within bounds; and as his courtiers entered and stood regarding him with
-a look of hesitation he went out, commanding them in a fierce tone and
-with an imperious gesture to follow him immediately.
-
-Meanwhile, in the council chamber the utmost confusion prevailed. “God be
-praised!” cried Sir Thomas More, who in the simplicity of his heart and
-the excess of his joy was incapable of dissimulation or concealment. “God
-be praised! Our queen is still queen; and may she ever triumph thus over
-all her enemies!”
-
-Ensconced in the deep embrasure of a window stood Cromwell, a silent
-observer of the scene; not permitting a word to escape him, but gathering
-up every sentence with keen avidity, and cherishing it in his envious
-and malicious memory. He found himself, nevertheless, in a precarious
-and embarrassing situation. Foreseeing the downfall and disgrace of
-Wolsey, he had sought to make friends by betraying his benefactor. But
-the king treated him with indignant scorn, Viscount Rochford with supreme
-contempt, and he strongly suspected he had prejudiced his sister, Anne
-Boleyn, also against him.
-
-Anxious and alarmed, he at once determined to begin weaving a new web of
-intrigue, and instantly cast about him to discover what hope remained, or
-what results the future might possibly bring forth from the discord and
-difficulties reigning in the present.
-
-When selfish, corrupt creatures like Cromwell find themselves surrounded
-by great and important events, they at once assume to become identified
-with the dearest interests of the community in which they live, without
-however in reality being in the slightest degree affected, unless through
-their own interests--seeking always themselves, and themselves alone.
-Thus this heartless man, this shameful leprosy of the social body that
-had nurtured him, regarding the whole world entirely with reference to
-his own selfish designs, coolly speculated upon his premeditated crimes,
-revolving in his mind a thousand projects of aggrandizement, which he
-ultimately succeeded in bringing to a culpable but thoroughly successful
-termination.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The night had already come, yet all were in a state of commotion in the
-household of the French ambassador, in consequence of William du Bellay,
-his brother, having at a late hour received a few hasty lines from the
-bishop, written in the midst of the assembly at Blackfriars, commanding
-him to hold himself in readiness to depart.
-
-The young envoy, at once obeying orders, assumed his travelling costume,
-and had scarcely more than attended to the last instructions of his
-brother when the latter made his appearance.
-
-“Well, brother,” he exclaimed on entering the chamber, “all is over.
-Are you ready to set out?” he continued, hurriedly surveying his
-brother’s travelling attire. “The king is furiously enraged--first
-against the legate, then against Wolsey. But Campeggio has displayed an
-extraordinary degree of firmness and courage. After he had refused to
-pronounce the decision, and just as the king was retiring, the expected
-courier arrived with instructions from Rome. The queen’s protestation
-has been received, and the Pope, dissolving the council, revokes the
-commissioners’ authority, and requires the case to be brought before his
-own tribunal. The adherents of Catherine, as you may suppose, are wild
-with delight--the people throng the streets, shouting ‘Long live the
-queen!’ Our gracious king, Francis I., will be in despair.”
-
-“Well,” replied William, “I am satisfied, for I am in favor of the
-queen. And now, between ourselves, my dear brother, laying all diplomacy
-aside--for we are alone, and these walls have no ears--I know as well as
-you that it matters not to our king whether the wife of Henry VIII. be
-named Anne or Catherine.
-
-“And yet, after all, it may be the name of this new Helen will become the
-signal for war,” replied the bishop. “You forget that in marrying Anne
-Boleyn Henry will be compelled to seek an alliance with France, in order
-to resist the opposition of the Emperor Charles V.; and as for ourselves,
-we have use for the five thousand crowns he has promised to assist us
-in paying the ransom of the children of France. This family quarrel
-can be arranged so entirely to our advantage that it would really be a
-misfortune should it come to a sudden termination. I hope, however, such
-may not be the result.”
-
-“You are right, brother,” said Du Bellay, laughing. “I see I have too
-much heart to make a skilful diplomatist. I have already let myself
-become ensnared, you perceive, and drawn over to the cause of this Queen
-Catherine. But it is nevertheless a veritable fact, while families
-are engaged in disputing among themselves, they generally leave their
-neighbors in peace. It would seem, however, the king must have become
-a madman or a fool, thus to ignore kindred, allies, fortune, and
-kingdom--all for this Lady Anne.”
-
-“Yes, much more than a madman,” replied his brother, phlegmatically;
-“after he has married her, he will be cured of his insanity. But
-come, now, let us leave Lady Anne and her affairs. You must know that
-immediately after the adjournment of the cardinals, the king sent for
-me. I found him terribly excited, walking rapidly up and down the great
-hall formerly used as a chapter-room by the monks. Wolsey alone was with
-him, standing near the abbot’s great arm-chair, and wearing an air of
-consternation. The instant he saw me approaching, he cried out, ‘Come,
-come, my lord, the king wishes to have your advice on the subject we are
-now discussing.’ And I at once perceived my presence was a great relief
-to him.
-
-“The king spoke immediately, while his eyes flashed fire. ‘M. du Bellay,’
-he exclaimed, ‘Campeggio shall be punished!--yes, punished! Parliament
-shall bring him to trial! I will never submit to defeat in this matter. I
-will show the Pope that he has underrated both my will and my power.’
-
-“‘Sire,’ I answered, ‘after mature reflection, it seems to me it would be
-a mistaken policy in your majesty to resort to such violent measures.
-Nothing has yet been decided, and the case is by no means hopeless;
-the wisest course would therefore be to restrain all manifestation of
-displeasure toward Campeggio. What advantage could you possibly gain by
-insulting or ill-treating an old man whom you have invited into your
-kingdom, or how could you then expect to obtain a favorable decision from
-the Holy See?’
-
-“Delighted to hear me express such opinions, Wolsey eagerly caught at
-my words, declaring he agreed with me entirely. He also advised that
-the doctors of the French and German universities should be consulted,
-opinions favorable to the divorce obtained from them, and afterwards this
-high authority brought to bear upon the decision of the court of Rome.
-
-“‘What do you think of that?’ demanded the king of me. ‘As for His
-Eminence Monseigneur Wolsey,’ he added, in a tone of cruel contempt,
-his counsels have already led me into so many difficulties, or proved
-so worthless, I shall not trouble him for any further advice.’ And he
-abruptly turned his back on the cardinal.
-
-“A tear rolled slowly down Wolsey’s hollow cheek, but he made no reply. I
-at once assured the king that I thought, on the contrary, the cardinal’s
-advice was most excellent, and doubted not our king, and his honored
-mother, Madame Louise, might be induced to use their influence in order
-to secure him the suffrages of the University of Paris. Whereupon he
-appeared very much pleased with me, and bowed me out in the most gracious
-manner imaginable.
-
-“Report all these things faithfully to your master; tell him I fear the
-downfall of Wolsey is inevitable; he is equally disliked by the queen’s
-adherents and those of Anne Boleyn, and I have every reason for believing
-he will never again be reinstated in the king’s favor. You will also say
-to him he need not be astonished that I so often send him despatches
-by express, as Cardinal Wolsey informs me confidentially that the Duke
-of Suffolk has his emissaries bribed to open all packages of letters
-sent by post, and that one addressed to me has been miscarried; which
-circumstance troubles me very much.”
-
-“I will also inform my master,” replied William, “that the Picardy routes
-are so badly managed, the gentlemen and couriers he sends are constantly
-detained and kept a considerable time on the journey. I have complained
-recently to the authorities themselves, who assure me that their salaries
-are not paid, and consequently they are unable to keep the routes in
-better condition.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The sun descended toward the horizon. Sir Thomas More, seated on a
-terrace of his mansion at Chelsea, sought temporary quiet and repose
-from the oppressive burdens of a life every hour of which was devoted to
-the service of his king and country. His young children formed a joyous
-group around him, their flaxen heads crowned with blades of wheat and
-wild flowers they had gathered in the fields, for it was the golden
-time of harvest. Margaret, assisted by William Roper, directed their
-games, and was now trying to teach them a Scotch dance, marking the
-wild, fantastical rhythm with the notes of her sweet, melodious voice.
-Sir Thomas himself had joined in their play, when suddenly the king
-made his appearance. He had many times already honored them with such
-visits since Sir Thomas became a member of the council, having apparently
-conceived a great affection for him, and every day seeming to become more
-and more pleased with his conversation.
-
-“I know not why it is,” he would often say, “but when I have been for
-any length of time in conversation with More I experience a singular
-tranquillity of soul, and indeed feel almost happy. His presence has the
-magical effect of lulling my cares to sleep and calming my anxieties.”
-
-On seeing the king, More immediately advanced with great deference to
-receive him, while the children at once left off their sports.
-
-“Why, what is this?” he exclaimed; “I did not come to interrupt your
-amusements, but on the contrary to enjoy them with you.” But the
-wild mirth and _abandon_ of the children had fled at the approach of
-royalty, and, in spite of these kind assurances, they withdrew in rapid
-succession, too glad to recover their liberty, and their father was thus
-left alone with the king.
-
-“Who is the young man I see here?” inquired the sovereign.
-
-“He is the affianced husband of my daughter, sire; his name is William
-Roper,” answered More.
-
-“What! is she affianced already?” said the king.
-
-“Yes, sire; the family of Roper has for many years been united to ours
-by the sincerest ties of friendship, and, strengthening these by ties of
-blood, we hope greatly to increase our mutual happiness.”
-
-“That is so,” replied the king. “And they will doubtless be happy.
-In your families you preserve liberty of choice, while we princes,
-born to thrones, sacrifice our interior happiness to those political
-combinations demanded by the interests of our subjects.”
-
-“But,” replied Sir Thomas--who understood at once the king’s intention
-was to introduce the subject of his divorce, a topic he especially
-wished to avoid--“I believe that happiness depends on ourselves, on our
-dispositions, and the manner in which we conduct our affairs, a great
-deal more than on circumstances, or the social position in which we
-chance to be born. There are some who, possessing every advantage in
-life, are still unable to enjoy it. We would suppose them to be perfectly
-happy, and they really should be so; but true happiness consists alone
-in tranquillity of soul, which is attained by always doing good to
-others, and suffering with patient submission the trials and afflictions
-with which life is inevitably beset. Such, it seems to me, is the
-circumscribed circle in which man is confined; it is well with him so
-long as he accommodates himself to its legitimate limits, but all is lost
-the moment he endeavors to venture beyond it.”
-
-“I am every day more entirely convinced that this figure of the circle is
-a painful reality,” replied the king, with ill-concealed impatience. “I
-have always hoped to find happiness in the pursuit of pleasure--in the
-gratification of every desire--and believed it might thus be attained,
-but never yet have I been able to grasp it.”
-
-“Which means, your majesty expected to pass through the world without
-trials--a thing utterly impossible,” added More, smiling.
-
-“It is that which makes me despair, my dear Thomas. Reflecting on the
-bitter disappointments I have experienced, I am often almost transported
-with rage. No, More, you can never understand me. You are always equally
-calm and joyous. Your desires are so happily directed that you can feel
-well assured of a peaceful, quiet future awaiting you.”
-
-“Your majesty is entirely mistaken,” replied More, “if you believe I
-have never entertained other desires than those I have been able to
-accomplish. The only secret I possess, in that respect, is, I compel my
-inclinations to obey _me_, instead of making my will subservient to them.
-Nevertheless, they oftentimes rebel and contend bitterly for supremacy,
-but then, it is only necessary to command silence, and not be disturbed
-by their cries and lamentations. Ultimately, they become like refractory
-children, who, constantly punished and severely beaten, at last are made
-to tremble at the very thought of the chastisement, and no longer dare to
-revolt.”
-
-“This explanation of your system of self-government is very ingenious,”
-replied the king; “and hearing you speak in this quiet manner one would
-be induced to believe it were the easiest thing imaginable to accomplish,
-rather than the most difficult. Ah!” he continued with a deep sigh, “I
-understand but too well _how_ difficult.”
-
-“It is true,” replied More with earnest simplicity, “and I would not deny
-that, far from being agreeable, it is often, on the contrary, exceedingly
-painful and difficult for a man to impose these violent restraints
-upon his inclinations. But if he who hesitates on all occasions in the
-practice of virtue to do this necessary violence to himself and remain
-faithful to the requirements of duty, would reflect but for a single
-instant, he will find that although at first he may escape suffering and
-privation by voluntarily abandoning himself to his passions, yet, later,
-he will inevitably be made to endure a far more bitter humiliation in the
-torturing reproaches of conscience; the shame he will suffer in the loss
-of self-respect and the respect of others; and, in the inevitable course
-of events, he will at last discover that his passions have carried him
-far beyond the power of self-control or reformation!”
-
-“Let us banish these reflections, my dear More,” exclaimed the king in a
-petulant tone, passing his hand across his forehead; “they distress me,
-and I prefer a change of subject.” Saying this he arose, and, putting his
-arm around Sir Thomas’ neck, they walked on together toward the extremity
-of the garden, which terminated in an extensive and beautiful terrace, at
-the foot of which flowed the waters of the Thames.
-
-The view was an extended one, and the king amused himself watching the
-rapid movements of the little boats, filled with fishermen, rowing in
-every direction, drawing in the nets, which had been spread to dry on the
-reeds covering the banks of the river. Quantities of water-lilies, blue
-flowers, floating on their large brilliant green leaves, intermingled
-with the dark bending heads of the reeds, presenting to the distant
-observer the appearance of a beautiful variegated carpet of flowers.
-“What a charming scene!” said the king, gazing at the prospect, and
-pointing to a boat just approaching the opposite side of the river to
-land a troop of young villagers, who with their bright steel sickles in
-hand were returning from the harvest fields.
-
-“And the graceful spire of your Chelsea belfry, gleaming in the distance
-through the light silvery clouds, completes this charming landscape,” he
-added.
-
-“Would it were possible to transport this view to the end of one of my
-drives in St. James’ Park,” continued the king.
-
-“Will it be very soon completed?” asked Sir Thomas, at a loss what to say
-to his royal visitor.
-
-“I hope so,” replied Henry languidly, “but these architects are so
-very slow. Before going to Grafton, I gave them numerous orders on the
-subject.”
-
-“Your majesty has been quite pleased with your journey, I believe,”
-replied Sir Thomas, instantly reflecting what he should say next.
-
-“I should have been extremely well pleased,” he answered, with a sudden
-impatience of manner, “had Wolsey not persisted so obstinately in
-following me. I have been much too indulgent,” he continued sharply,
-“infinitely too indulgent towards him, and am now well convinced of the
-mistake I have made in retaining the slightest affection for a man who
-has so miserably deceived me. What would you think, More,” he continued,
-his manner suddenly changing, “if I appointed you in his place as lord
-chancellor?” And, turning towards Sir Thomas, he gazed fixedly in his
-eyes, as if to read the inmost emotions of his soul.
-
-“What would I think?” answered More, calmly--then adding with a careless
-smile, “I should think your majesty had done a very wrong thing, and made
-a very bad choice.”
-
-“Well, I believe I could not possibly make a better,” said the king,
-emphasizing the last words. “But I have not come here to discuss business
-matters; rather, on the contrary, to get rid of them. Come, then,
-entertain me with something more agreeable.” But the words designedly
-(though with seeming unconcern) uttered by the king cast a sudden gloom
-over the spirit of Sir Thomas he vainly endeavored to dispel.
-
-“Sire, your majesty is greatly mistaken in entertaining such an idea,” he
-said, stammering and confused; for, with his sincere and truthful nature,
-More under all circumstances resolutely looked to the end of everything
-in which he suspected the least dissimulation.
-
-The king whirled round on his heel, pretending not to hear him. “This
-is a beautiful rose,” he said, stooping down, “a very beautiful
-variety--come from the seed, no doubt? Are you a gardener? I am very fond
-of flowers. Oh! my garden will be superb.”
-
-“Sire,” said More, still pursuing his subject.
-
-“I must have a cutting of that rose--do you hear me, More?” As he ran on
-in this manner, to prevent Sir Thomas from speaking, the silvery notes of
-a bell were heard, filling the air with a sweet and prolonged vibrating
-sound.
-
-“What bell is that?” asked the king.
-
-“The bell of our chapel, sire,” replied More, “summoning us to evening
-prayers, which we usually prefer saying all together. But to-day, your
-majesty having honored us with a visit, there will be no obligation to
-answer the call.”
-
-“By all means,” replied Henry. “Let me interfere with nothing. It is
-almost night: come. We will return, and I will join in your devotions.”
-
-Sir Thomas conducted him through the shrubbery towards the chapel, a
-venerable structure in the Anglo-Saxon style of architecture. A thick
-undergrowth of briers, brambles, and wild shrubbery was matted and
-interlaced around the foundation of the building; running vines clambered
-over the heavy arches of the antique windows, and fell back in waving
-garlands upon the climbing branches from which they had sprung. The
-walls, of rough unhewn stone, were thickly covered with moss and ivy,
-giving the little structure an appearance of such antiquity that the most
-scrupulous antiquarian would have unhesitatingly referred its foundation
-to the time of King Athelstan or his brother Edmund. The interior was
-adorned with extreme care and taste. A bronze lamp, suspended before
-the altar, illuminated a statue of the Holy Virgin placed above it. The
-children of Sir Thomas, with the servants of his household, were ranged
-in respectful silence behind the arm-chair of his aged father. Margaret
-knelt beside him with her prayer-book, waiting to begin the devotions.
-
-The touching voice of this young girl as she slowly repeated the sublime
-words--“Our Father who art in heaven”--those words which men may so
-joyfully pronounce, which teach us the exalted dignity of our being, the
-grandeur of our origin and destiny--those sublime words penetrated the
-soul of the king with a profound and singular emotion.
-
-“What a happy family!” he exclaimed, mentally. “Nothing disturbs their
-harmony; day after day passes without leaving a regret behind it. Why can
-I not join in this sweet prayer--why, O my soul, hast thou banished and
-forgotten it?” He turned from the contemplation of these youthful heads
-bowed before the Mother of God, and a wave of bitter remorse swept once
-again over his hardened, hypocritical soul.
-
-After the king had returned to his royal palace and the evening repast
-was ended, William Roper approached Sir Thomas and said:
-
-“You must consider yourself most fortunate, my dear father, in enjoying
-so intimately the favor of his majesty--why, even Cardinal Wolsey cannot
-boast of being honored with such a degree of friendship and familiarity.”
-
-With a sad smile More, taking the young man’s hand, replied:
-
-“Know, my son, I can never be elated by it. If this head, around which he
-passed his royal arm so affectionately this evening, could in falling pay
-the price of but one single inch of French territory, he would, without a
-moment’s hesitation, deliver it up to the executioner.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-“What acknowledgments do I not owe you, madam,” said Sir Thomas Cheney to
-Lady Anne Boleyn, “for the services you have rendered me. But dare I hope
-for a full pardon from the king?”
-
-“Feel perfectly secure on that point,” replied Lady Anne. “He is
-convinced that Wolsey had you banished from court because of your
-disagreement with Cardinal Campeggio, and he considers you now one of his
-most faithful adherents.”
-
-“And I hope, madam, to have the happiness of proving to you that I am
-none the less faithfully your servant,” replied Sir Thomas Cheney.
-
-“You must admit now,” said Lady Anne, addressing her father and brother,
-the Earl of Wiltshire and the Viscount Rochford, who were both present,
-“that I succeed in doing what I undertake.”
-
-“You succeed in what you undertake,” replied her father humorously, “but
-you are a long time in deciding what to do. For instance, Cardinal Wolsey
-finds himself to-day occupying a position in which he has no right to be.”
-
-“Ah! well, he will not remain in it very long,” replied Anne Boleyn,
-petulantly. “This morning the king told me the ladies would attend the
-chase to see the new falcons the king of France has sent him by Monsieur
-de Sansac. I will talk to him, and insist on his having nothing more to
-do with this horrid cardinal, or I shall at once quit the court. But,”
-she added, pausing suddenly with an expression of extreme embarrassment,
-“how should I answer were he to demand what his eminence Monseigneur
-Wolsey had ever done to _me_?”
-
-“Here, sister, here is your answer,” replied Viscount Rochford, taking a
-large manuscript book from his father’s portfolio. “Take it and read for
-yourself; you will find here all you would need for a reply.”
-
-“That great book!” cried Anne, strongly opposed to this new commission,
-and pouting like a spoilt child. Taking the book, she read--skipping a
-great deal, however--a minutely detailed statement, formally accusing
-Wolsey of having engaged in a secret correspondence with France, and with
-the most adroit malice misrepresenting every act of his administration as
-well as of his private life.
-
-“What! can all this be true?” cried Anne Boleyn, closing the book.
-
-“Certainly true,” replied Rochford. “And furthermore, you should know,
-the cardinal, in order to reward Campeggio for the good services he has
-rendered _you_, has persuaded the king to send him home loaded with rich
-presents, to conciliate the Pope, he says, by his filial submission and
-pious dispositions, and incline him to a favorable decision. That is the
-way he manages,” continued Rochford, shrugging his shoulders, “and keeps
-you in the most humiliating position ever occupied by a woman.”
-
-Hearing her brother speak thus, the beautiful face of Anne Boleyn became
-instantly suffused with a deep crimson.
-
-“Oh! that odious man,” she cried passionately. “I shall no longer submit
-to it. It is to insult me he makes such gracious acknowledgments to that
-old cardinal. I will complain to the king. Oh! how annoying all this is,
-though,” and she turned the book over and over in her white hands.
-
-“But see, it is time to start,” she added, pointing to a great clock
-standing in one corner of the apartment. “Good-by; I must go!” And
-Anne, attired in an elegant riding-habit, abruptly turning to a mirror,
-proceeded to adjust her black velvet riding-cap, when, observing a small
-plume in her hat that was not arranged to her taste, she exclaimed,
-violently stamping her little foot:
-
-“How many contradictions shall I meet this day? I cannot endure it! All
-those horrid affairs to think of, to talk about and explain; all your
-recommendations to follow in the midst of a delightful hunting party; and
-then, after all, this hat which so provokes me! No; I can never fix it.”
-And she hurried away to find a woman skilled in the arts of the toilet.
-But after making her sew and rip out again, bend the plume and straighten
-it, place it forward and then back, she did not succeed in fixing it to
-suit the fancy of Anne Boleyn, who, seeing the time flying rapidly, ended
-by cutting off the plume with the scissors, throwing it angrily on the
-floor and stamping it, putting the offending cap on her head without a
-plume; then mounting her horse she rode off, accompanied by Sir Thomas
-Cheney, who escorted her, knowing she was to join the king on the road.
-
-“How impulsive and thoughtless your sister is,” said Earl Wiltshire to
-his son, after Anne had left them, looking gloomily at the plume, still
-lying on the floor where she had thrown it. “She wants to be queen! Do
-you understand how much is comprised in that word? Well, she would accept
-a crown and fix it on her head with the same eager interest that she
-would order a new bonnet from her milliner. Yet I firmly believe, before
-accepting it, she would have to be well assured by her mirror that it was
-becoming to her style of beauty.”
-
-“I cannot comprehend her,” responded Rochford. “Her good sense and
-judgment sometimes astonish me; then suddenly a ball, a dress, a new
-fashion has sufficed to make her forget the most important matter that
-might be under discussion. I am oftentimes led to wonder whence comes
-this singular mixture of frivolity and good sense in women. Is it a
-peculiarity of their nature or the result of education?”
-
-“It is entirely the fault of education, my son, and not of their
-weakness. From infancy they are taught to look upon ribbons, laces,
-frivolities, and fashions as the most precious and desirable things. In
-fact, they attach to these miserable trifles the same value that young
-men place on a brilliant armor or the success of a glorious action.”
-
-“It may be so,” replied Rochford, “but I think they are generally found
-as incompetent for business as incapable of managing affairs of state.”
-
-“While very young, perhaps not,” answered Wiltshire; “proud and
-impulsive, they are neither capable of nor inclined to dissimulation; but
-later in life they develop a subtle ingenuity and an extreme degree of
-penetration, that enable them to succeed most admirably.”
-
-“Ah! well, if the truth might be frankly expressed, I greatly fear that
-all this will turn out badly. Should we not succeed in espousing my
-sister to the king, she will be irretrievably compromised; and then you
-will deeply regret having broken off her marriage with Lord Percy.”
-
-“You talk like an idiot,” replied the Earl of Wiltshire. “Your sister
-shall reign, or I perish. Why should my house not give a queen to the
-throne of England? Would it not be far better if our kings should select
-wives from the nobility of their country instead of marrying foreign
-princesses--strangers alike to the manners and customs as well as to the
-interests of the people over whom they are destined to reign?”
-
-“You would probably be right,” replied Viscount Rochford, “if the king
-were not already married; but the clergy will always oppose this second
-marriage. They do not dare to express themselves openly because they fear
-the king, but in the end they will certainly preserve the nation in this
-sentiment. I fear that Anne will yet be very unhappy, and I am truly
-sorry now she cannot be made Countess of Northumberland.”
-
-“Hold your tongue, my son,” cried Wiltshire, frantic with rage; “will you
-repeat these things to your sister, and renew her imaginary regrets also?
-As to these churchmen over whom you make so great an ado,” he continued
-with a menacing gesture, “I hope soon we shall be able to relieve them
-of the fortunes with which they are encumbered, and compel them to
-disgorge in our favor. You say that women are weak and fickle! If so, you
-certainly resemble them in both respects--the least difficulty frightens
-you into changing your opinions, and you hesitate in the midst of an
-undertaking that has been planned with the greatest ability, and which,
-without you, I confidently believe I shall be able to accomplish.”
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-IS SHE CATHOLIC?
-
-The claim put forth by the Episcopal Church--or, to use her full and
-legal title, The Protestant Episcopal Church of the United Slates
-of America--of being the Holy Catholic Church--Holy, Catholic, and
-Apostolic--and the acceptance of her theory by a small portion of the
-Christian world, makes her and her theory, for a little time, worthy our
-attention.
-
-She is accustomed to use the formula, “I believe in the Holy Catholic
-Church.” It is but natural to infer that she considers herself to be at
-least an integral part of that church. We have examined the question, and
-thus present our convictions as to her status.
-
-We note, in the first place, that her bishops possess no power. They are
-bishops but in name. There is not one of them, no matter how eminent he
-may be, who can say to a clergyman in his diocese: “Here is an important
-parish vacant; occupy it.” He would be met with the polite remark from
-some member of the parish, “We are very much obliged to you, bishop, but
-you have nothing to say about it. Mr. M. is the warden.”
-
-Mr. M., the warden, may be, and in many instances is, a man who cares so
-little about the church that he has never yet been baptized, much less is
-he a communicant. He and his brother vestrymen, whether baptized or not,
-may, if the bishop claims an authority by virtue of his office, meet him
-at the church door, and tell him he cannot come in unless he will pledge
-himself to do as they wish; and the bishop may write a note of protest,
-and leave it behind him for them to tear up, as was done in Chicago with
-Bishop Whitehouse. Some local regulations have occasionally varied the
-above, but in the majority of parishes the authority is vested as we have
-stated.
-
-The bishop’s power of appointing extends to none but feeble missionary
-stations; and even these put on, at their earliest convenience, the airs
-of full-grown parishes.
-
-We note an instance where a bishop wrote to a lady in a remote missionary
-station, and asked regarding some funds which had been placed in her
-hands by parties interested in the growth of the church in that place.
-It had been specified that the money was to be used for whatever purpose
-was deemed most necessary. The bishop requested that the money be paid to
-the missionary toward his salary. The lady declined on the ground that
-she did not like the missionary. Another request in courteous language,
-as was befitting a bishop. He also stated his intention of visiting the
-place shortly in his official character.
-
-The lady’s reply equalled his own in courteous phraseology; but the
-money was refused and the bishop informed that he “need not trouble
-himself about making a visitation, as there was no class to be confirmed;
-besides, the church had been closed for repairs, and would not be open
-for some months, at least not until a new minister was settled.”
-
-To the bishop’s positive knowledge, no repairs were needed; but he deemed
-it wise to stay away, and no further steps were taken.
-
-With the clergy in his diocese the case is not very different.
-
-If a presbyter of any diocese chooses for any reason to go from one
-parish to another for the purpose of taking up a permanent abode, he can
-do so with or without consulting his bishop. In fact, the bishop has
-nothing to do with it. Should the presbyter desire to remove to another
-diocese, it is requisite that he obtain letters dimissory from the
-bishop, and the bishop is obliged to give them. So also is the bishop in
-the diocese to which he goes obliged to receive them, unless they contain
-grave criminal charges.
-
-There is, in reality, but one thing the bishop of the Protestant
-Episcopal Church can do, and that is make an appointment once in three
-years to confirm. So insignificant is his power in any other direction
-that certain persons, ill-natured or otherwise, have fastened upon him,
-whether deserved or undeserved, the name of “confirming machine.” Certain
-it is that, were the power of confirming in any degree vested in the
-“priests” of the church, the office of bishop might easily be dispensed
-with. He would appear only as the ornamental portion of a few occasional
-services. For he cannot authoritatively visit any parish, vacant or
-otherwise, except on a confirmation tour; and should this be too frequent
-in the estimation of the vestry, the doors of the church could be shut
-against him on any plea the vestry should choose to advance.
-
-2. He cannot increase the number of his clergy, except as parishes choose.
-
-3. He cannot prevent a man fixing himself in the diocese if a
-congregation choose to “call” him, no matter how worthy or unworthy the
-man may be.
-
-4. He cannot call a clergyman into his diocese, though every parish were
-empty.
-
-5. He cannot officiate in any church without invitation.
-
-6. He has no church of his own, except as he officiates as rector; and
-unless invited to some place, he is forced, although a bishop, to sit in
-the congregation as a layman, if he do not stay at home.
-
-And, lastly, he cannot on any account visit a parish unless the vestry of
-that parish is willing.
-
-We sum up: That so far as the bishops of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church of the United States of America are concerned, they are simply
-figure-heads, ornaments possessing the minimum of authority--in point of
-fact, no authority at all.
-
-Their own convention addresses are a virtual confession of the condition
-of affairs as above laid down. To every one who has ever heard an
-Episcopal bishop’s address, as delivered before the annual convention
-of clergymen and laymen, the following sample will not appear as in the
-least overdrawn:
-
-July 10.--Visited the parish of S. John, Oakdale, and confirmed three.
-
-July 17.--Visited the parish of Longwood, and preached and confirmed one.
-
-July 24.--Visited S. Paul’s, and preached and confirmed two in the
-forenoon. Preached also in the afternoon.
-
-This is a very large and thriving parish.
-
-July 26.--At Montrose I visited and confirmed one at the evening service.
-
-July 29.--Took a private conveyance to Hillstown, and preached in the
-evening; confirmed one. The rector of this parish is very energetic.
-
-Aug. 2.--Attended the burial of a dear friend.
-
-Aug. 7.--Attended the consecration of S. Mark’s Church in Hyde Park. It
-is hoped that the difficulties in this parish are settled. The Rev. John
-Waters has resigned and gone to Omaha. Mr. William Steuben is the senior
-warden. May the Lord prosper him and his estimable lady!
-
-[To continue the list would cause a tear, and we do not wish to weep.]
-
-The address each year of a Protestant Episcopal bishop is thoroughly
-exemplified in the foregoing specimen. It is the same endless list of
-_enteuthen exelauneis_, varied only by the number of _parasangas_. To the
-lazy grammar-boy it is a most fascinating chapter of ancient history when
-he reaches the _enteuthen_ section in the _Anabasis_. There is an immense
-list of them, and the lesson for that day is easy. When the first phrase
-is mastered, he knows all the rest, except the occasional figures.
-
-We once saw a reporter for a prominent Daily making a short-hand report
-of an address before an illustrious diocesan gathering. Having had
-some experience in the matter, he came to the meeting with his tablets
-prepared. They were as follows:
-
-    VISITED AT         AND CONFIRMED.
-
-    _______________    _____  _________
-
-    _______________    _____  _________
-
-    _______________    _____  _________
-
-Three-quarters of the address was thus prepared beforehand, it only
-being necessary to leave the lines sufficiently far apart to permit the
-insertion of occasional notes.
-
-By his extra care he was enabled to present the most complete report of
-any paper in the city.
-
-The specimen we have given is a fair average. In future generations, when
-a classical student is given a bishop’s address to read, his labor for
-that day will be easy.
-
-Almost any bishop’s address will substantiate the statements we have
-made. We refer to them freely, without wasting time in selection.
-
-We begin a new paragraph: The system of the Protestant Episcopal Church
-is eminently congregational.
-
-If a parish chooses to “call” a given man, he is “called.”
-
-Should the bishop “interfere” and recommend him, the recommendation,
-without an exception that has ever come to our knowledge, militates
-against the proposed “call.”
-
-Should a parish desire to get rid of a pastor, it does so with or
-without the consent of the bishop, as happens, in the estimation of the
-wardens, to be most convenient. The officers may consult the bishop,
-and, if he agree with them, well and good. The words of the diocesan are
-quoted from Dan to Beersheba, and the pastor is made to feel the lack of
-sympathy--“Even his bishop is against him,” is whispered by young and old.
-
-If the bishop does not agree with them, they do not consult him again.
-They proceed to accomplish what they desire as if he had no existence,
-and--they always succeed.
-
-There is a farcical canon of the Protestant Episcopal Church which says,
-if a parish dismiss its rector without concurrence, it shall not be
-admitted into convention until it has apologized.
-
-It is a very easy thing for the wardens and vestrymen to address the
-convention, after they have accomplished their ends, with “Your honorable
-body thinks we have done wrong, and--we are sorry for it,” or something
-else equally ambiguous and absurd. The officers of the parish and the
-laymen of the congregation have done what they wished, and are content.
-As the convention is composed principally of laymen, the sympathy is
-naturally with the laymen’s side of the question. The rector is hurriedly
-passed over, his clerical brethren looking helplessly on.
-
-To get a new parish the dismissed rector must “candidate”--a feature of
-clerical life most revolting to any man with a spark of manhood in him.
-
-We note, in the next place, an utter want of unity in the Protestant
-Episcopal Church.
-
-There are High-Church and Low-Church bookstores, where the publications
-of the one are discarded by the other. There are High-Church and
-Low-Church seminaries, where a man, to graduate from the one, will be
-looked upon inimically, at least with suspicion, by the other. There
-is a High-Church “Society for the Increase of the Ministry,” where the
-principal thing accomplished is the maintenance of the secretary of the
-said society in a large brick house in a fashionable city, while he
-claims to support a few students on two meals a day; and a Low-Church
-Evangelical Society, where they require the beneficiary to subscribe to
-certain articles of Low-Churchism before they will receive him.
-
-The one society is thoroughly hostile to the other, and, in point of
-fact, the latter was created in opposition to the former.
-
-There is but one thing in common between the two, and that is
-cold-shoulderism.
-
-There are High-Church and Low-Church newspapers, in which the epithets
-used by the one toward the other do not indicate even _respect_.
-
-Some of the “church’s” ministers would no more enter a “denominational”
-place of worship than they would put their hand in the fire. Others will
-fraternize with everything and everybody, and when Sunday comes will
-close their eyes--sometimes they roll them upward--and pray publicly:
-“From heresy and schism good Lord deliver us.”
-
-It may be necessary that there should be wranglings and bickerings within
-her fold, in order to constitute her the church militant; but we cannot
-forgive hypocrisy.
-
-With some of her ministers the grand object of existence seems to be to
-prove “Popery” an emanation from hell. With others the effort is equally
-great to prove the Episcopal Church as a “co-ordinate” branch with the
-Roman Church, and entitled to the same consideration as is paid by the
-devotees of Rome to its hierarchy. In both instances--viz., High Church
-and Low Church--history records failure.
-
-We notice next the relation which the Protestant Episcopal Church holds
-to the Church of England.
-
-The English Church evidently regards the Protestant Episcopal Church of
-the United States of America as a weaker sister, and not to be admitted
-to doubtful disputations. She is courteous toward her, and accepts
-her present of a gold alms-basin from an unrobed representative with
-a certain amount of ceremony. She invites her bishops to the Lambeth
-Conference, and they pay their own fare across the Atlantic; but they
-confer about nothing. It is true the Protestant Episcopal Church approved
-the action of the English Church in condemning Colenso; but this was a
-safe thing for the English Church to present. It would have been hardly
-complimentary to have their guests go home without doing something,
-especially as they were not to be invited into Westminster Abbey, and
-were to have nothing to do with the coming Bible revision.
-
-The bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States of
-America were invited to the English conference very much as country
-cousins are invited to tea, and that was all.
-
-By way of asserting her right to a recognition as an equal with
-the Church of England, she--the Protestant Episcopal Church of the
-United States of America--has established, or rather individuals have
-established and the act has received the sanction of the General
-Convention, certain rival congregations in a few foreign cities where
-the English service was already established. If she be of the same
-Catholic mould as the Church of England, why does she thus in a foreign
-city attempt to maintain an opposition service? The variations in the
-Prayer-Book are no answer to the question. If the English Church be Holy,
-Catholic, and Apostolic, and the Protestant Episcopal Church be Holy,
-Catholic, and Apostolic, the two are therefore one; for they both claim
-that there is but one Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic church.
-
-She is in this case unmistakably uncatholic, or else the English Church
-is. In either case she falls to the ground.
-
-Our attention is directed again to the many laws enacted against her
-bishops as compared with the laws enacted against the other members of
-the church. If Mosheim were to be restored to the flesh, and were to
-write the history of the Episcopal Church, and used as an authority
-the Digest of Canons, as he has been accustomed in his _Ecclesiastical
-History_ to use ecclesiastical documents generally, he would style the
-bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church a set of criminals of the
-deepest dye, and the priests and deacons not much better. The laity would
-be regarded as all that could be desired in lofty integrity and spotless
-morality. For why? A glance at their vade-mecum of law--the Digest of
-Canons--shows an immense bulk of its space to be devoted “to the trial of
-a bishop.” The laity go scot-free.
-
-We question the propriety, as well as the Catholicity, of covering the
-higher clergy with laws till they are helpless, while the laity revel in
-a freedom that amounts, when they choose, to mob-license; but it is done,
-and the Episcopal Church is degraded to a level lower than any of the
-denominations around her.
-
-With other bodies who call themselves Christian there is a certain amount
-of consistency. Their rulers are from among their own members. With the
-church under consideration, her rulers, in many cases, are any unbaptized
-heathen who may choose to work themselves into a temporary favor with the
-pew-holders. It is not necessary that they should even have ever attended
-church. We note an instance where the chief man of a small parish was a
-druggist, and kept in the rear of his drug-store a low drinking-room;
-and this man was elected treasurer year after year by a handful of
-interested parties, and, when elected, he managed all the finances of the
-parish according to his own notions of propriety. It was his habit to go
-to the church near the close of the sermon, and go away immediately after
-the collection.
-
-We note another instance where a warden visited the rector of his parish,
-and threatened, with a polite oath, to give him something hotter than
-a section of the day of judgment if he did not ask his (the warden’s)
-advice a little more on parish matters. The parish grew so warm that at
-the end of three weeks the rector was candidating for another.
-
-We note another instance where a warden was so overjoyed at having
-settled a rector according to his own liking that, on the arrival of the
-new incumbent, he not only did not go to hear him preach, but stayed at
-home with certain friends, and enjoyed, to use his own expression, a
-“dooced big drunk.” Out of consideration for the feelings of his family
-we use the word “dooced” instead of his stronger expression.
-
-The rector of this happily-ruled parish was imprudent enough to incur
-the displeasure of his warden after a few months of arduous labor. He
-received a note while sitting at the bedside of his sick wife, saying
-that after the following Sunday his services would be dispensed with;
-that if he attempted to stay, the church would be closed for repairs.
-
-We are well acquainted with a parish where a congregation wished to
-displace both the senior and junior wardens. These two gentlemen had
-been shrewd enough to foresee the event. They succeeded, by calculating
-management, in having vested in themselves the right of selling pews.
-When Easter Monday came, they sold for a dollar a pew to loafers on the
-streets, and swarmed the election with men who never had entered the
-place before. The laws of the parish were such that there was no redress.
-As a matter of course, the rector was soon candidating.
-
-During the earliest portion of the official life of one of the oldest and
-most eminent bishops, he was called on to officiate at the institution of
-a Low-Church rector. At the morning service the bishop took occasion to
-congratulate the congregation on the assumed fact that they had now “an
-altar, a priest, and a sacrifice,” and went on to enlarge on that idea.
-In the evening of the same day the instituted minister, in addressing
-the congregation, said: “My brethren, so help me God! if the doctrines
-you heard this morning are the doctrines of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church, then I am no Protestant Episcopalian; but they are not such”--and
-essayed substantiating the assertion. All that came of the affair was the
-publication, on the part of each, of their respective discourses. On the
-supposition of the bishop’s having any foundation for his ecclesiastical
-character and for the doctrines he taught, would that have been the end
-of the matter?
-
-Can it be that the Episcopal Church is Catholic? Is it possible that she
-is part of the grand structure portrayed by prophets and sung in the
-matchless words of inspiration as that against which the gates of hell
-shall not prevail? Rather, we are forced to class her as a “sister” among
-the very “heretics” from whom in her litany she prays, “Good Lord deliver
-us.”
-
-
-ARE YOU MY WIFE?
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,”
-ETC.
-
-CHAPTER X.
-
-ALARMING SYMPTOMS.
-
-November had come, and was gathering up the last tints and blossoms
-of autumn. One by one the garden lights were being put out; the tall
-archangel lilies drooped their snow and gold cups languidly; the jasmine,
-that only the other day twinkled its silver stars amidst the purple bells
-of the clematis, now trailed wearily down the trellis of the porch; the
-hardy geraniums made a stand for it yet, but their petals dropped off at
-every puff of wind, and powdered the gravel with a scarlet ring round
-their six big red pots that flanked the walk from the gate to the cottage
-door; the red roses held out like a forlorn hope, defying the approach of
-the conqueror, and staying to say a last good-by to sweet Mother Summer,
-ere she passed away.
-
-It was too chilly to sit out of doors late of afternoons now, and night
-fell quickly. M. de la Bourbonais had collapsed into his brown den; but
-the window stood open, and let the faint incense of the garden steal in
-to him, as he bent over his desk with his shaded lamp beside him.
-
-Franceline had found it cold, and had slipt away, without saying why,
-to her own room upstairs. She was sitting on the floor with her hands
-in her lap, and her head pressed against the latticed window, watching
-the scarlet geraniums as they shivered in the evening breeze and dropped
-into their moist autumn tomb. A large crystal moon was rising above the
-woods beyond the river, and a few stars were coming out. She counted
-them, and listened to the wood-pigeon cooing in the park, and to the
-solitary note of an owl that answered from some distant grove. But the
-voices of wood and field were not to her now what they once had been.
-There was something in her that responded to them still, but not in the
-old way; she had drifted somewhere beyond their reach; she was hearkening
-for other voices, since one had touched her with a power these had never
-possessed, and whose echoing sweetness had converted the sounds that had
-till then been her only music into a blank and aching silence. Other
-pulses had been stirred, other chords struck within her, so strong and
-deep, and unlike the old childish ones, that these had become to her what
-the memory of the joys of childhood are to the full-grown man--a sweet
-shadow that lingers when the substance has fled; part of a life that has
-been lived, that can never be quickened again, but is enshrined in memory.
-
-She was very pale, almost like a shadow herself, as she sat there in the
-silver gloom. Mothers who met her in her walks about the neighborhood
-looked wistfully after the gentle young face, and said with a sigh:
-“What a pity! And so young too!” Yet Franceline was not ill; not even
-ailing; she never complained even of fatigue, and when her father
-tapped the pale cheek and asked how his _Clair-de-lune_ was, she would
-answer brightly that she had never been better in her life, and as she
-had no cough, he believed her. A cough was Raymond’s single diagnosis of
-disease and death; he had a vague but deep-seated belief that nobody,
-no young person certainly, ever died a natural death without this fatal
-premonitory symptom. And yet he could not help following Franceline with
-an anxious eye as he saw her walking listlessly about the garden, or
-sitting with a book in her hand that she let drop every now and then to
-look dreamily out of the window, and only resumed with an evident effort.
-Sometimes she would go and lean her arms on the rail at the end of the
-garden, and stand there for an hour together gazing at the familiar
-landscape as if she were discovering some new feature in it, or straining
-her eyes to see some distant object. He could not lay his finger on any
-particular symptom that justified anxiety, and still he was anxious; a
-change of some sort had come over the child; she grew more and more like
-her mother, and it was not until Armengarde was several years older than
-Franceline that the disease which had been germinating in her system from
-childhood developed itself and proved fatal.
-
-M. de la Bourbonais never alluded to Franceline’s refusal of Sir Ponsonby
-Anwyll, but he had not forgotten it. In his dreamy mind he cogitated on
-the possibility of the offer being renewed, and her accepting it. As to
-Clide de Winton, he had quite ceased to think of him, and never for an
-instant coupled him in his thoughts with Franceline. It did not strike
-him as significant that Sir Simon had avoided mentioning the young man
-since his return. After the conversation that Clide had once been the
-subject of between them, this reticence was natural enough. The failure
-of his wild, affectionate scheme placed him in a somewhat ridiculous
-position towards Raymond, and it was no wonder that he shrank from
-alluding to it.
-
-Sir Ponsonby had left Rydal immediately after the eventful ride we know
-of. He could not remain in Franceline’s neighborhood without seeing her,
-and he had sense enough to feel that he would injure rather than serve
-his cause by forcing his society on her after what had passed. This
-is as good as admitting that he did not look upon his cause as lost.
-What man in love for the first time would give up after one refusal, if
-his love was worth the name? Ponsonby was not one of the faint-hearted
-tribe. He combined real modesty as to his own worth and pretensions
-with unbounded faith in the power of his love and its ultimate success.
-The infallibility of hope and perseverance was an essential part of his
-lover’s creed. He did not apply the tenet with any special sense of its
-fitness to Franceline in particular. He was no analyzer of character;
-he did not discriminate nicely between the wants and attributes of one
-woman and another; he blended them all in a theoretical worship, and
-included all womankind in his notions as to how they were individually
-to be wooed and won. He would let them have their own way, allow them
-unlimited pin-money, cover them with trinkets, and gratify all their
-little whims. If a girl were ever so beautiful and ever so good, no man
-could do more for her than this; and any man who was able and willing to
-do it, ought to be able to win her. Ponsonby took heart, and trusted to
-his uniform good luck not to miss the prize he had set his heart on. He
-would rejoin his regiment for the present, and see what a month’s absence
-would do for him. He had one certain ground of hope: Franceline did not
-dislike him, and, as far as he could learn or guess, she cared for no one
-else. Sir Simon was his ally, and would keep a sharp lookout for him, and
-keep the little spark alive--if spark there were--by singing his praises
-judiciously in the ear of the cruel fair one.
-
-She, meanwhile, went on in her usual quiet routine, tending the sick,
-teaching some little children, and working with her father, who grew
-daily more enamored of her tender and intelligent co-operation. Lady
-Anwyll called soon after Ponsonby’s departure, and was just as kind and
-unconstrained as if nothing had happened. She did not press Franceline to
-go and stay at Rydal, but hoped she would ride over there occasionally
-with Sir Simon to lunch. Her duties as secretary to Raymond made the
-sacrifice of a whole afternoon repugnant to her; but she did go once,
-just to show the old lady that she retained the same kind feeling
-towards her as before anything had occurred to make a break in their
-intimacy. It was delightful when she came home to find that her father
-had been utterly at sea without her, mooning about in a helpless way
-amongst the notes and papers that under her management had passed from
-confusion and chaos into order and sequence. While everything was in
-confusion he could find his way through the maze, but he had no key to
-this new order of things. Franceline declared she must never leave
-him so long again; he had put everything topsy-turvy, he was not to be
-trusted. The discovery of his dependence on her in a sphere where she
-had till lately been as useless to him as Angélique or Miss Merrywig
-was a source of infinite enjoyment to her, and she threw herself into
-her daily task with an energy that lightened the labor immensely to her
-father, without, as far as Franceline could say, fatiguing herself. But
-fatigue for being unconscious is sometimes none the less real. It may be
-that this sustained application was straining a system already severely
-tried by mental pressure. She was one day writing away as usual, while
-Raymond, with a bookful of notes in his hand, stood on the hearth-rug
-dictating. Suddenly she was seized with a fit of coughing, and, putting
-her handkerchief quickly to her mouth, she drew it away stained with
-crimson. She stifled a cry of terror that rose to her lips, and hurried
-out of the room. Her father had seen nothing, but her abrupt departure
-startled him; he hastened after her, and found her in the kitchen holding
-the handkerchief up to Angélique, who was looking at the fatal stain with
-a face rather stupefied than terrified.
-
-“My God, have pity upon me! My child! My child!” he cried, clasping
-his hands and abandoning himself to his distress with the impassioned
-demonstrativeness of a Frenchman.
-
-Woman, it is said truly, is more courageous at bearing physical pain
-than man; it is true also that she has more self-command in controlling
-the expression of mental pain. Her instinct is surer too in guiding
-her how to save others from suffering; let her be ever so untutored,
-she will prove herself shrewder than the cleverest man on occasions
-like the present. Angélique’s womanly instinct told her at once that it
-was essential not to frighten Franceline: that the nervous shock would
-infallibly aggravate the evil, wherever the cause lay, and that the best
-thing to do now was to soothe and allay her fears.
-
-“Bless me! what is there to make a row about?” she cried with an angry
-chuckle, crushing the handkerchief in her fingers and darting a look on
-her master which, if eyes could knock down, must have laid him prostrate
-on the spot; “the child has an indigestion and has thrown up a mouthful
-of bread from her stomach. Hein!”
-
-“How do you know it is from the stomach and not from the lungs?” he
-asked, already reassured by her confidence, and still more by her
-incivility.
-
-“How do I know? Am I a fool? Would it be that color if it was from the
-lungs? I say it is from the stomach, and it is a good business. But we
-must not have too much of it. It would weaken the child; we must stop it.”
-
-“I will run for the doctor at once!” exclaimed M. de la Bourbonais, still
-trembling and excited. “Or stay!--no!--I will fly to the Court and they
-will despatch a man on horseback!” He was hurrying away when Angélique
-literally shouted at him:
-
-“Wilt thou be quiet with thy doctor and thy man on horseback! I tell thee
-it is from the stomach; I know what I am about. I want neither man nor
-horse. It is from the stomach! Dost thou take me for a fool at this time
-of my life?”
-
-Raymond stood still like a chidden child while the old servant poured
-this volley at him. Franceline stared at her aghast. In her angry
-excitement the grenadier had broken through not only all barriers of
-rank, but all the common rules of civility--she who was such a strict
-observer of both that they seemed a very part of herself. This ought to
-have opened their eyes, if nothing else did; but Franceline was only
-bewildered, Raymond was cowed and perplexed.
-
-“If thou art indeed quite sure,” he said, falling into the familiar “thee
-and thou” by which she addressed him, and which on her deferential lips
-sounded so outrageous and unnatural--“if thou art indeed certain I will
-be satisfied; but, my good Angélique, would it not be a wise precaution
-to have a medical man?--only just, as thou sayest well, to prevent its
-going too far.”
-
-“Well, well, if Monsieur le Comte wishes, let it be; let the doctor come;
-for me, I care not for him; they are an ignorant lot, pulling long faces
-to make long bills; but if it pleases Monsieur le Comte, let him have one
-to see the child.” She nodded her flaps at him, as if to say, “Be off
-then at once and leave us in peace!”
-
-He was leaving the room, when, turning round suddenly, he came close
-up to Franceline. “Dost thou feel a pain, my child?” he said, peering
-anxiously into her face.
-
-“No, father, not the least pain. I am sure Angélique is right; I feel
-nothing here,” putting her hand to her chest.
-
-“God is good! God is good!” muttered the father half audibly, and,
-stroking her cheek gently, he went.
-
-“Let not Monsieur le Comte go rushing off himself; let him send one of
-those thirty-six lackeys at the Court!” cried Angélique, calling after
-him through the kitchen window.
-
-In her heart and soul Angélique was terrified. She had thrown out quite
-at random, with the instinct of desperation, that confident assurance as
-to the color of the stain. Her first impulse was to save Franceline from
-the shock, but it had fallen full upon herself. This accident sounded
-like the first stroke of the death-knell. No one would have supposed it
-to look at her. She set her arms akimbo and laughed till she shook at her
-own impudence to M. le Comte, and how meekly M. le Comte had borne it,
-and how scared his face was, and what a joke the business was altogether.
-To see him stand there wringing his hands, and making such a wailing
-about nothing! But when Franceline was going to answer and reproach her
-old _bonne_ with this inopportune mirth, she laid her hand on the young
-girl’s mouth and bade her peremptorily be silent.
-
-“If you go talking and scolding, child, there is no knowing what mischief
-you may do. Come and lie down, and keep perfectly quiet.”
-
-Franceline obeyed willingly enough. She was weak and tired, and glad to
-be alone awhile.
-
-Angélique placed a cold, wet cloth on her chest, and made her some cold
-lemonade to drink. It was making a fuss about nothing, to be sure; but
-it would please M. le Comte. He was never happier than when people were
-making a fuss over his _Clair-de-lune_.
-
-It was not long before the count returned, accompanied by Sir Simon.
-Angélique saw at a glance that the baronet understood how things were. He
-talked very big about his confidence that Angélique was right; that it
-was an accident of no serious import whatever; but he exchanged a furtive
-glance with the old woman that sufficiently belied all this confident
-talk. He was for going up to see Franceline with M. de la Bourbonais,
-but Angélique would not allow this. M. le Comte might go, if he liked,
-provided he did not make her speak; but nobody else must go; the room
-was too small, and it would excite the child to see people about her. So
-Raymond went up alone. As soon as his back was turned, Angélique threw up
-her hands with a gesture too significant for any words. Sir Simon closed
-the door gently.
-
-“I am not duped any more than you,” he said. “It is sure to be very
-serious, even if it is not fatal. Tell me what you really think.”
-
-“I saw her mother go through it all. It began like this. Only Madame
-la Comtesse had a cough; the petite has never had one. That is the
-only thing that gives me a bit of hope; the petite has never coughed.
-O Monsieur Simon! it is terrible. It will kill us all three; I know it
-will.”
-
-“Tut, tut! don’t give up in this way, Angélique,” said the baronet
-kindly, and turning aside; “that will mend nothing; it is the very worst
-thing you could do. I agree with you that it is very serious; not so
-much the accident itself, perhaps--we know nothing about that yet--but
-on account of the hereditary taint in the constitution. However, there
-has been no cough undermining it so far, and with care--I promise you she
-shall have the best--there is every reason to hope the child will weather
-it. At her age one weathers everything,” he added, cheerfully. “Come
-now, don’t despond; a great deal depends on your keeping a cheerful
-countenance.”
-
-“I know it, monsieur, and I will do my best. But I hear steps! Could it
-be the doctor already? For goodness’ sake run out and meet him, and tell
-him, as he hopes to save us all, not to let Monsieur le Comte know there
-is any danger! It is all up with us if he does. Monsieur le Comte could
-no more hide it than a baby could hide a pin in its clothes.”
-
-She opened the door and almost pushed Sir Simon out, in her terror lest
-the doctor should walk in without being warned.
-
-Sir Simon met him at the back of the cottage. A few words were exchanged,
-and they came in together. Raymond met them on the stairs. The medical
-man preferred seeing his patient alone; the nurse might be present, but
-he could have no one else. In a very few minutes he came down, and a
-glance at his face set the father’s heart almost completely at rest.
-
-“Dear me, Sir Simon, you would never do for a sick nurse. You prepared me
-for a very dangerous case by your message; it is a mere trifle; hardly
-worth the hard ride I’ve had to perform in twenty minutes.”
-
-“Then there is nothing amiss with the lungs?”
-
-“Would you like to sound them yourself, count? Pray do! It will be
-more satisfactory to you.” And he handed his stethoscope to M. de la
-Bourbonais--not mockingly, but quite gravely and kindly.
-
-That provincial doctor missed his vocation. He ought to have been a
-diplomatist.
-
-Instead of the proffered stethoscope, M. de la Bourbonais grasped his
-hand. His heart was too full for speech. The reaction of security
-after the brief interval of agony and suspense unnerved him. He sat
-down without speaking, and wiped the great drops from his forehead. The
-medical man addressed himself to Sir Simon and Angélique. There was
-nothing whatever to be alarmed at; but there was occasion for care and
-certain preventive measures. The young lady must have perfect rest and
-quiet; there must be no talking for some time; no excitement of any sort.
-He gave sundry directions about diet, etc., and wrote a prescription
-which was to be sent to the chemist at once. M. de la Bourbonais
-accompanied him to the door with a lightened heart, and bade him _au
-revoir_ with a warm pressure of the hand.
-
-“Now, let me hear the truth,” said Sir Simon, as soon as they entered the
-park.
-
-“You have heard the truth--though only in a negative form. If you
-noticed, we did not commit ourselves to any opinion of the case; we only
-prescribed for it. This was the only way in which we could honestly
-follow your instructions,” observed the doctor, who always used the royal
-“we” of authorship when speaking professionally.
-
-“You showed great tact and prudence; but there is no need for either now.
-Tell me exactly what you think.”
-
-“It will be more to the purpose to tell you what we know,” rejoined the
-medical man. “There is a blood-vessel broken; not a large one, happily,
-and if the hemorrhage does not increase and continue, it may prove of no
-really serious consequence. But then we must remember the question of
-inheritance. That is what makes a symptom in itself trifling assume a
-grave--we refrain from saying fatal--character.”
-
-“You are convinced that this is but the beginning of the end--am I to
-understand that?” asked Sir Simon. He was used to the doctor’s pompous
-way, and knew him to be both clever and conscientious, at least towards
-his patients.
-
-“It would be precipitating an opinion to say so much. We are on the
-whole inclined to take a more sanguine view. We consider the hitherto
-unimpaired health of the patient, and her extreme youth, fair grounds for
-hope. But great care must be taken; all excitement must be avoided.”
-
-“You may count on your orders being strictly carried out,” said Sir Simon.
-
-They walked on a few yards without further speech. Sir Simon was busy
-with anxious and affectionate thoughts.
-
-“I should fancy a warm climate would be the best cure for a case of this
-kind,” he observed, answering his own reflections, rather than speaking
-to his companion.
-
-“No doubt, no doubt,” assented Dr. Blink, “if the patient was in a
-position to authorize her medical attendant in ordering such a measure.”
-
-“Monsieur de la Bourbonais is in that position,” replied Sir Simon,
-quietly.
-
-“Ah! I am glad to know it. I may act on the information one of these
-days. The young lady could not bear the fatigue of a journey to the south
-just now; the general health is a good deal below par; the nervous system
-wants toning; it is unstrung.”
-
-Sir Simon made no comment--not at least in words--but it set his mind
-on painful conjecture. Perhaps the electric chain passed from him to
-his companion, for the latter said irrelevantly but with a significant
-expression, as he turned his glance full upon Sir Simon:
-
-“We medical men are trusted with many secrets--secrets of the heart as
-well as of the body. We ask you frankly, as a friend of our patient, is
-there any moral cause at work--any disappointed affection that may have
-preyed on the mind and fostered the inherited germs of disease?”
-
-“I cannot answer that question,” replied the baronet after a moment’s
-hesitation.
-
-“You cannot, or you will not? Excuse my pertinacity; it is professional
-and necessary.”
-
-Sir Simon hesitated again before he answered.
-
-“I cannot even give a decided answer to that. I had some time ago feared
-there existed something of the sort, but of late those apprehensions had
-entirely disappeared. If you had put the question to me yesterday, I
-should have said emphatically there is nothing to fear on that score; the
-child is perfectly happy and quite heart-whole.”
-
-“And to-day you are not prepared to say as much,” persisted Dr. Blink.
-“Something has occurred to modify this change of opinion?”
-
-“Nothing, except the accident that you know of and your question now.
-These suggest to me that I may have been right in the first instance.”
-
-“Is it in your power or within the power of circumstances to set the
-wrong right--to remove the cause of anxiety--assuming that it actually
-exists?”
-
-“No, it is not; nothing can remove it.”
-
-“And she is aware of this?”
-
-“I fear not.”
-
-“Say rather that you hope not. In such cases hope is the best physician;
-let nothing be done, as far as you can prevent it, to destroy this hope
-in the patient’s mind; I would even venture to urge that you should do
-anything in your power to feed and stimulate it.”
-
-“That is impossible; quite impossible,” said Sir Simon emphatically. The
-doctor’s words fell on him like a sting, and this very feeling increased
-to conviction what had, at the beginning of the conversation, been only a
-vague misgiving.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Franceline rallied quickly, and with her returning strength Sir Simon’s
-fears were allayed. He had not been able to follow the doctor’s advice
-as to keeping alive any soothing delusions that might exist in her mind,
-but he succeeded, by dint of continually dinning it into his ears that
-there was no danger, in convincing her father that there was not; and the
-cheerfulness and security that radiated from him acted beneficially on
-her, and proved of great help to the medical treatment. And was Dr. Blink
-right in his surmise that a moral cause had been at work and contributed
-to the bursting of the blood-vessel? If Franceline had been asked she
-would have denied it; if any one had said to her that the accident had
-been brought on by mental suffering, or insinuated that she was still
-at heart pining for a lost love, she would have answered with proud
-sincerity: “It is false; I am not pining. I have ceased to think of Clide
-de Winton; I have ceased to love him.”
-
-But which of us can answer truly for our own hearts? We do not want to
-idealize Franceline. We wish to describe her as she was, the good with
-the evil; the struggle and the victory as they alternated in her life;
-her heart fluctuating, but never consciously disloyal. There must be
-flaws in every picture taken from life. Perfection is not to be found in
-nature, except when seen through a poet’s eyes. Perhaps it was true that
-Franceline had ceased to love Clide. When our will is firmly set upon
-self-conquest we are apt to fancy it achieved. But conquest does not of
-necessity bring joy, or even peace. Nothing is so terrible as a victory,
-except a defeat, was a great captain’s cry on surveying the bloody field
-of yesterday’s battle. The frantic effort, the bleeding trophies may
-inflict a death-wound on the conqueror as fatal, in one sense, as defeat.
-We see the “good fight” every day leading to such issues. Brave souls
-fight and carry the day, and then go to reap their laurels where “beyond
-these voices there is peace.” Franceline had gained a victory, but there
-was no rejoicing in the triumph. Her heart plained still of its wounds;
-if she did not hear it, it was because she would not; it still bemoaned
-its hard fate, its broken cup of happiness.
-
-She rose up from this illness, however, happier than she had been for
-months. It was difficult to believe that the period which had worked such
-changes to her inward life counted only a few months; it seemed like
-years, like a lifetime, since she had first met Clide de Winton. She
-resumed her calmly busy little life as before the break had come that
-suspended its active routine. By Dr. Blink’s desire the teaching class
-was suppressed, and the necessity of guarding against cold prevented her
-doing much amongst the sick; but this extra leisure in one way enabled
-her to increase her work in another; she devoted it to writing with her
-father; this never tired her, she affirmed--it only interested and amused
-her.
-
-The advisability of a trip to some southern spot in France or Italy had
-been suggested by Dr. Blink; but the proposal was rejected by his patient
-in such a strenuous and excited manner that he forebore to press it.
-He noticed also an expression of sudden pain on M. de la Bourbonais’
-countenance, accompanied by an involuntary deep-drawn sigh, that led him
-to believe there must be pecuniary impediments in the way of the scheme,
-notwithstanding Sir Simon’s assurance to the contrary. The _émigré_
-was universally looked upon as a poor man. Who else would live as he
-did? Still Sir Simon must have known what he was saying. However, as it
-happened, the cold weather, which was now setting in pretty sharp, was
-by no means favorable to travelling, so the doctor consented willingly
-enough to abide by the patient’s circumstances and wishes. A long journey
-in winter is always a high price for an invalid to pay for the benefit of
-a warm climate.
-
-In the first days of December, Sir Simon took flight from Dullerton to
-Nice. Lady Rebecca was spending the winter at Cannes, and as Mr. Simpson
-reported that “her ladyship’s health had declined visibly within the
-last month,” it was natural that her dutiful step-son should desire to
-be within call in case of any painful eventuality. If the climate of the
-sunny Mediterranean town happened to be a very congenial winter residence
-to him, so much the better. It is only fair that a man should have some
-compensation for doing his duty.
-
-The day before he started Sir Simon came down to The Lilies.
-
-“Raymond,” he said, “you have sustained a loss lately; you must be in
-want of money; now is the time to prove yourself a Christian, and let
-others do unto you as you would do unto them. You offered me money once
-when I did not want it; I offer it to you now that you do.” And he
-pressed a bundle of notes into the count’s hands.
-
-But Raymond crushed them back into his. “Mon cher Simon! I do not thank
-you. That would be ungrateful; it would look as if I were surprised,
-whereas I have long since come to take brotherly kindness as a matter of
-course from you. But in truth I do not want this money; I give you my
-word I don’t!”
-
-“If you pledge your word, I must believe you, I suppose,” returned the
-baronet; “but promise me one thing--if you should want it, you will let
-me know?”
-
-“I promise you I will.”
-
-Sir Simon with a sigh, which Raymond took for reluctance, but which was
-really one of relief, replaced the notes in his waistcoat pocket. “I had
-better leave you a blank check all the same,” he said; “you might happen
-to want it, and not be able to get a letter to me at once. There is no
-knowing where the vagabond spirit may lead me, once I am on the move.
-Give me a pen.” And he seated himself at the desk.
-
-Raymond protested; but it was no use, Sir Simon would have his own way;
-he wrote the blank check and saw it locked up in the count’s private
-drawer. M. de la Bourbonais argued from this reckless committal of his
-signature that the baronet’s finances were in a flourishing condition,
-and was greatly rejoiced. Alas! if the truth were known, they had never
-been in a sorrier plight. He had offered the bank-notes in all sincerity,
-but if Raymond had accepted it, Sir Simon would have been at his wit’s
-end to find the ready money for his journey. But he kept this dark, and
-rather led his friend to suppose him flush of money; it was the only
-chance of getting him to accept his generosity.
-
-“Mind you keep me constantly informed how Franceline gets on,” were his
-parting words; and M. de la Bourbonais promised.
-
-She got on in pretty much the same way for some time. Languid and pale,
-but not suffering; and she had no cough, and no return of the symptoms
-that had alarmed them all so much. Angélique watched her as a cat watches
-a mouse, but even her practised eye could detect no definite cause for
-anxiety.
-
-One morning, about a fortnight after Sir Simon’s departure, Franceline
-was alone in the little sitting-room--her father had gone to do some
-shopping for her in the town, as it was too cold for her to venture
-out--when Sir Ponsonby Anwyll called. The moment she saw him she flushed
-up, partly with surprise, partly with pleasure. A casual observer would
-have concluded this to be a good sign for the visitor; a male friend
-would have unhesitatingly pronounced him a lucky dog. Ponsonby himself
-felt slightly elated.
-
-“I heard you were ill,” he said, “and as I am at home on leave for a
-few days, I could not resist coming to inquire for you. You are not
-displeased with me for coming?”
-
-“No, indeed; it is very kind of you. I am glad to see you,” Franceline
-replied with bright, grateful eyes.
-
-Hope bounded up high in Ponsonby.
-
-“They told me you had been very ill. I hope it is not true. You don’t
-look it,” he said anxiously.
-
-“I have been frightening them a little more than it was worth; but I am
-quite well now. How is Lady Anwyll?”
-
-“Thank you, she’s just as usual; in very good health and a tremendous
-bustle. You know I always put the house topsy-turvy when I come down. Not
-that I mean to do it; it seems to come of itself as a natural consequence
-of my being there,” he explained, laughing. “Is M. de la Bourbonais quite
-well?”
-
-“Quite well. He will be in presently; he is only gone to make a few
-purchases for me.”
-
-“How anxious he must have been while you were ill!”
-
-“Dear papa! yes he was.”
-
-“Do you ride much now?”
-
-“Not at all. I am forbidden to take any violent exercise for the present.”
-
-All obvious subjects being now exhausted, there ensued a pause. Ponsonby
-was the first to break it.
-
-“Have you forgiven me, Franceline?” he said, looking at her tenderly, and
-with a sort of sheepish timidity.
-
-“Indeed I have; forgiven and forgotten,” she replied; and then blushing
-very red, and correcting herself quickly: “I mean there was nothing to
-forgive.”
-
-“That’s not the sort of forgiveness I want,” said Ponsonby, growing
-courageous in proportion as she grew embarrassed. “Franceline, why can
-you not like me a little? I love you so much; no one will ever love you
-better, or as well!”
-
-She shook her head, but said nothing, only rose and went to the window.
-He followed her.
-
-“You are angry with me again!” he exclaimed, and was going to break out
-in entreaties to be forgiven; when stooping forward he caught sight of
-her face. It was streaming with tears!
-
-“There, the very mention of it sets you crying! Why do you hate me so?”
-
-“I do not hate you. I never hated you! I wish with all my heart I could
-love you! But I cannot, I cannot! And you would not have me marry you if
-I did not love you? It would be false and selfish to accept your love,
-with all it would bring me, and give so little in return?” She turned her
-dark eyes on him, still full of tears, but unabashed and innocent, as if
-he had been a brother asking her to do something unreasonable.
-
-“So little!” he cried, and seizing her hand he pressed it to his lips;
-“if you knew how thankful I would be for that little! What am I but an
-awkward lout at best! But I will make you happy, Franceline; I swear to
-you I will! And your father too. I will be as good as a son to him.”
-
-She made no answer but the same negative movement of her head. She looked
-out over the winter fields with a dreamy expression, as if she only half
-heard him, while her hand lay passively in his.
-
-“Say you will be my wife! Accept me, Franceline!” pleaded the young man,
-and he passed his arm around her.
-
-The action roused her; she snatched away her hand and started from
-him. It was not aversion or antipathy, it was terror that dictated the
-movement. Something within her cried out and forbade her to listen. She
-could no more control the sudden recoil than she could control the tears
-that gushed out afresh, this time with loud sobs that shook her from head
-to foot.
-
-“Good heavens! what have I done?” exclaimed Ponsonby, helpless and
-dismayed. “Shall I go away? shall I leave you?”
-
-“Oh! it is nothing. It is over now,” said Franceline, her agitation
-quieted instantaneously by the sight of his. She dashed the tears from
-her cheeks impatiently; she was vexed with herself for giving way so
-before him. “Sit down; you are trembling all over,” said the young man;
-and he gently forced her into a chair. “I am sorry I said anything; I
-will never mention the subject again without your permission. Shall I go
-away?”
-
-“It would be very ungracious to say ‘yes,’” she replied, trying to smile
-through the tears that hung like raindrops on her long lashes; “but you
-see how weak and foolish I am.”
-
-“My poor darling! I will go and leave you. I have been too much for you.
-Only tell me, may I come soon again--just to ask how you are?”
-
-She hesitated. To say yes would be tacitly to accept him; yet it was
-odious to turn him off like this without a word of kindly explanation to
-soften the pang. Ponsonby could not read these thoughts, so he construed
-her hesitation according to the immemorial logic of lovers.
-
-“Well, never mind answering now,” he said; “I won’t bother you any more
-to-day. You will present my respects to the count, and say how sorry I
-was not to see him.”
-
-He held out his hand for good-by.
-
-“You will meet him on the road, I dare say,” said Franceline, extending
-hers. “You will not tell him how I have misbehaved to you?”
-
-The shy smile that accompanied the request emboldened Ponsonby to raise
-the soft, white hand to his lips. Then turning away he overturned a
-little wicker flower-stand, happily with no injury to the sturdy green
-plant, but with considerable damage to the dignity of his exit.
-
-Perhaps you will say that Mlle. de la Bourbonais behaved like a flirt in
-parting with a discarded lover in this fashion. It is easy for you to say
-so. It is not so easy for a woman with a heart to inflict unmitigated
-pain on a man who loves her, and whose love she at least requites with
-gratitude, esteem, and sisterly regard.
-
-Sir Ponsonby met the count on the road; he made sure of the encounter by
-walking his horse up and down the green lane which commanded the road
-from Dullerton to The Lilies. What passed between them remained the
-secret of themselves and the winter thrush that perched on the brown
-hedge close by and sang out lustily to the trees and fields while they
-conversed.
-
-M. de la Bourbonais made no comment on his daughter’s tear-stained cheeks
-when he came home; but taking her face between his hands, as he was fond
-of doing, he gave one wistful look, kissed it, and let it go.
-
-“How long you have been away, petit père! Shall we go to our writing
-now?” she inquired cheerfully.
-
-“Art thou not tired, my child?”
-
-“Tired! What have I done to tire me?”
-
-She sat down at his desk, and nothing was said of Sir Ponsonby Anwyll’s
-visit.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The excitement of that day’s interview told, nevertheless, on Franceline.
-It left her nervous, and weaker than she had been since her recovery.
-These symptoms escaped her father’s notice, and they would have escaped
-Angélique’s, owing to Franceline’s strenuous efforts to conceal them, if
-a slight cough had not come to put her on the _qui vive_ more than ever.
-It was very slight indeed, only attacking her in the morning when she
-awoke, and quite ceasing by the time she was dressed and down-stairs.
-Franceline’s room was at one end of the cottage; Angélique slept next to
-her; and at the other end, with the stairs intervening, was the count’s
-room. He was thus out of ear-shot of the sound, which, however rare and
-seemingly unimportant, would have filled him with alarm. Franceline
-treated it as a trifle not worth mentioning; but when her old _bonne_
-insisted on taking her discreetly to Dr. Blink and having his opinion
-about it, she gave in to humor her. The doctor once more applied his
-stethoscope, and then, smiling that grim, satisfied smile of his that was
-so reassuring to patients till they had seen it practised on others and
-found out it was a fallacy, remarked:
-
-“We are glad to be able to assure you again that there is nothing to
-be frightened at; no mischief that cannot be forestalled by care, and
-docility to our instructions,” he added emphatically. “We must order you
-some tonics, and you must take them regularly. How is the appetite?”
-turning to Angélique, who stood by devouring the oracle’s words and
-watching every line of his features with a shrewd, almost vicious
-expression of mistrust on her brown face.
-
-“Ah! the appetite. She will not be eating many; she will be wanting
-dainty plates which I cannot make,” explained the Frenchwoman, sticking
-pertinaciously to the future tense, as usual when she spoke English.
-
-“Invalids are liable to those caprices of the palate,” remarked Dr. Blink
-blandly; “but Miss Franceline will be brave and overcome them. Dainty
-dishes are not always the most nourishing, and nourishment is necessary
-for her; it is essential.”
-
-“That is what I will be telling mamselle,” assented Angélique; “but she
-will not be believing me. I will be telling her every day the strength is
-in the bouillon; but she will be making a grimace and saying ‘Pshaw!’”
-
-The last word was uttered with a grimace so expressive that Franceline
-burst out laughing, and the pompous little doctor joined in it in spite
-of his dignity. She promised to do her best to obey him and overcome
-her dislike to the bouillon, Angélique’s native panacea, and to other
-substantial food.
-
-But she found it very hard to keep the promise. It required something
-savory to tempt her weak appetite. Angélique saw she was doing her
-best, and never pressed the poor child needlessly; but she would groan
-over the plate as she removed it, sometimes untouched. “I used to think
-myself a ‘blue ribbon’ until now,” she said once to Franceline, with an
-impatient sigh; “but I am at the end of my talent; I can do nothing to
-please mamselle.” And then she would long for Sir Simon to come home.
-It happened unluckily that the professed artist who presided over the
-kitchen at the Court was taking a holiday during his master’s absence.
-Angélique would have scorned to invoke the skill of the subaltern who
-replaced him, but she had a profound admiration for the _chef_ himself,
-and, though an Englishman, she bowed unreservedly to his superior
-talents. The belief was current that Sir Simon would spend the Christmas
-at Dullerton; he always did when not at too great a distance at that
-time. It was the right thing for an English gentleman to do, and his
-bitterest foe would not accuse the baronet of failing to act up to that
-standard.
-
-This year, however, it was not possible. The weather was glorious at Nice
-and it was anything but that at Dullerton, and the long journey in the
-cold was not attractive. He wrote home desiring the usual festivities
-to be arranged according to the old custom of the place; coals and
-clothing were to be distributed _ad libitum_; the fatted calf was to be
-killed for the tenantry, and everybody was enjoined to eat, drink, and
-be merry in spite of the host’s absence. They conscientiously followed
-these hospitable injunctions, but it was a grievous disappointment that
-Sir Simon was not in their midst to stimulate the conviviality by his
-kindly and genial presence. Pretty presents came to The Lilies, but they
-did not bring strength to Franceline. She grew more transparent, more
-fragile-looking, as the days went on. Angélique held private conferences
-with Miss Merrywig, and that lady suggested that any of the large houses
-in the neighborhood would be only too delighted to be of any use in
-sending jellies flavored with good strong wine. There was nothing so
-nourishing for an invalid; Miss Merrywig would speak to one where there
-was a capital cook. But Angélique would not hear of it. No, no! Much as
-she longed for the jelly she dared not get it in this way. M. le Comte
-would never forgive her. “He will be so proud, M. le Comte! He will be a
-Scotchman! He will not be confessing even to me that he wants nothing.
-But Monsieur Simon will be coming; he will be coming soon, and then he
-will be making little plates for mamselle every day.” Meantime she and
-Franceline did their best to hide from Raymond this particular reason
-for desiring their friend’s return. But he noticed that she ate next to
-nothing, and that she often signed to Angélique to remove her plate on
-which the food remained untasted. Once he could not forbear exclaiming:
-“Ah! if we were in Paris I could get some _friandise_ to tempt thee!”
-
-In the middle of January one morning a letter came from Sir Simon,
-bearing the London postmark.
-
-He had been obliged to come to England on pressing business of a
-harassing nature.
-
-“Is Sir Simon coming home, petit père?” inquired Franceline eagerly, as
-her father opened the letter.
-
-“Yes; but only for a day. He will be here after to-morrow, and fly away
-to Nice the next day.”
-
-“How tiresome of him! But it is better to see him for a day than not at
-all. Does he say what hour he arrives? We will go and meet him.”
-
-“It will be too late for thee to be out, my child. He comes by the late
-afternoon train, just in time to dress for dinner and receive us all. He
-has invited several friends in the neighborhood to dine.”
-
-“What a funny idea! And he is only coming for the day?”
-
-“Only for the day.”
-
-Raymond’s eyebrows closed like a horseshoe over his meditative eyes
-as he folded the baronet’s letter and laid it aside. There was more
-in it than he communicated to Franceline. It was the old story; money
-tight, bills falling due, and no means of meeting them. Lady Rebecca
-had taken a fresh start, thanks to an Italian quack who had been up
-from Naples and worked wonders with some diabolical elixir--diabolical
-beyond a doubt, for nothing but the black-art could explain the sudden
-and extraordinary rally; she was all but dead when the quack arrived--so
-Mr. Simpson heard from one of her ladyship’s attendants. Simpson himself
-was terribly put out by the news; it overturned all his immediate plans;
-he saw no possibility of any longer avoiding extremities. Extremities
-meant that the principal creditor, a Jew who had lent a sum of thirty
-thousand pounds on Sir Simon’s life-interest in Dullerton, at the rate
-of twenty per cent, was now determined to wait no longer for his arrears
-of twenty per cent, but turn the baronet out of possession and sell his
-life-interest in the estate. This sword of Damocles had been hanging over
-his debtor’s head for the last ten years. It was to meet this usurious
-interest periodically that Sir Simon was driven to such close quarters.
-He had up to this time contrived to answer the demand--Heaven and Mr.
-Simpson alone knew at what sacrifices. But now he had come to a point
-beyond which even he declared he could not possibly carry his client. He
-had tried to negotiate post-obit bills on Lady Rebecca’s fifty thousand
-pounds, but the Jews were too sharp for that. Lady Rebecca was sole
-master of her fifty thousand pounds, and might leave it to whom she
-liked. She had made her will bequeathing it to her step-son, and _he_
-was morally as certain of ultimately possessing the money as if it were
-entailed; but moral security is no security at all to a money-lender.
-The money was _not_ entailed; Lady Rebecca might take it into her head
-to alter her will; she might leave it to a quack doctor, or to some
-clever sycophant of an attendant. There is no saying what an old lady of
-seventy-five may not do with fifty thousand pounds. Sir Simon pshawed
-and pooh-poohed contemptuously when Simpson enumerated these arguments
-against the negotiation of the much-needed P. O. bills; but it was no
-use. Israel was inexorable. And now one particular member of the tribe
-called Moses to witness that if he were not paid his “twenty per shent”
-on the first of February, he would seize upon the life-interest of
-Dullerton Court and make its present owner a bankrupt. He could sell
-nothing, either in the house or on the estate; the plate and pictures and
-furniture were entailed. If this were not the case, things need not have
-come to this with Sir Simon. Two of those Raphaels in the great gallery
-would have paid the Jew principal and interest together; but not a spoon
-or a hearth-brush in the Court could be touched; everything belonged to
-the heir. No mention has hitherto been made of that important person,
-because he in no way concerns this story, except by the fact of his
-existence. He was a distant kinsman of the present baronet, who had never
-seen him. He was in diplomacy, and so lived always abroad. People are
-said to dislike their heirs.
-
-If Sir Simon disliked any human being, it was his. He did not dislike
-Lady Rebecca; he was only out of patience with her; she certainly was
-an aggravating old woman--living on to no purpose, that he could see,
-except to frustrate and harass him. Yet he had kindly thoughts of her;
-he had only cold aversion towards the man who was waiting for his own
-death to come and rule in his stead. He had never spoken of him to M. de
-la Bourbonais except to inform him that he existed, and that he stood
-in his way on many occasions. In the letter of this morning he spoke of
-him once more. The letter was a long one, and calmer than any previous
-effusion of the kind that Raymond remembered. There was very little
-vituperation of the duns, or even of the chief scoundrel who was about
-to tear away the veil that had hitherto concealed the sores and flaws
-in the popular landlord’s life. This was what he felt most deeply in
-it all; the disgrace of being shown up as a sham--a man who had lived
-like a prince while he had been in reality a beggar, in debt up to his
-ears, and who was now about to be made a bankrupt. Raymond had never
-before understood the real nature of his friend’s embarrassment; he
-was shocked and distressed more than he could express. It was not the
-moment to judge him; to remember the reckless extravagance, the criminal
-want of prudence, of conscience, that had brought him to this pass. He
-only thought of the friend of his youth, the kind, faithful, delightful
-companion who had never failed in friendship, whatever his other sins
-may have been. And now he was ruined, disgraced before the world, going
-to be driven forth from his ancestral home branded as a life-long sham.
-Raymond could have wept for pity. Then it occurred to him with a strange
-pang that he was to dine with Sir Simon the next day; the head cook had
-been telegraphed for to prepare the dinner; there was to be a jovial
-gathering of friends to “cheer him up.” What a mystery it was, this
-craving for being cheered up, as if the process were a substantial remedy
-that in some way helped to pay debts, or postpone payment! The count was
-too sad at heart to smile. He rose from the breakfast-table with a sigh,
-and was leaving the room when Franceline linked her hands on his arm, and
-said, looking up with an anxious face:
-
-“It is a long letter, petit père; is there any bad news?”
-
-“There is hardly any news at all,” he replied evasively. In truth there
-was not.
-
-“Then why do you look so sad?”
-
-“Why dost thou look so pale?” was the reply. And he smiled tenderly and
-sighed again as he kissed her forehead.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-ÆSCHYLUS.
-
-    A sea-cliff carved into a bas-relief!
-    Art, rough from Nature’s hand; by brooding Nature
-    Wrought out in spasms to shapes of Titan stature;
-    Emblems of Fate, and Change, Revenge, and Grief,
-    And Death, and Life; in giant hieroglyph
-    Confronting still with thunder-blasted frieze
-    All stress of years, and winds, and wasting seas--
-    The stranger nears it in his western skiff,
-    And hides his eyes. Few, few shall dare, great Bard,
-    Thy watery portals! Entering, fewer yet
-    Shall pierce thy music’s meaning, deep and hard!
-    But these shall owe to thee an endless debt;
-    The Eleusinian caverns they shall tread
-    That wind beneath man’s heart; and wisdom learn with dread.
-
-                                                          AUBREY DE VERE.
-
-
-A PRECURSOR OF MARCO POLO.
-
-The merchants and missionaries who were the first travellers and
-ambassadors of Christian times little thought, absorbed as they were in
-the object of their quest, how large a share of interest in the eyes
-of posterity would centre in the quaint observations, descriptions,
-and drawings which they were able incidentally to gather or make.
-Marco Polo’s name, and even those of his father and uncle, Niccolo and
-Matteo Polo, are well known, and are associated with all that barbaric
-magnificence the memory of which had a great share in keeping alive
-the perseverance of subsequent explorers. It was fitting that traders
-in jewels should reach the more civilized and splendid Tartars, and
-no doubt their store of rich presents, and their garments of ample
-dimensions as well as fine texture, would prove a passport through
-tribes so passionately acquisitive as the Tartars seem to have been.
-Nomads are not always simple-minded or unambitious. The Franciscan whose
-travels come just between the expedition of the elder Polo and the more
-famous Marco--Friar William Rubruquis--did not have the good-luck to
-see the wonders his successor described; but he mentions repeatedly
-that his entertainers made reiterated and minute inquiries as to the
-abundance of flocks and herds in the country he came from, and that they
-wondered--rather contemptuously--at the presents of sweet wine, dried
-fruits, and delicate cakes which were all he had to offer their great
-princes.
-
-Rubruquis was traveller, missionary, and ambassador, but in the two
-pursuits denoted by the last-mentioned titles his success was but small.
-As a traveller, however, he was hardy, persevering, and observant. Though
-not bred a horseman, he often rode thirty leagues a day, and half the
-time at full gallop, he says. His companions, monks like himself, could
-not stand the fatigue, and both, at different intervals, parted company
-from him. But Rubruquis was young and strong, though, as he himself says,
-corpulent and heavy; and, above all, he was enterprising. He was not
-more than five-and-twenty when he started on his quest of the Christian
-monarch whom all the rulers of Europe firmly believed in, and whose name
-has come down to us as Prester John.
-
-Born in 1230, he devoted himself early to the church, and during the
-Fourth Crusade went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. His real name was
-Ruysbroek, but, according to the unpatriotic fashion of the times, he
-Latinized it into Rubruquis. S. Louis, King of France, eager for the
-Christian alliance which the supposed Prester John would be able to enter
-into with him, had once already sent an embassy of monks to seek him; but
-they had failed to perform a sixth part of the journey set down for them,
-and had heard no tidings of a monarch answering to the description. The
-king, nothing daunted, determined to send another embassy on a voyage
-of discovery Vague news of a Christian Tartar chief, by name Sartach,
-had come to him; probably the toleration extended by the Tartars to
-Christians--a contrast to the behavior of most Saracenic chiefs--led to
-this obstinate belief in a remote Christian empire of the East.
-
-William de Rubruquis, Bartholomew of Cremona, and a companion named
-Andrew, all Franciscan friars, were chosen for this new expedition.
-On the 7th of May, 1253 (says his narrative, though it has since been
-calculated that, as S. Louis was a captive at the time, the date 1255 is
-more likely to be correct), the travellers, having crossed the Black Sea
-from Constantinople, landed at Soldaia, near Cherson. The king, somewhat
-unwisely as it proved, had told his envoy to represent himself as a
-private individual travelling on his own account. But the Tartars were
-acute and jealous of foreigners; they knew that travelling entailed too
-much fatigue and danger to be undertaken simply for pleasure, and they
-had small regard for any stranger, unless the representative of a prince.
-They guessed his mission, and taxed him with it, till he was obliged to
-acknowledge that he was the bearer of letters from the Christian King of
-France to the mighty khan, Sartach. But though the people do not seem to
-have taken him for a private person, they were puzzled by the poverty of
-his dress and the scantiness of the presents he offered them. Even small
-dignitaries expected to be royally propitiated. He explained his vow of
-poverty to them, but this did not impress the Tartars as favorably as he
-wished. Still, he met with nothing but civility and hospitality.
-
-Rubruquis says that Soldaia was a great mart for furs, which the
-Russians exchanged with the merchants of Constantinople for silks,
-cotton, spices, etc. The third day after his departure he met a wandering
-tribe, “among whom being entered,” he says, “methought I was come into a
-new world.”
-
-He goes on to describe their houses on wheels, no despicable or narrow
-habitations, even according to modern ideas:
-
-“Their houses, in which they sleep, they raise upon a round foundation of
-wickers artificially wrought and compacted together, the roof consisting
-of wickers also meeting above in one little roundel, out of which there
-rises upwards a neck like a chimney, which they cover with white felt;
-and often they lay mortar or white earth upon the felt with the powder
-of bones, that it may shine and look white; sometimes, also, they cover
-their houses with black felt. This cupola … they adorn with a variety
-of pictures. Before the door they hang a felt curiously painted over;
-for they spend all their colored felt in painting vines, trees, birds,
-and beasts thereupon. These houses they make so large that they contain
-thirty feet in breadth; for, measuring once the breadth between the
-wheel-ruts, … I found it to be twenty feet over, and when the house was
-upon the cart it stretched over the wheels on each side five feet at
-least. I told two-and-twenty oxen in one draught, drawing an house upon a
-cart, and eleven more on the other side. (Two rows, one in front of the
-other, we suppose.) … A fellow stood in the door of the house, driving
-the oxen.”
-
-Sometimes a woman drove, or walked at the head of the leaders to guide
-them. “One woman will guide twenty or thirty carts at once; for their
-country is very flat, and they fasten the carts with camels or oxen one
-behind another. A girl sits in the foremost cart, driving the oxen, and
-all the rest of themselves follow at a like pace. When they come to a
-place which is a bad passage, they loose them, and guide them one by
-one.…”
-
-The baggage was so arranged as to be taken through the smaller rivers
-of Asia without being injured or wetted. It consisted of square chests
-of wicker-work, with a hollow lid or cover of the same, “covered with
-black felt, rubbed over with tallow or sheep’s milk to keep the rain from
-soaking through, which they also adorn with painting or white feathers.”
-These were placed on carts with very high wheels, and drawn by camels
-instead of oxen. The encampment was like a large village, well defended
-by palisades formed of the carts off which the houses had been taken,
-and which were drawn up in two compact lines, one in front and one in
-the rear of the dwellings, “as it were between two walls,” says our
-traveller. A rich Tartar commonly had one hundred, or even two hundred,
-such cart-houses. Each house had several small houses belonging to it,
-placed behind it, serving as closets, store-rooms, and sleeping chambers,
-and often as many as two hundred chests and their necessary carts. This
-made immense numbers of camels and oxen for draught necessary; and,
-besides, there were the animals for food and milk, and the horses for the
-men. They had cow’s milk and mare’s milk, two species of food which they
-used very differently, and even made of social and religious importance.
-Only the men were allowed to milk the mares, while the women attended to
-the cows; and any interchange of these offices would have been deemed,
-in a man, unpardonable effeminacy, and in a woman indelicacy. At the door
-of the houses stood two tutelary deities, monsters of both sexes. The
-cow’s milk served for the food of women and children, while the mare’s
-milk was made into a fermented liquor called cosmos. This was supposed
-to make a heathen of the man who drank it; for the Nestorian Christians
-found among them, “who keep their own laws very strictly, will not drink
-thereof; they account themselves no Christians after they have once drunk
-of it; and their priests reconcile them to the church as if they had
-renounced the Christian faith.”
-
-This cosmos was made thus: The milk was poured into a large skin bag,
-and the bag beaten with a wooden club until the milk began to ferment
-and turn sour. The bag was then shaken and cudgelled again until most of
-it turned to butter; after which the liquid was supposed to be fit for
-drinking. Rubruquis evidently liked it; says it was exhilarating to the
-spirits, and even intoxicating to weak heads; pungent to the taste, “like
-raspberry wine,” but left a flavor on the palate “like almond-milk.”
-Cara-cosmos, a rarer quality of the same, and reserved for the chiefs
-only, was produced by prolonging the beating of the bag until the
-coagulated portions subsided to the bottom. These drinks were received as
-tribute or taxes. Baatu, a chief with sixteen wives, received the produce
-of three thousand mares daily, besides a quantity of common cosmos, a
-bowl of which almost always stood on the threshold of every rich man’s
-house. The Tartars often drank of it to excess, and their banquets were
-relieved by music.
-
-At these feasts, in which both sexes participated, the guests clapped
-their hands and danced to the music, the men before their host, the
-women before his principal wife. The host always drank first. The moment
-he put his lips to the bowl of cosmos, his cup-bearer cried aloud
-“Ha!” and the musicians struck up. This almost sounds like a mediæval
-Twelfth-night banquet, when all the guests rose and shouted, “The king
-drinks!” and then drained their goblets in imitation of the monarch of
-the night. The Tartars respectfully waited till the lord of the feast
-had finished his draught, when the cup-bearer again cried “Ha!” and the
-music ceased. After a pause, the guests, male and female, drank round in
-turns, each one to the sound of music, with a pause and silence before
-the next person took up the cup. This fashion of drinking continued
-unchanged for many centuries, and later travellers, amid the increased
-pomp of the court of the Tartar emperors of China, found it still in
-force--music, cries, pauses, and all. We have also seen, not many years
-ago, on the occasion of the marriage of the late young emperor of China,
-illustrations of the wedding procession, representing immensely wide
-carts, drawn by eleven oxen abreast, laden with costly state furniture;
-and if we take away the pomp and gilding, the picture is not unlike that
-of the Tartar camp-carts seen by our traveller. Rubruquis hints that the
-Tartars were not a temperate people; they drank much and not cleanly,
-and the way of “inviting” a person to drink was to seize his ears and
-pull them forcibly. The sweet wine, of which the monk had a small supply,
-pleased them very well, but they thought him not lavish enough in his
-hospitality; for once, on his offering the master of the house one flagon
-of this wine, the man gravely drained it and asked for another, saying
-that “a man does not go into a house with one foot.” In return, however,
-they did not give him much to eat; but perhaps he suffered hunger rather
-from his prejudice to the meat they ate than from their niggardliness
-in giving. He at last learned to eat horse-flesh, but was disgusted at
-his friends’ eating the bodies of animals that had died of disease. The
-Tartars were honest enough, and, never even took things by force; but
-they begged for everything that took their fancy as unblushingly as some
-of Paul Du Chaillu’s negroes in Africa. It surprised them to be refused
-anything--knives, gloves, purses, etc.--and, when gratified, never
-thought it necessary to thank their guests.
-
-After a while Rubruquis met the carts of Zagatai, one of the chieftains,
-to whom he brought a letter from the Emperor of Constantinople. Here
-the Tartars asked “what we had in our carts--whether it were gold, or
-silver, or rich garments”; and both Zagatai and his interpreter were
-haughtily discontented at finding that at least some garment of value
-was not forthcoming. This is not wonderful, considering the wealth of
-their own great khans, of whom a later one, Kooblai, so celebrated in
-Marco Polo’s travels, gave his twelve lords, twelve times in the year,
-robes of gold-colored silk, embroidered with gold and precious stones.
-Zagatai, however, received the ambassador graciously. “He sat on his
-bed,”[45] says Rubruquis, “holding a musical instrument in his hand,
-and his wife sat by him, who, in my opinion, had cut and pared her nose
-between the eyes, that she might seem to be more flat-nosed; for she had
-left herself no nose at all in that place, having anointed the very scar
-with black ointment, as she also did her eyebrows, which sight seemed to
-me most ugly.… I besought him that he would accept this small gift at our
-hands, excusing myself that I was a monk, and that it was against our
-profession to possess gold, silver, or precious garments, and therefore
-that I had not any such thing to give him, unless he would receive some
-part of our victuals instead of a blessing.” The Tartars were always
-eager to receive a blessing over and above any present. He was constantly
-asked to make over them the sign of the cross; but it is to be feared
-that they looked upon it as a charm, and of charms they couldn’t have
-too many. From Zagatai, Rubruquis went to Sartach, who said he had no
-power of treating with him, and sent him on to his father-in-law, Baatu,
-the patriarch with sixteen wives and several hundred houses. Losing
-his ox-wagons and baggage on the way--for the independent tribes did
-not scruple to exact tribute from a traveller, even if he was a friend
-of their neighbors--he never lost his courage and his determination
-to sow the seeds of truth in Tartary. He did not know the language at
-first, and only learnt it very imperfectly at the last. Here and there
-a captive Christian, mostly Hungarians, or a Tartar who had learnt the
-rudiments of Christianity during an invasion of his tribe into Europe,
-acted as interpreter. All were uniformly kind to him. One of them,
-who understood Latin and psalmody, was in great request at all the
-funerals of his neighborhood; but the “Christianity” of the natives was
-but a shred of Nestorianism worked into a web of paganism, so that, the
-farther he advanced, the farther the great, powerful, united Christian
-community headed by Prester John seemed to recede. The people took kindly
-to Christian usages, and had some respect for the forms and ceremonies
-which the monk and his companions endeavored to keep up; but when it
-came to doctrine and morality, they grew impatient and unresponsive. One
-of Rubruquis’ interpreters often refused to do his office. “And thus,”
-says the traveller, “it caused me great chagrin when I wished to address
-to them a few words of edification; for he would say to me, ‘You shall
-not make me preach to-day; I understand nothing of all you tell me.’ …
-And then he spoke the truth; for afterwards, as I began to understand a
-little of their tongue, I perceived that when I told him one thing he
-repeated another, just according to his fancy. Therefore, seeing it was
-no use to talk or preach, I held my tongue.”
-
-Hard riding was not the only thing that distressed the ambassador of
-the King of France. His companions gave him meat that was less than
-half-cooked, and sometimes positively raw. Then the cold began to be
-severe, and still there were at least four months’ travel before him.
-The Tartars were kind to him in their rough way, and gave him some of
-their thick sheepskins and hide shoes. He had insisted on journeying most
-of the time in his Franciscan sandals, and, full of ardor for his rule,
-had constantly refused gifts of costly garments. This the Tartars never
-quite understood, but they respected the principle which caused him to
-make so many sacrifices for the sake and furtherance of his religion.
-Wherever he passed, he and his companions endeared themselves to the
-inhabitants by many little services (doubtless also by cures wrought
-by simple remedies), and generally by their gentle, unselfish conduct
-towards all men. Rubruquis observed everything minutely as he passed. The
-manners and customs of the people interested him, and perhaps he did not
-consider them quite such barbarians as we of later days are apt to do.
-When we read the accounts of domestic life among the majority of people
-in mediæval times, and see that refinement of manner was less thought of
-than costliness of apparel and wealth of plate and cattle, the difference
-between such manners and those of the Tartars is not appreciable. Few in
-those days were learned, and learning it is that has always made the real
-difference between a gentleman and a boor. The marauding chieftains of
-feudal times were only romantic and titled highwaymen after all. So were
-the wandering Tartars. The difference that has since sprung up between
-the descendants of the marauding barons and those of the Tartar chiefs is
-mainly one of race. The former are of an enterprising, improving race,
-the latter of a stagnant one; and while the European nations that then
-trembled before the invading hordes of Jengis-Khan have now developed
-into intellectual superiority over every other race in the world, the
-Tartar is still, socially and intellectually, on the same old level, and
-his political advantages have vanished with his rude warlike superiority
-before the diplomacy and the military organization of his former victims.
-
-Rubruquis noticed that among the superstitions common in Tartary was a
-belief that it was unlucky for a visitor to touch the threshold of a
-Tartar’s door. Modern travellers assert the same of the Chinese. Whenever
-our envoy paid a visit, he deferred to this belief by carefully stepping
-across the threshold of the house or tent, without letting any part of
-his person or dress come in contact with it. Their dress, on festive
-occasions, was rich; for they traded with China, Persia, and other
-southern and eastern countries for “stuffs of silk, cloths of gold, and
-cotton cloths, which they wear in time of summer; but out of Russia,
-Bulgaria, Hungaria, and out of Chersis (all which are northern regions
-and full of woods), … the inhabitants bring them rich and costly skins
-and furs of divers sorts, which I never saw in our countries, wherewithal
-they are clad in winter.” The rough sheepskin coats had their place also
-in their toilet, and a material made of two-thirds wool and one-third
-horsehair furnished them with caps, saddle-cloths, and felt for covering
-their wagons.
-
-The women’s dress was distinguished from the men’s simply by its greater
-length, and they often rode, like the men, astride their horses, their
-faces protected by a white veil, crossing the nose just below the eyes
-and descending to the breast. Immense size and flat noses were the great
-desiderata among them. Marriage was a mere bargain, and daughters were
-generally sold to the highest bidder. Though expert hunters, the Tartars
-were scarcely what we should call sportsmen. They hunted on the _battue_
-system, spreading themselves in a wide circle, and gradually contracting
-this as they drove the game before them, until the unfortunate animals
-being penned in in a small space, they were easily shot down by
-wholesale. Hawking was also in vogue among the Tartars, and was reduced
-as much to a science as in Europe. They strenuously punished great crimes
-with death, as, for instance, murder, theft, adultery, and even minor
-offences against chastity. This, however, was less the consequence of a
-regard for virtue _per se_ than of a vivid perception of the rights of
-property. No code but the Jewish and the Christian ever protected the
-honor of women for its own sake. In mourning for the dead it is strange
-that violent howling and lamentation, even on the part of those not
-personally concerned, should be a form common to almost all nations, not
-only of different religions, but of various and widely-separated races.
-The Tartars, as well as the Celts, practised it. Rubruquis mentions that
-they made various monuments over the graves of their dead, sometimes mere
-mounds or barrows of earth, or towers of brick and even of stone--though
-no stone was to be found near the spot--and sometimes large open spaces,
-paved with stone, with four large stones placed upright at the corners,
-always facing the four cardinal points.
-
-It was during winter that the envoy arrived at the court or encampment of
-Mandchu-Khan. He says that it was at the distance of twenty days’ journey
-from Cataya, or Cathay (China), but it is difficult to say exactly where
-that was. Here Rubruquis found a number of Nestorian priests peacefully
-living under the khan’s protection, and among them one who had only
-arrived a month before the Franciscan friar, and said he had come, in
-consequence of a vision, to convert the khan and his people. He was an
-Armenian from the Holy Land. Our missionary describes him thus in his
-terse, direct way, which has this advantage over the long-winded and
-minute descriptions of our day, that we seem to see the man before us:
-“He was a monk, somewhat black and lean, clad with a rough hair-coat
-to the knees, having over it a black cloak of bristles, furred with
-spotted skins, girt with iron under his hair-cloth.” Mandchu-Khan was
-tolerant and liberal, and rather well disposed than otherwise to the
-Christian religion. His favorite wife, whom he had lately lost, had
-been a Christian, and so was his first secretary, but both Nestorian
-Christians. The khan, or his servants--who doubtless expected to be
-propitiated with the usual gifts if they could only succeed in wearying
-out the patience of the new-comers--made the envoy wait nine days for
-an audience. The Tartars thought it strange that a king’s ambassador
-should come to court bare-foot; but a boy, a Hungarian captive, again
-gave the required and often-repeated explanation. Before entering the
-large hall, whose entrance was closed by curtains of gayly-painted felt,
-the monks were searched, to see if they carried any concealed arms; and
-then the procession formed, the Christian missionaries entering the
-khan’s presence singing the hymn _A Solis ortus cardine_. The khan,
-like the lesser chieftains Rubruquis had already met, was seated on a
-“bed” or divan, dressed “in a spotted skin or fur, bright and shining.”
-The multitudinous bowings and prostrations in use at the Chinese court
-were very likely exacted, though the envoy says in general terms that
-“he had to bend the knee.” Such simplicity is, however, very far from
-the ceremonious Oriental ideal of homage, and it was not then, as it
-is now, esteemed an honor to receive Frankish envoys in the Frankish
-manner. Mandchu first offered his guests a drink of fermented milk, of
-which they partook sparingly, not to offend him; but the interpreter
-soon made himself unfit for his office by his indulgence in his favorite
-beverage. Rubruquis stated his mission with modest simplicity. In his
-quality of ambassador he might have resented the delay in receiving
-him; he might have complained of the familiarity and want of respect
-with which he had been often treated, and of the advantage taken of
-his gentleness and ignorance of the language to plunder him; but he
-was more than a king’s messenger. He was intent upon preaching the
-“good tidings” to the Tartars, and only used human means to compass a
-divine end. He acknowledged that he had no rich presents nor temporal
-goods to offer, but only spiritual benefits to impart. His practice
-certainly did not belie his theory. The people never disbelieved him,
-nor suspected him of being a political emissary. But still, he was
-unsuccessful. He soon perceived that his interpreter was blundering, and
-says: “I easily found he was drunk, and Mandchu-Khan himself was drunk
-also, as I thought.” All he could obtain was leave to remain in the
-country during the cold season. Inquiries met him on all sides as to the
-wealth and state of Europe; but of religion, beyond the few forms that
-pleased their eye, the people did not seem to think. They looked down
-with lofty indifference on the faith of those various adventurers whom
-their sovereign kindly sheltered, and ranked the Christian priests they
-already knew in the same category with conjurers and quack doctors. The
-Christianity of these Nestorians was even more imperfect than that of
-the Abyssinians at the time of the late English invasion of the unlucky
-King Theodore’s dominions. Rubruquis was horrified to find in these
-priests mere superstitious mountebanks. They mingled Tartar rites with
-corrupt ceremonies of the Catholic Church, and practised all manner of
-deceptions, mixing rhubarb with holy water as a medicinal drink, and
-carrying to the bedside of the sick lances and swords half-drawn from
-their sheaths along with the crucifix. Upon these grounds they pretended
-to the power of working miracles and curing the sick by spiritual means
-alone. The Franciscan zealously tried to reform these abuses and to
-convert the Nestorians before he undertook to preach to the Tartars; but
-here again he was unsuccessful. The self-interest of these debased men
-was in question, and truth was little to them in comparison with the
-comfort and consideration they enjoyed as leeches.
-
-A curious scene occurred while at this encampment of the khan. There
-were many Mahometans in the country, and the sovereign, with impartial
-tolerance, protected them and their commerce as he did the person and
-property of other refugees. They, the Christians, and some representative
-Tartars were all assembled one day, by order of Mandchu, to discuss in
-public the merits of their respective faiths. But even on this occasion
-no bitterness was evinced, and the meeting, though it turned out useless
-in a spiritual sense, ended in a friendly banquet. Rubruquis did
-his best to improve this opportunity of teaching the truth; but the
-hour of successful evangelization had not yet struck, and much of the
-indifference of the Tartars is to be attributed to the culpable practices
-of the Nestorians, whose behavior was enough to discredit the religion
-they pretended to profess. But if the missionary, notwithstanding all
-his zeal, was unable to convert the heathens, he at least comforted and
-strengthened many captive Christians. We have already mentioned a few of
-these, and in Mandchu’s camp he met with another, a woman from Metz in
-Lorraine, who had been taken prisoner in Hungary, and been carried back
-into their own country by the invaders. She had at first suffered many
-hardships, but ended by marrying a young Russian, a captive like herself,
-who was skilful in the art of building wooden houses. The Tartars prized
-this kind of knowledge, and were kind to the young couple, who were now
-leading a tolerably comfortable life, and had a family of three children.
-To fancy their joy at seeing a genuine Christian missionary is almost
-out of our power in these days of swift communication, when nothing is
-any longer a marvel; but if we could put ourselves in their place, we
-might paint a wonderful picture of thankfulness, surprise, and simple,
-rock-like faith. The latter part of Lent was spent in travelling, as the
-khan broke up his encampment, and went on across a chain of mountains to
-a great city, Karakorum, or Karakûm, on the river Orchon. Every vestige
-of such a city has disappeared centuries ago, but Marco Polo mentions it
-and describes its streets, situation, defences, etc. He arrived there
-nearly twenty years later, and noticed that it was surrounded by a strong
-rampart of earth, there being no good supply of stone in those parts.
-
-The passage of the Changai Mountains was a terrible undertaking; the
-cold was intense and the weather stormy, and the khan, with his usual
-bland eclecticism, begged Rubruquis to “pray to God in his own fashion”
-for milder weather, chiefly for the sake of the cattle. On Palm Sunday
-the envoy blessed the willow-boughs he saw on his way, though he says
-there were no buds on them yet; but they were near the city now, and
-the weather had become more promising. Rubruquis had his eyes wide open
-as he came to the first organized city of the Tartars, as Marco Polo
-affirms this to have been. It had scarcely been built twenty years when
-our monk visited it, and owed its origin to the son and successor of
-Jengis-Khan. “There were two grand streets in it,” says Rubruquis, “one
-of the Saracens, where the fairs are kept (held), and many merchants
-resort thither, and one other street of the Cathayans (Chinese), who are
-all artificers.” Many of the latter were captives, or at least subjects,
-of the khan; for the Tartars had already conquered the greater part of
-Northern China. The khan lived in a castle or palace outside the earthen
-rampart. In Karakorum, again, the monk found many Christians, Armenian,
-Georgian, Hungarian, and even of Western European origin. Among others
-he mentions an Englishman--whom he calls Basilicus, and who had been
-born in Hungary--and a few Germans. But the most important personage of
-foreign birth was a French goldsmith, William Bouchier, whose wife was
-a Hungarian, but of Mahometan parentage. This Benvenuto Cellini of the
-East was rich and liberal, an excellent interpreter, thoroughly at home
-in the Tartar dialects, a skilful artist, and in high favor at court. He
-had just finished a masterpiece of mechanism and beauty which Rubruquis
-thus minutely describes: “In the khan’s palace, because it was unseemly
-to carry about bottles of milk and other drinks there, Master William
-made him a great silver tree, at the root whereof were four silver
-lions, having each one pipe, through which flowed pure cow’s milk; and
-four other pipes were conveyed within the body of the tree unto the top
-thereof, and the tops spread back again downwards, and upon every one
-of them was a golden serpent, whose tails twined about the body of the
-tree. And one of these pipes ran with wine, another with cara-cosmos,
-another with _ball_--a drink made of honey--and another with a drink made
-of rice. Between the pipes, at the top of the tree, he made an angel
-holding a trumpet, and under the tree a hollow vault, wherein a man
-might be hid; and a pipe ascended from this vault through the tree to
-the angel. He first made bellows, but they gave not wind enough. Without
-the palace walls there was a chamber wherein the several drinks were
-brought; and there were servants there ready to pour them out when they
-heard the angel sounding his trumpet. And the boughs of the tree were of
-silver, and the leaves and the fruit. When, therefore, they want drink,
-the master-butler crieth to the angel that he sound the trumpet. Then
-he hearing (who is hid in the vault), bloweth the pipe, which goeth to
-the angel, and the angel sets his trumpet to his mouth, and the trumpet
-soundeth very shrill. Then the servants which are in the chamber hearing,
-each of them poureth forth his drink into its proper pipe, and all the
-pipes pour them forth from above, and they are received below in vessels
-prepared for that purpose.”
-
-This elaborate piece of plate makes one think rather of the XVIth
-century banquets of the Medici and the Este than of feastings given
-by a nomad Tartar in the wilds of Central Asia. The goldsmith was not
-unknown to fame even in Europe, where he was called William of Paris.
-Several old chroniclers speak of him, and his brother Roger was well
-known as a goldsmith “living upon the great bridge at Paris.” This clever
-artist very nearly fell a victim to the quackery of a Nestorian monk,
-whereupon Rubruquis significantly comments thus: “He entreated him to
-proceed either as an apostle doing miracles indeed, by virtue of prayer,
-or to administer his potion as a physician, according to the art of
-medicine.” Besides the Tartars and their Christian captives, Rubruquis
-had opportunities of observing the numerous Chinese, or Cathayans, as
-they were called, who have been mentioned as the artificers of the town.
-There were also knots of Siberians, Kamtchatkans, and even inhabitants
-of the islands between the extremities of Asia and America, where at
-times the sea was frozen over. Rubruquis picked up a good deal of
-miscellaneous information, chiefly about the Chinese. He mentions their
-paper currency--a fact which Marco Polo subsequently verified--and their
-mode of writing; _i.e._, with small paint-brushes, and each character or
-figure signifying a whole word. The standard of value of the Russians,
-he says, consisted in spotted furs--a currency which still exists in the
-remoter parts of Siberia.
-
-It was not without good reason, no doubt, that the monk-envoy made up
-his mind to leave the country he had hoped either to evangelize or to
-find already as orthodox as his own, and ruled by a great Christian
-potentate. Such perseverance as he showed throughout his journey was not
-likely to be daunted by slight obstacles; but finding the object of his
-mission as far from attainment as when he first entered Tartary, he at
-last reluctantly left the field. Only one European besides himself had
-ventured so far--Friar Bartholomew of Cremona; but even he shrank before
-a renewal of the hardships of mountain and desert travel, and chose
-rather to stay behind with Master William, the hospitable goldsmith, till
-some more convenient opportunity should present itself of returning to
-his own country. Rubruquis accordingly started alone, with a servant,
-an interpreter, and a guide; but though he had asked for leave to go
-on Whitsunday, the permission was delayed till the festival of S. John
-Baptist, the 24th of June. The khan made him a few trifling presents, and
-gave him a complimentary letter to the King of France; but no definite
-results were obtained. The homeward journey was long and tedious, and
-the only provision made for the sustenance of the party was a permission
-from the khan to take a sheep “once in four days, wherever they could
-find it.” Sometimes they had nothing to eat for three days together, and
-only a little cosmos to drink, and more than once, having missed the
-stations of the wandering tribes whom they had reckoned on meeting, even
-the supply of cosmos was exhausted. About two months after his departure
-from Karakorum, Rubruquis met Sartach, the great chief who had sheltered
-him for some time on his way to the river Don. Some belongings of the
-mission having been left in Sartach’s care, the envoy asked him to return
-them, but was told they were in charge of Baatu, Rubruquis’ other friend
-and protector. Sartach was on his way to join Mandchu-Khan, and was of
-course surrounded by the two hundred houses and innumerable chests which
-belonged to the establishment of a Tartar patriarch. If this was not
-exactly civilization, it was companionship, and the envoy must have been
-glad of a meeting which replenished his exhausted stores and suggested
-domestic comfort and abundance. More rough travelling on horseback, more
-experiences of hunger and cold (for the autumn was already coming on),
-more fording of rivers, and the monk found himself at Baatu’s court. It
-was the 16th of September--a year after he had left the chieftain to push
-on to the court of the Grand-Khan. Here he was joyfully and courteously
-received, and recovered nearly all his property; but as the Tartars had
-concluded that the whole embassy must have perished long ago, they had
-allowed some Nestorian priest, a wanderer under the protection now of
-Sartach, now of Baatu and other khans, to appropriate various Psalters,
-books, and ecclesiastical vestments. Three young men, Europeans, whom
-Rubruquis had left behind, had nearly been reduced to bondage under the
-same pretext, but they had not suffered personal ill-treatment. The kind
-offices of some influential Armenians had staved off the evil day, and
-the timely arrival of the long-missing envoy secured them their freedom.
-Rubruquis now joined Baatu’s court, which was journeying westward to a
-town called Sarai, on the eastern bank of the Volga; but the progress
-of the encumbered Tartars was so slow that he left them after a month’s
-companionship, and pushed on with his party, till he reached Sarai on
-the feast of All Saints. After this the country was almost an unbroken
-desert; but our traveller once more fell in with one of his Tartar
-friends, a son of Sartach, who was out upon a hawking expedition, and
-gave him a guard to protect him from various fierce Mahometan tribes that
-infested the neighborhood.
-
-Here ended his travels in Tartary proper; but his hardships were far
-from ended yet. Through Armenia and the territories of Turkish and
-Koordish princes he journeyed slowly and uncomfortably, in dread of the
-violence of his own guides and guards, as well as of the insults of the
-populations whose country he traversed. He says these delays “arose in
-part from the difficulty of procuring horses, but chiefly because the
-guide chose to stop, often for three days together, in one place, for his
-own business; and, though much dissatisfied, I durst not complain, as he
-might have slain me and those with me, or sold us all for slaves, and
-there was none to hinder it.”
-
-Journeying across Asia Minor and over Mount Taurus, he took ship at last
-for Cyprus. Here he learnt that S. Louis, who had been in the Holy Land
-at the time of his departure, had gone back to France. He would very much
-have wished to deliver his letters and presents of silk pelisses and
-furs to the king in person; but this was not granted him. The provincial
-of his order, whom he met at Cyprus, desired him to write his account
-and send his gifts to the king; and as in those days there was creeping
-in among the monks a habit of restless wandering, his superior, who was,
-it seems, a reformer and strict disciplinarian, tried the obedience
-and humility of the famous traveller by sending him to his convent at
-Acre, whence, by the king’s order, he had started. Rubruquis stood the
-test, but could not forbear imploring the king, by writing, to use his
-influence with the provincial to allow him a short stay in France and
-one audience of his royal master. Little is known of the great traveller
-and pioneer after this; and whether he ever got leave to see the king
-is doubtful. He fell back into obscurity, and it is presumed that Marco
-Polo did not even know of his previous travels over the same ground as
-the Polos explored. No record of his embassy remained but the Latin
-letter addressed to S. Louis, and even in France his fame was unknown
-for many centuries. It was not till after the invention of printing that
-his adventures became fairly known to the literary world, although Roger
-Bacon, one of his own order, had given a spirited abstract of his travels
-in one of his works. This, too, was in Latin, and after a time became
-a sealed book to the vulgar; so that it was not at least till the year
-1600 that the old traveller’s name was again known. Hakluyt’s _Collection
-of Voyages and Travels_ contains an English translation of Rubruquis’
-letter, and twenty-five years later Purchas reproduced it _in toto_ from
-a copy found in a college library at Cambridge. Bergeron, a French
-priest, put it into French, not from the original, but from Purchas’
-English version. Since then Rubruquis has taken his place among the few
-famous voyagers of olden times; but from the vagueness of his language,
-the lack of geographical science in his day, and perhaps also the
-mistakes of careless copyists, it is not easy to trace his course upon
-the map. One fact, however, he ascertained and insisted upon, which a
-geographical society, had it existed in his time, would have been glad to
-register, together with an honorable mention of the discoverer--_i.e._,
-the nature of the great lake called the Caspian Sea. The old Greeks had
-correctly called it an _inland_ sea, but an idea had since prevailed that
-it possessed some communication with the Northern Ocean. Rubruquis proved
-the contrary, but no attention was paid to his single assertion, and
-books of geography, compiled at home from ancient maps and MSS., without
-a reference, however distant, to the _facts_ recorded by adventurous
-men who had seen foreign shores with their eyes, calmly continued to
-propagate the old error.
-
-
-A PARAPHRASE, FROM THE GREEK.
-
-Οὐκ ἔθανες, Πρώτη, κ. τ. λ.--_Greek Anthology._
-
-              Protê, thou didst not die,
-              But thou didst fly,
-    When we saw thee no more, to a sunnier clime;
-              In the isles of the blest,
-              In the golden west,
-    Where thy spirit let loose springs joyous and light
-              O’er the verdurous floor,
-              That is strewn evermore
-    With blossoms that fade not, nor droop from their prime.
-              Thou hast made thee a home
-              Where no sorrow shall come,
-    No cloud overshadow thy noon of delight;
-              Cold or heat shall not vex thee,
-              Nor sickness perplex thee,
-    Nor hunger, nor thirst; no touch of regret
-              For the things thou hast cherished,
-              The forms that have perished,
-    For lover or kindred, thy fancy shall fret;
-              But thy joy hath no stain,
-              Thy remembrance no pain,
-    And the heights that we guess at thy sunshine makes plain.
-
-
-THE LAW OF GOD AND THE REGULATIONS OF SOCIETY.
-
-SUMMARY CONSIDERATIONS ON LAW.
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF THE COMTE DE BREDA.
-
-    “There are laws for the society of ants and of bees; how could
-    any one suppose that there are none for human society, and that
-    it is left to the chance of inventing them?”--_De Bonald._
-
-
-I.--THE MODERN STATE.
-
-Never before was liberty so much talked about; never before was the very
-idea of it so utterly lost. Tyrants have been destroyed, it is said. This
-is a false assertion it may be (or rather, is it not certain?) that it
-has become more difficult for a sovereign to govern tyrannically, but
-tyranny is not dead--quite the contrary.
-
-All unlimited power is, of its own nature, tyrannical. Now, it is such
-a power that the modern state desires to wield. The state is held up
-to us as the supreme arbiter of good and evil; and, if we believe its
-defenders, it cannot err, its laws being in every case, and at all times,
-binding.
-
-People have banished God from the government of human society; but they
-have made to themselves a new god, despotic and blind, without hearing
-and without voice, whose power knows how to reach its slaves as well
-in the temple as in the public places, as well in the palace as in the
-humblest cot.
-
-What is there, indeed, more divine than not to do wrong? God
-alone, speaking to the human conscience, either directly or by his
-representatives, is the infallible judge of good and evil. No human power
-whatsoever can declare all that emanates from it to be necessarily right
-without usurping the place of God, and declaring itself the sovereign
-master of the soul as well as of the body. The last refuge of the slaves
-of antiquity--the human conscience--would no longer exist for the people
-of modern times, if it were true that every law is binding from the
-mere fact of its promulgation. Hence the modern state, but lately so
-boastful, has begun to waver and to doubt its own powers. It encounters
-two principal obstacles, as unlike in their form as in their origin.
-
-On one hand it beholds Catholics, sustained by their knowledge of law,
-its origin and its essence, resisting passively, and preparing themselves
-to submit to persecutions without even shrinking. On the other it
-meets, in these our days, the most formidable insurrections. There are
-multitudes, blind as the state representatives--but excusable, inasmuch
-as their rebellion is against an authority which owes its sway only to
-caprice or theory--who reply thus to power: “We are as good as you; you
-have no right over us other than that of brute force; we will endeavor to
-oppose you with a strength equal to yours; and when we shall have gained
-the victory, we will make new laws and new constitutions, wherein all
-that you call lawful shall be called unlawful, and all that you consider
-crime shall be deemed virtue.”
-
-If it were true that law could spring only from the human will, these
-madmen would be reasonable in the extreme. Thus the state is powerless
-against them. It drags on an uncertain existence, constantly threatened
-with the most terrible social wars, and enjoying a momentary peace only
-on condition of never laying down arms. Modern armies are standing ones;
-the modern police have become veritable armies, and they sleep neither
-day nor night. At this price do our states exist, trade, grow rich, and
-become satisfied with themselves.
-
-These constant commotions are not alone the vengeance of the living
-God disowned and outraged; they are also the inevitable consequence of
-that extremity of pride and folly which has induced human assemblies to
-believe that it belongs to them to decide finally between right and wrong.
-
-In truth, “if God is not the author of law, there is no law really
-binding.” We may, for the love of God, obey existing powers, even though
-they be illegitimate; but this submission has its limits. It must cease
-the moment that the human law prescribes anything contrary to the law
-of God. As for people without faith, we would in vain seek for a motive
-powerful enough to induce them to submit to anything displeasing to them.
-
-
-II.--MODERN LIBERTY.
-
-The people of our generation consider themselves more free, more
-unrestrained, than those who have gone before them. It is not to our
-generation, however, that the glory accrues of having first thrown
-off the yoke. Our moderns themselves acknowledge that they have had
-predecessors, and they agree with us in declaring that “the new spirit”
-made its appearance in the world about the XVIth century.[46]
-
-In truth, the only yoke which has been cast off since then is that of
-God, which seemed too heavy. All at once thought pronounced itself freed
-from the shackles of ecclesiastical authority; but, at the outset, it
-was far from intended to deny the idea of a divine right superior to all
-human right.
-
-Despite the historical falsehoods which have found utterance in our day,
-it was chiefly princes who propagated Protestantism; and, most often,
-they attained their end only by violence. When successful, they added to
-their temporal title a religious one; they made themselves bishops or
-popes, and thus became all the more powerful over their subjects. There
-was no longer any refuge from the abuse of power of the rulers of this
-world; for it was the interest of these despots to call themselves the
-representatives of God. By means of this title they secularized dioceses,
-convents, the goods of the church, and even the ministers of their new
-religion. This term was then used to express in polite language an idea
-of spoliation and of hypocritical and uncurbed tyranny.
-
-The moderns have gone farther: they have attempted to secularize law
-itself. This time, again, the word hides a thought which, if it were
-openly expressed, would shock; the law has become atheistical, and not
-all the opposition which the harshness of this statement has aroused can
-prevent it from still expressing a truth. The inexorable logic of facts
-leads directly from the Reformation to the Revolution. Princes themselves
-sowed the seeds of revolt which will yet despoil them of their power and
-their thrones; while as for the people, they have gained nothing. They
-are constantly tyrannized over; but their real masters are unknown, and
-their only resource against the encroachments or the abuse of power is an
-appeal to arms.
-
-It is not, then, true that liberty finds greater space in the modern
-world than in the ancient Christian world. To prove this, I need but a
-single fact which has direct relation with my subject.
-
-While Europe was still enveloped in “the darkness of the Middle Ages,”
-Catholic theologians freely taught, from all their chairs, that “an
-unjust law is no law”--“Lex injusta non est lex.” Now, are there, at the
-present day, many pulpits from which this principle, the safeguard of all
-liberty and of all independence, the protector of all rights, and the
-defence of the helpless, might be proclaimed with impunity? Do we not
-see the prohibitions, the lawsuits, the _appels comme d’abus_ which the
-boldness of such a maxim would call forth?
-
-Human governments have changed in form, but their tyranny has not ceased
-to grow; and the free men of the olden society have become the slaves in
-a new order of things--they have even reached a point at which they know
-not even in what liberty consists.
-
-
-III.--DIVINE ORIGIN OF LAW.
-
-I know, and I hear beforehand, the response which the doctors of modern
-rights will here give me “Yes,” say they, “it is very true that the
-Catholic Church has always claimed the right of judging laws and of
-refusing obedience to such as displeased her; but in this is precisely
-the worst abuse. That which would domineer over human reason, the
-sovereign of the world, is tyranny _par excellence_; this, in truth, is
-the special mark of Catholicity, and it is this which has ever made it
-the religion of the ignorant and the cowardly.”
-
-Is, then, the maxim I have just recalled the invention of Catholic
-theologians? Is it true that the teachers of the ultramontane doctrine
-alone have contended that the intrinsic worth of a law must be sought
-beyond and above them, beyond and above the human power which proclaims
-it? Not only has this elementary principle not been devised by our
-theologians, but even the pagan philosophers themselves had reached it.
-Cicero but summed up the teaching universally received by philosophers
-worthy of the name, when he said that the science of law should not be
-sought in the edicts of the pretor, nor even in the laws of the twelve
-tables; and that the most profound philosophy alone could aid in judging
-laws and teaching us their value.[47]
-
-This is not to degrade reason, which this same Cicero has defined, or
-rather described, in admirable language. He found therein something
-grand, something sublime; he declared that it is more fit to command than
-to obey; that it values little what is merely human; that it is gifted
-with a peculiar elevation which nothing daunts, which yields to no one,
-and which is unconquerable.[48]
-
-But remark, it is only with regard to human powers and allurements that
-reason shows itself so exalted and haughty. It requires something greater
-than man to make it submit; and it _obeys_ only God or his delegates.
-“Stranger,” said Plato to Clinias the Cretan, “whom do you consider the
-first author of your laws? _Is it a god? Is it a man?_”
-
-“Stranger,” replied Clinias, “it is a god; we could not rightly accord
-this title to any other.”[49]
-
-So, also, tradition tells us that Minos went, every ninth day, to consult
-Jupiter, his father, whose replies he committed to writing. Lycurgus
-wished to have his laws confirmed by the Delphian Apollo, and this god
-replied that he would dictate them himself. At Rome the nymph Egeria
-played the same _rôle_ with Numa. Everywhere is felt the necessity
-of seeking above man the title in virtue of which he may command his
-fellow-men.
-
-If we turn now from the fabulous traditions of the ancient world, we
-still find an absolute truth proclaimed by its sages; one that affirms
-the existence of an eternal law--_quiddam æternum_--which was called the
-natural law, and which serves as a criterion whereby to judge the worth
-of the laws promulgated by man.
-
-Cicero declares it absurd to consider right everything set down in the
-constitutions or the laws.[50] And he is careful to add that neither is
-public opinion any more competent to determine the right.[51]
-
-The sovereign law, therefore--that which no human law may violate without
-the penalty of becoming void--has God himself for its author.
-
-The laws of states may be unjust and abominable, and, by consequence,
-bind no one. There is, on the other hand, a natural law, the source and
-measure of other laws, originating before all ages, before any law had
-been written or any city built.[52]
-
-This doctrine, to support which I have designedly cited only pagan
-authors, is also that of Catholic theologians; for example, S. Thomas and
-Suarez. But the philosophical school of the last century has so perverted
-the meaning of the term _nature--law of nature_, that certain Catholic
-authors (M. de Bonald, for instance) have scrupled to use the consecrated
-term. It is necessary, then, to explain its true sense.
-
-
-IV.--NATURAL LAW ACCORDING TO PAGAN PHILOSOPHERS.
-
-The nature of a being is that which constitutes its fitness to attain its
-end. The idea, therefore, which a person has of the nature of man, by
-consequence determines that which he will have of his end, and hence of
-the rule which should govern his actions.
-
-The materialists, for example, who deny the immortality of the soul, and
-whose horizon is bounded by the limits of the present life, are able
-to teach only a purely epicurean or utilitarian morality. They cannot
-consistently plead a motive higher than an immediate, or at least a
-proximate, well-being; for, what is more uncertain than the duration of
-our life? In the strikingly anti-philosophic language of the XVIIIth
-century, _the state of nature_ was a hypothetical state, at once innocent
-and barbarous, anterior to all society. It is to society that this theory
-attributes the disorders of man and the loss of certain primitive and
-inalienable rights which the sect of pseudo-philosophers boasted of
-having regained, and by the conquest whereof the corrupted and doting
-France of 1789 was prostrated.
-
-The philosophers of antiquity, on the contrary, notwithstanding their
-numerous errors, and despite the polytheism which they exteriorly
-professed, had arrived at so profound a knowledge of man and his nature
-that the fathers and doctors of the church have often spoken of the
-discoveries of their intellect as a kind of _natural revelation_ made to
-them by God.[53]
-
-We have already heard Cicero say that the natural law is eternal, and
-superior to all human laws. I shall continue to quote him, because of
-his clearness, and because he admirably sums up the teaching of the
-philosophers who preceded him.[54]
-
-The sound philosophy which should guide us--according to him, the science
-of law--teaches us that it is far more sublime to submit to the divine
-mind, to the all-powerful God, than to the emperors and mighty ones of
-this earth; for it is a kind of partnership between God and man. Right
-reason (_ratio recta_) is the same for the one and the other; and law
-being nothing else than right reason, it may be said that one same law
-links us with the gods. Now, the common law is also the common right, and
-when people have a common right they belong, in some manner, to the same
-country. We must, then, consider this world as a country common to the
-gods and to men. Man is, in truth, like to God. And for what end has God
-created and gifted man like to himself? That he may arrive at justice.
-
-Human society is bound by one same right, and law is the same for all.
-This law is the just motive (the right reason, _ratio recta_) of all
-precepts and prohibitions; he who is ignorant of it, whether written
-or not, knows not justice. If uprightness consisted in submission to
-the written laws and constitutions of nations, and if, as some pretend,
-utility could be the measure of good, he who expected to profit thereby
-would be justified in neglecting or violating the laws.
-
-This remark is peculiarly applicable to the present time. It is precisely
-utility and the increase of wealth or of comforts--in a word, material
-interests--which the greater number of modern legislators have had
-chiefly in view; the result is that society scarcely has the right to
-feel indignant against those who may deem it to their advantage to
-disturb it. Religion, say they, has nothing in common with politics; the
-state, inasmuch as it is a state, need not trouble itself about God; the
-things of this world should be regulated with regard to this world, and
-without reference to the supernatural. Suppose it so; but then, in virtue
-of what authority will you impose your laws? There is no human power
-able to bend or to conquer one human will which does not acknowledge
-it.[55]
-
-The basis of right is the natural love of our fellow-beings which nature
-has planted within us. Nature also commands us to honor God. It is not
-fear which renders worship necessary; it is the bond which exists between
-God and man. If popular or royal decrees could determine right, a whim
-of the multitude might render lawful theft, adultery, or forgery. If it
-be true that a proclamation dictated by fools can change the order of
-nature, why may not evil become, one day, good? But the sages teach that
-the human mind did not invent law; it has its birth-place in the bosom
-of God, and is co-eternal with him; it is nothing else than the unerring
-reason of Jupiter himself; it is reflected in the mind of the wise man;
-it can never be repealed.
-
-This “right reason which comes to us from the gods” (_recta et a numine
-deorum tracta ratio_) is what is usually termed the _natural_ law; and
-the beautiful language of Cicero recalls this magnificent verse of the
-IVth Psalm: “Quis ostendit nobis bona? Signatum est super nos lumen
-vultus tui, Domine.”
-
-
-V.--INFLUENCE OF PANTHEISM ON MODERN LAW.
-
-Pagan teaching, how elevated soever it may be, is always incomplete; and
-this is evident even from the words of Cicero.
-
-Since law comes from God, it is very clear that it will be known more
-or less correctly according as our idea of God is more or less correct.
-This it is that gives so great a superiority, first, to the law of Moses,
-before the coming of Jesus Christ, and to all Christian legislation
-since.
-
-The Jews had not merely a vague knowledge of the precepts of the divine
-law. This law, in its principal provisions, had been directly revealed to
-them. Christians have something better still, since the Eternal Word was
-made man, and the Word is precisely “the true light which enlighteneth
-every man coming into this world.”[56] The philosophers of antiquity saw
-this light from afar off; we have _beheld_ that of which they merely
-affirmed the existence; the Jews contemplated it as through a veil, and
-awaited its coming. IT was made flesh; it brought us life; “it shone in
-the darkness, but the darkness did not comprehend it.”[57]
-
-It is not the fault of the Word or of his manifestation, says S. Thomas
-on this subject, if there are minds who see not this light. There is
-here, not darkness, but closed eyes.[58]
-
-It is God himself, therefore, whom man refuses to acknowledge when he
-rejects the fundamental law, which alone deserves the name of law. Human
-pride and insolence go beyond forgetfulness or simple negation when they
-have the audacity to put a human law in the place of and above the divine
-law; which last crime is nothing less than the deification of man. This
-philosophic consequence of the secularization of the law was inevitable,
-and is openly displayed in modern doctrines. Atheists, properly so
-called, are rare; but the present generation is infected with Pantheism.
-Now, Pantheism proclaims, without disguise and without shame, the
-divinity of man.
-
-Let us add that this error is the only foundation upon which man may
-logically rest to defend modern rights. It produces, with regard to
-constitutions and laws, two principal effects, which it suffices but to
-indicate, that every honest mind may at once recognize their existence
-and their lamentable consequences.
-
-Pantheism, firstly, destroys individualities, or, as the Germans
-call them, _subjectivities_; it sweeps them away, and causes them to
-disappear in the Great Whole. Do we not likewise see personality, simple
-or associated--that is to say, individual liberty, associations, and
-corporations--little by little reduced to annihilation by the modern idea
-of the state? Does not modern theory make also of the state another grand
-whole, beside which nothing private can exist?
-
-To reach this result, they represent the state as expressing the
-aggregate of all the particular wills, and they seek, in a pretended
-“general will,” the supreme and infallible source of law. But even were
-this will as general as theory desires, it would not be the less human,
-or, by consequence, the less subject to error. Whence comes it, then,
-that they make it the sovereign arbiter of good and evil, of truth and
-falsehood, of justice and injustice? The Pantheists reply that “God is in
-man and in the world; that he is one and the same thing with the world;
-that he is identical with the nature of things, and consequently subject
-to change.” The general will, the expression of the universal conscience,
-is then a manifestation of the divine will; and this would allow it to
-change without ever erring.
-
-This answers all, in truth; but it may lead us too far. If, as says
-Hegel, God is subjective--that is to say, if He is in man, or, more
-exactly still, if He is man himself and the substance of nature--neither
-right, nor law, nor justice could remain objective. In other words, if
-man is God, there is no longer any possible distinction between good and
-evil. And this conclusion has been drawn by the learned German socialist,
-Lassalle. He denies the notion of an immutable right; he is unwilling
-that we should any longer speak of the family, property, justice, etc.,
-in absolute terms. According to him, these are but abstract and unreal
-generalities. There have been, on all these subjects, Greek, Roman,
-German, etc., ideas; but these are only historical recollections. Ideas
-change, some even disappear; and if, some day, the universal conscience
-should decide that the idea of proprietorship has had its day, then
-would commence a new era in history, during which there could be no
-longer either property or proprietors without incurring the guilt of
-injustice.[59] From the stand-point of Pantheism, this reasoning is
-irrefutable; and, on the other hand, we have just seen that Pantheism
-alone could justify the modern theory of the general will, the supreme
-arbiter of law.
-
-
-VI.--HAS THE GENERAL WILL RULED SINCE 1789?
-
-I have just quoted a socialist whose works, though little known in
-France, are of extreme importance. Ferdinand Lassalle, a Jew by birth,
-by nationality a Prussian, is possessed of extensive knowledge, critical
-genius of the highest order, and unsparing logic. We have seen him draw
-the theoretical consequences of Pantheism applied to law; and it will
-not be without interest to know how he judges the practical results
-of the modern theory of rights, as shown in the French Revolution.
-The socialists have a special authority for speaking of “immortal
-principles”; for they admit them without hesitation, and their teaching
-proved that they comprehend them wonderfully.
-
-The _Declaration of the Rights of Man_ is the most authentic summing
-up of these famous principles; and it is therein that the modern
-theory of law will be found most clearly stated. “Law,” says Art.
-6, “is the expression of the general will. Every citizen has the
-right of co-operating in its formation, either personally or by his
-representatives.”
-
-It would seem, from this solemn proclamation, that since then, or at
-least in the first fervor of this “glorious” revolution, the majority
-of the “sovereign people” should have been called to “form the laws.”
-This has been said; it has even been supported at the mouth of the
-cannon--for, as has been wittily remarked by M. de Maistre, “the masters
-of these poor people have had recourse even to artillery while deriding
-them. They said to them: ‘You think you do not will this law; but, be
-assured, you do will it. If you dare to refuse it, we will pour upon you
-a shower of shot, to punish you for not willing what you do will.’ And it
-was done.”[60]
-
-What then took place, and how did it happen that the general will,
-which had undertaken to make fundamental and irrevocable laws, should
-have accepted, in the first five years of its freedom, three different
-constitutions and a _régime_ like that of the Reign of Terror?
-
-Lassalle replies that it is not at all the people who made the
-revolution, and that the general will was not even asked to manifest
-itself. He recalls the famous pamphlet of Sieyès, and corrects its
-title. It is not true, says he, that the _Tiers État_ was then nothing;
-the increase of personal property has, since then, brought about a
-_révolution économique_, thanks to which the _tiers état_ was, in truth,
-all. But legally it was nothing, which was not much to its liking; for
-the former ranks of society still existed by right, although their real
-strength was not in keeping with their legal condition. The work of the
-French Revolution was, therefore, to give to the _tiers état_ a legal
-position suitable to its actual importance.
-
-Now, the _tiers_, first and foremost, assumed itself to be the equivalent
-of the entire people. “It considered that its cause was the cause
-of humanity.” Thus the attraction was real and powerful. The voices
-raised to protest were unable to make themselves heard. Our author
-cites, on this subject, a curious instance of clear-sightedness. An
-anti-revolutionary journal, _The Friend of the King_, exclaimed, “Who
-shall say whether or not the despotism of the _bourgeoisie_ shall not
-succeed the pretended aristocracy of the nobility?”
-
-It is this, indeed, which has come to pass, continues Lassalle; the
-_tiers état_ has become, in its turn, the privileged class. The proof is
-that the wealth of the citizen became immediately the legal condition of
-power in the state.
-
-Since 1791, in the constitution of Sept. 3 we find (chap. i., sects. 1
-and 2) a distinction established between active citizens and passive
-citizens. The former are those who pay a certain quota of direct
-contribution; and they alone possess the right of voting. Moreover,
-all hired laborers were declared not active; and this excluded workmen
-from the right of voting. It matters little that the tax was small; the
-principle was laid down requiring some amount of fortune in order to
-exercise a political right. “The wealth of the citizen had become the
-condition necessary for obtaining power in the state, as nobility or
-landed property had been in the Middle Ages.”
-
-The principle of the vote-tax held sway until the recent introduction of
-universal suffrage.
-
-Our socialist, proceeding directly to the question of taxes, proves
-that the _bourgeoisie moderne_, without inventing indirect taxation,
-has nevertheless made it the basis of an entire system, and has settled
-upon it all the expenses of state. Now, indirect taxes are such as are
-levied beforehand upon all necessaries, as salt, corn, beer, meat, fuel,
-or, still more, upon what we need for our protection--the expenses of
-the administration of justice, stamped paper, etc. Generally, in making
-a purchase, the buyer pays the tax, without perceiving that it is that
-which increases the price. Now, it is clear that because an individual
-is twenty, fifty, or a hundred times richer, it does not follow that he
-will, on that account, consume twenty, fifty, or a hundred times more
-salt, bread, meat, etc., than a workman or a person of humble condition.
-Thus it happens that the great body of indirect taxes is paid by the
-poorest classes (from the single fact that they are the most numerous).
-Thus is it brought about, in a hidden way, that the _tiers état_ pay
-relatively less taxes than the _quatrième état_.
-
-Concerning the instruction of adults, Lassalle says that, instead of
-being left to the clergy as heretofore, it now in fact belongs to
-the daily press. But securities, stamps, and advertisements give to
-journalism another privilege of capital.[61]
-
-This sketch suffices; and I deem it needless to add that I am far from
-concluding with the socialists. I am so much the more free to disagree
-with them as I do not by any means admit the “immortal principles,” but
-it seems to me to follow evidently from the preceding observations that
-it is not true, in fact, that the general will has made the laws since
-1789.
-
-
-VII.--DOES UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE EXPRESS THE GENERAL WILL?
-
-Has the introduction of universal suffrage modified, in any great degree,
-this state of things? Is it any more certain since 1848, than before,
-that the nation is governed by the general will? We may content ourselves
-here by appealing to the testimony of honest men. If the general will
-were truly the master of all the powers in France, our country, which
-to-day, so it is said, has only the government that it desires, would
-be a model of union and concord; there could be in the opposition party
-only an exceedingly small minority (otherwise the term general would be
-unjustifiable), and we would follow peacefully the ways most pleasing to
-us.
-
-This would not be saying--mark it well!--that those ways are good. That
-is another question, to which we will return; but now we are dealing with
-the question, Are our laws to-day formed or not formed by the general
-will, according to the formula which I have quoted from the _Declaration
-of the Rights of Man_?
-
-Notwithstanding the evidence for the negative, I think it well here to
-analyze hastily that which M. Taine has just given in a little pamphlet
-containing many truths.[62] M. Taine, being a free-thinker and a man of
-the times, cannot be suspected of taking an ultramontane or clerical view
-of the case.
-
-M. Taine is far from demanding the abolition of universal suffrage. He
-believes it in conformity with justice; for he does not admit that his
-money can be demanded or he himself sent to the frontier without his
-own consent, either expressed or tacit. His only wish is that the right
-of suffrage be not illusory, and that the electoral law be adapted “to
-the French of 1791, to the peasant, the workman, etc.,” be he “stupid,
-ignorant, or ill-informed.” From this M. Taine proves at the outset that
-the ballot-roll is a humbug; and I believe that no person of sense will
-contest the point. He immediately enters upon a statistical examination
-of the composition of the elective world in France; and he arrives at
-the following result: “Of twenty voters, ten are peasants, four workmen,
-three demi-bourgeois, three educated men, comfortable or rich. Now, the
-electoral law, as all law, should have regard to the majority, to the
-first fourteen.” It behooves us, then, to know who these fourteen are
-who are called to frame the law; that is to say, to decide, by their
-representatives it is true, but sovereignly, on good and evil, justice
-and injustice, and, necessarily, the fate of the country.
-
-M. Taine, in this connection, makes some new calculations which may be
-thus summed up: The rural population embraces seventy out of one hundred
-of the entire population, hence fourteen voters out of twenty. Now, in
-France, there are thirty-nine illiterate out of every hundred males,
-almost all belonging to the classes which M. Taine numbers among the
-rural population; which enables him to find that seven out of every
-fourteen rural voters cannot even read. I may observe, in passing, that
-a peasant who cannot read, but who knows his catechism, may be of a much
-sounder morality than M. Taine himself; but I willingly proclaim that the
-seven electors in question could and should have a mediocre political
-intelligence.
-
-This agreeable writer recounts, in a spicy way, a number of anecdotes
-which prove “the ignorance and credulity” of the rural populations on
-similar matters; and he thence concludes that the peasants “are still
-subjects, but under a nameless master.” This is precisely what I said
-at the beginning, not only of peasants, but of all modern people in
-general. Be there a king on the throne or not, somebody decrees this,
-somebody decrees that; and the subject depends, in a hundred ways, on
-this abstract and undetermined somebody--“Through the collector, through
-the mayor, through the sub-inspector of forests, through the commissary
-of police, through the field-keeper, through the clerks of justice, for
-making a door, for felling a tree, building a shed, opening a stall,
-transporting a cask of wine, etc., etc.”
-
-All this expresses well and depicts admirably the ways of modern liberty;
-and I cannot refrain from citing this last sketch, equally amusing and
-true: “The mayor knows that in town, in an elegant apartment, is a worthy
-gentleman, attired in broidered gown, who receives him two or three times
-a year, speaks to him with authority and condescension, and often puts to
-him embarrassing questions. But when this gentleman goes away, another
-takes his place quite similar and in the same garb, and the mayor, on
-his return home, says with satisfaction: ‘Monsieur the prefect always
-preserves his good will towards me, although he has been changed many
-times.’”
-
-The _plébiscite_, the appeal to the people, the invitation to vote on the
-form of government, addressed to this kind of electors--is it not all
-a cunning trick? M. Taine thinks so, and many others with him; but he
-supposes that this same elector will be, at least, capable of “choosing
-the particular man in whom he has most confidence.” It is with him,
-says he, in the choice of one who shall make the laws, as in the choice
-of the physician or the lawyer whom one may prefer. Although it is not
-my intention to discuss here the opinions of this author, I beg him to
-remark that his comparison is strikingly faulty; we cannot choose whom
-we please for our physician or for our lawyer. The former is obliged to
-go through a course of studies in order to merit his diploma; the latter
-must fulfil the conditions necessary to be admitted to the bar. To frame
-the laws is another thing; not the slightest preparation is exacted from
-those eligible to this duty. Apparently it is not considered worth the
-trouble.
-
-The ballot-roll and _plébiscite_ being disposed of, M. Taine returns
-to figures, to study what transpires when the electors are called upon
-to choose a deputy by district. This gives, says he, one deputy for
-twenty thousand voters spread over a surface of one thousand kilometres
-square, etc. Of the twenty thousand voters, how many will have a definite
-opinion of the candidate presented to them? Scarcely one in ten beyond
-the outskirts of the town; scarcely one in four or five in the whole
-district. There remains the resource of advice; but “the spirit of
-equality is all-powerful, and the hierarchy is wanting.”
-
-We touch here the most sorrowful wound of our social state; and this term
-even, is it not misapplied?--for we have no longer any order, or, by
-consequence, any social state. “As a general rule,” continues M. Taine,
-“the country people receive counsel only from their equals.” Therefore
-it is easy to employ evil means. These evil means may be summed up,
-according to the same author, in the abuse of governmental influence,
-and in a corruption whose form varies, but which makes the affair of an
-election an affair of money.
-
-There should be, and I have alluded to it in passing, many exceptions
-made with regard to what M. Taine says concerning the rural population.
-He believes them manifestly less able to vote than the city populations,
-while I am of quite the contrary opinion; but it still remains true that
-direct universal suffrage, such as we have, does not allow a person
-to choose from a knowledge of the case, and that, in reality, the
-general will has not, up to the present day, been able to find its true
-expression.
-
-This is all that I need prove for the present.
-
-
-VIII.--IS THE GENERAL WILL COMPETENT TO MAKE LAWS?
-
-This is a still higher question, and one which we must now approach.
-Admitting that the general will could make itself known, is it an
-authority competent to make laws?
-
-But before starting let us lay down a first principle which, quite
-elementary as it is, seems to be as much forgotten as the others: if
-the natural law exist not anteriorly to enjoin respect for human laws,
-human power would have no other ground of existence, no other support
-than force. Without a divine lawgiver, there is, in truth, no moral
-obligation.[63] The hypothesis of a previous agreement among the members
-of society would not resolve the difficulty; for an agreement would not
-be able to bind any one, at least if there were no higher authority to
-secure it.[64]
-
-Whatever may be the immediate origin of law--be it promulgated by
-a sovereign, enacted by an assembly, or directly willed by the
-multitude--it would still be unable to rule, if we do not suppose a
-law anterior and, as Cicero says, eternal, which, in the first place,
-prescribes obedience to subjects, and, in the second, fidelity to
-reciprocal engagements, promises, and oaths. This superior law being the
-natural law, it is always, and in every case, impossible to suppress or
-to elude it.
-
-Meanwhile, what is understood by the general will? Is it the unanimity
-of wills? No one, so far as I know, has ever exacted this condition.
-The question is, then, taking things at their best, of the will of the
-majority. People grant this, and often give to our modern governments
-the name of governments of the majority. They deduce then from this
-principle, that in a population of thirty millions of men, for example,
-it is lawful that the will of the twenty millions should rule over that
-of the remaining ten millions. If the constitution of a kingdom, says
-Burke, is an arithmetical problem, the calculation is just; but if the
-minority refuse to submit, the majority will be able to govern only by
-the aid of _la lanterne_.[65]
-
-Scaffolds, shootings, exile, prison--such are, in truth, the institutions
-which have chiefly flourished since the famous _Declaration of the Rights
-of Man_.
-
-In the eyes of a man who knows how to reason, continues the English
-orator, this opinion is ridiculous.
-
-It could not be justified, unless it were well proved that the majority
-of men are enlightened, virtuous, wise, self-sacrificing, and incapable
-of preferring their own interest to that of others. No one has ever dared
-to say that legislators should make laws for the sake of making them, and
-without troubling themselves concerning the welfare of those for whom the
-laws are made. Now, the laws being made for all, the majority, if it had
-the qualities necessary for legislating, should concern itself still more
-about the minority than about itself.
-
-The Comte de la Marck[66] relates that when Mirabeau became too much
-excited concerning the rights and privileges of man, it happened
-sometimes that he amused himself by curtailing his accounts. He cut off
-first women, children, the ignorant, the vicious, etc. Once, the nation
-being thus reduced to the little portion whose moral qualities it became
-necessary to estimate, “I began,” says he, “to deduct those who lack
-reason, those who have false notions, those who value their own interests
-above everything, those who lack education and knowledge matured by
-reflection; and I then asked him if the men who merit to be spoken of
-with dignity and respect would not find themselves reduced to a number
-infinitely small. Now, according to my principle, I maintained that the
-government should act _for_ the people, and not _by_ them--that is to
-say, not by the opinion of the multitude; and I proved, by historical
-extracts and by examples which we had unfortunately under our eyes, that
-reason and good sense fly from men in proportion as they are gathered
-together in greater numbers.”
-
-Mirabeau contented himself with replying that one must flatter the people
-in order to govern them, which amounts to saying that one must cheat them.
-
-For the rest, this same Mirabeau acknowledged that equality, in the
-revolutionary sense, is absurd, and the passion which some have for it
-he called a violent paroxysm. It is he who best characterized the true
-result of the destruction of all social order. He called it “vanity’s
-upsetting.” He could not have spoken better; and the vanity which
-goes so low could have no other result than that which we behold--the
-premeditated absence or suppression of all true superiority.
-
-This episode on equality is not a digression, for the system of
-majorities supposes it. Now, it is absolutely anti-natural. According to
-the beautiful idea of Aristotle:[67] there is in man himself a soul and
-a body; the one predominating and made to command, the other to obey; the
-equality or the shifting of power between these two elements would be
-equally fatal to them. It is the same between man and the other animals,
-between tame animals and wild. The harmony of sex is analogous, and we
-even find some traces of this principle in inanimate objects; as, for
-example, in the harmony of sounds. Therefore S. Augustine defines order
-thus: “Such a disposition of things similar and dissimilar as shall give
-to each what is proper to it”--_Ordo est parium dispariumque rerum sua
-cuique tribuens dispositio_;[68] and S. Thomas hence concludes that order
-supposes inequality: _Nomen ordinis inæqualitatem importat_.[69]
-
-But the “immortal principles” have changed all that, according to
-Sganarelle; so their work, in its final analysis, results in a disorder
-without name.
-
-The external disorder is visible and pretty generally acknowledged; but
-the moral disorder passes unperceived. By means of equality on the one
-hand, and of the secularization of the law on the other, they arrive at
-this frightful result: for example, that regicide and parricide are, in
-justice, but ordinary crimes; if, moreover, regicide profits the people,
-it is worthy of eulogy. Sacrilege is nothing more than a superstitious
-fiction. In fine, _respect_ being no longer possible nor even reasonable,
-according to the prediction of Burke,[70] “the laws have no other
-guardian than terror, … and in perspective, from our point of view, we
-see but scaffolds,” or courts-martial, which amount to the same thing.
-
-
-IX.--CONSEQUENCES OF THE SECULARIZATION OF LAW.
-
-How often do we not hear it said that almost all our misfortunes, and,
-above all, our inability to repair our losses, come from the little
-respect we have for the law! This statement, which has become almost
-trite, indicates most frequently a strange wandering. After having
-destroyed respect for persons, is it not absurd to claim it for their
-works? But they have done more: they have denied the mission of a
-legislator. The secularization of the law--that is to say, the denial of
-a divine sanction applied to law--has no other meaning. Legislators being
-no longer the mandataries of God, or not wishing to be such, now speak
-only in virtue of their own lights, and have no real commission. By what
-title, then, would you have us respect them? Every one is at liberty to
-prefer his own lights and to believe that he would have done better.
-
-I hear the reply: “It is to the interest of all that order should reign,
-were it but materially, and the law is the principal means of maintaining
-order.” You may hence conclude that it would be more advantageous to see
-the laws obeyed; but a motive of interest is not a motive of respect, and
-there is a certain class of individuals who may gain by the disorder. No,
-you will have the right to claim respect for the law only when you shall
-have rendered the law truly respectable; and to do this you must prove
-that you have the mission to make the law, even were you the _élite_ of
-our statesmen and doctors of the law, and much more if you are but a
-collection of the most uncultivated tax-payers in the world.
-
-Knowledge is something; it is something also to represent real and
-considerable interests; and I do not deny the relative importance of
-the elements of which legislative bodies are composed. But nothing of
-all this can supply the place of a commission; and you will have that
-only when you shall have consented, as legislators, to acknowledge the
-existence of God, to submit yourselves to his laws, and to conform your
-own thereto.
-
-People have but a very inadequate idea of the disastrous consequences
-which, one day or other, may ensue from the secularization of law. Until
-now the only danger of which they have dreamed is that with which extreme
-revolution menaces us.
-
-This is a danger so imminent, so undisguised, that every one sees it; and
-some have ended by understanding that without a return to God society is
-destined to fall. Nay, more, the Assembly now sitting at Versailles has
-made an act of faith by ordering public prayers; and this first step has
-caused hope to revive in the hearts of men of good-will. But it is not,
-perhaps, inopportune to draw the attention of serious men to another
-phase of the question.
-
-What would happen if modern law should go so far as to enjoin a crime
-upon Christians? The hypothesis is not purely imaginary; and although,
-happily, thanks to Heaven, it has not yet come to pass, there is a whole
-party which threatens to reach this extreme. In other countries there has
-been something like a beginning of its realization. I would like to speak
-of the school law and the avowed project of imposing a compulsory and lay
-education. We know what is meant by _lay_ in such a case; and experience
-proves that the state schools are often entrusted to men whose avowed
-intention is to bring up the children in infidelity. What would happen if
-such a law were passed, which supposes that everywhere, at the same time,
-parents would be compelled to put their children in imminent danger of
-losing their faith? The Catholic Church is very explicit in her doctrine
-on the obligation of obeying even a bad government; she orders that
-useless, unjust, and even culpable laws be borne with, so long as this
-can be done without exposing one’s self to commit a sin. Neither plunder
-nor the danger of death excuses revolt in her eyes. But in this case do
-we understand to what we would be reduced? To resist passively, and to
-allow one’s self to be punished by fines, by prison, by torture, or by
-death, would not remedy the evil; the soul of the child remains without
-defence, and the father is responsible for it. This kind of persecution
-is, then, more serious in its consequences, and may lead to deeper
-troubles, than even the direct persecution, which might consist, for
-example, in exacting apostasy from adults. In this last case the martyr
-bears all, and the first Christians have shown us the way; but here the
-torments of the parents cannot save the children, and the parents cannot
-abandon them; whatever becomes of the body, the soul must be guarded
-until death.
-
-It belongs not to me to decide; for in this case, as in all those of a
-similar kind, the line of conduct to be followed ought to be traced by
-the only competent authority; but the problem is worth proposing, and by
-it alone it is already easy to throw great light on the abysses to which
-the atheism of the law is leading the people by rapid strides.
-
-
-X.--CHRISTIAN DEFINITION OF NATURAL LAW.
-
-It remains to explain in a few words the great principles which should
-form the basis of law, and which were never completely ignored until
-these days of aberration and wretchedness. I could not expect to give
-here, in these few pages, a course of natural law, nor even to trace its
-outline; but there are some perfectly incontestable truths which it is
-very necessary to recall since people have forgotten them. When one has
-no personal authority, he feels a certain timidity in broaching so grave
-a subject, and in speaking of it as if he aspired to enlighten his kind;
-and meanwhile error is insinuated, preached, disseminated, commanded,
-with a skill so infernal and a success so great that ignorance of truth
-is almost unbounded. Of such elementary rules we often find influential
-persons, and sometimes persons of real merit, totally ignorant. In other
-days they would have known them on leaving school, or even from their
-catechism.
-
-Let us go back, then, to the definition of the word nature, and it will
-serve as a starting-point from which to treat of what the laws destined
-to govern man should be.
-
-The nature of a being is that which renders it capable of attaining its
-end. This is true of a plant or an animal as well as of man; but there
-are two kinds of ends subordinate one to the other. The end for which God
-created the world could be no other than God himself.[71] The Creator
-could only propose to himself an end worthy of himself, and, he alone
-being perfect, he could not find outside himself an end proportioned to
-his greatness. God is, then, the last end of all creatures. But there
-are particular ends; and it is in their subordination that the order of
-the world consists. The primary ends are, in a certain sense, but a means
-for arriving at the last end.
-
-But God being unable to add anything to his infinite perfection, the end
-which he proposed to himself could not be to render himself more perfect;
-hence he could seek only an exterior glory, which consists in manifesting
-himself to his creatures. For this it was necessary that some of these
-creatures should be capable of knowing him. These reasonable creatures
-are superior to the others and are their primary end; therefore it is
-that theologians call man a microcosm, a compendium of the universe, and
-king of the world.
-
-Man is placed in creation to admire it, and by means of it to render
-homage to God; for, in his quality of a creature gifted with reason,
-he knows his end, which is God, and the essential characteristic of
-his nature is the ability to attain this end. He is, moreover, endowed
-with an admirable prerogative--liberty, or free-will; that is to say,
-he is called on to will this end; and God, in his infinite bounty, will
-recompense him for having willed his own good. But man has need of an
-effort to will good; for his primitive nature has been corrupted by the
-original fall. He has, therefore, an inclination to evil, against which
-he must incessantly struggle; and the greatest number of political and
-social errors have their source in ignorance or forgetfulness of this
-perversion of human nature.
-
-This granted, the natural law comprises the obligations imposed on man in
-order that he may reach his end, together with the prohibition of all
-that could turn him away from it. This law obliges all men, even those
-who have no knowledge of the positive divine law--that is to say, the
-revealed law.
-
-Behold how Gerson has defined it:
-
-“The natural law is a sign imprinted upon the heart of every man enjoying
-the right use of reason, and which makes known to him the divine will, in
-virtue of which the human creature is required to do certain things and
-to avoid certain others, in order to reach his end.” Among the precepts
-which God has engraved upon the hearts of all men is found, in the first
-rank, that which obliges them to refer themselves to God as to their last
-end.
-
-From this it follows that every law which tends to hinder or prevent the
-progress of men toward God is a law against nature, and consequently null
-(_lex injusta non est lex_); for no human law can change or abrogate the
-natural law.
-
-
-XI.--CONTINUATION: THE END OF SOCIETY ACCORDING TO THE NATURAL LAW.
-
-The considerations of the preceding chapter have reference to man
-considered abstractly from society. But man cannot exist alone. For life
-and subsistence, during his early childhood, he has need of his kind; so
-that, from the first moment of his existence, he forms part of a domestic
-society--the family.
-
-The family being certainly of divine institution, and the duties which
-it imposes being of the number of those which the natural law commands,
-we find therein the first elements of all society: authority, hierarchy,
-consequently inequality, mutual love, and protection--in a word, varied
-and reciprocal duties. But the family suffices not for man’s social
-cravings. Man naturally longs after his like; he possesses the marvellous
-gift of speech for communication with his fellows; he bears engraven on
-his heart the first precept of his duty towards them: “Do unto others
-that which you would have others do unto you; and do not unto them that
-which you would not that they do to you.” The existence of society is,
-therefore, still a law of nature.
-
-Once formed, society itself has its duties; it has its proper end, which
-not only should not be opposed to the end of man considered singly, but
-should moreover contribute to facilitate the attainment of that end. The
-end of man being God, and this end being attainable only by virtue, the
-principal end of society will necessarily be to aid men in the practice
-of virtue; and, that I may not be accused of depending exclusively on
-theology, I will adduce what Aristotle has said on this subject: “The
-most perfect state is evidently that in which each citizen, whoever he
-may be, may, by favor of the laws, best practise virtue and be most
-secure of happiness.”[72] And what is happiness, according to Aristotle?
-“We consider it a point perfectly established that happiness is always
-in proportion to wisdom; … [for] the soul, speaking absolutely and even
-relatively to us, is more precious than wealth and the body.… Following
-the laws of nature, all exterior goods are desirable only insomuch as
-they serve the soul, and wise men should not desire them except for this
-end; whereas the soul should never be placed in comparison with them.”[73]
-
-We are assuredly far off from this pagan, and he goes still further
-even than the foregoing; for he lays down as incontestable a principle
-which is the formal condemnation of the secularization of the law. “The
-elements of happiness,” says he, “are the same for the individual and
-for the city.”[74] We have just seen what he understands by happiness;
-but he adds, in order that he may be the better comprehended, that if
-the felicity of the individual consisted in wealth, it would be the same
-for the city. According to Aristotle, therefore, the moral law obliges
-society as it does the individual. Now, it is precisely this which the
-partisans of atheistical or merely secular law deny.
-
-
-XII.--CHRISTIAN LAW.
-
-I have designedly quoted the ancient philosophers, because certain
-diseased minds who shrink from the authority of the sacred books accept
-more willingly that of the learned; but I believe that from what precedes
-one could easily infer the true rule of the relations between church and
-state. I will not undertake it now; nevertheless, as I address myself,
-by preference, to those who profess the same faith as myself, I will
-take the liberty to point out to them some inevitable corollaries of the
-principles I have just recalled.
-
-The natural law, properly so called, has been confirmed and completed
-by revelation. Although the precepts whose observance is indispensable
-to man to reach his end are engraven in the depths of his heart, the
-blindness and the evil propensities which are the consequences of his
-fall render him but too forgetful of his duties. Besides, God, having
-resolved to save man, chose to himself a privileged people, that from it
-he might cause the Messias to be born; and for the accomplishment of his
-merciful designs he guided this people and made it the guardian of his
-law, even to the day on which the promises were fulfilled.
-
-To this end God charged Moses with the promulgation of a positive
-divine law which contained moral precepts--precepts relating to the
-ceremonies of the ancient worship--and political precepts; that is to
-say, precepts relating to the civil government of the Jewish people. The
-last two classes of precepts no longer oblige; but those which concern
-morals--that is to say, those of the Decalogue--retain all their force,
-because they are the precepts of the natural law.
-
-But it is no longer by virtue of the promulgation of Moses that we are
-bound by the moral obligations contained in the old law. He who is our
-Judge, our Legislator, our King,[75] has come himself to give us a more
-perfect law: “Mandatum novum do vobis” (Joan. 13). According to the
-expression of Suarez, Jesus Christ has made known more perfectly the
-natural law in completing it by new precepts. Jesus Christ has done
-still more: he has founded a new kingdom--the church, the mystical body,
-of which he is the head. He has, therefore, appointed interpreters and
-guardians of his law, who have the mission to proclaim it to those who
-know it not; to pardon in his name those who, having violated it, confess
-and repent; and, finally, to distribute the numberless succors of divine
-grace--all which have for their object to help us to observe the law
-as perfectly as possible, and consequently to enable us ourselves to
-approach perfection. The new precepts added by Christ to those of the
-natural law are those which enjoin upon us the use of the sacraments and
-which determine their form; these articles of the new law--if we may be
-allowed so to term them--are all as obligatory as those of the natural
-law, because they have God himself for their author. Behold how S. Thomas
-sums up the whole of the new law, or the law of grace, which Christ came
-to bring us: “It comprises,” says he, “the precepts of the natural law,
-the articles of faith, and the sacraments of grace.”
-
-One of the most remarkable characteristics of the Christian law is that
-it was not written. Jesus Christ _spoke_ his commandments, and, _his
-word being divine_, it engraved them upon the hearts of his apostles and
-disciples;[76] but the Incarnate Word had nothing written during the
-time he spent upon earth. The first Gospel appeared at least eight years
-after the death of Jesus Christ. If to this observation we add the common
-belief of theologians, according to which it was only from the coming of
-the Holy Ghost--that is to say, from the day of Pentecost and after the
-Ascension--that the law of Christ became obligatory, we arrive at this
-conclusion: that the means of oral teaching was expressly chosen by the
-Word for the transmission of his law and his will.
-
-Nothing throws greater light upon the sovereign importance of the church
-and its hierarchy; nothing manifests better the extreme necessity of
-a permanent infallibility residing somewhere in the mystical body of
-Christ. The Council of the Vatican, conformably to the tradition of
-all Christian ages, has _defined_ that “the Roman Pontiff enjoys the
-plenitude of that infallibility with which it was necessary for the
-church to be provided in defining doctrine touching faith or morals.”
-
-These last words show that the Pope is the unfailing interpreter of
-the natural law, and the judge, from whom there is no appeal of its
-violations.
-
-The decisions given by the Sovereign Pontiff upon human laws are not
-recognized at the present day by the powers of the earth. But neither
-is God recognized; and thus it is that, little by little violence has
-overrun the world and law has vanished. Europe is returning to a worse
-than primitive barbarism; and Catholics are no longer alone in saying it.
-
-At the epoch at which the bishops were gathered together at Rome for the
-last council, a publicist of great merit, an Englishman and a Protestant,
-speaking in the name of his co-religionists, addressed an appeal to the
-Pope entreating him to labor for the re-establishment of the rights of
-the people.
-
-The rights of the people, or the law of nature, said Mr. Urquhart,
-is the Ten Commandments applied to society. After having cited Lord
-Mansfield, who says that this right “is considered to form part of the
-English law,” and that “_the acts_ of the government cannot alter it,”
-Mr. Urquhart fears not to add “that it is against their governments that
-nations should protect this right.” And why did this Protestant appeal
-to Rome? Because, in sight of the unjust wars which ravage Europe, he
-hoped that the Ecumenical Council “would lay down a rule enabling
-Catholics to distinguish the just from the unjust; so that the Pope might
-afterwards exercise juridical power over communities, nations, and their
-sovereigns.”[77]
-
-The rule exists; for the natural or divine law engraven by God from the
-beginning upon the hearts of all men, and more expressly revealed in the
-Decalogue, was the subject of the teaching of Christ. The juridical power
-and the tribunal from which there is no appeal equally exist; but the
-voice of the judge is no longer listened to by those who govern human
-society. But it is not this which is important, and Mr. Urquhart is
-right--it is the nations which should invoke against their new tyrants
-the only efficacious protection; it is the people who should first bend
-before the beneficent authority of the infallible master of the moral
-law; there would then be no further need of the consent of governments.
-
-
-XIII.--CONCLUSION.
-
-I said, in beginning the last paragraph, that it was addressed to
-Catholics by right of corollary from the preceding considerations. It is
-certain, indeed, that if all Catholics were truly instructed and well
-convinced of the truths that I have endeavored to set forth as briefly
-and clearly as I could, a great step in the right path would already have
-been taken.
-
-But there is a much-used, widely-spread, and very convenient objection
-which many excellent men fail not to proffer in such a case. “It is
-true,” say they, “that if human discussions and quarrels could be
-referred to the highest moral authority on earth, it would afford great
-advantages; but this is not _practicable_. Times have changed, and it is
-impossible to hope that this authority can ever recover the influence it
-would require in order to act efficaciously.”
-
-If good men adhere to the fatal habit they have acquired of renouncing
-beforehand all effort, for fear it will not be successful, nothing can
-be done; and there remains to us nothing but to veil our faces while
-awaiting the destruction of our country and of all organized society. But
-even were we reduced to despair, we never have the right of renouncing
-our convictions nor of ceasing to act personally according to the
-prescriptions of our faith. Before concerning ourselves about the doings
-of others, and without needing to count on success, we must begin by
-conforming ourselves to the teachings of truth, which is by its nature
-unchangeable; for there is no progress or civilization which can alter
-one iota of the divine laws.
-
-Moreover, he is very bold who would dare to predict what Europe will or
-will not be several years hence. Either it is condemned--and then, for
-his own peace of mind, a man should allow himself to be guided by his
-conscience with the full certainty of not doing wrong--or God wills to
-save Europe still another time; and this can never be, save by truth.
-
-With regard to practical means, of which they make so much at the present
-day, I see no one who proposes them inspiring any confidence. Every one
-hesitates, gropes, and most often acknowledges that he can only invent.
-The present hour is favorable to good, in this sense: that the greater
-number of _practical_ errors no longer exercise the same seduction as at
-the beginning of the century.
-
-Evil presses us on all sides, and, according to the expression of one
-of our most distinguished publicists, “1789 has failed.”[78] After 1789
-there is no middle way between social war and the return to good. We meet
-at every step upright minds who break their idols; there are too many who
-know not yet with what to replace them, but it is still much to have seen
-one’s error.
-
-Furthermore, there are untiring seekers, some of whom have found the
-whole truth, and others who find but the fragments; all help to prepare
-the way for the reconstruction of the social edifice. He to whom I have
-dedicated this work[79] will pardon me, I hope, if I quote from him. I
-do not believe that there is another example of an equal influence so
-rapidly exercised by a book so serious, so grave in matter, so little
-attractive to the frivolous reader, as that which he has written upon
-_Social Reform_. To rediscover social truth by the method of observation
-and analysis was already a phenomenon which I consider unique of its
-kind; to cause it to be adopted by so great a number of minds biassed
-and filled with hostile prejudices, and most frequently badly prepared
-by their previous studies, is a fact still more astonishing. Thus, as I
-said in my dedicatory epistle, it is impossible for me not to see herein
-one of the most consoling signs of our age. The scientific processes of
-M. Le Play were, perhaps, the only ones which would find favor with a
-generation so dialectical and so enamored with the exact sciences as ours.
-
-Notwithstanding the sorrows which oppress us, we must not despair; and,
-above all, we must not trouble ourselves too much concerning the errors
-of what people agree to call public opinion.
-
-The errors regarding the general will reproduce themselves, under another
-form, in the uneasiness which this self-styled queen of the world instils
-into the minds of men of good-will. If we consider closely what the
-elements of opinion are, we very quickly perceive that, in general, it
-merits the name of public only because it proclaims itself very loudly
-and makes itself known in all the public squares. In reality, a party
-much less considerable than we suppose announces to the world, and
-imagines, most frequently in good faith, that it alone is enlightened.
-Its boldness inspires awe, and by degrees those who compose it succeed
-in persuading the multitude, and in persuading themselves that they
-represent the only _opinion_ worthy of note. And who are these?
-Financiers and journalists who carry on business in common; loud-voiced
-lawyers; professors much tainted themselves; officers occupying
-a position, and others wishing to obtain one from them; the idle
-pleasure-seeking men and women. Is it, then, true that these represent
-the nation?
-
-Eager for their own interest or for that of others, these pretended
-echoes of public opinion are wont to say “The people believe, the people
-wish, the people will never consent, it does not suit the people, etc.
-What a pity! The people are nothing in revolutions in which they are
-but passive instruments. France no longer ardently desires anything
-except repose. At first sight this proposition would seem true--the
-previous consent of the French is necessary for the re-establishment
-of the monarchy. Nothing is more false. The multitude never obtains
-what it wills; it always accepts, it never chooses. We may even notice
-an _affectation_ of Providence (if I may be allowed the expression),
-inasmuch as the efforts of the people to attain an object are the very
-means which it makes use of to withdraw them from it.
-
-“In the French Revolution the people were constantly chained, outraged,
-ruined, torn by factions; and the factions, in their turn, the sport of
-one another, constantly drifted (notwithstanding all their efforts), only
-to be dashed against the rock which awaited them.… In the establishment
-and the overthrow of sovereignties … the mass of the people enter only as
-the wood and the cord employed by a machinist. Their chiefs even are such
-only to strangers; in reality, they are led as they lead the people. When
-the proper moment shall arrive, the Supreme Ruler of empires will chase
-away these noisy insects. Then we shall be astonished at the profound
-nothingness of these men.
-
-“Do people imagine that the political world goes on by chance, and
-that it is not organized, directed, animated, by the same wisdom which
-shines in the physical world? Great malefactors who overthrow the state
-necessarily produce melancholy, internal dismemberments … but when man
-labors to re-establish order, he associates himself with the Author of
-order, he is favored by nature--that is to say, by the aggregate of
-secondary causes which are the instruments of the Divinity. His action
-has something divine; it is at once gentle and powerful; it forces
-nothing and nothing resists it.”[80]
-
-These beautiful words are as true to-day as in 1797.
-
-
-DURATION.
-
-II
-
-All change implies succession. Hence the duration of contingent beings,
-inasmuch as they are subject to actual change, involves succession. The
-duration of the changes brought about by purely spiritual operations
-transcends our experience; for we are not pure spirits. Hence we have
-no means of measuring such changes by their intrinsic measure. But the
-duration of the changes which occur in the material world through local
-movements lies within the range of our apprehensive faculty, and can be
-measured by us; for we find in nature many movements which, by their
-constant recurrence and their uniformity, are calculated to serve as
-terms of comparison for measuring the length of successive duration.
-
-_Definitions of time._--The duration of local movement, which we measure
-by a given standard, is called “time.” And therefore time may be properly
-and adequately defined as the duration of local movement: _Duratio
-motus_. From this definition it immediately follows that where there is
-no movement there can be no time. Accordingly, there was no time before
-creation, as there was no movement. It follows also that the duration of
-created things, inasmuch as it expresses the permanence of those things
-in their own being, is not time; for it is of the essence of time to be
-successive, and there is no succession where there is no change, and
-no change without movement. Hence, when we say that contingent beings
-exist in time, we do not refer to their essence or substance as such,
-but to their successive modes of being, by which their duration acquires
-its accidental successivity. Were the whole world reduced to perfect
-stillness by impeding or suspending the actions and movements of all
-creatures, time would at the same instant cease to flow; for time is not
-the duration of things, but the duration of movement.
-
-Time may be considered either as a _relation_ or as a _quantity_.
-In fact, intervals of successive duration are, like distances, real
-relations; but when we think of the greater or less extent of space
-which can be measured with a given velocity between two correlated terms
-of time, these same intervals exhibit themselves under the form of
-continuous quantities.
-
-Time, as a relation, is defined by S. Thomas and by all the ancients
-as _Ratio prioris et posterioris motus_--that is, as the link between
-the “before” and the “after” of any movement; and, as a quantity, it
-is defined as _Numerus motus_--that is, as a number arising from the
-mensuration of the movement. This movement is always local, as we have
-already intimated; for we cannot measure successive duration by any other
-kind of movement. Hence it is that the duration which is predicated of
-spiritual substances and of their operations differs in kind from our
-time. For, since such substances are not subjected to local movements,
-their duration cannot be measured in terms of space and velocity, as our
-time, but only in terms of intellectual movements, which have nothing
-common with the periodical revolutions from which we desume the measure
-of our days, years, and centuries. When we say that angels have existed
-for centuries, we measure the duration of their existence by a measure
-which is altogether extrinsic to them; and in the same manner we measure
-the duration of our own intellectual operations by a measure extrinsic
-to them--that is, by comparing it with the duration of some movement
-occurring in our bodies or in the surrounding world.
-
-Since time is the duration of movement, it is plain that when we perceive
-movement we immediately perceive time; and since movement implies a
-continuous change, it is plain also that the greater the number of
-changes we can distinctly perceive in a given succession, the better
-we realize the flowing of time. It is for this reason that time seems
-longer in sickness or in a sleepless night than in good health and
-in a pleasurable occupation; for gladness and amusement distract our
-minds, and do not allow us to reflect enough on what is going on around
-us; whilst anything which affects us painfully calls our attention to
-ourselves and to our sensations, and thus causes us to reflect on a
-great number of movements to which in other circumstances we would pay
-no attention at all. It is for this reason, also, that when we are fast
-asleep we have no perception of the flowing of time. The moment one falls
-asleep he ceases to perceive the succession of changes, both interior
-and exterior, from the consideration of which time should be estimated;
-hence, when he awakes, he instinctively unites the present _now_ with
-that in which he fell asleep, as if there had been no intermediate time.
-Thus, in the same manner as there is no time without movement, there is
-no actual perception of time without the actual perception of movement.
-
-_Measure of time._--We have said that time, as a quantity, is measured
-by movement. The sense of this proposition is that a body moving with
-uniform velocity describes spaces proportional to the times employed;
-and therefore, if we assume as a unit of measure the time employed in
-describing a certain unit of space with a given velocity, the duration
-of the movement will contain as many units of time as there are units of
-space measured by that velocity. Thus, if the revolution of the earth
-around its axis is taken as the unit of movement, and its duration, or
-the day, as the unit of time, the number of days will increase at the
-same rate as the number of revolutions. Speaking in general, if the time
-employed in describing uniformly a space _v_ be taken as a unit of time,
-and _t_ be the time employed in describing uniformly a space _s_ with the
-same constant velocity, we have the proportion--
-
-    _s_:_v_::_t_:1.
-
-The unit of time is necessarily arbitrary or conventional. For there is
-no natural unit of measure in continuous quantities whose divisibility
-has no end, as we have explained in a preceding article.
-
-The space _v_ uniformly described in the unit of time represents the
-velocity of the movement; and therefore the duration of the movement
-comprises as many units of time as there are units in the ratio of the
-space to the constant velocity with which it is measured. In other
-terms, time is the ratio of the space described to the velocity with
-which it is described.
-
-We often hear it said that as time is measured by movement, so also
-movement is measured by time. But this needs explanation. When we say
-that time is measured by movement, we mean that time is represented by
-the ratio of the space to the velocity with which it is described, or
-by the ratio of the material extension to the formal extending of the
-movement; for the proportion above deduced gives
-
-    _t_ = _s_/_v_,
-
-where _s_ represents the length of the movement in space (which length
-is its material constituent) and _v_ represents its intensity (which is
-its formal constituent). On the other hand, when we say that movement
-is measured by time, we either mean that the ratio of the space to the
-velocity is represented by the time employed in the movement, and thus
-we merely interchange the members of our equation, by which no new
-conclusion can be reached; or we mean that the length and the velocity of
-the movement are measured by time. But this cannot be; for our equation
-gives for the length of the movement
-
-    _s_ = _vt_;
-
-and this shows that time alone cannot measure the length of the space
-described. On the other hand, the same equation gives for the velocity
-
-    _v_ = _s_/_t_;
-
-and this shows that time is not the measure of velocity, as the one
-diminishes when the other increases.
-
-This suffices to show that the phrase “movement is measured by time”
-must be interpreted in a very limited sense, as simply meaning that
-between movement and time there is a necessary connection, and that, all
-other things remaining equal, the length of the movement is proportional
-to the length of the time employed. Yet this does not mean that the
-length of the movement depends entirely on the time employed, for the
-same length may be described in different times; but it means that the
-time employed depends on the material and formal extent of the movement,
-as above explained; for, according as we take different velocities,
-different lengths will be described in equal time, and equal lengths in
-different times. It is not the time that extends the movement, but it is
-the movement that by its extension extends its own time.
-
-The true measure of movement is its velocity; for the measure of any
-given quantity is a unit of the same kind, and velocity is the unit of
-movement. Time, as measured by us, is a number which arises from the
-mensuration of the movement by its velocity; and therefore time results
-from the movement as already measured. This shows again that time is not
-the measure of the _extent_ of the movement. We have seen, also, that
-time is not the measure of the _intensity_ of the movement. It follows,
-therefore, that the quantity of movement is not measured by time.
-
-Time, being the ratio of two quantities mathematically homogeneous, is
-represented by an _abstract_ number. Yet the same time may be expressed
-by different numbers, according as we measure it by different units, as
-days, hours, minutes, etc. These numbers, however, are only virtually
-discrete, as time cannot be discontinued.
-
-Balmes from the equation
-
-    _v_ = _s_/_t_
-
-deduces the consequence that “the velocity is essentially a relation; for
-it cannot be otherwise expressed than by the ratio of the space to the
-time.”[81] We think that this conclusion is faulty. Space and time are
-not homogeneous quantities; hence the mathematical ratio of space to time
-is not an abstract but a concrete number, and therefore it represents an
-absolute quantity. Space divided by time is a length divided into equal
-parts; hence the quotient--viz., the velocity--represents the length
-of the movement made in the unit of time. And since Balmes admits that
-the length of the movement is a quantity having a determinate value, we
-do not see how he can escape the consequence that velocity, too, is a
-quantity of the same kind, and not a mere relation. “In the expression
-of velocity,” says Balmes, “two terms enter--space and time. Viewing the
-former in the real order, abstraction made of that of phenomena, we more
-easily come to regard it as something fixed; and we comprehend it in a
-given case without any relation. A foot is at all times a foot, and a
-yard a yard. These are quantities existing in reality, and if we refer
-them to other quantities it is only to make sure that they are so, not
-because their reality depends upon the relation. A cubic foot of water is
-not a cubic foot because the measure so says, but, on the contrary, the
-measure so says because there is a cubic foot. The measure itself is also
-an absolute quantity; and in general all extensions are absolute, for
-otherwise we should be obliged to seek measure of measure, and so on to
-infinity” (loc. cit.) This passage shows that a length described in space
-is, according to Balmes, an absolute quantity. And since the mathematical
-value of velocity represents a length described in space, as we have just
-proved, it follows that velocity has an absolute value.
-
-But leaving aside all mathematical considerations, we may show that
-velocity has an absolute value by reference to metaphysical data.
-What is velocity but the development in extension of the intensity of
-the momentum impressed on a material point? Now, the intensity of the
-momentum is an absolute quantity, equal to the quantity of the action
-by which it is produced. Hence it is evident that, as the action has an
-absolute value, greater or less, according to circumstances, so also the
-momentum impressed has an absolute value; and consequently the velocity
-also, which is nothing else than the momentum itself as developing its
-intensity into extension, has an absolute value, and is an absolute
-quantity.
-
-Balmes thought the contrary, for the following reason: “If the
-denominator, in the expression of velocity, were a quantity of the
-same kind as space--that is, having determinate values, existing and
-conceivable by themselves alone--the velocity, although still a relation
-might also have determinate values, not indeed wholly absolute, but only
-in the supposition that the two terms _s_ and _t_, having fixed values,
-are compared.… But from the difficulties which we have, on the one hand,
-seen presented to the consideration of time as an absolute thing, and
-from the fact that, on the other hand, no solid proof can be adduced to
-show such a property to have any foundation, it follows that we know not
-how to consider velocity as absolute, even in the sense above explained”
-(loc. cit.)
-
-This reason proves the contrary of what the author intends to establish.
-In fact, if the denominator were of the same kind as the numerator,
-the quotient would be an abstract number, as we know from mathematics;
-and such a number would exhibit nothing more than the relation of the
-two homogeneous terms--that is, how many times the one is contained in
-the other. It is precisely because the denominator is not of the same
-kind as the numerator that the quotient must be of the same kind as the
-numerator. And since the numerator represents space, which, according to
-Balmes, is an absolute quantity, it follows that the quotient--that is,
-the number by which we express the velocity--exhibits a quantity of the
-same nature: a conclusion in which all mathematicians agree. When a man
-walks a mile, with the velocity of one yard per second, he measures the
-whole mile yard by yard, with his velocity. If the velocity were not a
-quantity of the same kind with the space measured, how could it measure
-it?
-
-True it is that velocity, when considered in its metaphysical aspect,
-is not a length of space, but the intensity of the act by which
-matter is carried through such a length. Yet, since Balmes argues
-here from a mathematical equation, we must surmise or presume that he
-considers velocity as a length measured in space in the unit of time,
-as mathematicians consider it; for he cannot argue from mathematical
-expressions with logical consistency, if he puts upon them construction
-of an unmathematical character. After all, it remains true that the
-velocity or intensity of the movement is always to be measured by the
-extension of the movement in the unit of time; and thus it is necessary
-to admit that velocity exhibits an absolute intensive quantity measured
-by the extension which it evolves.
-
-We therefore “know how to consider velocity as absolute,” though its
-mathematical expression is drawn from a relation of space to time. The
-measure of any quantity is always found by comparing the quantity with
-some unit of measure; hence all quantity, inasmuch as measured, exhibits
-itself under a relative form as _ratio mensurati ad suam mensuram_; and
-it is only under such a form that it can be expressed in numbers. But
-this relativity does not constitute the nature of quantity, because it
-presupposes it, and has the whole reason of its being in the process of
-mensuration.
-
-We have insisted on this point because the confusion of the absolute
-value of velocity with its relative mathematical expression would lead
-us into a labyrinth of difficulties with regard to time. Balmes, having
-overlooked the distinction between the mathematical expression and the
-metaphysical character of velocity, comes to the striking consequence
-that “if the whole machine of the universe, not excluding the operations
-of our soul, were accelerated or retarded, an impossibility would be
-realized; for the relation of the terms would have to be changed without
-undergoing any change. If the velocity be only the relation of space to
-time, and time only the relation of spaces traversed, it is the same
-thing to change them all in the same proportion, and not to change them
-at all. It is to leave every thing as it is” (loc. cit.) The author is
-quite mistaken. The very equation
-
-    _t_ = _s_/_v_,
-
-on which he grounds his argument, suffices to show that if the velocity
-increases, the time employed in measuring the space _s_ diminishes; and
-if the velocity diminishes, the time increases. This being the case, it
-is evident that an acceleration of the movements in the whole machine of
-the universe would be a _real_ acceleration, since the same movements
-would be performed in less time; and a retardation would be a _real_
-retardation, since the same movements would require more time. We are
-therefore far from realizing an impossibility when we admit that, in the
-hypothesis of the author, time would vary in the inverse ratio of the
-velocity of the universal movement.
-
-_Division of time._--Philosophers divide time into _real_ and
-_imaginary_. We have already explained this division when speaking of
-flowing duration. The reality of time evidently depends on the reality
-of movement; hence any time to which no real movement corresponds is
-imaginary. Thus if you dream that you are running, the time of your
-running is imaginary, because your running, too, is imaginary. In such
-a case the real time corresponds to your real movements--say, to your
-breathing, pulse, etc.--while the dream continues.
-
-Imaginary time is often called also _ideal_ time, but this last epithet
-is not correct; for, as time is the duration of local movement, it is
-in the nature of time to be an object of the imagination. And for this
-reason the duration of the intellectual movements and operations of pure
-spirits is called time only by analogy, as we have above stated. However,
-we are wont to think of such a duration as if it were homogeneous with
-our own time; for we cannot measure it except by reference to the
-duration of the movements we witness in the material world.
-
-Time is also divided into _past_, _present_, and _future_. The past
-corresponds to a movement already made, the future to a movement which
-will be made, and the present to a movement which is actually going
-on. But some will ask: Is there really any present time? Does not the
-_now_, to which the present is confined, exclude all _before_ and all
-_after_, and therefore all succession, without which it is impossible to
-conceive time? We concede that the _now_, as such--that is, considered
-in its absolute reality--is not time, just as a point is not a line;
-for, as the point has no length, so the _now_ has no extension. Yet, as
-a point in motion describes a line, so also the _now_, by its flowing
-from _before_ to _after_, extends time. Hence, although the _now_, as
-such, is not time, its flowing from _before_ to _after_ is time. If,
-then, we consider the present as the link of the immediate past with the
-immediate future--that is, if we consider the _now_ not statically, but
-dynamically--we shall see at once that its actual flowing from _before_
-to _after_ implies succession, and constitutes an infinitesimal interval
-of time.
-
-This may also be shown by reference to the nature of uniform local
-movement. When a material point describes a line with uniform velocity,
-its movement being continuous, its duration is continuous; and therefore
-every flowing instant of its duration is continuous, as no discontinuous
-parts can ever be reached in the division of continuum. Hence every
-flowing instant has still the nature of time. This conclusion is
-mathematically evident from the equation
-
-    _t_ = _s_/_v_,
-
-for, _v_ being supposed constant, we cannot assume _t_ = 0 unless we also
-assume _s_ = 0. But this latter assumption would imply rest instead of
-movement, and therefore it is out of the question. Accordingly, at no
-instant of the movement can we assume _t_ = 0; or, which is the same,
-every flowing instant partakes the nature of time.
-
-The same conclusion can be established, even more evidently, by the
-consideration of accelerated or retarded movements. When a stone is
-thrown upwards, the velocity of its ascent suffers a _continuous_
-diminution till at last it becomes = 0; and at the very instant it
-becomes = 0 an opposite velocity begins to urge the stone down, and
-increases continually so long as the stone does not reach the ground
-or any other obstacle. Now, a continuous increase or decrease of the
-velocity means that there are not two consecutive moments of time in
-which the stone moves at exactly the same rate; and hence nothing but
-an instant corresponds to each successive degree of velocity. But
-since the duration of the movement is made up of nothing but such
-instants, it is clear that the succession of such instants constitutes
-time; and consequently, as time is continuous, those instants, though
-infinitesimal, are themselves continuous; and thus every flowing instant
-is really time.
-
-From this it is plain, first, that although the _now_, as such, is not
-time, yet its actual flowing is time.
-
-Secondly, it follows that infinitesimals of time, as employed in
-dynamics, are not mathematical figments, but realities, for time flows
-only through infinitesimal instants; and therefore to deny the reality of
-such infinitesimals would be to deny the reality of time.
-
-Thirdly, we gather that the absolute _now_ differs from an actual
-infinitesimal of time; because the former, as such, is only a term of
-time, whereas the latter is the flowing of that term from its immediate
-_before_ to its immediate _after_. Hence an infinitesimal of time is
-infinitely less than any designable duration. In fact, its _before_ and
-its _after_ are so immediately connected with the same absolute _now_
-that there is no room for any designable length of duration between them.
-
-Fourthly, whilst the absolute _now_ is no quantity, the infinitesimal of
-time is a real quantity; for it implies real succession. This quantity,
-however, is nascent, or _in fieri_ only; for the _now_, which alone is
-intercepted between the immediate _before_ and the immediate _after_, has
-no formal extension.
-
-Fifthly, the infinitesimal of time corresponds to a movement by which
-an infinitesimal of space is described. And thus infinitesimals of
-space, as considered in dynamics, are real quantities. To deny that such
-infinitesimals are real quantities would be the same, in fact, as to
-deny the real extension of local movement; for this movement flows and
-acquires its extension through such infinitesimals only. And the same is
-true of the infinitesimal actions by which the rate of local movement
-is continually modified. These latter infinitesimals are evidently real
-quantities, though infinitely less than any designable quantity. They
-have an infinitesimal intensity, and they cause an infinitesimal change
-in the rate of the movement in an infinitesimal of time.
-
-_Evolution of time._--The preceding considerations lead us to understand
-how it is that in any interval of time there is but one absolute _now_
-always the same _secundum rem_, but changing, and therefore manifold
-_secundum rationem_. S. Thomas, in his opuscule _De Instantibus_, c. ii.,
-explains this truth in the following words: “As a point to the line,
-so is the _now_ to the time. If we imagine a point at rest, we shall
-not be able to find in it the causality of any line; but if we imagine
-that point to be in movement, then, although it has no dimensions, and
-consequently no divisibility in itself, it will nevertheless, from the
-nature of its movement, mark out a divisible line.… The point, however,
-does in no way belong to the essence of the line; for one and the
-same real term, absolutely indivisible, cannot be at the same time in
-different parts of the same permanent continuum.… Hence the mathematical
-point which by its movement draws a line is neither the line nor any
-part of the line; but, remaining one and the same in itself, it acquires
-different modes of being. These different modes of being, which must
-be traced to its movement, are really in the line, whilst the point,
-as such, has no place in it. In the same manner, an instant, which is
-the measure of a thing movable, and adheres to it permanently, is one
-and the same as to its absolute reality so long as the substance of the
-thing remains unimpaired, for the instant is the inseparable measure
-of its being; but the same instant becomes manifold inasmuch as it is
-diversified by its modes of being; and it is this its diversity that
-constitutes the essence of time.”[82]
-
-From this explanation we may infer that, as each point, or primitive
-element, of matter has its own _now_, one in its absolute reality,
-but manifold in its mode of being, there are in nature as many _nows_
-describing distinct lines of time as there are material points in
-movement. Accordingly, there are as many particular times as there are
-elements moving in space. The proposition that in time there is only
-_unum instans in re_ is, therefore, to be limited to the particular
-time of one and the same subject of motion. S. Thomas did not think of
-this limitation, because he believed, according to the old astronomical
-theory, that the movement of the _primum mobile_--that is, of the supreme
-sphere--was the natural measure of time; and for this reason he thought
-that, as the first movement was one, time also was one, and constituted
-the common measure of all simultaneous movements.[83] But the truth is
-that there must be as many distinct particular times as there are things
-actually moving. This is a manifest consequence of the doctrine which
-assimilates a flowing _now_ to a point describing a line. For as every
-point in movement describes a distinct line in space, so also must the
-absolute _now_ of every distinct being describe by its flowing a distinct
-line of time.
-
-The general time, which we regard as _one_ successive duration, is the
-duration of the movement from the beginning of the world to our day,
-conceived in the abstract--that is, without reference to the particular
-beings concerned in the movement. Time, when thus conceived, is a mere
-abstraction; whereas the particular times of particular movements are
-concrete in their continuous extension, notwithstanding their being
-represented by abstract numbers. If we knew of any special body created
-and put in movement before any other body, we might regard it as _primum
-mobile_, and take its movement, if uniform, as the natural measure or
-standard of general time; but as we know of no such particular body, and
-as we have reason to believe that the creation of all matter was made
-in one and the same moment, we are led to admit an exceedingly great
-multitude of _prima mobilia_, every one of which was from the beginning
-of time the subject of duration. It is clear that we cannot reduce their
-distinct durations to one general duration, except by making abstraction
-of all particular subjects, and considering movement in the abstract.
-
-Nevertheless, as we inhabit the earth, we usually restrict our
-consideration of time to those periodical intervals of duration which
-correspond to the periodical movements we witness in, or from, our
-planet; and thus we take the duration of the diurnal or of the orbital
-movement of the earth as our standard for the measure of time. If other
-planets are inhabited by rational beings, it is obvious that their
-time will be measured by other standards, as their diurnal and orbital
-movements differ from those of our earth.
-
-To the doctrine that time is evolved by the flowing of a single instant,
-S. Thomas adds an important remark to the effect that the _now_ of
-contingent things should not be confounded with the _now_ of eternity. He
-proposes to himself the following objection: “To stand and to move are
-not essential differences, but only different manners of being. But the
-_now_ of eternity is standing, and the _now_ of time is moving. The one,
-therefore, seems to differ from the other in nothing but in the manner
-of being. Hence the _now_ of time would be substantially the same as the
-_now_ of eternity, which is absurd.”[84]
-
-S. Thomas replies: “This cannot be true, according to our doctrine; for
-we have seen that eternity and time differ essentially. Moreover, when
-of two things the one depends on the other as an effect from a cause,
-the two things essentially differ; but the _now_ of eternity (which does
-not really differ from eternity itself) is the cause of time and of the
-_now_ of time; therefore the _now_ of time and the _now_ of eternity are
-essentially different. Furthermore, the _now_ of time unites the past
-with the future, which the _now_ of eternity does not do; for in eternity
-there is no past and no future, because eternity is all together. Nor
-has the objection any force. That to stand and to move do not constitute
-an essential difference is true of those things which are liable both
-to stand and to move; but that which always stands without possibility
-of moving differs essentially from that which always moves without the
-possibility of standing. And this is the case with the _now_ of eternity
-on the one hand, and the _now_ of time on the other.”[85]
-
-_Beginning of time._--Here the question arises whether time must have had
-a beginning. Those who believe that the world could have been created _ab
-æterno_ will answer that time could have existed without a beginning. But
-we are convinced that the world could not be created _ab æterno_; and
-therefore we maintain that time must have begun.
-
-Our argument is drawn from the contingency of all things created.
-
-The duration of a contingent being cannot be without a beginning; for
-the contingent being itself must have had a beginning. In fact, as that
-cannot be annihilated which has never been in existence, so that cannot
-be educed from nothing which has never been nothing. It is therefore
-necessary to admit that every creature had a beginning of its existence,
-and consequently of its duration also; for nothing endures but inasmuch
-as it exists.
-
-Nor can this argument be evaded by saying that a contingent being
-may have _initium naturæ_, without having _initium temporis_. This
-distinction, though suggested and employed by S. Thomas, has no
-foundation, because the beginning of the created nature is the beginning
-also of its duration; and he who concedes that there must be an _initium
-naturæ_ cannot consistently deny the _initium temporis_. In fact, no
-contingent being can be said to have been created, if there was no
-instant in which it was created; in other terms, every creature must be
-traced to the _now_ of its creation. But the _now_ of its creation is
-the beginning of its duration no less than of its existence. Surely,
-whatever has a first _now_ has a beginning of duration; but every
-creature has its first _now_--viz., the _now_ of its creation; therefore
-every creature has a beginning of duration. That the _now_ of creation is
-the first _now_ is self-evident; for the _now_ of creation is that point
-of duration in which the passage is made from not being to being; and
-therefore it marks the beginning of the existence of the created being.
-And since we cannot say that the duration of the created being preceded
-its existence, we are bound to conclude that the _now_ of its creation is
-the beginning of its duration as well as of its existence.
-
-Some will object that we assume what is to be proved--viz., the very
-_now_ of creation. For, if the world had been created _ab æterno_, no
-_now_ of creation could be pointed out. To this we answer that the
-_now_ of creation, whether we can point it out determinately or not,
-must always be admitted. To suppress it, is to suppress creation. For,
-if we assume that a thing had no _now_ of creation, we are compelled
-to deny that such a thing has ever been created. In other terms, if
-anything has no beginning of duration, it was always in act, it never
-lacked actual existence, and it never passed from non-existence to actual
-existence--that is, it is no creature at all; for to be a creature is
-to have passed from non-existence to actual existence. And thus we must
-conclude that to create is to make a beginning of time.
-
-The impossibility of a world created _ab æterno_ has also been argued
-from the impossibility of an infinite ascending series. The force of this
-proof does not, however, lie in the absurdity of an infinite series--for
-such an absurdity, as S. Thomas remarks, has never been demonstrated--but
-it lies in the necessity of granting a beginning to every term of the
-series itself; for, if every term of the series has a beginning, the
-whole series must have a beginning. S. Thomas, as we have just stated,
-teaches that an infinite ascending series is not to be judged impossible,
-“even if it were a series of efficient causes,” provided it depend on
-an extrinsic cause: _In infinitum procedere in causis agentibus non
-reputatur impossibile._[86] This doctrine is universally rejected,
-and was fiercely attacked even in the time of the holy doctor; but he
-persisted in maintaining it against all, and wrote a special treatise
-to defend it _contra murmurantes_. The reason why S. Thomas embraced
-this doctrine seems to have been that the creation of the world in the
-beginning of time was an article of faith; and the saint believed that
-articles of faith are proved only by authority, and not by natural
-reason. He was therefore obliged to maintain that the beginning of time
-could not be demonstrated by reason alone. “The newness of the world,”
-says he, “cannot be demonstrated from the consideration of the world
-itself, because the principle of demonstration is the quiddity of things.
-Now, things, when considered as to their quiddity or species, do not
-involve the _hic et nunc_; and for this reason the universals are said to
-be everywhere and in all time. Hence it cannot be demonstrated that man
-or any other thing did not always exist.”[87]
-
-To this argument we respectfully reply that, when the necessary
-conditions of a contingent fact are to be demonstrated, the principle
-of demonstration is not the abstract quiddity, or intelligible essence,
-of the things, but the contingency of their actual existence. But it is
-evident that whatever exists contingently has been educed out of nothing.
-It is therefore necessary to conclude that all contingent things have had
-a first moment of existence and of duration.
-
-The Angelic Doctor refers also to a similitude by which some philosophers
-mentioned by S. Augustine undertook to explain the creation _ab æterno_.
-If a foot had been _ab æterno_ pressed on the dust, the impression made
-by it would be _ab æterno_. In the same manner the world might have been
-_ab æterno_: for God, its maker, is eternal.[88] But we humbly reply
-that the impression of the foot on the dust cannot be _ab æterno_ if it
-is contingent. For, if it is contingent, it has necessarily a beginning
-of its existence, and therefore of its duration also, as we have already
-shown. Whatever is made has a beginning of duration. Hence the fathers
-of the church, to prove that the divine Word was not made, thought it
-sufficient to point out the fact that he was _ab æterno_ like his Father.
-
-S. Thomas, after stating his conclusion that the temporal beginning of
-the world is not demonstrable, but simply credible, remarks as follows:
-“And this should be kept in mind, lest, by presuming to demonstrate
-what is matter of faith by insufficient proofs, we be laughed at by the
-infidels, who may think that on the strength of such proofs we believe
-our articles of faith.”[89] This advice is good. But we need not tell
-our readers that what we hold as of faith we hold on divine authority,
-irrespective of our philosophical reasons.
-
-_Perpetuity of time._--That time may go on without end is an evident
-truth. But will it go on for ever, or will it cease at last? To this
-question we answer that time will for ever continue. As long as there
-will be movement there will be time. There will ever be movement;
-therefore there will ever be time. The major of this syllogism needs no
-explanation; for time is nothing but the duration of movement. The minor
-is quite certain. For not only the rational creatures, but the earth
-itself and other corporeal things, will last for ever, as is the common
-doctrine of philosophers, who hold that God will never destroy what he
-has created. These material things will therefore continue to celebrate
-God’s glory for ever--that is, will continue to exert their motive power
-and to bring about divers movements; for such is their nature, and such
-their manner of chanting the praises of their Creator. Moreover, we know
-by faith that we shall rise from death and live for ever, and that the
-glorious bodies of the saints will possess, besides other privileges, the
-gift of agility, which would evidently be of no use if there were to be
-no local movement and no succession of time. Hence it follows that time
-will last for ever.
-
-And let no one say that the Sacred Scriptures teach the contrary. For
-wherever the Sacred Scriptures mention _the end of time_, they speak, not
-absolutely and universally, but only with reference to certain particular
-periods or epochs of time characterized by some special events or
-manifestation of divine Providence. Thus we read in the Apocalypse that
-“there will be time no more”--_Tempus non erit amplius_--and yet we find
-that after the end of that time there will be a thousand years; which
-shows that the phrase “there will be time no more” refers to the time
-of mercy and conversion. Thus also we read in Daniel that “time has its
-end”--_Quoniam habet tempus finem suum_--but we see by the context that
-he speaks there of the Antichristian epoch, which of course must have an
-end. And the like is to be said of other similar passages.
-
-The most we can admit in regard to the cessation of time is that, owing
-to the great catastrophe and the wonderful changes which the consummation
-of the present epoch shall bring about, the diurnal and the annual
-revolutions, which serve now as measures of time, may be so modified as
-to give rise to a new order of things, in which time shall be measured by
-a different standard. This seems to be the opinion of many interpreters
-of the Sacred Scriptures; though some of them speak as if after the
-consummation of the present things there were to be time no more, but
-only eternity. This manner of speaking, however, is no proof against
-the continuance of time; for the word “eternity,” when applied to the
-duration of creatures, means nothing else than sempiternity--that is,
-time without end, according to the scriptural phrase: _Annos æternos in
-mente habui_. We learn from S. Thomas that the word “eternity” is used
-in three different senses: First, we call eternity the measure of the
-duration of a thing which is always invariably the same, which acquires
-nothing from the future, and loses nothing from the past. And this
-is the most proper meaning of the word “eternity.” Secondly, we call
-eternity the measure of the duration of a thing which has a fixed and
-perpetual being, which, however, is subject to accidental changes in its
-operations. Eternity, when thus interpreted, means what we should call
-_ævum_ properly; for the _ævum_ is the measure of those things whose
-being lasts for ever, but which admit of succession in their operations,
-as is the case with pure intelligences. Thirdly, we call eternity the
-measure of a successive duration, which has _before_ and _after_ without
-beginning and without end, or simply without end, though it have a
-beginning; and in this sense the world has been said to be eternal,
-although it is really temporal. This is the most improper meaning of the
-word “eternity”; for the true concept of eternity excludes _before_ and
-_after_.[90] Thus far S. Thomas.
-
-We may be allowed to remark on this passage that, according to the
-principles which we have established in our articles on _Substantial
-Generations_,[91] not only the pure intelligences, but all primitive
-and elementary substances are substantially incorruptible, and have
-a fixed and permanent being. Hence the distinction made by the holy
-doctor between _ævum_ and endless time ceases to have a foundation, and
-the whole difference between the endless duration of spiritual and of
-material changes will be reduced to this: that the movements of spiritual
-substances are intellectual, whereas those of the material elements are
-local.
-
-_The phrase “before creation.”_--We often hear of such expressions
-as these: “Before creation there was God alone,” “Before creation
-there was no time,” etc.; and since such expressions seem to involve
-a contradiction in terms, we think it will not be superfluous to give
-their rational explanation. Of course, if the words “before creation”
-be understood absolutely--that is, excluding any creation either made
-or imagined--those words will be contradictory. For the preposition
-_before_ is relative, and implies succession; and it is contradictory
-to suppose succession without anything capable of succession. When no
-creature existed there could be nothing flowing from _before_ to _after_,
-because there was no movement, there being nothing movable.
-
-Nor can it be said that the _now_ of divine eternity gives us a
-sufficient ground for imagining any _before_ and _after_ without
-referring to something exterior to God himself. The _now_ of eternity
-has in itself neither _before_ nor _after_; and when we say that it is
-equivalent to all imaginable time, we do not affirm that it implies
-succession, but only acknowledge that it is the supreme reason of the
-possibility of succession in created things. Hence, when we use the
-phrase “Before creation” in an absolute sense, we in fact take away all
-real _before_ and all real _after_; and thus the words “Before creation,”
-taken absolutely, involve a contradiction. They affirm explicitly what
-they implicitly deny.
-
-The truth is that, when we use the phrase in question, we express what
-is in our imagination, and not in our intellect. We imagine that before
-time there was eternity because we cannot picture to ourselves eternity,
-except by the phantasm of infinite time. It is for this reason that in
-speaking of eternity we use the terms by which we are accustomed to
-express the relations of time. The words “Before creation” are therefore
-to be understood of a time which was possible in connection with some
-possible anterior creation, but which has never existed. This amounts to
-saying that the _before_ which we conceive has no existence except in our
-imagination.
-
-S. Thomas proposes to himself the question whether, when we say that
-God was before the world, the term “before” is to be interpreted of a
-priority of nature or of a priority of duration. It might seem, says
-he, that neither interpretation is admissible. For if God is before the
-world only by priority of nature, then it follows that, since God is _ab
-æterno_, the world too is _ab æterno_. If, on the contrary, God is before
-the world by priority of duration, then, since priority and posteriority
-of duration constitute time, it follows that there was time before the
-creation of the world; which is impossible.[92]
-
-In answer to this difficulty the holy doctor says that God is before
-the world by priority of duration, but that the preposition “before”
-designates here the priority, not of time, but of eternity. Or else we
-must answer, he adds, that the word “before” designates a priority, not
-of real, but of imaginary, time, just as the word “above” in the phrase
-“above the heavens there is nothing” designates an imaginary space which
-we may conceive by thinking of some imaginary dimensions superadded to
-the dimensions of the heavens.[93]
-
-It strikes us that the first of these two answers does not really solve
-the difficulty. For the priority of eternity cannot mean but a priority
-of nature and of pre-eminence, by which God’s permanent duration
-infinitely _excels_, rather than _precedes_, all duration of creatures.
-In accordance with this, the objector might still urge on his conclusion
-that, if God does not precede the world, the world is _ab æterno_ like
-God himself. The second answer agrees with what we ourselves have
-hitherto said. But as regards the objection proposed, it leaves the
-difficulty entire. For, if God was before the world by a priority, not of
-real, but of imaginary time, that “before” is imaginary, and not real.
-And the consequence will be that God was not really “before” the world,
-but we imagine him to have been so.
-
-We must own that with our imperfect language, mostly fashioned by
-imagination, it is not easy to give a clear and popular solution of the
-objection. Perhaps the most summary manner of dealing with it would be to
-deny the inference in the first horn of the dilemma--viz., that if God is
-before the world by priority of nature only, then the world will be _ab
-æterno_ as much as God himself. This inference, we say, is to be denied;
-for it involves the false supposition that a thing is _ab æterno_ if
-there is no time before it; whereas that only is _ab æterno_ which has no
-beginning of duration.
-
-Thus there is no need of saying that God _precedes_ the world in
-duration; for it suffices to admit that he was before the world by
-priority of nature and of causality. The duration of eternity has no
-“before” and no “after,” though we depict it to ourselves as extending
-into indefinite time. Even the verb _was_ should not be predicated
-of God; for God, strictly speaking, neither was, nor will be, but
-permanently _is_. Hence it seems to us that it would be a contradiction
-to affirm that God was _before_ the world by the duration of his
-eternity, while we acknowledge that in his eternity there is no “before.”
-But enough about this question.
-
-_The duration of rest._--Supposing that a body, or an element of matter,
-is perfectly at rest, it may be asked how the duration of this rest can
-be ascertained and measured. Shall we answer that it is measured by time?
-But if so, our reader will immediately conclude that time is not merely
-the duration of movement, as we have defined it, but also the duration of
-rest. On the other hand, how can we deny that rest is measured by time,
-when we often speak of the rest of a few minutes or of a few hours?
-
-We might evade the question by answering that nothing in creation lies
-in absolute rest, but everything is acting and acted upon without
-interruption, so that its movement is never suspended. But we answer
-directly that, if there were absolute rest anywhere in the world, the
-duration of that rest should be measured by the duration of exterior
-movements. In fact, rest has no _before_ and _after_ in itself, because
-it is immovable, but only outside of itself. It cannot therefore have
-an intrinsic measure of its duration, but it must borrow it from the
-_before_ and _after_ of exterior movement. In other words, the thing
-which is in perfect rest draws no line of time; it has only a statical
-_now_ which is a mere term of duration; and if everything in the world
-were in absolute rest, time would cease altogether. Hence what we call
-the duration of rest is simply the duration of a movement exterior to the
-thing which is at rest.
-
-This will be easily understood by considering that between a flowing and
-a standing _now_ there is the same relation as between a moving and a
-standing point.
-
-Now, to change the relation of distance between two points in space, it
-suffices that one of them move while the other stands still. This change
-of distance is measured by the movement of the first point; and thus the
-point which is at rest undergoes, without moving, a continuous change in
-its relation to the moving point. In a similar manner, two _nows_ being
-given, the one flowing and the other standing, the time extended by the
-flowing of the first measures the change of its relation to the second,
-and consequently, also, the change of the relation of the second to the
-first. This shows that the time by which we measure the duration of rest
-is nothing but the duration of the movement extrinsic to the thing at
-rest.
-
-But, as we have said, nothing in creation is in absolute rest; and
-therefore what we consider as resting has really some movement
-imperceptible to our senses--as, _v.g._, molecular vibrations--by which
-the duration of its supposed rest is intrinsically measured. In God’s
-eternity alone there is perfect immobility; but its duration cannot be
-measured by time, even as an extrinsic measure, because the standing
-duration of eternity has nothing common with the flowing duration of
-creatures. As local movement cannot measure divine immensity, so flowing
-duration cannot measure divine eternity; because, as the _ubi_ of a
-creature never changes its relation to God’s immensity, so the _quando_
-of a creature never changes its relation to God’s eternity.
-
-_Continuity of time._--We will conclude with a few remarks on the
-continuity of time. That time is essentially continuous is evident;
-but the question has been proposed: What if God were to annihilate all
-existing creatures, and to make a new creation? Would the instant of
-annihilation be immediately followed by the instant of the new creation,
-or could there be an interval of time between them?
-
-The right answer to this question is that between the annihilation and
-the new creation there would be no time: because there cannot be time
-without succession, and no succession without creatures. Yet, it would
-not follow that the instant of the annihilation should be immediately
-united with the instant of the new creation; in other words, the duration
-of the new world would not be a continuation of the duration of the world
-annihilated. The reason of this is that there cannot be a continuation of
-time, unless the same _now_ continues to flow. For when one flowing _now_
-ceases to be, and another begins, the line of time drawn by the first
-comes to an end, and another line, altogether distinct, begins, and this
-latter cannot be a continuation of the former. If the English mail, for
-instance, reaches New York at a given instant, and the French mail at the
-same instant starts from Paris, no one will say that the movement of the
-French mail is a continuation of the movement of the English mail. Hence
-the duration of the movement of the one is not the continuation of that
-of the other.
-
-Moreover, from what we have seen about the distinct lines of time
-described by distinct subjects of flowing duration, it is plain that
-even the durations of simultaneous movements are always distinct from
-one another, as belonging to distinct subjects; and accordingly, when
-one of the said movements ceases, the continuation of the others cannot
-be looked upon as its continuation. Hence, if the present world were
-annihilated, its duration would cease altogether; and the duration of
-a newly-created world would draw a new line of time quite distinct
-from that of the present world, though between the end of the one and
-the beginning of the other there would be no time. “The two worlds
-in question,” as Balmes remarks, “would have no mutual relation;
-consequently there would be neither distance nor immediateness between
-them.”[94]
-
-Time is _formally_ continuous. Formal continuity we call that of which
-all the constituent elements have their own formal and distinct existence
-in nature. In time such elements are those flowing instants which
-unite the immediate past with the immediate future. This continuity is
-essentially successive. It is owing to its successivity that time, as
-well as movement, can be, and is, formally continuous. For no formal
-continuum can be simultaneous, as we have shown where we refuted the
-hypothesis of continuous matter.[95] But let this suffice about time.
-
-
-AN INCIDENT OF THE REIGN OF TERROR.
-
-The close of the XVIIIth century found the good people of these United
-States in a most amiable mood. The consciousness of all they had
-achieved, by sustaining their Declaration of Independence in the face of
-overwhelming difficulties, produced a glow of national self-complacency
-that has thrown its glamour over the first page of our public annals,
-which--as history counts her pages by centuries--we are only now
-preparing to turn. Not until we were drawing near its close was the
-light of that agreeable illusion obscured by the shadow of a question
-whether the “glorious Fourth” was not like to prove, after all, a most
-_in_glorious failure.
-
-Self-complacency is never an elevating sentiment, and seldom sustained
-by the merits upon the assumed possession of which it is based. But our
-people had many substantial virtues, sufficient to atone abundantly for
-their indulgence in a pleasant foible. Among these was the principle of
-gratitude, to which none but truly noble natures are subject. That they
-possessed it was proved by their promptness in hastening to relieve and
-comfort the French refugees whom the Reign of Terror had driven to our
-shores when it was devastating that fair realm across the Atlantic which
-had been the first to extend assistance and sympathy to us in the hour of
-need.
-
-We have vivid recollections of sitting for hours--patchwork in hand--at
-the feet of a dear relative in the pleasant home of our childhood,
-listening to thrilling tales of those times, many of them connected with
-the French emigrants--of the cordial hospitality with which all the
-homes of her native city of Hartford, Conn., were thrown open to receive
-these interesting exiles; of the shifts the inhabitants devised and the
-discomforts they endured in order to provide comfortable shelter and
-sustenance for so many from means already impoverished by the drain of
-the conflict through which we ourselves had but just passed.
-
-Now, this dear relative was the possessor of a small gold locket of
-antique fashion and exquisite workmanship, which was an object of
-unceasing admiration to our childish fancy. In form it was an oblong
-octagon. The border was a graceful tiny pattern in mosaic-gold inlaid
-with amethyst and pearl. In the centre were two miniatures painted on
-glass with marvellous distinctness and accuracy: the one a likeness
-of that most unfortunate queen, Marie Antoinette, the other of her
-beloved sister-in-law, the amiable Princess Elizabeth. A heavy pebble
-crystal, perfectly transparent, covered the pictures without in the least
-obscuring their delicate tints. In the back of the locket was an open
-space, within which, our relative said, was once laid, upon the ground
-of dark satin that still remained, a knot formed by two small locks of
-glossy, silken hair, one a light rose-tinged auburn, the other flaxen
-with a golden sheen. A glass covered these also.
-
-After much persuasion our relative related to us the following
-
-
-STORY OF THE LOCKET.
-
-My father was an officer in the Continental army, and, soon after the
-war of our Revolution closed, returned to his former home in the city
-of Hartford, Conn., where he accepted an office of high municipal
-trust. He was moved by the generous impulses of his nature to a life
-of active benevolence; and when, in 1792-3, the Revolution in France
-drove thousands of her citizens to take refuge in our republic, none
-were more zealous and untiring than he in seeking out and providing for
-the unfortunate strangers. Every apartment in our spacious house was
-soon filled. Rooms were prepared in the carriage-house and barns for my
-brothers and the domestics of the household, while my sisters and myself
-took possession of a small room in the attic which had been a repository
-for the spare bedding, now called into use.
-
-Among our guests was one lady who was distinguished by having a spacious
-room set apart for her sole use, and who seldom left it or mingled with
-her companions in misfortune and exile. Upon the rare occasions when
-she did appear briefly in their circle, it was striking to observe the
-ceremonious deference, amounting almost to veneration, with which she
-was received. Where or how my father found her I never knew; but his
-manner towards her was so profoundly respectful as to impress us all
-with feelings akin to fear in her presence. Yet these impressions were
-produced by the demeanor of others only; for on her own part there was
-not the slightest self-assertion or assumption of stateliness. Simple and
-unobtrusive as a child in her manners, she was indescribably affable to
-all; but her countenance wore an expression which, when once seen, could
-never be forgotten. More forcibly and clearly than words did it convey
-the story that some overwhelming deluge of calamity had swept from her
-life every vestige of earthly hope and joy. By no outward token did she
-parade her griefs. Her dress, plain, even severe, in its perfect neatness
-and simplicity, displayed no mourning-badge, but her very smile was an
-intimate revelation of sorrow.
-
-She was known by the title of “Madame,” though some of our guests would
-now and then add, when speaking of her in an undertone--not lost upon a
-small listener like myself--“la Comtesse.” Her waiting-maid, Celeste, was
-entirely devoted to her, and always served her slight and simple meals to
-her in her own room.
-
-Soon after her arrival I was sent on some errand to madame’s apartment,
-and her agitation upon seeing me was a thing to be remembered for a
-lifetime. She drew me to her bosom, caressing me with many tears,
-suppressed sobs, and rapid exclamations in her own language. I learned
-afterwards from Celeste that I was of the same age and bore a striking
-resemblance in form and face to her daughter, who had been torn from
-her in the storm and turmoil of their escape. They had been rescued
-by a faithful servant, and hurried off, more dead than alive, in the
-fright, confusion, and uproar of a terrible outbreak in Paris, and had
-discovered, when too late, that her daughter had been separated from
-them and was missing. Their deliverer promised to make every possible
-effort to find the child, but Celeste had little hope; for she had heard
-from the servant of another lady, who escaped later--but had never told
-her mistress--that one of the women who daily watched the carts which
-conveyed the victims to the guillotine had averred that she was sure she
-saw the child among their number.
-
-From the first I was a welcome visitor in the lady’s room. She
-encouraged me to pass all the time with her which could be spared from
-household duties; for in those days every child was required to perform
-a portion of these. The schools in Hartford were, for the most part,
-closed during that period, that the buildings might be devoted to the
-accommodation of the strangers, who requited the kindness by teaching
-the children of each household where they were entertained, daily. I was
-the chosen pupil of madame. She soon imparted sufficient knowledge of
-the French to give her instructions in her own language. Never was child
-blest with a more gentle and painstaking teacher! To a thorough course
-in the simple branches of study she added many delicate accomplishments
-then unknown in our country, and the most patient training in all matters
-connected with dress and deportment. After lessons she would hold long
-conversations with me, more profitable than the lessons themselves,
-awakening interest by suggestions and inquiries tending to form habits
-of thinking, as well as of acquiring knowledge. Then such wonderful
-fairy tales as she would relate! I used to listen perfectly entranced.
-Never have I heard in English any fairy lore that would compare with it.
-Translations we may have, but the fairy charm of the original is lost.
-
-At that time the spirit of infidelity and atheism which laid the train
-for the horrors of the French Revolution prevailed widely in our own
-country. When too young to comprehend their import, I had often listened
-to warm discussions between my father, who was strongly tinctured with
-those opinions--while in politics he was an ultra-democrat--and my
-maternal grandfather, a High-Churchman and Tory. The latter always
-insisted--and it was all I understood of their conversations--that
-it was impossible for a government founded upon popular unbelief and
-insubordination to stand. He was utterly hopeless for ours, not because
-it was democratic in form, but because the people no longer reverenced
-authority, had ceased to be imbued with the first principle of loyalty
-to God as Supreme Ruler, and to the “powers that be” as his appointed
-instruments. These subjects were themes of constant debate, and were
-treated with a warmth that commanded even the notice of children.
-
-Some of our guests affected a gay and careless indifference to the claims
-of God and man that amounted to a rejection of both; others vehemently
-denounced all religion as a figment of priest-craft; while still another
-class met such questions with the solemnity arising from a conviction of
-the tremendous temporal and eternal interests which they involved.
-
-It was refreshing to steal away from these evening debates in the
-drawing-room to the peaceful atmosphere of madame’s apartment. I
-frequently found her saying her beads, of which I knew nothing, only that
-they were exceedingly beautiful to the sight, and composed of very costly
-materials. I used to enter her room very quietly, and take my accustomed
-seat in silence, until her devotions were closed. Of her religion I
-knew no more than the name; but its evident influence upon every action
-of her life left an indelible impression upon my mind that it was a
-power above and beyond any of the prevailing forms around us. She never
-spoke expressly of her religion to me, but the purely Christian tone
-of her instructions upon all the duties of life, social and domestic,
-exemplified by her own conduct, proved abundantly that it was more than
-a mere sentiment or a name. I was too young at that time to reason upon
-these things, but, as I have said, they left an indelible impression,
-and, as life advanced, furnished food for many reveries which at length
-ripened into serious thought.
-
-How the weary months must have dragged along for those exiled
-unfortunates! Yet the cheerfulness, even gayety, with which they endured
-their misfortunes and the torturing suspense of their position, was a
-matter of constant marvel to their New England friends. They watched the
-arrival of every ship from France with intense anxiety, and a renewal of
-grief and mourning was sure to follow the tidings it brought. Yet the
-polite amenities and courtesies of their daily life, which seemed a part
-of their nature, were never for a moment abated, and in the wildest storm
-of grief even the women never lost that exquisite sense of propriety
-which distinguishes their nation.
-
-And so the time wore on until a certain memorable night in September,
-1794. My father’s residence was situated upon an elevated street which
-commanded a wide view of the city and its environs. How well I remember
-standing with my sisters by the window of our attic dormitory, looking
-out upon the quiet city sleeping under the calm light of the harvest
-moon, on that never-to-be-forgotten night! The contemplation of the
-scene was too pleasant to be easily relinquished, and it was late before
-we could turn away from its fascinations to our rest. We were scarcely
-lost in sleep when we were awakened suddenly by a thrilling shout in
-the street, accompanied by the wild huzzahs of an excited multitude. We
-hastened to the lower rooms, where we found the strangers gathered around
-the open windows, from which they were waving handkerchiefs, hats, and
-scarfs, and mingling their shouts with those of the throng outside.
-
-In the street the city crier moved along in advance of the crowd, mounted
-on a tall white horse, and waving an immense banner. At every crossing
-he would pause and shout through a speaking-trumpet, “Rejoice! rejoice!
-Robespierre, the tyrant, has fallen! has fallen!” Then followed the
-jubilant cheers of the rapidly-increasing crowd. And so they passed on
-through every street in the city.
-
-I sought madame’s apartment, and found her kneeling in the same reverent
-attitude of humble devotion with which I had so long been familiar.
-Strange to say, my first thought upon hearing the news so joyful to
-others was one of dismal apprehension, and my first emotion one of
-ineffable sadness! Quick as thought came the painful assurance to my
-heart that this was the signal for my final separation from the loving
-friend, the gentle teacher, to whom I had become inexpressibly attached.
-As she arose and extended her arms towards me, I threw myself into them,
-and, hiding my face in her bosom, gave way to a burst of uncontrollable
-grief. Words were not necessary to explain its cause. Understanding it
-at a glance, she caressed and soothed me with assurances of her undying
-love, and that she could never forget or cease to pray for the child
-whom heaven had appointed to be her dearest consolation under her great
-afflictions.
-
-My apprehensions proved well founded. The same ship which brought tidings
-of the tyrant’s fall brought letters also to madame from faithful
-friends, urging her immediate return to France.
-
-My father accompanied her to Boston, in order to make needful preparation
-for her departure on the next outward-bound vessel. I was thrown into
-such an agony of grief at the thought of parting with her that madame
-begged I might be permitted to go with them, urging that the change of
-scene and a visit to relatives in Boston might divert my thoughts and
-soothe the bitter anguish of my young heart. He consented, and, when we
-reached the city, he left us at the house of his sister, where I found
-my cousins all engaged preparing for an examination and exhibition which
-was to take place the next day to close the term of the school they were
-attending, on the same street and near by.
-
-They insisted that I should go with them, and madame dressed me in a
-white muslin with a blue sash. She then hung the locket you so much
-admire, suspended from a delicate gold chain, around my neck, and I set
-off with my cousins.
-
-We found the girls grouped together in great glee, awaiting the opening
-exercises. In the centre of the group was a fair and graceful girl, near
-my own age and size, with a large basket containing bouquets of flowers
-arranged with admirable taste, which the girls were purchasing for
-themselves and to decorate the school-room.
-
-My cousins replied to my questions about the young stranger: “Oh! we call
-her the little flower girl. She lives with a farmer just out of the city.
-The family are very fond of her, and he gives her a little place in the
-garden to cultivate flowers, and lets her come with him on market days to
-sell them for herself in the city. She heard of what was going on here,
-and thought this would be a good market for her bouquets; and so it has
-been, for she has sold them all.”
-
-For some reason I could not turn my eyes from the child. There seemed to
-be a mutual fascination which drew us together, and I observed she was
-looking intently and with much emotion at the locket I wore. I asked her
-why she was so much interested in it. She answered with a slight French
-accent: “My mamma had such a locket, and all the ladies of the queen’s
-household wore them.”
-
-“And where is your mamma?” I inquired.
-
-“Alas! I do not know if she is living. I lost her in a great crowd in the
-streets of Paris, and was so frightened at the horrors around me that I
-remember nothing until I found myself on board the ship which brought
-me here. How I came there I never knew. The kind-hearted farmer with
-whom I live was on the wharf when we landed, and, in great pity for my
-bewildering loneliness and grief, took me to his home, where I have since
-received every attention and sympathy.”
-
-Almost sinking under agitation, I turned to my cousins, who had been too
-much occupied with their own affairs to notice us, and faintly gasped:
-“She is, she must be, the daughter for whom madame mourns!”
-
-At the bare suggestion all else was forgotten! There was an impetuous
-huddling of our electrified companions around the bewildered little
-stranger, and a petition that the school exercises might be delayed
-until they could escort her to my aunt and learn whether my conjecture
-was true. So great was their excitement that it was useless to deny the
-request, and we led our heroine off with hasty steps.
-
-On the way we decided that my aunt should break the matter gently to
-madame, and introduce the child to her in her room.
-
-There was no need of an introduction! The moment their eyes met the
-exclamations “Antoinette!” “Mamma!” burst from their lips, and my aunt
-left them locked in a close embrace. The scene was too sacred for
-intrusion!
-
-The news flew with the speed of the wind, and there were great rejoicings
-far and near over the timely discovery brought about by means of the
-locket, which madame bestowed upon me (after removing the knot of
-hair, too precious, as a relic of her lamented queen and the Princess
-Elizabeth, to be relinquished) in memory of this joyful event, and as a
-souvenir of the beloved friend and teacher with whom I had passed so many
-happy and profitable hours.
-
-Soon after the reunion of the mother and child they sailed for France,
-and I returned with my father to a home which was now bereft of a charm
-that could never be replaced or restored. But my sympathy with their joy
-was too sincere to be chilled by selfish regrets.
-
-During my father’s stay in Boston he made some final arrangements
-connected with a large territory of wild lands which he had received from
-the government in partial requital of his services in the army.
-
-To that distant wilderness he removed his family immediately after our
-return. The absence of mail communication with such remote districts,
-in those days, was doubtless the reason why we never received further
-tidings from one who had placed us among the favored few that “have
-entertained angels unawares.”
-
-In the loneliness of my forest home, and through a long life marked by
-many changes and sorrows, I have cherished grateful memories of the early
-lessons I received from her lips, and they have proved, through their
-influence upon my religious and moral being, a legacy far more precious
-than a thousand caskets of gold and precious stones.
-
-
-THE CHARITIES OF ROME.
-
-The present sacrilegious invaders of Rome have done much to change the
-religious aspect of the city, and obliterate every trace of the influence
-of the popes upon the charities once so liberally thrown open to the
-people of every clime and color. In the true spirit of modern “progress,”
-philanthropy has usurped the place of charity, and the state, taking
-possession of institutions founded and hitherto directed in many points
-by the church, banishes her as far from them as possible. It may be
-interesting to pass in review some of those magnificent charities which
-sprang up and flourished so long under pontifical protection, but which
-have lately either been violently suppressed or are fast disappearing
-under the difficulties of the political situation. We will write of these
-charities as they existed in 1869, which was the last year during the
-whole of which the papal government had control of them. In that year
-an English Protestant writer, long resident in Rome, was obliged by the
-clearness of facts to tell his readers that “few cities in Europe are so
-distinguished for their institutions of public charity as Rome, and in
-none are the hospitals more magnificently lodged or endowed with more
-princely liberality. The annual endowments of these establishments are no
-less than 258,390 scudi, derived from lands and houses, from grants, and
-from the papal treasury.”
-
-When S. Peter entered Rome for the first time, and looked upon the
-miserable condition of those to whom the favors of fortune were denied,
-he recalled to mind the words addressed to his forefathers about to enter
-into the promised land: “There shall be no poor nor beggar among you:
-that the Lord thy God may bless thee in the land which he giveth thee to
-possess” (Deut. xv. 4), and saw before him one of the greatest obstacles
-to be overcome--involving a change of what was second nature to the
-Romans (hardness of heart), they being, as S. Paul wrote (Rom. i. 31),
-“without affection, without mercy”--but knowing that it was also said
-in the same holy text “Poor will not be wanting in the land: therefore
-I command thee to open thy hand to thy needy and poor brother,” and
-having heard the blessed Lord Jesus say of the new dispensation, “The
-poor ye have always with you,” he understood that God’s object was not
-to forbid mendicity, but to leave no room for it. Therefore to the rich
-and powerful, when brought by grace to his apostolic feet, he enjoined:
-“Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the needy and the harborless
-into thy house” (Isaias lviii. 7). The faith of the Roman Christians was
-illustrious throughout the world, and so was their charity. From the
-days of S. Peter it had been customary to take up collections on Sundays
-in all the congregations of the city for the relief of the confessors
-condemned to labor in the public mines and other works, or languishing
-in prison, or wandering in exile; and Eusebius has preserved in his
-_Ecclesiastical History_ (lib. iv. cap. 23) the testimony of Dionysius,
-Bishop of Corinth (161-192), in favor of the long-established charitable
-institutions of the Romans, and in praise, at the same time, of the piety
-of his contemporary, Pope S. Soter, who not only retained these customs
-of his people, but surpassed them in sending money to the Christians
-of other parts of the world, and in receiving, as though they were his
-own children, all faithful pilgrims to Rome. In the year 236 Pope S.
-Fabian gave charge of the poor of Rome to seven deacons each of whom
-superintended two of the fourteen civil divisions or regions, whence
-they were called regionary deacons. A memorial of their occupation still
-remains in the dalmatic, or deacon’s vestment, the wide sleeves of which
-served originally for pockets; and Pope Innocent III., in his treatise
-on the Mass, remarks that this kind of dress is attributed to deacons
-because, in the first institution of their order, the distribution of
-alms was assigned to them. A council of the IVth century, held under
-Pope Sylvester, decreed that one-fourth part of the church revenues
-should be set apart for the poor. S. Jerome attests in one of his letters
-that a noble matron named Fabiola erected a hospital in the year 400;
-and about the same time S. Gallicanus, a man of consular dignity, who
-had also been honored with a triumph, becoming a Christian, founded a
-similar institution at the mouth of the Tiber for the accommodation of
-pilgrims and of the sick. He waited upon them in person. In 1869 Rome had
-a population of about 220,000 inhabitants, and, although the climate is
-not unhealthy, it is hardly one of the most salubrious in the world. The
-low land upon which a great part of the modern city is built; the turbid
-Tiber, which, passing through it in a winding course, is apt to overflow
-its banks; the open position of the city, which is exposed, according to
-the season, either to the sultry African wind or to the piercing blasts
-from the neighboring mountains; and the large floating population, which
-is everywhere a likely subject of disease, combine to make it desirable
-that Rome should be well provided with institutions of succor and relief.
-While under papal rule, she was not wanting in this respect, but was even
-abundantly and excellently supplied.
-
-Man, being composed of spirit and matter, having consequently a soul
-and a body to look after, has wants of two kinds, corresponding to the
-twofold claims of his nature. We should therefore divide the charities
-man is capable of receiving into two classes. He received them in
-Rome with a generous hand. The first class comprehended relief to
-the indigent, the sick, the destitute, the insane, the convalescent;
-possessed hospitals and asylums, brought aid into private families,
-opened nocturnal retreats, offered work to the honest needy, gave
-marriage portions to the nubile, shielded widows, protected orphans,
-advanced money on the easiest terms. These were charities of subsistence.
-The second class embraced poor schools and other establishments for
-gratuitous education in trades, arts, and sciences, conservatories for
-the exposed, hospices for the reformed, and made provision for the legal
-defence of the weak. These were called charities of education.
-
-There were two institutions in Rome that assisted the poor before they
-had fallen into misery or become destitute. These were the _Monte di
-Pietà_ and the savings-bank. The first was a bank of loan and deposit.
-The idea of such an institution was suggested by a pious and shrewd
-Franciscan, named Barnabas of Terni, who was painfully struck, during a
-mission he was giving in Perugia in the year 1462, by the enormous usury
-(a crime then practised almost exclusively by Jews) which the poor were
-forced to pay for any advance of money they might need. This practical
-friar prevailed upon several wealthy persons to mass sums of money into
-one fund, out of which to lend to the poor at a reasonable (and in some
-cases merely nominal) rate of interest. Hence the distinctive name of
-Monte di Pietà, which means literally mountain of mercy. The Roman
-_Monte_ was the third institution of the sort that was opened. This was
-in the year 1539. It was to lend money up to a certain amount without
-taking interest; above this amount for a very small interest. It was to
-take articles on pawn, and give the appraised value, less one-third. Over
-$100,000 used, under the papal government, to be annually loaned out
-on pawns or otherwise without one cent of interest. This establishment
-occupied a superb public building, and was under the control of the
-Minister of Finance. Honest visitors were freely admitted into every part
-of it; and we have heard many (even hard-fisted) English and Americans
-express themselves surprised, if not satisfied, with this reasonable and
-conscientious manner of saving the poor from the gripe of usurers and
-pawn-brokers, while imposing enough restraint to discourage improvidence.
-No hope was held out of indiscriminate relief. Looking at the _Monte_
-in an antiquarian light, it was a perfect museum of modern life, and
-to go through it was as good as visiting a hundred consolidated old
-curiosity-shops. Its administration employed, including a detachment of
-the Swiss Guard, one hundred persons. The capital, which consisted of
-every kind of property that at various periods and from many benefactors
-had come to it, was about three million dollars. The most orthodox
-political economists acknowledge that institutions of this sort were
-devised only as a lesser evil; and consequently the Roman government
-was glad to see the business of the _Monte_ fall away considerably
-after the opening of the savings-bank in 1836. This was a charitable
-institution, because it was governed gratuitously by an administration
-of eleven honest and intelligent men, among whom were some of the first
-nobility, who thus gave a portion of their time and talents to the
-poor. The cashier, Prince Borghese, gave, besides his services, a part
-of his magnificent palace to be turned into offices for the business
-transactions of the bank.
-
-The Apostolic Almonry in the Vatican next claimed our attention in the
-quiet days of the Pope. From the earliest period the vicars of Christ
-have made it a practice to visit in person the poor, and distribute
-alms with their own hands, in love and imitation of Him who “went about
-doing good.” As the wealth of the church in Rome increased, it was found
-necessary for the better ordering of things to have some administrative
-assistance in the distribution of these private charities. S. Conon
-I., in the VIIth century, employed the arch-priest Paschal to dispense
-the bounty of the privy purse; and in the year 1271 Blessed Gregory
-X. created the perpetual office of grand almoner in the papal court.
-This officer is always an archbishop _in partibus_, and lives under
-the same roof as the Holy Father, in order to be ready at all times to
-receive his commands. Besides the many standing largitions issued from
-the Grand Almonry, there were occasional ones, such as the largess of
-$300 which was distributed in the great court-yard of Belvidere on each
-anniversary of the Pope’s coronation. This sum was doubled the first
-year. On each of the following civil or religious festivals, Christmas,
-Easter, and Coronation day, $165 were divided among a certain number of
-the best-behaved prisoners confined in Rome. About $650 a month were paid
-out either at the word of the sovereign or on his order; while a sum of
-$2,000 was annually divided among one hundred poor families. Besides
-this, the Grand Almonry supported a number of free schools, dispensed
-food and medicines, and performed many acts of more secret charity. A
-memorial of the earlier personal distribution of alms by the popes is
-retained in the _Succinctorium_, which they wear in solemn pontificals.
-It is an ornament of silk of the color of the feast, fringed with gold,
-and suspended down the left side from the girdle. On Good Friday the
-succinctory is not worn, in execration of the evil use Judas Iscariot
-made of the purse when he betrayed our Lord for thirty pieces of silver.
-
-Another of the great charities of Rome was the Commission of Subsidies
-established by Pope Leo XII., in 1826, to give assistance and employment
-to poor but honest people, willing to help themselves if they could find
-the opportunity. The whole tendency of Roman charities under the popes
-was to frown upon sloth and vagrancy, and encourage self-reliance and
-mutual support; for S. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians (2, iii. 10): “If
-any man will not work, neither let him eat.” The commission received
-a yearly subsidy from government of $88,500. In each of the fourteen
-rioni or wards of the city a physician, surgeon, pharmacist, and midwife
-rendered gratuitous services under its control. It was by the judicious
-employment of such men, thrown on the hands of the commission, that
-within the last thirty years so much was done in making excavations in
-and about Rome in search of antiquities and in studying its ancient
-topography. We have sometimes heard English and American sight-seers make
-brutal remarks about “those dirty, lazy Romans,” as they would stop a
-moment to look at some party of these poor fellows taking their work so
-easily in the Forum, on the Palatine, or elsewhere; but we should rather
-applaud the paternal government that refrained from calling poverty a
-crime or driving the poor and weak to their work like galley-slaves; and
-while contributing a generous support, gave them enough to do to save
-their self-respect.
-
-No such thing as work-houses, in the English sense, have ever been
-maintained where Catholic influences have predominated; and for this we
-may thank God.
-
-Another category of Roman charities comprised the confraternities. These
-associations for purposes of piety and mutual help convey in their name
-the idea of brotherliness and union. There were no fewer than ninety-one
-confraternities in Rome under the popes. The oldest and most famous of
-these was the Annunciation, which was founded in 1460 by the Dominican
-Cardinal John Torquemada, in Santa Maria-in-Minerva, the head church of
-his order in Rome.[96] Its particular object was to give portions to
-poor but virtuous young females, that they might either marry or enter a
-religious house if they had a vocation. On the 25th of March, Lady-day,
-the pope, cardinals, and prelates, with the rest of the court, used to
-assist at Mass in that church, and preside at the distribution of dowers
-which followed immediately. The girls were always dressed in plain
-white; such as had signified their choice of the heavenly Spouse being
-distinguished by a wreath on the head. On this occasion the pontiff gave
-one hundred golden scudi, and each cardinal present gave one, to the
-funds of the confraternity. There were fourteen other confraternities
-that had the same object, although carried out with less solemnity. In
-this way $42,000 used to be expended annually.
-
-The Confraternity of the Twelve Apostles made it a special point to find
-out and relieve in a delicate manner those who, having known better days,
-were fallen into reduced circumstances. The Confraternity of Prayer and
-Death buried the dead; and if an accident in or about Rome was reported
-in which life was lost, a party was detailed to go and bring the body
-in decently for Christian burial. Sometimes a poor herdsman on the
-Campagna had been gored by an ox, or some fellow had been swept away and
-drowned in the Tiber, or perhaps a reaper been prostrated by the heat;
-at whatever hour of the day or night, and at all seasons, a band of this
-confraternity went out, and returned carrying the unfortunate person on
-a stretcher upon their shoulders. It must be remarked in this connection
-that the members of the confraternity always observed the laws concerning
-deaths of this kind, not interfering with, but merely placing themselves
-at the disposal of, the officers of justice, to give a body burial at
-their own expense and in consecrated ground. The Confraternity of Pity
-for Prisoners was founded in 1575 by Father John Tallier, a French
-Jesuit. It provided religious instruction for prisoners, distributed
-objects of piety among them, looked after their families if destitute,
-and assisted them to pay their debts and fines if they had any. The
-Confraternity of S. John Baptist was composed exclusively of Florentines
-and the descendants of Florentines. Its object was to comfort and assist
-to the last, criminals condemned to death. As decapitation was the mode
-of judicial punishment, S. John Baptist, who was slain by Herod, was
-their patron, and his head on a charger the arms of the confraternity.
-Although there were so many confraternities and other pious associations
-in Rome, connected by their object with institutions of every kind,
-sanitary, corrective, etc., they were very careful never to interfere
-with the regulations of such establishments; and consequently, by minding
-their own business, they were not in the way of the officials, but, on
-the contrary, were looked upon as valuable assistants. The Society of S.
-Vincent of Paul was started in Rome in 1842 by the late venerable Father
-de Ravignan, S.J. It counted twenty-eight conferences and one thousand
-active members, clergy and laymen, titled folks and trades-people all
-working harmoniously together. About $2,100 was annually dispensed by the
-society. The Congregation of Ladies was founded in 1853 by Monsignor--now
-Cardinal--Borromeo to give work, especially needle-work, to young women
-out of employment. A great many ecclesiastical vestments were thus made
-under the direction of the ladies, and either sent as presents to poor
-missions, or sold, for what they would bring, at the annual fair held for
-the purpose of disposing of them.
-
-There were seven public hospitals in Rome, under the immediate direction
-of a general board of administration composed of twelve members, of whom
-three belonged to the clergy and the rest to the laity. The oldest,
-largest, and best-appointed institution of this kind was Santo Spirito,
-situated in the Leonine quarter of the city, on the border of the Tiber.
-Its site has been occupied by a charitable institution ever since A.D.
-728; the earliest building having been founded there for his countrymen
-by Ina, King of Wessex. For this reason the whole pile of buildings is
-called Santo Spirito _in Saxia_--_i.e._, in the quarter of the (West)
-Saxons. There are three distinct establishments under the administration
-of Santo Spirito--viz., the hospital itself, the Foundling Hospital,
-and the Lunatic Asylum. The first was founded by Pope Innocent III.
-in 1198, the Saxons having abandoned this locality for a more central
-position--the present S. Thomas-of-the-English. It has received since
-then many additions, until it has assumed the enormous proportions that
-we now admire. Every improvement was made to keep pace with the advance
-of hygienic knowledge. This hospital was for men only. It had 1,616
-beds and an annual average of 14,000 patients. The wards were twelve
-in number, in which the cleanliness was refreshing, the ventilation
-excellent, and the water-supply pure and abundant. The principal parts
-of the exterior, and some of the interior parts of the building, were
-by distinguished architects; while some of the wards had their ceilings
-and upper walls painted in fresco with scenes from Sacred Scripture,
-such as the sufferings of Job and the miraculous cures made by our Lord.
-Not only the eye but the ear too of the poor patients was pleased; for
-three times a week they were entertained with organ music from a lofty
-choir erected at one end of the largest wards. The spiritual care of
-the sick was perfect; it was impossible for any one to die without the
-rites of the church. In the centre of every ward there was a fixed
-altar, upon which Mass was said daily. The Confraternity of Santo
-Spirito, composed of clergy and laymen, assisted the regular ministers of
-religion in attendance day and night. These volunteers brought flowers
-to the patients, read to them, prepared them for confession and other
-sacraments, and disposed them to die a good death, besides performing for
-them the most menial services.
-
-We remember to have read a letter addressed to the New York _Post_ by
-an eminent Protestant clergyman of New York, in which, after describing
-this institution (then under papal rule), he said that he could not
-speak too highly of the excellent attendance the patients received from
-the kind-hearted religious who were stationed there, and added that if
-ever he had to come to a hospital, he hoped it would be Santo Spirito.
-The Foundling Hospital was opened by Pope Innocent III.; and the Lunatic
-Asylum, for both sexes, was founded in 1548 by three Spaniards, a priest
-and two laymen. It was called the House of Our Lady of Mercy. A fine
-garden on the Janiculum Hill was attached to it for the recreation of
-the patients. We do not know how it is conducted since it has changed
-hands, but formerly it was managed on the system of kindness towards
-even the fiercest madmen, using only so much restraint as was positively
-necessary. It was then under the care of religious. The Hospital of the
-Santissimo Salvatore, near St. John of Lateran, was founded in 1236 by
-a Cardinal Colonna. It was for women only. Another Cardinal Colonna
-founded the Hospital of S. James, for incurables, in 1339. Our Lady
-of Consolation was a fine hospital near the Forum for the maimed and
-wounded; while San Gallicano, on the other side of the river, was for
-fevers and skin-diseases. San Rocco was a small lying-in hospital, with
-accommodation for 26 women. It was founded at the beginning of the XVIIth
-century by a Cardinal Salviati. The most delicate precautions were always
-used there to save any sense of honor that might still cling to a victim
-of frailty. Guilt could at least blush unnoticed. The Santissima Trinità
-was founded by S. Philip Neri for convalescents of both sexes and for
-poor pilgrims. It could lodge 488 patients, had beds for 500 pilgrims,
-and table-room for 900. In the great refectory of this building the
-members of the confraternity came on every Holy Thursday evening to wash
-the feet of the pilgrims and wait on them at table. Of course the two
-sexes were in different parts of the building, and each was attended by
-its own. We remember the delightful ardor with which the late Cardinal
-Barnabo on such occasions would turn up his sleeves, twitch his apron,
-and, going down on his knees, give some poor man’s feet a better washing
-than they had had before in a year. There was much raising of soap-suds
-in that wooden tub, and a real, earnest kiss on one foot when the
-washing was over. The Hospital of S. John Calabyta was so called from a
-Spaniard, the founder of the Brothers of Charity (commonly called the
-_Benfratelli_), who attended it. It was opened in 1581, on the island of
-the Tiber; and by a coincidence then perhaps unknown, but since fully
-brought to light, it stood on the very site of an _asclepium_ which the
-priests of Esculapius kept near their god’s temple two thousand years
-ago. The Hospital of Santa Galla was founded in 1650 by the princely
-Odescalchi family. It gave a night asylum to homeless men. There were
-224 beds, distributed through nine dormitories. Another night refuge,
-called S. Aloysius, was founded about the year 1730 by Father Galluzzi,
-a Florentine Jesuit. It is for women. We can get some idea of the great
-charity such refuges are when we know that during the year ending
-December, 1869, no less than 135,000 persons sought a resting-place at
-night in the station-houses of New York. Besides these public hospitals,
-almost every Catholic country had a private national one. One of
-the picturesque and not least of the Roman charities used to be the
-daily distribution of food at the gates of monasteries, convents, and
-nunneries, the portals of palaces, and the doors of seminaries, colleges,
-and boarding-schools.
-
-With all this liberality, there was still some room for hand-alms. There
-used to be beggars in Rome; assassins have taken their place. Under the
-papal government a limit was put to beggary, and we have never seen the
-_sturdy_ beggar who figures so maliciously in some Protestant books about
-Rome. Beggary may become an evil; it is not a crime. We confess to liking
-beggars if they are not too numerous and importunate. Few scenes have
-seemed to us more venerable, picturesque, and Christian than the double
-row of beggars, with their sores and crippled limbs, their sticks and
-battered hats and outstretched hands, imploring _per è amore di Dio_, as
-we pass between them to the church or cemetery or other holy place on
-feast-day afternoons in Rome.
-
-The Hospice of San Michele was founded in 1686 by a Cardinal Odescalchi.
-In this asylum nearly 800 persons used to be received. They were divided
-into four classes--old men, old women, boys, and girls. The institution
-had an annual endowment of $52,000; but some years ago the aged of
-both sexes were removed elsewhere, and their part of the building was
-converted into a house of correction for women and juvenile offenders.
-The hospice, in its strict sense, now consists of a House of Industry for
-children of both sexes, and a gratuitous school of the industrial and
-fine arts. The carping author of Murray’s _Hand-book_ (1869), although
-he acknowledges that this school of arts has produced some eminent
-men, says that “the education of the boys might be turned, perhaps, to
-more practically useful objects!” As if, forsooth, it were a lesser
-charity, in the great home of the arts that Rome is, to help a poor
-lad of talent to become an architect, for instance, than to make him a
-tailor! The orphan asylum of Saint Mary of the Angels was near the Baths
-of Diocletian. The boys numbered 450, under the care of male religious,
-and the girls 500, under that of female religious. The institution
-received annually $38,000 from the Commission of Subsidies. In the
-same quarter of the city is the Deaf and Dumb Asylum. It was opened in
-1794 by Father Silvestri, who had been sent to Paris by Pope Pius VI.
-to receive instruction from the celebrated Abbé de l’Epée in the art
-of teaching this class of unfortunates. Visitors to the house are made
-welcome, and are often invited to test the knowledge of the pupils by
-asking them questions on the blackboard. The first time we called there
-was in 1862, and, having asked one of the boys, taken at hazard, who
-was the first President of the United States, we were a little surprised
-(having thought to puzzle him) to have the correct answer at once. The
-House of Converts was an establishment where persons who wished to become
-Catholics were received for a time and instructed in the faith. It was
-founded in 1600 by a priest of the Oratory. Other interesting hospices
-were the Widows’ Home and the House for Aged Priests, where the veterans
-of the Roman clergy could end their days in honorable comfort. A peculiar
-class of Roman charities were the conservatories. They were twenty-three
-in number. Some of them were for penance, others for change of life,
-and others again to shield unprotected virtue. The Infant Asylum was a
-flourishing institution directed by female religious. Even fashion was
-made to do something for it, since a noble lady years ago suggested that
-the members of good society in Rome should dispense with their mutual New
-Year visits on condition of giving three pauls (a small sum of money) to
-the asylum, and having their names published in the official journal.
-
-The Society for the Propagation of the Faith was established at Rome in
-1834. No city of the size and population of Rome was better supplied with
-free schools of every description. The night-schools were first opened in
-1819. In connection with studies we should mention the liberal presents
-of books, vestments, and liturgical articles made to young missionaries
-by the Propaganda, and the books on learned subjects, which, being
-printed at government expense, were sold at a reduced price to students
-of every nation on showing a certificate from one of their professors.
-
-It is written (Matthew iv. 4), “Man liveth not by bread alone”; and
-consequently Rome multiplied those pious houses of retreat in which
-the soul could rest for a time from the cares of life. There were five
-such establishments in the city. Another great Roman charity was the
-missions preached by the Jesuits and Franciscans in and around the city,
-thus bringing the truths of the Gospel constantly before the people. We
-have given but a brief sketch of our subject. It has been treated in
-a complete manner by Cardinal Morichini in a new and revised edition
-of his interesting work entitled _Degl’ Istituti di Pubblica Carità ed
-istruzione primaria e delle prigioni in Roma_.
-
-
-SONG.
-
-                     I.
-
-    When in the long and lonely night
-      That brings no slumber to mine eyes,
-    Through dark returns the vision bright,
-      The face and form that day denies,
-    And, like a solitary star
-      Revealed above a stormy sea,
-    Thy spirit soothes me from afar,
-      I mourn thee not, nor weep for thee.
-
-                    II.
-
-    And when I watch the dawn afar
-      Awake her sleeping sister night,
-    And overhead the dying star
-      Return into her parent light,
-    And in the breaking day discern
-      The glimmer of eternity,
-    The goal, the peace, for which I yearn,
-      I mourn thee not, nor weep for thee.
-
-                    III.
-
-    And when the melancholy eve
-      Brings back the hour akin to tears,
-    And through the twilight I perceive
-      The settled, strong, abiding spheres,
-    And gently on my heart opprest
-      Like dew descending silently,
-    There falls a portion of thy rest,
-      I mourn thee not, nor weep for thee.
-
-                    IV.
-
-    But when once more the stir of life
-      Makes all these busy highways loud,
-    And fretted by the jarring strife,
-      The noisy humors of the crowd,
-    The subtle, sweet suggestions born
-      Of silence fail, and memory
-    Consoles no more, I mourn, I mourn
-      That thou art not, and weep for thee.
-
-
-PROGRESS _VERSUS_ GROOVES.
-
-“How do you like your new minister, Mrs. B.?”
-
-“Very much indeed! He is progressive--is not fixed in any of the old
-grooves. His mind does not run in those ancient ruts that forbid advance
-and baffle modern thought.”
-
-How strangely this colloquy between a Methodist and Congregationalist
-fell upon the Catholic ear of their mutual friend! Comment, however,
-was discreetly forborne. That friend had learned in the very infancy
-of a Catholic life, beginning at the mature age of thirty-five by the
-register, the futility of controversy, and that the pearls of truth
-are too precious to be carelessly thrown away. Strangely enough these
-expressions affected one whose habits of thought and conduct had been
-silently forming in accordance with that life for twenty-five years!
-
-“Old grooves” indeed! Lucifer found them utterly irreconcilable with his
-“advanced ideas” in heaven. Confessedly, the success of his progressive
-enterprise was not encouraging; but the battle and its results
-established his unquestionable claim as captain and leader of the sons
-and daughters of progress for all time.
-
-“Modern thought!” So far as we can discover, the best it has done for its
-disciples is to prove to them beyond a doubt that their dear grandpapa of
-eld was an ape, and that they, when they shake off this mortal coil, will
-be gathered to their ancestors in common with their brethren, the modern
-monkeys!
-
-We, who believe the authentic history of the past, can see in this
-boasted new railroad, upon which the freight of modern science and
-advanced civilization is borne, a pathway as old as the time when our
-dear, credulous old grandmamma received a morning call in Eden from
-the oldest brother of these scientific gentlemen, who convinced her in
-the course of their pleasant chat that poor deluded Adam and herself
-were fastened in the most irrational rut--a perfect outrage upon common
-sense--and that a very slight repast upon “advanced ideas” would lift
-them out of it, emancipate thought, and make them as “gods knowing good
-and evil.”
-
-We all know how well they succeeded in their first step on the highway
-of progress. They lost a beautiful garden, it is true, of limited
-dimensions, but they gained a world of boundless space, and a freedom
-of thought and action which was first successfully and completely
-illustrated by their first-born son when he murmured, “Why?” and killed
-his brother, who was evidently attached to grooves.
-
-They left the heritage thus gained to a large proportion of their
-descendants. A minority of them, it is true, prefer to “seek out the old
-paths” of obedience to the commands of God, “and walk therein”--to shun
-the “broad road” along which modern civilization is rolling its countless
-throngs, and to “enter in at the strait gate” which leadeth to life
-eternal, to the great disgust of the disciples of modern thought, who
-spare no effort to prove their exceeding liberality by persecuting such
-with derision, calumny, chains, imprisonment, and death!
-
-Thank God this is all they can do! Rage they never so furiously, He that
-sitteth in the heavens laughs them to scorn. He will defend and preserve
-his anointed against all the combined hosts of Bismarcks, kaisers, and
-robber princes, who illustrate the liberal ideas that govern the march of
-modern civilization.
-
-
-TRACES OF AN INDIAN LEGEND.
-
-It has been said of our energetic republic that it had no infancy; that
-it sprang into a vigorous and complete existence at a bound. However
-true this may be with respect to its material structure in the hands of
-the remarkable men who first planted colonies on American soil, there is
-another view of the picture which presents widely different features.
-
-To the eye of the Christian philosopher the religious and moral aspects
-of our country to this day afford subjects for anything but satisfactory
-reflection.
-
-The pioneers of civilization along the northeastern borders of our
-territory were--whatever their professions to the contrary may have
-been--worshippers of material prosperity. The worship of God and the
-claims of religion were indeed important and proper in their place for
-a portion of the seventh part of each week, but the moment they came in
-conflict with Mammon there was little question which should yield. It was
-not to be expected that the saints whom the Lord had specially chosen,
-and unto whom “He had given the earth,” should be diverted from their
-pursuit of the great “main chance” by precepts which were applicable
-only to ordinary and less favored mortals.
-
-Whatever progress the church has yet achieved in this region is the
-result of appalling labors and sacrifices. The foundation was laid in
-sufferings, fatigues, and perils, from the contemplation of which the
-self-indulgent Christians of our day would shrink aghast; laid long
-before the so-called Pilgrim fathers landed at Plymouth, while the
-savage still roamed through the unbroken forests of New England, and
-disputed dominion with wild beasts hardly more dangerous than himself
-to the messengers of the Gospel of peace. Amid the wonderful beauty and
-variety of the panorama which her mountains, lakes, and valleys unfold to
-the tourists and pleasure-seekers of to-day, there is scarcely a scene
-that has not been traversed in weariness, in hunger, and cold by those
-dauntless servants of God who first proclaimed the tidings of salvation
-to the wild children of the forest.
-
-Futile, and even foolish, as the toils of these early fathers may appear
-to the materialist and utilitarian of this day, because of their tardy
-and apparently inadequate fruits, the designs of Heaven have not been
-frustrated, and its light reveals a very different history. We read
-therein how He who causes “the weak and foolish things of this world
-to confound the wise” and to proclaim his praise, sent his ministering
-angels to hover over the pathway moistened with the tears and blood of
-his servants, to note each footprint through the dreary wilderness, to
-gather the incense of each prayer, and to mark each pain and peril of
-their sacrificial march for record in the archives of eternity, as an
-earnest for future good to those regions, and as enduring testimony
-before the high court of heaven to their fitness for the crown--far
-surpassing in glory all earthly crowns--which they won by their burning
-zeal and unwavering patience.
-
-Nor were their efforts in the field of their earthly labors so vain as
-some of our modern historians would have us suppose. Prayer and exertion
-in the service of God are never fruitless. If it is true--as the great
-Champlain was wont to say--“that one soul gained for heaven was of more
-value than the conquest of an empire for France,” they gained from the
-roving tribes of the desert many sincere and steadfast adherents to
-the faith--whose names are recorded in the book of life--and scattered
-benedictions along their painful pathway which have shed their beneficent
-influences over the scenes they traversed down to the present day. We
-hope to illustrate and sustain this assertion in the following sketch,
-drawn from our memory, of traditions--preserved among the Indians of St.
-Regis--to which we listened many years ago.
-
-Scattered along the southern shores of the St. Lawrence, from the foot
-of Lake Ontario to the village of St. Regis--while St. Lawrence County,
-N.Y., was yet for the most part covered with primitive forests--were
-many encampments of these Indians. That whole region abounded in game
-and furnished favorite hunting-grounds, to which they claimed a right
-in connection with their special reservation in the more immediate
-neighborhood of St. Regis. At each of these encampments an aged Indian
-was sure to be found, who, without the title of chief, was a kind of
-patriarch among his younger brethren, exercised great influence in their
-affairs, and was treated with profound respect by them. He was their
-umpire in all disputes, their adviser in doubtful matters, and the
-“leader of prayer” in his lodge--always the largest and most commodious
-of the wigwams, and the one in which they assembled for their devotions.
-
-One of the oldest of these sages--called “Captain Simon”--must have
-been much more than a hundred years of age, judging from the dates of
-events of which he retained a distinct remembrance as an eye-witness,
-and which occurred in the course of the French and Indian wars, over a
-century previous to the time when we listened to his recital. His head
-was an inexhaustible store-house of traditions and legends, many of them
-relating to the discovery and settlement of Canada and the labors of the
-first missionaries. He was very fond of young people, and, gathering the
-children of the white settlers around him, he would hold them spell-bound
-for hours while he related stories of those early days in his peculiarly
-impressive and figurative language. He claimed that his grandfather was
-one of the party who accompanied Champlain on his first voyage through
-the lake which bears his name, and that he afterwards acted as guide and
-interpreter to the first priest who visited the valley of Lake Champlain.
-When he heard that we were from Vermont, he asked for a piece of chalk,
-and, marking on the floor an outline of the lake and the course of the
-Richelieu River, he proceeded to narrate the voyage of Champlain and his
-party in the summer of 1609.
-
-Embosomed within the placid waters of Lake Champlain, near its northern
-extremity, is a lovely island, of which Vermonters boast as the “Gem
-of the Lake,” so remarkable is it for beauty and fertility. Here the
-party landed, and Champlain, erecting a cross, claimed the lake--to
-which he gave his own name--its islands and shores, for France and for
-Christianity. Half a century later one La Motte built a fort upon this
-island, which he named St. Anne, giving the island his own name; and it
-is called the Isle La Motte to this day.
-
-Champlain explored the lake as far as Crown Point, where they encountered
-and defeated a band of Iroquois Indians; but not deeming it wise to
-adventure further at that time so near such powerful foes, they returned
-down the lake without delay. This encounter was the first act of that
-savage drama which so long desolated New France, and threatened it with
-entire destruction.
-
-Six years later, in the summer of 1615, another party landed on the Isle
-La Motte. It was made up of a missionary of the Recollect Order and his
-escort of Indians in two bark canoes. The grandfather of our narrator
-was one of these. They remained a day or two on the island, and the
-missionary offered the Christian sacrifice for the first time within the
-territory now embraced by the State of Vermont.[97]
-
-The object of his journey was to visit scattered bands of hunters who
-were encamped along the eastern shore of the lake and its vicinity, at
-different points in the valley of Lake Champlain.
-
-Leaving the Isle La Motte, they steered for the mouth of the Missisque
-River, which they navigated up to the first falls, where the village
-of Swanton now stands. Here they found a flourishing encampment, and
-remained some days for the purpose of instructing the Indians in the
-truths of Christianity. The missionary found that some dim reports of the
-Christian teachers had preceded him, and prepared the way for his work,
-the success of which encouraged and consoled him.
-
-From that place they proceeded on foot for some miles to the base of
-a line of hills, sketched by the narrator, and corresponding to those
-east of St. Alban’s. Here they also remained several days, the reverend
-father toiling early and late in the duties of his vocation. He was now
-surrounded by a crowd of eager listeners; for not only did his former
-audience accompany him, but a goodly number from the surrounding hills
-and from Bellamaqueau and Maquam Bays--distant three and five miles
-respectively--flocked to hear his instructions and to be taught “The
-Prayer” revealed to them by the Great Spirit through his servant.
-
-Here they brought to him also the beautiful Indian maiden, of whom
-her race cherish the legend that her declining health led her people
-to bring her to these hills, hoping the change from the low lands and
-damp atmosphere of her home to the bracing mountain air might prove
-beneficial. Instead of finding relief, she only declined the more
-rapidly, so that she was soon unable to be carried back. She, too, had
-heard whispers of holy men who had come to teach her race the path of
-heaven, and wistfully she had sighed daily, as she repeated the yearning
-aspiration: “Oh! if the Great Spirit would but let me see and listen to
-his messenger, I could die in peace!”
-
-The Indians, to this day, tell with what joy she listened to his words;
-how eagerly she prayed that she might receive the regenerating waters;
-how, when they were poured upon her head, her countenance became bright
-with the light of heaven; and how her departure soon after was full of
-joy and peace. Her burial-place was made on one of those eastern hills.
-It was the first Christian burial for one of her race in Vermont, and her
-people thought her intercessions would not fail to bring down blessings
-upon all that region.
-
-Pursuing their journey by the trail of those who had preceded them
-through the dense wilderness--for our aborigines were skilled in tracing
-lines of communication between their different camps with extreme
-directness by aid of their close observations of nature--the party
-arrived at another camp on the bank of a river discovered by Champlain,
-and named by him the Lamoille.
-
-At this place an Indian youth came to the missionary in great distress.
-His young squaw was lying at the point of death, and the medicine men
-and women could do nothing more for her. Would not “The Prayer” restore
-her? Oh! if it would give her back to him, he, with all his family, would
-gratefully embrace it! The reverend father went to her, and, when he
-found she desired it, baptized her and her new-born infant in preparation
-for the death which seemed inevitable. Contrary to all expectation, she
-recovered. Her husband and his family, together with her father’s family,
-afterwards became joyful believers.
-
-After some days the Indians of that place accompanied the party in
-canoes to the lake and along its shores to the mouth of the Winooski
-River, which they ascended as far as the first falls. Here they remained
-many days, during which time the missionary visited the present site of
-Burlington, and held two missions there--one at a camp on the summit of
-a hill overlooking the valley of the Winooski as it approaches the lake,
-and one near the lake shore.
-
-If Vermonters who are familiar with the magnificent scenery which
-surrounds the “queen city” of their State never visit the place without
-being filled with new admiration at the infinite variety and beauty
-of the pictures it unfolds from every changing point of view, we may
-imagine how strangers must be impressed who gaze upon them for the first
-time. Not less picturesque, and if possible even more striking, were its
-features when, crowned by luxuriant native forests and fanned by gentle
-breezes from the lake, it reposed within the embrace of that glorious
-amphitheatre of hills, in the undisturbed tranquillity of nature. It was
-not strange that the natives were drawn by its unparalleled attractions
-to congregate there in such numbers as to require from their reverend
-visitor a longer time than he gave to any other place in this series of
-missions.
-
-In the course of three months the party had traversed the eastern border
-of the lake to the last encampment near its southern extremity. This was
-merely a summer camp, as the vicinity of the Iroquois made it unsafe to
-remain there longer than through that portion of the season when the
-Mohawks and their confederates were too busy with their own pursuits
-among the hills of the Adirondacks to give much heed to their neighbors.
-At the close of the mission this camp was broken up for that season, and
-its occupants joined the reverend father and his party in canoes as far
-as the mouth of the Winooski River, whence men were sent to convey them
-to the starting-point at Swanton, where their own canoes were left.
-
-On their way thither they lingered for some days on Grand Isle, then,
-as now, a vision of loveliness to all admirers of the beautiful, and a
-favorite annual resort of the natives for the period during which they
-were safe from the attacks of their merciless foes.
-
-At every mission thus opened the missionary promised to return himself,
-or send one of his associates, to renew his instructions and minister to
-the spiritual wants of his converts. This promise was fulfilled as far as
-the limited number of laborers in this vineyard permitted. The brave and
-untiring sons of Loyola afterwards entered the field, and proved worthy
-successors of the zealous Recollects who first announced the Gospel
-message in those wilds.
-
-Our Indian narrator, when he had finished his recital of missionary
-labors in this and other regions, would always add with marked emphasis:
-“And it is firmly believed by our people, among all their tribes, that
-upon every spot where the Christian sacrifice was first offered a
-Catholic church will one day be placed.”
-
-There seemed to his Protestant listeners but slight probability of this
-prediction ever being fulfilled in Vermont--settled for the most part
-by the straitest sect of the Puritans--as there was not then, or until
-twenty years from that time, a Catholic priest or church in the State.
-Yet at this writing--and the fact has presented itself before us with
-startling effect while tracing these imperfect reminiscences--there is at
-every point indicated in his narrative a fine church, and in many places
-flourishing Catholic schools.
-
-The labors of an eminent servant of God--to whom Vermont cannot be too
-grateful--have been particularly blessed on the Isle La Motte, where the
-banner of the cross was first unfurled within her territory. A beautiful
-church has been erected there with a thriving congregation and school.
-
-Much as remains to be accomplished in this field, when we reflect upon
-all that has been done since the first quarter of this XIXth century,
-we can see great cause for encouragement and gratitude to Almighty God,
-who has not withheld his blessing from the work of his servants of the
-earliest and the latest times. “Going on their way, they went and wept,
-scattering the seed,” the fruits of which we are now gathering into
-sheaves with great joy.
-
-
-FINDING A LOST CHURCH.
-
-The present age is pre-eminently one of discovery. In spite of the wise
-man’s saying, “Nothing under the sun is new,” mankind, wiser in its
-own conceit than the wise man, insists upon the newness of its every
-production. In Rome a different spirit prevails. While the new is not
-entirely neglected, the great delight of many Romans is to find something
-old--the older the better. They live so much in the past that they follow
-with an eager interest the various steps taken to enlighten them on the
-lives and deeds of the men of old, their ancestors on the soil and in the
-faith which they profess.
-
-Foremost in the pursuit and discovery of Christian antiquities stands the
-Commendatore de Rossi. It has been said that poets are born, not made: De
-Rossi’s ability as a Christian archæologist seems to be more the gift of
-nature than the result of study. With unwearied industry, with profound
-knowledge, with an almost unerring judgment, he finds out and illustrates
-the remains of Christian antiquity scattered around Rome--not on the
-surface, but in the deeps of the earth. The latest and one of the most
-important discoveries he has made forms the subject of the present paper.
-
-Tor Marancia is a name not much known out of Rome, yet it designates
-a place which was of some importance in its day. The traveller who
-contemplates the works of ancient art collected in the Vatican Museum
-cannot fail to be interested in two very beautiful black and white
-mosaics which form the floor of the gallery known as the Braccio
-Nuovo. Mythological fables and Homeric legends are represented in
-these pavements, and they come from Tor Marancia. In the Gallery of
-the Candelabra, and in the library of the same museum, a collection of
-frescos, busts, statues, and mosaics of excellent workmanship and of
-great interest, likewise discovered at Tor Marancia, are exhibited. All
-these objects were found at that place in the course of excavations made
-there in the reign of Pope Pius VI. In ancient times a villa stood at Tor
-Marancia, of which these formed the decorations.
-
-At this spot also is found the entrance to a very extensive catacomb
-which contains three floors, and diverges in long, winding ways under
-the soil of the Campagna. The catacomb has been called by the name of
-S. Domitilla, on evidence found during the excavations made there. This
-lady was a member of the Flavian family, which gave three occupants to
-the imperial throne--Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian. It is a well-known
-fact that those early Christians who were blessed with wealth were in
-the habit of interring the bodies of their brethren, of saints, and of
-martyrs within the enclosure of their villas. Such villas were situated
-outside the limits of the city; and hence we find the entrance to every
-catacomb beyond the city walls, with the solitary exception of the
-catacomb or grottos of the Vatican, and the entrances to all of them are
-found in sites ascertained to have been the property of Christians. It
-might be easy to multiply instances of this, taking the facts from the
-_Acts of the Martyrs,_ wherein the places of sepulture are indicated, and
-the names of those who bestowed the last rites upon the dead recorded.
-
-Domitilla, or Flavia Domitilla, as she is sometimes termed, was a niece
-of the consul Flavius Clemens, who was cousin of the Emperor Domitian.
-She was a Christian, having been baptized by S. Peter; and, after a life
-spent in charitable works, amongst which was the burial of the martyrs
-“in a catacomb near the Ardeatine Way,” the same of which we write, she
-also suffered martyrdom. Her two servants, Nereus and Achilleus, were put
-to death previously, and their bodies were placed in this catacomb by
-Domitilla.
-
-In 1854, while De Rossi was pursuing his researches in the catacomb
-of S. Domitilla, he came upon the foundations of a building which
-pierced the second floor of the subterranean cemetery. This was a most
-unusual occurrence, and the eminent archæologist eagerly followed up
-his discovery. He found a marble slab which recorded the giving up of a
-space for burial “Ex indulgentia Flaviæ Domitillæ”--a confirmation of the
-proprietorship of the place.
-
-De Rossi naturally concluded that the building thus incorporated in
-the Christian cemetery was of great importance. The _loculi_, or
-resting-places of the dead, were very large, which indicates great
-antiquity; the inscriptions likewise were of a very early date; and
-_sarcophagi_ adorned with lions’ heads, marble columns overturned, and
-other signs, led the discoverer to the conclusion that he had come upon
-the foundations of a church constructed within this cemetery. In the
-course of his excavations he had penetrated into the open air, and found
-himself in a hollow depression formed by the falling in of the surface.
-Amongst other objects discovered were four marble slabs containing
-epitaphs furnished with consular dates of the years 335, 380, 399, and
-406; and also a form of contract by which the right of burial in the
-edifice was sold. The proprietor of the land above the cemetery opposed
-the continuance of the excavations, and the discoverer, obliged to
-withdraw, covered up the materials already found with earth, and turned
-his attention to other recently-discovered objects in another place.
-
-Twenty years after, in 1874, Monsignor de Merode purchased the land
-overlying the catacomb and church, and the excavations were again
-undertaken under most favorable circumstances. In vain did the Commission
-of Sacred Archæology, under De Rossi’s guidance, seek for the four marble
-columns and the two beautiful _sarcophagi_ that had been seen there
-twenty years before. The proprietor is supposed to have carried them
-away. But they found instead the floor of the church or basilica, with
-its three naves, the bases of the four columns, the apse, the place where
-the altar stood, and the space occupied by the episcopal chair behind
-the altar. The basilica is as large as that of San Lorenzo beyond the
-walls. The left aisle is sixty feet long by thirteen broad; the central
-nave is twenty-four feet broad; and the right aisle, which is not yet
-entirely unearthed, is considered to be of the same breadth as the first
-mentioned; the greatest depth of the apse is fifteen feet. “The church,”
-says De Rossi, “is of gigantic proportions for an edifice constructed in
-the bowels of the earth and at the deep level of the second floor of a
-subterranean cemetery.”
-
-Here, then, was a basilica or church discovered in the midst of a
-catacomb. That the latter belonged to Flavia Domitilla was well known;
-and yet another proof, which illustrates archæological difficulties and
-the method of overcoming them, was found here. It was a broken slab of
-marble containing a portion of an inscription:
-
-                                ......RVM
-                                .....ORVM
-                                   (*)
-
-and having the image of an anchor at the point(*). It was concluded
-that the anchor was placed at an equal distance from both ends of the
-inscription, and the discoverer, with the knowledge he already has of the
-place, supplied the letters which he considered wanting to the completion
-of the inscription, and thus produced the words,
-
-                                SEPVLCRVM
-                                FLAVIORVM
-                                    *
-
-(sepulchre of the Flavii). This reading is very probably the right one,
-and its probability is greatly strengthened by the position of the
-anchor, since the full inscription, as here shown, leaves that sign still
-in the centre.
-
-But to find the name borne by these ruins when the building of which
-they are the sole remnants was fresh and new presented a task to their
-discoverer. It was necessary to seek in ancient works--pontifical books
-and codices--for some account of a basilica on the Ardeatine Way.
-In the life of S. Gregory the Great it is related that this pontiff
-delivered one of his homilies “in the cemetery of S. Domitilla on the
-Ardeatine Way, at the Church of S. Petronilla.” The pontifical books and
-codices, although they differ in details--some saying in the cemetery
-of Domitilla, and others in that of Nereus and Archilleus, which is
-the same place under another name--agree in the principal fact. On the
-small remnant of plaster remaining on the wall of the apse an unskilled
-hand had traced a _graffito_, or drawing scratched on the plaster with
-a pointed instrument, somewhat resembling those found on the walls of
-Pompeii. This _graffito_ represents a bishop, vested in episcopal robes,
-seated in a chair, in the act of delivering a discourse. This rude
-sketch of a bishop so occupied, taken in conjunction with the fact that
-S. Gregory did here deliver one of his homilies, is a link in the chain
-of evidence which identifies the ruin with the ancient basilica of S.
-Petronilla.
-
-But a still more convincing testimony was forthcoming. A large fragment
-of marble, containing a portion of what appeared to have been a long
-inscription, was found in the apse. There were but few complete words in
-this fragment, and these were chiefly the termination of lines in what
-seemed to have been a metrical composition. Odd words, selected at random
-from a poem, standing alone, devoid of preceding or succeeding words,
-might not seem to furnish very rich materials even to an archæologist.
-These wandering words were, however, recognized to be the terminal words
-of a poem or eulogium written by Pope Damasus in honor of the martyrs
-Nereus and Achilleus. Now the connection between this metrical eulogium
-and the basilica was to be sought for. In the Einsiedeln Codex the place
-where this poem was to be seen is stated to have been the sepulchre of
-SS. Nereus and Achilleus, on the Appian Way, at S. Petronilla. The poem,
-or rather this fragment of it, being found at this sepulchre, it was
-natural to conclude that the church was that of S. Petronilla. The Appian
-Way is the great high-road from which the Ardeatine Way branches off near
-this spot.
-
-Again, the basilica of S. Petronilla was frequented by pilgrims from
-many nations in the VIIth century. Among these were Gauls, Germans, and
-Britons. In their itineraries of the martyrs’ sepulchres in Rome, and in
-the collection of the metrical epigraphs written at these places, it is
-proved that the original name of this church was that of S. Petronilla.
-“Near the Ardeatine Way is the Church of S. Petronilla,” say these old
-documents, and they likewise inform us that S. Nereus and S. Achilleus
-and S. Petronilla herself are buried there: “Juxta viam Ardeatinam
-ecclesia est S. Petronillæ; ibi quoque S. Nereus et S. Achilleus sunt et
-ipsa Petronilla sepulti.”
-
-A second fragment of the slab containing the metrical composition
-of Pope Damasus has since been found, and this goes to confirm the
-testimony furnished by the former fragment. In the following copy of
-the inscription the capital letters on the right-hand side are those
-on the fragment first discovered; those on the left belong to the
-recently-discovered portion:
-
-    “NEREUS ET ACHILLEUS MARTYRES.
-
-    “Militiæ nomen dederant sævumQ gerebant
-    Officium pariter spectantes jussA TYRanni
-    Præceptis pulsante metu serviRE PARati
-    Mira fides rerum subito posueRE FVRORem
-    COnversi fugiunt ducis impia castrA RELINQVVNT
-    PROiiciunt clypeos faleras telAQ. CRVENTA
-    CONFEssi gaudent Christi portaRE TRIVMFOS
-    CREDITe per Damasum possit quid GLORIA
-    CHRISTI.”
-
-The date of the church was likewise ascertained. It is known that Pope
-Damasus, the great preserver of the martyrs’ graves, would never allow
-the Christian cemeteries to be disturbed for the purpose of building
-a church therein; and although he himself strongly desired that his
-remains should repose in one of these sacred places by the side of his
-predecessors, he abandoned this desire rather than remove the sacred
-ashes of the dead. It may naturally be concluded, then, that this church
-was built after his day--he died in 384--as were the churches of S.
-Agnes, S. Lawrence, and S. Alexander, all of which are beyond the city
-walls and built in catacombs. The catacombs under the Church of S.
-Petronilla showed an inscription bearing the date of 390, and in the
-church itself a monumental slab with the date of 395 has been found. It
-is thus almost certain that between the highest date found _under_, and
-the lowest date found _in_, the church--that is, between the years 390
-and 395--the basilica of S. Petronilla was constructed.
-
-For about three centuries and a half this church was well frequented.
-We have records of gifts sent to it, precious vestments, etc., by Pope
-Gregory III., who reigned from 715 to 741. But in 755 the Longobards
-came down upon Rome; they desecrated the churches and cemeteries around
-the city, and then began the siege of Rome. After peace was made, the
-pontiff of the period, Paul I., transferred the relics and remains of
-the saints to safer custody, and the Church of S. Petronilla became
-deserted. From unmistakable signs it seems that this desertion was
-conducted in a most regular manner, and that it was closed and despoiled
-of its precious objects. The door which entered the left aisle was found
-walled up; the altar, the seats of the choir, the episcopal chair, and
-the ambons or marble pulpits ware all removed and transported elsewhere.
-The floor of the church, so far below the level of the surrounding
-soil, formed a resting-place for the water which drained through the
-neighboring lands after rains had fallen, and this undoubtedly formed
-the strongest reason for the abandonment of S. Petronilla. Nothing was
-left in it but _sarcophagi_ and sepulchres, the pavements with their
-marble epitaphs--so valuable to-day in revealing history--some columns
-with their beautifully-carved capitals, which time or an earthquake has
-overturned and hidden within the dark bosom of the earth for more than a
-thousand years.
-
-The hundred pilgrims who came from America, with a hundred new-found
-friends, assembled on the 14th of June, 1874, to pray in that disentombed
-old church. They had come from a world unknown and undreamt of by the
-pilgrims who had formerly knelt within these walls; and as they looked
-around on the wide and desolate Campagna, and on the monument of Cecilia
-Metella shining in the distance white and perfect, in spite of the
-nineteen centuries that have passed away since it received its inmate,
-and at the blue, changeless sky overhead, and then turned their eyes upon
-the church, decorated that morning with festoons of green branches and
-gay flowers, the same as it may have been on other festive occasions a
-thousand years ago, they may have felt that time has effected almost as
-little change in the works of man as in those of nature, and that all
-things in Rome partake of Rome’s eternity.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    LE CULTE CATHOLIQUE OU EXPOSITION DE LA FOI DE L’EGLISE
-    ROMAINE SUR LE CULTE DU AUX SAINTS ET A LEURS RELIQUES, A
-    LA BIENHEUREUSE VIERGE MARIE, AUX IMAGES, etc., en réponse
-    aux objections du Protestantisme, suivie d’une dissertation
-    historique et critique sur le celibat du clergé. Par l’Abbé
-    Louis-Nazaire Bégin, Docteur en Théologie, Professor à la
-    Faculté de Théologie de l’Université Laval. Quebec: Typographie
-    d’Augustin Cote et Cie. 1875.
-
-_Le Culte Catholique_ is another valuable addition to controversial
-literature, by the author of _The Bible and the Rule of Faith_.
-
-It is true that the days of controversy seem to be drawing to a close.
-The Greek schism still holds itself aloof in sullen isolation; but the
-controversy is exhausted, and all that is left of a church has become the
-mere unfruitful appanage of a northern despotism.
-
-As to Protestantism, it never had any positive existence as a confession.
-Three hundred years have exhausted its theological pretensions. As a
-religion it has ceased to exist, and it lies buried beneath the weight of
-its own negations. The only formidable enemies of the church now are the
-disowners both of Christ and God, and they seek her destruction because
-they know that she alone offers an insuperable obstacle to the universal
-atheism which they hope to bring about.
-
-Under such circumstances works like Dr. Bégin’s are chiefly useful for
-the information of Catholics, and for the support they render to their
-faith.
-
-_Le Culte Catholique_ is, the writer tells us, “an exposition of the
-faith of the Roman Church in the matters of the worship of the saints and
-of their relics, of the blessed Virgin Mary, of images, etc., in reply
-to the objections of Protestantism, followed by a historical and critical
-dissertation on the celibacy of the clergy.” On these trite subjects
-little that is new can be said. But the work before us is a terse and
-lucid summary of Catholic teaching on the above points.
-
-It is the object of the society of Freemasons to effect the universal
-deification, the rejection, that is, of the belief in any existence
-higher than the human being, and in any superiority of one man over
-another. For this they find it convenient to support the foolish
-Protestant objection to a splendid ritual and costly churches, on the
-ground that “God is a spirit, and they that worship him must worship him
-in spirit and in truth.” Dr. Bégin quotes the following telling passage
-from a contemporary writer in answer to this frivolous objection:
-
-“I know the old tirades about the temple of nature. No doubt the starry
-vault of heaven is a sublime dome; but no worship exists which is
-celebrated in the open air. A special place of meeting is required for
-collective adoration, because our religious sociability urges us to
-gather together for prayer, as it were to make a common stock of our joys
-and griefs. Besides, should the time come when we shall have nothing
-but the cupola of heaven to shelter our religious assemblies, it would
-require a considerable amount of courage to betake ourselves thither,
-especially in winter. And the philosophers who find our cathedrals
-so damp would not be the most intrepid against the inclemency of the
-sanctuary of nature. Thus do great errors touch on the ridiculous.
-Reasoning begins their refutation; a smile ends it.”
-
-The second chapter is an admirable exposition of the special worship
-(_hyperdulia_) paid to the Blessed Virgin Mary, in the course of which
-he shows triumphantly that the definition of her Immaculate Conception
-was no new doctrine, but a mere definite and dogmatic statement of a
-doctrine which had been all along held implicitly in the church. The
-following simile, illustrative of this argument, appears to us to be
-worth quoting: “Modern science, which is daily making such extraordinary
-progress, discovers, ever and anon, fresh stars, which seem to float
-in the most distant depths of space, which become more bright as they
-are more attentively observed, and which end by becoming stars of
-continually-increasing splendor. These stars are not of recent date;
-they are not new; they are only perceived. Something analogous takes
-place in the heavens of the church on the subject of certain truths of
-our faith. Their light reveals itself and develops by degrees. Sometimes
-the shock of controversy illuminates them. Then comes a definition to
-invest them with fresh splendor. But in receiving this supplement of
-light, destined to make them better understood by the faithful, they lose
-nothing of their proper nature; their essence is not in the slightest
-degree changed; only our minds appropriate them with more facility.”
-
-    FLOWERS FROM THE GARDEN OF THE VISITATION; or, Lives of Several
-    Religious of that Order. Translated from the French. Baltimore:
-    Kelly, Piet & Co. 1875.
-
-To those who have attempted to form an adequate conception of the
-charitable and ascetic spirit, the simple record of these saintly lives
-must have a wonderful fascination. To those, even, who are wholly
-absorbed in a life of pleasure it will at least possess the merit of a
-new sensation, if they can forget the silent reproof which such examples
-convey.
-
-It affords matter of encouragement in these days of combined luxury
-and destitution to look over the history of those--many of whom were
-delicately reared--who left all for God, content to do whatsoever he
-appointed them to do, and to submit to extraordinary mortifications for
-his sake. The work embraces six brief biographies of Visitation Nuns
-eminent for their self-sacrificing labors for the moral and intellectual
-education of their charges, and in other good and charitable offices.
-Their names, even, may be quite new to English-speaking readers, but that
-fact is all the more in keeping with their hidden lives. We have said
-enough to indicate the general character of the volume.
-
-    JOHN DORRIEN: A novel. By Julia Kavanagh. New York: D. Appleton
-    & Co. 1875.
-
-The writer succeeds, in the very opening chapter, in so portraying
-the character of a child as to make it a living breathing reality
-to the reader. The story of his humble life in childhood and his
-struggles and trials in later years is told without any attempt at
-fine writing--indeed, all the characters are simply and well drawn,
-and retain their individuality to the end. The heroine, neglected in
-childhood, and without any guide in matters of faith, is easily persuaded
-by a suitor that religion is contrary to reason; and thus, left to her
-own unaided judgment, and notwithstanding her innate love of truth,
-soon finds herself entangled in a web of deceit and hypocrisy. She only
-escapes the unhappiness which such a course entails by forsaking it.
-
-The moral of the tale (if that is not an obsolete term) is what
-the reader would naturally infer--the necessity of early religious
-instruction, and the advantage, even in this life, of a belief in
-revealed truth. We are glad to note the absence of the faults which
-disfigure much of the imaginative literature of the day, not excepting,
-we are sorry to say, that which emanates from the writer’s own sex. We
-see no attempt to give false views of life, or to undermine the moral and
-religious principles of the reader; on the contrary, there is reason to
-infer much that is positively good, though not so definitely stated as we
-should have liked.
-
-    THE BIBLE AND THE RULE OF FAITH. By the Abbé Louis-Nazaire
-    Bégin, Doctor of Theology, Theological Professor in the
-    University of Laval. Translated from the French by G. M. Ward
-    [Mrs. Pennée].
-
-Protestantism is well-nigh defunct. It is in its last throes. It has not
-sufficient vitality left to care for its own doctrines, such as they
-are. As a religion it has almost ceased to exist. Disobedience to the
-faith has been succeeded by indifference; indifference by the hatred of
-Christ. Its rickety old doctrines, whose folly has been exposed over and
-over again thousands of times, have quietly tumbled out of existence.
-Protestants themselves have almost forgotten them, and certainly do not
-care enough about them to defend them. Paganism has returned--paganism in
-its last stage of sceptical development. We have to contend now for the
-divinity of Christ and the existence of a God. The Bible and the rule of
-faith are up amongst the lumber.
-
-Yet it may be--as the writer of this work asserts; we much doubt
-it, however--that there are still “many poor souls in the bosom of
-Protestantism a prey to the anguish of doubt.” To such the Abbé Bégin’s
-treatise on the rule of faith may be of the utmost service. The argument
-is extremely terse and lucid. In short, were the minds of Protestant
-fanatics open to reason, it could not fail to convince them of the
-unreasoning folly of their notions about the Bible being the one only
-rule of faith.
-
-The first part of this work treats of the rule of faith in general, and
-proves, amongst other things, that such a rule must be sure, efficient,
-and perpetual to put an end to controversies.
-
-The second part exhibits the logical impossibility of the Protestant rule
-of faith, remote and proximate. That is to say, that it is impossible for
-the unexplained text of the Bible to be a sure, efficient, and perpetual
-rule of faith, and for an immediate inspiration of its meaning to
-individuals by the Holy Ghost to be its means of explanation.
-
-The third part proves very exhaustively that the Catholic rule of faith
-is the only possible sure, efficient, and perpetual one; namely, Holy
-Scripture, the remote rule, and the teaching church, the proximate one.
-
-To any souls “in the bosom of Protestism” who are “a prey to the anguish
-of doubt,” if indeed there be such, we cordially recommend this treatise.
-Its tone is kind and gentle, its reasoning irresistible, and, with
-the blessing of God, is able to put an end to all their doubts on the
-fundamental question as to the true rule of faith.
-
-    PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. By Cornelia Knight and Thomas Raikes.
-    New York: Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 1875.
-
-This is another of the pleasant “Bric-à-Brac series,” edited by Richard
-Henry Stoddard. Miss Knight was that nondescript kind of being known as
-a “lady companion” to the Princess Charlotte of Wales. Her position gave
-her peculiar facilities for enjoying the privilege, so dear to certain
-hearts, of a peep behind the scenes of a royal household. Never having
-been married, she had plenty of time for jotting down her notes and
-observations on men, women, and things. Many of the men and women she met
-were famous in their way and in their time. As might be expected, there
-is much nonsense in her observations, mingled with pleasant glimpses of a
-kind of life that has now passed away. Mr. Raikes’ journal is similar in
-character to that of Miss Knight, with the advantage or disadvantage, as
-may be considered, of having been written by a man.
-
-
-
-
-THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-VOL. XXII., No. 129.--DECEMBER, 1875.
-
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. I. T.
-HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
-
-
-MR. GLADSTONE AND MARYLAND TOLERATION.
-
-It was supposed that Mr. Gladstone had been so triumphantly refuted, as
-a polemic, that he would take a prudent refuge in silence. At a moment
-when neighboring nations were rent with religious dissensions, and when
-England needed repose from, rather than fuel added to, her internal
-agitations, a statesman and ex-premier of the British Empire assumes the
-_rôle_ of a religious agitator and accuser, and startles, as well as
-offends, the public sense of appropriateness by his useless and baseless
-indictment against the Catholic Church, to which England owes all that
-is glorious in her constitution and in her history; against English
-Catholics in particular, his fellow-subjects, who of all others, by their
-loyalty and Christian faith and virtues, can preserve the liberties
-and the institutions of their country, now threatened alike by infidel
-corruption, Protestant indifference, and communistic malice; and against
-that saintly and illustrious pontiff whose hand is only raised to bless,
-whose lips breathe unfaltering prayer, and whose voice and pen have never
-ceased to announce and defend the eternal truths of religion, to uphold
-morality, and to refute the crying errors and evils of our times. The
-unanswerable refutations which Mr. Gladstone’s attacks elicited from
-Cardinal Manning, Bishops Ullathorne and Vaughan, Drs. Newman and Capel,
-and Canon Neville, not to speak of the Italian work of Mgr. Nardi and the
-rebukes administered by the periodical press, had, it was believed, even
-by impartial Protestants, effectually driven this new champion of the old
-No-popery party in England from the field of polemics. But, like all new
-recruits, the ex-premier seems incapable of realizing defeat, or perhaps
-is anxious, at least, to retire with the honors of war.
-
-Not content with the serial publication of his three tracts, he has just
-now republished them in one volume, with a _Preface_, under the title
-of _Rome and the Newest Fashions in Religion_--a title as unbecoming
-the gravity of his subjects as it is unsupported by the contents of
-the work. The preface to the republication not only reiterates his
-accusations on all points, but the author, not satisfied with his new
-part as theologian, essays the _rôle_ of historical critic, and thus
-gives prominence to a historical question of deep interest and of
-especial importance to the Catholics of this country.
-
-The same _animus_ which inspired Mr. Gladstone’s attacks against the
-church, against his Catholic fellow-countrymen, and against the most
-august and venerable personage in Christendom, has also induced him to
-deny to the Catholic founders of Maryland the honorable renown, accorded
-to them heretofore by historians with singular unanimity, of having, when
-in power, practised religious toleration towards all Christian sects, and
-secured freedom of conscience, not only by their unwavering action and
-practice, but also by giving it the stability and sanctions of statute
-law. This is certainly the only phase in this celebrated controversy upon
-which it remains for Mr. Gladstone to be answered.
-
-His Eminence Cardinal Manning, in _The Vatican Decrees in their bearing
-on Civil Allegiance_, at page 88 (New York edition), writes:
-
-    “For the same reasons I deplore the haste, I must say the
-    passion, which carried away so large a mind to affirm or to
-    imply that the church of this day would, if she could, use
-    torture, and force, and coercion in matters of religious
-    belief.… In the year 1830 the Catholics of Belgium were in
-    a vast majority, but they did not use their political power
-    to constrain the faith or conscience of any man. The ‘Four
-    Liberties’ of Belgium were the work of Catholics. This is the
-    most recent example of what Catholics would do if they were in
-    possession of power. But there is one more ancient and more
-    homely for us Englishmen. It is found at a date when the old
-    traditions of the Catholic Church were still vigorous in the
-    minds of men.… If the modern spirit had any share in producing
-    the constitution of Belgium, it certainly had no share in
-    producing the constitution of Maryland. Lord Baltimore, who
-    had been Secretary of State under James I., in 1633 emigrated
-    to the American plantations, where, through Lord Stafford’s
-    influence, he had obtained a grant of land.… They named their
-    new country Maryland, and there they settled. The oath of the
-    governor was in these terms: ‘I will not, by myself or any
-    other, directly or indirectly, molest any person professing to
-    believe in Jesus Christ, for or in respect of religion.’ Lord
-    Baltimore invited the Puritans of Massachusetts--who, like
-    himself, had renounced their country for conscience’ sake--to
-    come into Maryland. In 1649, when active persecution had sprung
-    up again in England, the Council of Maryland, on the 21st
-    of April, passed this statute; ‘And whereas the forcing of
-    the conscience in matters of religion hath frequently fallen
-    out to be of dangerous consequence in the commonwealth where
-    it has been practised, and for the more quiet and peaceable
-    government of the province, and the better to preserve mutual
-    love and amity among the inhabitants, no person within the
-    province professing to believe in Jesus Christ shall be
-    anyways troubled, molested, or discountenanced for his or her
-    religion, or in the free exercise thereof.’ The Episcopalians
-    and Protestants fled from Virginia into Maryland. Such was the
-    commonwealth founded by a Catholic upon the broad moral law I
-    have here laid down--that faith is an act of the will, and that
-    to force men to profess what they do not believe is contrary to
-    the law of God, and that to generate faith by force is morally
-    impossible.”
-
-Mr. Gladstone, in his _Vaticanism_, page 96, replies to the above as
-follows:
-
-    “It appears to me that Archbishop Manning has completely
-    misapprehended the history of the settlement of Maryland and
-    the establishment of toleration there for all believers in the
-    Holy Trinity. It was a wise measure, for which the two Lords
-    Baltimore, father and son, deserve the highest honor. But the
-    measure was really defensive; and its main and very legitimate
-    purpose plainly was to secure the free exercise of the Roman
-    Catholic religion. Immigration into the colony was by the
-    charter free; and only by this and other popular provisions
-    could the territory have been extricated from the grasp of its
-    neighbors in Virginia, who claimed it as their own. It was
-    apprehended that the Puritans would flood it, as they did; and
-    it seemed certain that but for this excellent provision the
-    handful of Roman Catholic founders would have been unable to
-    hold their ground. The facts are given in Bancroft’s _History
-    of the United States_, vol. i., chap. vii.”
-
-Again, in his _Preface_ to _Rome and the Newest Fashions in Religion_,
-page viii., Mr. Gladstone writes:
-
-    “It has long been customary to quote the case of Maryland in
-    proof that, more than two centuries ago, the Roman Catholic
-    Church, where power was in its hands, could use it for the
-    purposes of toleration. Archbishop Manning has repeated the
-    boast, and with very large exaggeration.
-
-    “I have already shown from Bancroft’s _History_ that in the
-    case of Maryland there was no question of a merciful use of
-    power towards others, but simply of a wise and defensive
-    prudence with respect to themselves--that is to say, so far as
-    the tolerant legislation of the colony was the work of Roman
-    Catholics. But it does not appear to have been their work.
-    By the fourth article of the charter we find that no church
-    could be consecrated there except according to the laws of the
-    church at home. The tenth article guaranteed to the colonists
-    generally ‘all privileges, franchises, and liberties of this
-    our kingdom of England.’ It was in 1649 that the Maryland
-    Act of Toleration was passed, which, however, prescribed the
-    punishment of death for any one who denied the Trinity. Of the
-    small legislative body which passed it, two-thirds appear to
-    have been Protestant, the recorded numbers being sixteen and
-    eight respectively. The colony was open to the immigration of
-    Puritans and all Protestants, and any permanent and successful
-    oppression by a handful of Roman Catholics was altogether
-    impossible. But the colonial act seems to have been an echo
-    of the order of the House of Commons at home, on the 27th of
-    October, 1645, that the inhabitants of the Summer Islands, and
-    such others as shall join themselves to them, ‘shall without
-    any molestation or trouble have and enjoy the liberty of their
-    consciences in matters of God’s worship’; and of a British
-    ordinance of 1647.
-
-    “Upon the whole, then, the picture of Maryland legislation is
-    a gratifying one; but the historic theory which assigns the
-    credit of it to the Roman Church has little foundation in fact.”
-
-Let us first test Mr. Gladstone’s accuracy and consistency as a
-historical critic. He begins by alleging that the Maryland Toleration Act
-was a measure of defensive prudence in the interests of the Catholics
-themselves, and that “its main and very legitimate purpose plainly was to
-secure the free exercise of the Roman Catholic religion.” He then asserts
-that this act of toleration was not the work of the Catholics at all, but
-of a Protestant majority in the legislature which passed it. We have,
-then, here presented the extraordinary picture of an alleged Protestant
-legislature passing a law which was really intended to protect Catholics
-against Protestant ascendency and apprehended Protestant persecution, and
-whose “main and very legitimate purpose was to secure the free exercise
-of the Roman Catholic religion.” Surely, the Protestants of that day were
-liberal and generous, especially as it was an age of persecution, when
-not only were Catholics hunted down both in England and her Virginia
-and New England colonies, but even Protestants of different sects were
-relentlessly persecuting each other. And in what proper sense can _they_
-be said to have been Protestants with whom it was “_a very legitimate
-purpose_” to legislate in the express interests of Roman Catholics?
-
-Mr. Gladstone also states that the Toleration Act was passed in the
-apprehension of an influx of Puritans, and to protect the colony “from
-the grasp of its neighbors in Virginia”; whereas his favorite author,
-Mr. Bancroft, informs Mr. Gladstone that Lord Baltimore invited both
-the Episcopalians of Virginia and the Puritans of New England into
-his domains, offering a gift of lands as an inducement; and it is a
-historical fact that numbers of them accepted the invitation.
-
-Again, Mr. Gladstone, while apparently treating the Toleration Act as a
-Catholic measure, animadverts with evident disapproval on that feature
-in it which “prescribed the punishment of death for any one who denied
-the Trinity,” and then immediately he claims that the legislature which
-passed the act was a Protestant body--“two-thirds,” he writes, “appear
-to have been Protestants”--thus imposing upon his Protestant friends the
-odium of inflicting death for the exercise of conscience and religious
-belief; and that, too, not upon Papists, as they were not included in the
-punishment.
-
-Mr. Gladstone, in _The Vatican Decrees in their bearing on Civil
-Allegiance_ (page 83), expressing no doubt the common sentiments of
-Protestants since the time of Luther and Henry VIII., uses these
-irreverent words in regard to the Blessed Virgin Mary, that peerless and
-immaculate Lady whom four-fifths of the Christian world venerate as the
-Mother of God:
-
-    “The sinlessness of the Virgin Mary and the personal
-    infallibility of the Pope are the characteristic dogmas of
-    modern Romanism.… Both rest on pious fiction and fraud; both
-    present a refined idolatry by clothing a pure humble woman and
-    a mortal sinful man with divine attributes. The dogma of the
-    Immaculate Conception, which exempts the Virgin Mary from sin
-    and guilt, perverts Christianism into Marianism.… The worship
-    of a woman is virtually substituted for the worship of Christ.”
-
-And yet with such sentiments, in which doubtless the Protestants of
-Maryland in 1649 concurred, he attributes to, and claims for, those
-Protestants who, he says, constituted two-thirds of the Maryland Colonial
-Legislature in 1649, the passage of a law which enacted “that whosoever
-shall use or utter any reproachful words or speeches concerning the
-Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of our Saviour, … shall for the first
-offence forfeit five pounds sterling, or, if not able to pay, be publicly
-whipped and imprisoned during pleasure, etc.; for the second offence, ten
-pounds, etc.; and for the third shall forfeit all his lands and goods,
-and be banished from the province.”
-
-The following anecdote, related by the Protestant Bozman,[98] is quite
-pertinent to our subject and to our cause:
-
-    “And in the time of the Long Parliament when the differences
-    between the Lord Baltimore and Colonell Samuel Matthews, as
-    agent for the colony of Virginia, were depending before a
-    committee of that parliament for the navy, that clause in the
-    sayd law, concerning the Virgin Mary, was at that committee
-    objected as an exception against his lordship; whereupon a
-    worthy member of the sayd committee stood up and sayd, that he
-    wondered that any such exception should be taken against his
-    lordship; for (says hee) doth not the Scripture say, that all
-    generations shall call her blessed? (The author here cites in
-    the margin, ‘Lu. i. 48.’) And the committee insisted no more on
-    that exception.”
-
-The authorities relied upon by Mr. Gladstone, besides Bancroft, whom
-we shall presently refer to, are _Maryland Toleration_, by the Rev.
-Ethan Allen, and _Maryland not a Catholic Colony_, by E. D. N. The
-former is a pamphlet of sixty-four pages addressed by the author, a
-Protestant minister, to his brethren in the ministry in 1855, is purely
-a sectarian tract, hostile to every Catholic view and interest, and
-partisan in spirit and in matter. The latter is a few pages of printed
-matter, consisting of three newspaper articles published last year in
-the _Daily Pioneer_ of St. Paul, Minnesota, and recently reprinted in
-the _North-Western Chronicle_ of the same place, the editor of which
-states that the author of the letters is the Rev. Edward D. Neill, also
-a Protestant minister, and president of Macalester College. The letters
-of “E. D. N.” were sharply and ably replied to by Mr. William Markoe,
-formerly an Episcopal minister, now a member of the Catholic Church. The
-letters of “E. D. N.” are more sectarian than historical, and cannot
-be quoted in a controversy in which such names as Chalmers, Bancroft,
-McSherry, Bozman, etc., figure. The attack of “E. D. N.” on the personal
-character of Lord Baltimore is enough to condemn his effort.
-
-But Mr. Gladstone’s principal author is Bancroft, from whose pages
-he claims to have shown that “in the case of Maryland there was _no
-question_ of a merciful use of power towards others, but _simply_ of
-a wise and defensive prudence with respect to themselves.” Motives of
-_self-interest_ are thus substituted for those of _benevolence_ and
-_mercy_. If this were correctly stated, why does Mr. Gladstone state that
-the Act of Toleration was a measure “for which the two Lords Baltimore,
-father and son, deserve the highest honor”? But our task is now to
-inquire how far his author sustains Mr. Gladstone in denying to the
-Catholics of Maryland, who enacted religious toleration, all motives of
-benevolence and mercy.
-
-Mr. Bancroft, on the contrary, asserts that the “new government [of
-Maryland] was erected on a _foundation_ as extraordinary as its results
-were _benevolent_.”[99] In speaking of Lord Baltimore, the founder of
-Maryland, its chief statesman and law-giver, he extols his _moderation_,
-_sincerity of character_, and _disinterestedness_,[100] and proceeds to
-say:
-
-    “Calvert deserves to be ranked among the most wise and
-    _benevolent_ law-givers of all ages. He was the first in the
-    history of the Christian world to seek for religious security
-    and peace by the practice of justice, and not by the exercise
-    of power; to plan the establishment of popular institutions
-    with the enjoyment of liberty of conscience; to advance the
-    career of civilization by recognizing the rightful equality of
-    all Christian sects. The asylum of Papists was the spot where,
-    in a remote corner of the world, on the banks of rivers which,
-    as yet, had hardly been explored, the _mild forbearance_ of a
-    proprietary adopted religious freedom as the _basis_ of the
-    state.”[101]
-
-Referring to the act of taking possession of their new homes in Maryland
-by the Catholic pilgrims, the same author says, thereby “religious
-liberty obtained a home, its only home in the wide world, at the humble
-village which bore the name of St. Mary’s.”[102] And speaking of the
-progress of the colony, he further says: “Under the _mild_ institutions
-and munificence of Baltimore the dreary wilderness soon bloomed with
-swarming life and activity of prosperous settlements; the Roman
-Catholics who were oppressed by the laws of England were sure to find a
-peaceful asylum in the quiet harbors of the Chesapeake; and there, too,
-Protestants were sheltered against Protestant intolerance.”[103] Such,
-in fine, is the repeated language of an author whom Mr. Gladstone refers
-to in proof of his assertion that toleration in Maryland was _simply_ a
-measure of self-defence.
-
-Chalmers bears the following testimony to the same point: “He” (Lord
-Baltimore) “_laid the foundation_ of his province upon the broad _basis_
-of security to property and of freedom of religion, granting, in absolute
-fee, fifty acres of land to every emigrant; establishing Christianity
-according to the old common law, of which it is a part, without allowing
-pre-eminence to any particular sect. The wisdom of his choice soon
-converted a dreary wilderness into a prosperous colony.”[104]
-
-And Judge Story, with the history of the colony from its beginning and
-the charter before him, adds the weight of judicial approval in the
-following words: “It is certainly very honorable to the liberality and
-public spirit of the proprietary that he should have introduced into his
-_fundamental_ policy the doctrine of general toleration and equality
-among Christian sects (for he does not appear to have gone further),
-and have thus given the earliest example of a legislator inviting his
-subjects to the free indulgence of religious opinion. This was anterior
-to the settlement of Rhode Island, and therefore merits the enviable rank
-of being the first recognition among the colonists of the glorious and
-indefeasible rights of conscience.”[105]
-
-But there is another view, clearly sustained by an important and certain
-chain of facts, which has never occurred to the historical writers on
-Maryland toleration, at least in this connection, though they give the
-facts upon which the view is based, and which wholly destroys the theory
-of Mr. Gladstone and his authorities. The latter may dispute in regard to
-the merits and motives of the statute of 1649, but they do not touch the
-real question. It is an incontestable fact that the religious toleration
-which historians have so much extolled in the Catholic colonists and
-founders of Maryland did not originate with, or derive its existence
-from, that law of 1649, but, on the contrary, it existed long anterior
-to, and independent of, it. This great feature in the Catholic government
-of Maryland had been established by the Catholic lord-proprietary, his
-lieutenant-governor, agents, and colonists, and faithfully practised for
-fifteen years prior to the Toleration Act of 1649. From 1634 to 1649 it
-had been enforced with unwavering firmness and protected with exalted
-benevolence. This important fact is utterly ignored by Mr. Gladstone and
-his authors, the Rev. Ethan Allen and the Rev. Edward D. Neill, but the
-facts related by Bancroft, and indeed by all historians, prove it beyond
-a question. Bancroft records that the very “_foundations_” of the colony
-were laid upon the “_basis_” of religious toleration, and throughout the
-eulogiums pronounced by him on the religious toleration of Maryland,
-which we have quoted above, refers entirely to the period of the fifteen
-years preceding the passage of the act of 1649. The Toleration Act was
-nothing else than the declaration of the existing state of things and
-of the long and cherished policy and practice of the colony--a formal
-sanction and statutory enactment of the existing common law of the
-province.
-
-Before proceeding to demonstrate this fact, we will briefly examine
-how far Mr. Bancroft sustains the theory or views of Mr. Gladstone in
-regard to the act itself. After extolling the motives and conduct of the
-Catholics of Maryland in establishing religious toleration, as we have
-remarked above, during the fifteen years preceding the passage of the
-act, Mr. Bancroft refers to that statute in terms of highest praise.
-He barely hints at the possibility that a foresight, on the part of
-the colonists, of impending dangers to themselves from threatened or
-apprehended Protestant ascendency and persecution, might have entered
-among the motives which induced them to pass that act; but he nowhere
-asserts the fact, nor does he allege anything beyond conjecture for
-the possibility of the motive. Indeed, his mode of expressing himself
-indicates that, though he thought it possible, his own impression was
-that such motive did not suggest in part even the passage of the act; for
-he writes: “_As if_, with a foresight of impending danger and an earnest
-desire to stay its approach, the Roman Catholics of Maryland, with the
-earnest concurrence of their governor and of the proprietary, determined
-to place upon their statute-book an act for _the religious freedom which
-had ever been sacred on their soil_.” Compare this with the language
-of Mr. Gladstone, who excludes every motive but that of self-interest,
-and refers to Bancroft in support of his view, but does not quote his
-language. Mr. Bancroft, on the other hand, after quoting from the
-statute, exclaims, such was “its sublime tenor.”
-
-Mr. Griffith does not agree with the suggestion that a sense of fear or
-apprehension entered into the motives of the Maryland lawgivers, and
-says: “That this liberty did not proceed from fear of others, on the one
-hand, or licentious dispositions in the government, on the other, is
-sufficiently evident from the penalties prescribed against blasphemy,
-swearing, drunkenness, and Sabbath-breaking, by the preceding sections of
-the act, and proviso, at the end, that such exercise of religion did not
-molest or conspire against the proprietary or his government.”[106]
-
-Let us now proceed to examine still further whether Maryland was a
-Catholic colony, whether it was by Catholics that religious toleration
-was established there, and whether it had its origin in the act of 1649
-or in the long previous practice and persistent generosity and mercy of
-the Catholic rulers of the province. It is true that while the territory
-afterwards granted to Lord Baltimore was subject to the Virginia charter,
-a settlement of Episcopalians was made on Kent Island; but they were very
-few in numbers, always adhered to Virginia rather than to Maryland in
-their sympathies, were so turbulent and disloyal that Governor Calvert
-had to reduce them by force of arms, and no one has ever pretended that
-they founded a State. We will show what relation they had in point of
-numbers and political influence to the colony, and that they did not form
-even the slightest element of power in the founding of the province.
-
-Maryland was founded alone by the Catholic Lord Baltimore and his
-colonists. Such is the voice of history. It is rather disingenuous in the
-reverend authors of the pamphlets mentioned by Mr. Gladstone that upon so
-flimsy a circumstance they assert that Maryland was not settled first by
-Catholics. Their voices are drowned by the concurrent voice of tradition
-and of history. It is only the reassertion of the pretensions of these
-zealous sectarians by so respectable a person as Mr. Gladstone, and that,
-too, in one of the most remarkable controversies of the age, that renders
-a recurrence to the historical authorities and their results at all
-desirable or necessary.
-
-The colony of Maryland was conceived in the spirit of liberty. It was the
-flight of English Catholics from Protestant persecution in their native
-country. The state of the penal laws in England against Catholics at this
-period is too well known. The zealous Protestant Bozman writes that they
-“contained severities enough to keep them [the Catholics] in all due
-subjection.”
-
-It was at this hour of their extremest suffering that the Catholics
-of England found a friend and leader in Sir George Calvert, who held
-important trusts under the governments of James and Charles, and enjoyed
-the confidence of his sovereigns and of his country. “In an age when
-religious controversy still continued to be active, when increasing
-divisions among Protestants were spreading a general alarm, his mind
-sought relief from controversy in the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church,
-and, preferring the avowal of his opinions to the emoluments of office,
-he resigned his place and openly professed his conversion.”[107] Even
-after this he was advanced to the peerage under the title of Lord
-Baltimore--an Irish title--and was appointed one of the principal
-secretaries under James I. His positions in the government gave him
-not only an acquaintance with American colonization, but an official
-connection with it. Of these he now availed himself to provide an asylum
-abroad for his fellow-Catholics from the relentless persecution they
-were suffering at home. His first effort was to found a Catholic colony
-on the shores of Newfoundland. A settlement was begun. Avalon was the
-name it received, and twice did Lord Baltimore cross the ocean to visit
-his cherished cradle of liberty. Baffled by political difficulties,
-the severity of the climate, and an ungenerous soil, he abandoned the
-endeavor. That his motive all along was to found a place of refuge for
-Catholics from persecution is certain from the time and circumstances
-under which the enterprise was undertaken, as well as from the testimony
-of historians. Oldmixon says: “This gentleman [Lord Baltimore], being
-of the Romish religion, was uneasy at home, and had the same reason to
-leave the kingdom as those gentlemen had who went to New England, to
-enjoy the liberty of his conscience.”[108] Bozman writes that “by their
-[the Puritans’] clamors for a vigorous execution of the laws against
-Papists, it became now necessary for them [the Catholics] also to look
-about for a place of refuge.”[109] The same writer also refers to a MS.
-in the British Museum, written by Lord Baltimore himself, in which this
-motive is mentioned. Driven from Avalon by the hardness of the climate,
-he visited Virginia with the same view; but hence again he was driven
-by religious bigotry and the presentation of an anti-popery oath from
-a colony “from which the careful exclusion of Roman Catholics had been
-originally avowed as a special object.” His mind, filled with the thought
-of founding a place of refuge for Catholics, next turned to the country
-beyond the Potomac, which had been embraced originally in the Virginia
-charter, but which, upon the cancellation of that charter, had reverted
-to the crown. He obtained a grant and charter from the king, so liberal
-in its terms that, Griffith says, it became the model for future grants.
-The name was changed from Crescentia to that of Maryland, in honor of the
-Catholic queen of Charles; but the devout Catholics of the expedition, in
-their piety, extended the term _Terra Mariæ_, the Land of Mary, into an
-act of devotion and honor to Mary, the Queen of Heaven.
-
-The first Lord Baltimore did not live to see his project carried into
-effect; he died on the 25th of April, 1632, was succeeded by his son
-Cecilius, second Lord Baltimore, who, as Bancroft says, was the heir of
-his _intentions_ no less than of his fortunes; to him was issued the
-charter negotiated by his father, bearing date the 15th of June, 1632.
-
-Founded by a Catholic, designed as an asylum for persecuted Catholics,
-is it to be supposed that Lord Baltimore and his brother, Governor
-Leonard Calvert, who organized and led forth the pilgrims, would be so
-inconsistent at this moment of their success as to lose sight of the
-main object of the movement, and carry _Protestant_ colonists with whom
-to found a _Catholic_ colony? If, as Rev. Edward D. Neill, author of
-_Maryland not a Catholic Colony_, says, there were only twenty Catholic
-gentlemen in the ship, and three hundred servants, mostly Protestants,
-would it have been deemed necessary to carry two Catholic priests
-and their assistants along to administer to the souls of so small a
-number? In point of fact, the Protestants were so few that they brought
-no minister with them, and it was several years before their entire
-numbers justified their having either a minister or a place of worship.
-The voyage on the _Ark_ and _Dove_ was more like a Catholic pilgrimage
-than a secular expedition. The principal parts of the ship (the _Ark_),
-says Father White in his _Narrative_, were committed to the protection
-of God especially, and to his Most Holy Mother, and S. Ignatius, and
-all the guardian angels of Maryland. The vessel was a floating chapel,
-an ocean shrine of Catholic faith and devotion, consecrated by the
-unbloody sacrifice, and resounding with Latin litanies; its safety from
-many a threatened disaster was attributed to the intercession of the
-Blessed Virgin and the saints, whose mediation was propitiated by votive
-offerings promised and promptly rendered after their safe arrival at St.
-Mary’s. The festivals of the saints were faithfully observed throughout
-the voyage, the feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin was
-selected for landing, and the solemn act of taking possession was
-according to the Catholic form. Father White thus describes the scene:
-
-    “On the day of the Annunciation of the Most Holy Virgin Mary
-    (March 25), in the year 1634, we celebrated the Mass for the
-    first time on this island [St. Clement’s]. This had never been
-    done before in this part of the world. After we had completed
-    the sacrifice, we took upon our shoulders a great cross which
-    we had hewn out of a tree, and advancing in order to the
-    appointed place, with the assistance of the governor and his
-    associates, and the other Catholics, we erected a trophy to
-    Christ the Saviour, humbly reciting on our bended knees the
-    Litanies of the Sacred Cross with great emotion.”[110]
-
-They founded a city, the capital of the colony, and called it St. Mary’s.
-A Catholic chapel was subsequently erected there; and this too was
-dedicated to S. Mary. The city has passed away, but the little chapel
-still stands, preserved alike by Catholic and Protestant hands, as a
-monument of the faith and zeal of the Catholic pilgrims of Maryland.
-Mr. Griffith, the historian, uniting his voice to that of Bancroft and
-other writers, speaking of the object which inspired the settlement
-from its inception by Lord Baltimore in England, says: “Out of respect
-for their religion they planted the cross, and, after fortifying
-themselves, plainly and openly set about to obtain, by the fairest means
-in their power, other property and homes, where they should escape the
-persecutions of the religious and political reformers of their native
-country at that time.”[111]
-
-The church and parish of S. Mary were for many years the headquarters of
-the Jesuit missions of Maryland. During the succeeding years prior to
-1649 there was a steady influx of Catholics into the colony from England,
-as is evident by the land records and other official documents, and by
-the fact that the number of Catholic priests required for the settlement
-increased from two in 1634 to four priests and one coadjutor prior to
-1644. The Catholic strength was also increased by numerous conversions,
-as is shown by Father White’s _Narrative_, in which, at page 56, he
-relates that, “among the Protestants, nearly all who came over from
-England, in this year 1638, and many others, have been converted to the
-faith, together with four servants … and five mechanics whom we … have in
-the meantime won to God.” So numerous were these conversions, and they
-created so great a sensation in England, that measures were taken there
-to check them.
-
-That the colony was Catholic in its origin, and so continued until
-after the year 1649, when the Toleration Act was passed, has never been
-denied, according to our researches, except by Mr. Gladstone and the two
-Protestant ministers whom he quotes. Bancroft, writing of the religious
-toleration which prevailed in Maryland during this period, always speaks
-of it as the work of Catholics. In referring to the original colonists
-he adds, “most of them Roman Catholic gentlemen and their servants.”
-Even so unfriendly a writer as Bozman says: “The most, if not all, of
-them were Catholics.” Chancellor Kent speaks of the colony as “the
-Catholic planters of Maryland,” and Judge Story says they were “chiefly
-Roman Catholics.” Father White, in his _Narrative_, speaks of the few
-Protestants on board the _Ark_ as individuals, and not as a class.
-Bozman, alluding to the year 1639, and to “those in whose hands the
-government of the province was,” says: “A majority of whom were, without
-doubt, Catholics, as well as much the greater number of the colonists.”
-Mr. Davis, a Protestant, who drew his information from the official
-documents of the colony and State, gives unanswerable proofs of the fact
-for which we are contending. We give a single passage from his work on
-this point:
-
-    “St. Mary’s was the home--the chosen home--of the disciples
-    of the Roman Church. The fact has been generally received.
-    It is sustained by the tradition of two hundred years and by
-    volumes of unwritten testimony; by the records of the courts;
-    by the proceedings of the privy council; by the trial of
-    law-cases; by the wills and inventories; by the land-records
-    and rent-rolls; and by the very names originally given to the
-    towns and _hundreds_, to the creeks and rivulets, to the tracts
-    and manors of the county. The state itself bears the name of
-    a Roman Catholic queen. Of the six _hundreds_ of this small
-    county, in 1650, five had the prefix of _St._ Sixty tracts and
-    manors, most of them taken up at a very early period, bear the
-    same Roman Catholic mark. The creeks and villages, to this
-    day, attest the widespread prevalence of the same tastes,
-    sentiments, and sympathies. Not long after the passage of the
-    act relating to ‘religion,’ the Protestants, it is admitted,
-    outgrew their Roman Catholic brethren, and in 1689 succeeded
-    very easily in their attempt to overthrow the proprietary. But
-    judging from the composition of the juries in 1655, we see no
-    reason to believe that they then had a majority.”[112]
-
-Mr. Gladstone seems to favor the view that religious toleration in
-Maryland was derived from the charter. We are surprised at this, since
-“E. D. N.” (Rev. Edward D. Neill), whose pamphlet has furnished the
-substance of the entire passage we have quoted from Mr. Gladstone’s
-_Preface_, says in his _Maryland not a Roman Catholic Colony_, “The
-charter of Maryland granted to Lord Baltimore was not a charter
-of religious liberty, but the very opposite.” McSherry, a Catholic
-historian, says that “the ecclesiastical laws of England, so far as
-related to the consecration and presentation of churches and chapels,
-were extended to the colony, but the question of state religion was left
-untouched, and therefore within the legislative power of the colonists
-themselves.”[113] And Bozman, a Protestant historian, adopts the same
-view of the charter, for he regards the “Act for Church Liberties” passed
-in 1639, enacting that “Holy Church within this province shall have
-all her rights and privileges,” as an attempt to exercise a control of
-religion, and says: “We cannot but suppose that it was the intention of
-the Catholic government to erect a hierarchy, with an ecclesiastical
-jurisdiction, similar to the ancient Church of England before the
-Reformation, and to invest it with all its rights, liberties, and
-immunities.”[114] The same views are expressed by the same author at
-pages 68 and 350 of his history. While civil liberty was guaranteed by
-the charter to all within the province, we find no mention of religious
-toleration in its provisions. Nor do we find that immigration was made
-free by the charter, as alleged by Mr. Gladstone; the provision to which
-he refers simply assures to the subjects of England, “transported or
-to be transported into the province, all privileges, franchises, and
-liberties of this our kingdom of England,” but the decision of the point
-as to who should be transplanted or admitted to settle there was left
-to the lord proprietary and the provincial legislature. The grant by
-the king to Lord Baltimore of all the lands of the province in itself
-gave him the full control over immigration, by enabling him to fix the
-conditions to the grants of land to colonists, which would have kept out
-all except such as the lord proprietary wished to enter.
-
-We think we have shown that the Catholics were in the majority during
-the whole period covered by our discussion, and that the charter
-left them free to protect themselves from intrusion; that they were,
-consequently, all-powerful to perpetuate their numerical preponderance
-and control of the government. Why had they not the same motives for
-practising intolerance as the Puritans? Their positions, respectively
-and relatively, were the same in this particular, and the same reasons
-apply to both. No, they were actuated by a different spirit, and guided
-by different traditions. They possessed the power, and used it with mercy
-and benevolence; not only permitting but inviting Christians of every
-shade of opinion to settle in the province, but also offering grants
-of land on easy terms, and protecting the settlers from molestation on
-account of their religion. If they had not the power to proscribe, why
-should Bancroft, Griffith, Chambers, Kent, Story, and nearly all writers
-on the subject, have bestowed such encomiums on them for doing what they
-could not have refrained from doing? Why extol the toleration enjoined
-by Lord Baltimore and proclaimed by Governor Leonard Calvert, and the
-subsequently enacted Toleration Act of 1649, if the liberty it enacts was
-already secured by the charter of 1632?
-
-It is not necessary for us to go further into this question, since in
-either event the honor and credit of religious toleration in Maryland
-is due to a Catholic source. If the charter secured it, our answer is
-that the charter itself was the work of a Catholic, for Lord Baltimore
-is the acknowledged author of that document. “The nature of the document
-itself,” says Bancroft, “and concurrent opinion, leave no doubt that it
-was penned by the first Lord Baltimore himself, although it was finally
-issued for the benefit of his son.”[115] “It was prepared by Lord
-Baltimore himself,” says McSherry, “but before it was finally executed
-that truly great and good man died, and the patent was delivered to his
-son, Cecilius, who succeeded as well to his noble designs as to his
-titles and estates.”[116] It will be more than sufficient to add here
-that both Mr. Bozman and the Rev. Ethan Allen concede that Lord Baltimore
-was the author of the charter.
-
-We propose now to show that the religious toleration which prevailed
-in Maryland had its origin in the good-will, generosity, and mercy of
-the Catholic lord proprietary and his Catholic government and colony of
-Maryland; was practised from the very beginning of the settlement, and
-that we are not indebted for it to the Toleration Act of 1649, except
-perhaps as a measure by which its provisions were prolonged. Toleration
-was the course adopted in organizing the Maryland colony, even in
-England and before the landing of the pilgrims. Thus we find that some
-Protestants were permitted to accompany the colonists and share equal
-rights and protection with their Catholic associates. Father White speaks
-of them on board the _Ark_ and _Dove_. The author of _Maryland not a
-Catholic Colony_ refers to the fact that “Thomas Cornwallis and Jerome
-Hawley, who went out as councillors of the colony, were adherents of the
-Church of England,” as evidence in part that Maryland was “not a Catholic
-colony.” We take the same fact to show that not only were Protestants
-tolerated in the colony from its inception, but were liberally and
-generously given a share in its government. The Rev. Ethan Allen relates
-a succession of proofs of this fact, though not for that purpose, in
-the following passage: “Witness the fact of so large a portion of the
-first colonists being Protestants; his invitation to Capt. Fleet; his
-invitation to the Puritan colonists of Massachusetts to come and reside
-in the colony in 1643; his constituting Col. Stone his governor in
-1648, who was a Protestant, and was to bring five hundred colonists;
-his admitting the Puritans of Virginia in the same year; and in the
-year following erecting a new county for Robert Brooke, a Puritan, and
-his colonists.”[117] McSherry says, speaking of the act of possession
-on landing in 1634: “Around the rough-hewn cross, on the island of St.
-Clement’s, gathered the Catholic and the Protestant, hand in hand,
-friends and brothers, equal in civil rights, and secure alike in the free
-and full enjoyment of either creed. It was a day whose memory should make
-the Maryland heart bound with pride and pleasure.”[118] The same author
-says that the Toleration Act of 1649 was passed “to give _additional_
-security to the safeguards which Lord Baltimore _had already provided_.”
-Bancroft makes religious toleration commence from the first landing
-“when the Catholics took possession,” and extend throughout the fourteen
-years up to the passage of the act of 1649. He says that “the apologist
-of Lord Baltimore could assert that his government, in conformity with
-his strict and repeated injunctions, had _never_ given disturbance to any
-person in Maryland for matter of religion.”[119] The Rev. Ethan Allen
-relates that the Protestants in the colony were allowed to have their own
-chapel and to conduct therein the Protestant service. He cites a case
-in which a Catholic was severely punished for abusive language towards
-some Protestant servants in respect to their religion, and remarks that
-“the settling of the case was unquestionably creditable and honorable to
-the Catholic governor and council.”[120] Mr. Davis, a Protestant, says:
-“A freedom, however, of a wider sort springs forth at the _birth of the
-colony--not demanded by that instrument_ [the charter], but permitted by
-it--not graven upon the tables of stone, nor written upon the paper of
-the statute-books, but conceived in the very bosom of the proprietary and
-of the original pilgrims--not a formal or constructive kind, but a living
-freedom, a freedom of the most practical sort. It is the freedom which
-it remained for them, and for them alone, _either to grant or deny_--a
-freedom embracing within its range, and protecting under its banner, all
-those who were believers in Jesus Christ.”[121]
-
-Again, the same author writes: “The records have been carefully searched.
-No case of persecution occurred, during the administration of Gov.
-Leonard Calvert, from the foundation of the settlement at St. Mary’s
-to the year 1647.”[122] Langford, a writer contemporaneous with the
-period of which we are treating, in his _Refutation of Babylon’s Fall_,
-1655, confirms the result of Mr. Davis’ investigation of the records.
-The Protestants of the colony themselves, in a _declaration_, of which
-we will speak again, attribute the religious toleration they enjoyed
-not solely to the Toleration Act, but also to “_several other strict
-injunctions and declarations of his said lordship for that purpose
-made and provided_.” Gov. Leonard Calvert also enjoined the same by a
-proclamation, which is mentioned by numerous historians. A case arising
-under this proclamation is given by Bozman and others in 1638, eleven
-years before the passage of the Toleration Act. Capt. Cornwallis’
-servants, who were Protestants, were lodged under the same roof with
-William Lewis, a zealous Catholic, who was also placed in charge of the
-servants. Entering one day the room where the servants were reading
-aloud from a Protestant book--Mr. Smith’s _Sermons_--at the very moment
-the Protestants were reading aloud a passage to the effect “that the
-pope was Antichrist, and the Jesuits were anti-Christian ministers,”
-supposing that the passage was read aloud especially for him to hear, he
-ordered them with great warmth not to read that book, saying that “it
-was a falsehood, and came from the devil, as all lies did; and that he
-that writ it was an instrument of the devil, and he would prove it; and
-that all Protestant ministers were ministers of the devil.” All the
-parties were tried before the governor and his council; the case against
-the servants was postponed for further testimony, but Mr. Lewis, the
-Catholic, was condemned to pay a fine of five hundred pounds of tobacco
-(then the currency of the colony), and to remain in the sheriff’s custody
-until he found sufficient sureties in the future. Bozman thus remarks
-upon this decision: “As these proceedings took place before the highest
-tribunal of the province, composed of the three first officers in the
-government, they amply develop the course of conduct with respect to
-religion which those in whose hands the government of the province was
-placed, had resolved to pursue.”[123] Not only did the Catholic lord
-proprietary, in 1648, appoint Mr. Stone, a Protestant, to be the governor
-of the province, but also he at the same time appointed a majority of the
-privy councillors from the same faith.
-
-We will close our testimony on this point with the official oath which
-Lord Baltimore required the governor and the privy councillors to take;
-it was substantially as follows:
-
-    “I will not by myself nor any person, directly or indirectly,
-    trouble, molest, or discountenance any person whatsoever in
-    said province professing to believe in Jesus Christ, for or in
-    respect to his or her religion, nor in his or her free exercise
-    thereof.”
-
-We cannot determine when this oath began to be used. Bancroft places it
-between 1636 and 1639. Chalmers, Dr. Hawks, and others give the time
-as between 1637 and 1657. It is certain that this oath was prescribed
-prior to the passage of the Toleration Act; for Governor Stone and the
-councillors took the oath in 1648, and there is reason to believe that it
-was in use at a much earlier period.
-
-Referring to the period anterior to the passage of the Toleration Act,
-Bancroft says: “Maryland at that day was unsurpassed for happiness and
-liberty. Conscience was without restraint.”[124] Mr. Davis, in reference
-to this subject, writes: “The toleration which prevailed from the first,
-and for fifteen years later, was formally ratified by the voice of the
-people” (in 1649).
-
-Mr. Gladstone’s view of the subject is evidently superficial; it relates
-exclusively to the passage of the Toleration Act, and was conceived and
-published without the knowledge of the fact, which we have demonstrated,
-that the toleration for which the Catholics of Maryland have been so
-much praised had been practised for fifteen years before the passage of
-that act. Surely, there can be no rival claim set forth in behalf of
-Protestants for the period we have mentioned. Mr. Gladstone sets up his
-claim for the Protestants under that act. We cannot admit the justice or
-truth of the pretension. Let us examine it. This law enacted that “no
-one professing to believe in Jesus Christ shall be troubled, molested,
-or discountenanced for his religion, or the free exercise thereof, nor
-compelled to the belief or exercise of any other religion against his
-consent.” Now here, too, the claim set up by Mr. Gladstone, and by the
-authors of the pamphlets he quotes, is met by stern facts.
-
-In the first place, the Toleration Act of 1649 was the work of a
-Catholic. It was prepared in England by Lord Baltimore himself, and sent
-over to the Assembly with other proposed laws for their action. This fact
-is related by nearly all writers on Maryland history, including those
-consulted by Mr. Gladstone, except the writer of _Maryland not a Roman
-Catholic Colony_, who does not refer to the subject, except to claim that
-it was but the echo of a previous and similar order of the English House
-of Commons in 1645 and of a statute passed by it in 1647. The last-named
-writer even intimates that the Rev. Thomas Harrison, the former pastor of
-the Puritans at Providence, afterward Annapolis, in Maryland, suggested
-the whole matter to Lord Baltimore. We might even admit this pretension
-without impairing the Catholic claim. It does not destroy the credit
-due to the Catholics of Maryland in passing the Toleration Act to show
-that others, even Puritans, entertained in one or two instances similar
-views and enacted similar measures. We know that the Puritans in England
-were proscriptive, and that in New England they did not practise the
-toleration of Maryland. Even if Lord Baltimore had the measure suggested
-to him by the Puritan Harrison, the act itself, when adopted by him
-and put in practice, is still his act and that of the Assembly which
-passed it. It remains their free and voluntary performance. The merit
-which attaches to the good deeds of men is not destroyed by having been
-suggested by others. A Puritan might even share in the act without
-appropriating the whole credit to himself. But whatever merit is claimed
-for the Puritans in these measures--which we cannot perceive--is
-lost by their subsequent conduct. They overturned the government of
-Lord Baltimore in Maryland, and under their ascendency Catholics were
-persecuted in the very home of liberty to which Catholics had invited the
-Puritans. But of the existence of the English toleration acts mentioned
-by the writer referred to and by Mr. Gladstone, we have been supplied
-with no proof. That the Puritan Harrison suggested the measure to Lord
-Baltimore is hinted at, not roundly asserted, certainly not sustained by
-proof.
-
-But public facts give the negative to these pretensions. The Toleration
-Act of 1649 was the immediate echo of the actual toleration which, under
-the injunctions of Lord Baltimore, the proclamation of Governor Calvert,
-and the uniform practice of the colonists, had long become the common
-law of the colony. Why seek, in the turbulent and confused proceedings
-of the Long Parliament, a model or example for the Maryland law, when
-such exemplar is supplied nearer home by the colony itself from its first
-inception? To the people of Maryland, in 1649, the Toleration Act was
-nothing new; it was readily and unanimously received; it produced no
-change in the constitution of the province. Toleration was not the law
-or the practice of that day, either in England or her colonies; the echo
-was too remote and too readily drowned by the din of persecution and of
-strife.
-
-But the Maryland Toleration Act contains intrinsic evidence of a purely
-Catholic origin. The clause enforcing the honor and respect due to “the
-blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of our Saviour,” which we have already
-quoted, gives a Catholic flavor to the whole statute, and excludes the
-theory of parliamentary or puritanical influence in originating the
-measure. The claim thus set up is also against the concurrent voice of
-history, which, with great accord, gives the authorship of the law to
-Lord Baltimore, who, as he had enjoined and enforced its provisions on
-the colony for fifteen years, needed no assistance in reducing them to
-the form of a statute, which we are informed he did.
-
-But who were the lawgivers of 1649, and what was their religion?
-
-By the charter the law-making power was vested in Lord Baltimore and the
-Assembly. It was for some years a matter of contest between them which
-possessed the right to initiate laws. The lord proprietary, however,
-finally conceded this privilege to the Assembly. It was not uncommon for
-the Assembly to reject the laws first sent over by the lord proprietary,
-and afterwards to bring them forward themselves and pass them. But in
-1648, when Governor Stone was appointed, the Toleration Act was among
-the measures sent by Lord Baltimore, for the action of the Assembly. The
-government, then, consisted of Cecilius, Lord Baltimore, a Catholic,
-without whose sanction no law could be enacted, and whose signature to
-the measure in question was given the following year. The journal of the
-Maryland legislature was lost or destroyed, but fortunately a fragment of
-it is preserved, consisting of a report from the financial committee of
-the Assembly, and the action of that body on the bill of charges. With
-this document, and the aid of the historical facts recorded by Bozman and
-other historians, we are enabled to ascertain the names of the members
-of the Assembly in 1649.
-
-Gov. Stone was lieutenant-governor and president of the council,
-which was composed of Thomas Green, John Price, John Pile, and Robert
-Vaughan, commissioned by the lord proprietary; and the remaining
-councillors were Robert Clarke, surveyor-general, and Thomas Hatton,
-secretary of the colony, _ex-officio_ members of the council. The
-other members of the Assembly were the representatives of the freemen,
-or burgesses, as follows: Cuthbert Fenwick, Philip Conner, William
-Bretton, Richard Browne, George Manners, Richard Banks, John Maunsell,
-Thomas Thornborough, and Walter Peake, nine in number. The governor,
-councillors, and burgesses made sixteen in all; but as Messrs. Pile and
-Hatton, one Catholic and one Protestant, were absent, the votes actually
-cast were fourteen. On the memorable occasion in question the councillors
-and burgesses sat in one “house,” and as such passed the Toleration Act.
-Of the fourteen thus voting, Messrs. Green, Clarke, Fenwick, Bretton,
-Manners, Maunsell, Peake, and Thornborough were Catholics, and Messrs.
-Stone, Price, Vaughan, Conner, Banks, and Browne were Protestants. The
-Catholics were eight to six Protestants.
-
-But the Assembly was not the only law-making branch of the government.
-The executive, or lord proprietary, was a co-ordinate branch, and
-without his co-operation no law could pass. Now, the executive was
-a Catholic, and a majority of the Assembly were Catholics; so that
-we have it as a historical fact that in a government composed of two
-co-ordinate branches, _both branches of the law-making power_ which
-enacted the Toleration Act _were Catholic_. It is an important fact
-that if all the Protestant members of the Assembly had voted against
-the law, the Catholic majority could and would have passed it, and the
-Catholic executive was only too ready to sanction his own measure. It
-cannot, therefore, be said that the Catholics could not have passed the
-law without the Protestant votes; for we have seen that both of the
-co-ordinate branches of the government were in the hands of the Catholics.
-
-Waiving, however, the division of the government into two co-ordinate
-branches, by which method we have the entire government Catholic; and
-regarding the lord proprietary merely as individual, computing the
-lawgivers of 1649 simply numerically, we have the following result:
-
-                 LAWGIVERS OF 1649.
-
-    _Catholics._               _Protestants._
-
-    Lord Baltimore.            Lt.-Gov. Stone.
-    Mr. Green.                 Mr. Price.
-    Mr. Clarke.                Mr. Vaughan.
-    Mr. Fenwick.               Mr. Conner.
-    Mr. Bretton.               Mr. Banks.
-    Mr. Manners.               Mr. Browne--6.
-    Mr. Maunsell.
-    Mr. Peake.
-    Mr. Thornborough--9.
-
-As Catholics we would be quite content with this showing; but we are
-indebted to several Protestant authors--more impartial than Messrs.
-Gladstone, Allen, and Neill, who write solely in the interests of
-sect--for a computation of the respective Catholic and Protestant votes
-in the Assembly in 1649, which, leaving out Lord Baltimore, and making
-the number of votes fourteen, gives, according to their just and strictly
-legal computation, _eleven Catholic votes and three Protestant votes
-for the Act of Toleration_. Mr. Davis, in his _Day-Star of American
-Freedom_, and Mr. William Meade Addison, in his _Religious Toleration in
-America_, both Protestant authors, take this view, and enforce it with
-strong facts and cogent reasonings. We will quote a passage, however,
-from only one of these works, the former, showing their views and the
-method by which they arrive at the respective numbers _eleven_ and
-_three_. Mr. Davis writes: “The privy councillors were all of them, as
-well as the governor, the special representatives of the Roman Catholic
-proprietary--under an express pledge, imposed by him shortly before
-the meeting of the Assembly (as may be seen by the official oath), to
-do nothing at variance with the religious freedom of any believer in
-Christianity--and removable any moment at his pleasure. It would be
-fairer, therefore, to place the governor and the four privy councillors
-on the same side as the six Roman Catholic burgesses. Giving Mr.
-Browne to the other side, _we have eleven Roman Catholic against three
-Protestant votes_.”[125]
-
-We think, however, that if the computation is to be made by numbers, Lord
-Baltimore must be included, as the act received his executive approval,
-and could never have become a law without it. Thus, according to the
-views of Messrs. Davis and Addison, with this amendment by us, the
-numbers would stand twelve Catholic against three Protestant votes. But
-we prefer taking our own two several methods of computation, viz., by
-co-ordinate branches of the government, showing--
-
-    _Catholic._                       _Protestant._
-
-    The executive, Lord Baltimore,    None.
-
-    The Assembly, 2.
-
---and that estimated by numbers, counting Lord Baltimore as one, showing--
-
-    Catholics, 9.       Protestants, 6.
-
-This surely is a very different result from that announced by Mr.
-Gladstone, following the author of _Maryland not a Roman Catholic
-Colony_--viz., sixteen Protestant against eight Catholic votes. So far
-the numbers given by Mr. Gladstone and the writer he follows are mere
-assertion, unsupported by authority, either as to the composition of the
-Assembly or the respective religious beliefs of the members. Mr. Davis,
-however, gives in detail every member’s name, and refers to the proof by
-which he arrives at their names and number; and the same testimony is
-open, we presume, to the examination of all. In order that there may be
-no lack of proof as to the religious faiths they professed, he gives a
-personal sketch of each member of the Assembly in 1649, and proves from
-their public acts, their deeds of conveyance, their land patents, their
-last wills and testaments, the records of the courts, etc., that those
-named by him as Catholics were incontestably of that faith.
-
-The population of the colony in 1649 was also largely Catholic beyond
-dispute. We have already shown that it was Catholic by a large majority
-during the fifteen years preceding and up to that time. The above
-computations, showing a majority of the legislature to be Catholic,
-strongly indicates the complexion of the religious faith of their
-constituents. Up to 1649 St. Mary’s, the Catholic county, was the only
-county in the State, and Kent, the seat of the Protestant population, was
-only a _hundred_ of St. Mary’s. Kent was not erected into a county until
-the year the Toleration Act was passed. While St. Mary’s was populous
-and Catholic, Kent was Protestant and thinly settled. There were six
-_hundreds_ in St. Mary’s, all Catholic except perhaps one, and of that
-one it is uncertain whether the majority was Catholic or Protestant. “But
-the population of Kent,” says Davis, “was small. In 1639, if not many
-years later, she was but a _hundred_ of St. Mary’s county.[126] In 1648
-she paid a fifth part only of the tax, and did not hold in the Assembly
-of that year a larger ratio of political power. That also was before the
-return, we may suppose, of all the Roman Catholics who had been expelled
-or exported from St. Mary’s by Capt. Ingle and the other enemies of the
-proprietary. In 1649 she had but one delegate, while St. Mary’s was
-represented by eight. And this year she paid but a sixth part of the tax,
-and for many years after as well as before this Assembly there is no
-evidence whatever of a division of the island (of Kent) or the county,
-even into _hundreds_. Its population did not, in 1648, exceed the fifth,
-nor in 1649 the sixth, part of the whole number of free white persons
-in the province.”[127] After a thorough examination of the records, Mr.
-Davis arrives at the conclusion that the Protestants constituted only
-one-fourth of the population of Maryland at the time of the passage of
-the Toleration Act, in 1649. His investigations must have been careful
-and thorough, for he gives the sources of his information, refers to
-_liber_ and _folio_, and cites copiously from the public records. He
-thinks that for twenty years after the first settlement--to wit, about
-the year 1654--the Catholics were in the majority. He concludes his
-chapter on this subject with the following passage: “Looking, then, at
-the question under both its aspects--regarding the faith either of the
-delegates or of those whom they substantially represented--we cannot but
-award the chief honor to the members of the Roman Church. To the Roman
-Catholic freemen of Maryland is justly due the main credit arising from
-the establishment, by a solemn legislative act, of religious freedom for
-all believers in Christianity.”[128]
-
-But, fortunately, we have another document at hand, signed in the most
-solemn manner by those who certainly must have known the truth of the
-case, as they were the contemporaries, witnesses of, and participators
-in, the very events of which we are treating. This is what is usually
-known as the Protestant _Declaration_, made the year after the passage of
-the Toleration Act, and shortly after it was known that Lord Baltimore
-had signed the act and made it the law of the land. This important
-document is an outpouring of gratitude from the Protestants of the colony
-to the Catholic proprietary for the religious toleration they enjoyed
-under his government. It is signed by Gov. Stone, the privy councillors
-Price, Vaughan, and Hatton--all of whom were members of the Assembly
-that passed the Toleration Act--by all the Protestant burgesses in the
-Assembly of 1650, and by a great number of the leading Protestants of the
-colony. They address Lord Baltimore in these words:
-
-    “We, the said lieutenant, council, burgesses, and other
-    _Protestant_ inhabitants above mentioned, whose names are
-    hereunto subscribed, do declare and certify to all persons whom
-    it may concern that, according to an act of Assembly here,
-    _and several other strict injunctions and declarations by his
-    said lordship_, we do here enjoy all fitting and convenient
-    freedom and liberty in the exercise of our religion, under his
-    lordship’s government and interest; and that none of us are
-    anyways troubled or molested, for or by reason thereof, within
-    his lordship’s said province.”[129]
-
-This important document is dated the 17th of April, 1650. It proves that
-the religious toleration they enjoyed was not due alone to the act of
-1649, but to the uniform policy of Lord Baltimore and his government;
-and that even for the Toleration Act itself, which had recently become a
-law by his signature, they were indebted to a Catholic. Comment on such
-testimony is unnecessary.
-
-Chancellor Kent, with the charter, the public policy of Lord Baltimore,
-of his colonial officers and colonists, and the Toleration Act of 1649,
-all submitted to his broad and profound judicial inquiry and judgment,
-has rendered the following opinion and tribute to the Catholic lawgivers
-of Maryland, to whom he attributes the merit of the generous policy we
-are considering:
-
-    “The legislature had already, in 1649, declared by law that
-    no persons professing to believe in Jesus Christ should be
-    molested in respect to their religion, or in the free exercise
-    thereof, or compelled to the belief or exercise of any other
-    religion against their consent. Thus, in the words of a learned
-    and liberal historian (Grahame’s _History of the Rise and
-    Progress of the United States_), the Catholic planters of
-    Maryland won for their adopted country the distinguished praise
-    of being the first of American States in which toleration was
-    established by law, and while the Puritans were persecuting
-    their Protestant brethren in New England, and Episcopalians
-    retorting the same severity on the Puritans in Virginia, the
-    Catholics, against whom the others were combined, formed
-    in Maryland a sanctuary where all might worship and none
-    might oppress, and where even Protestants sought refuge from
-    Protestant intolerance.”[130]
-
-Catholics have written comparatively little upon this subject. The
-historians of Maryland have been chiefly Protestants. As long as
-Protestants so unanimously accorded to the Catholic founders of Maryland
-the chief credit of this great event, it was unnecessary for Catholics
-to speak in their own behalf. It has remained for Mr. Gladstone and the
-two sectarian ministers he follows to attempt to mar the harmony of that
-grateful and honorable accord of the Protestant world, by which Catholic
-Maryland received from the united voice of Protestant history the
-enviable title of “_The Land of the Sanctuary_.”
-
-
-ARE YOU MY WIFE?
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,”
-ETC.
-
-CHAPTER XI.
-
-A DINNER AT THE COURT, WITH AN EPISODE.
-
-Crossing from the station to his brougham, Sir Simon saw Mr. Langrove
-issuing from a cottage on the road. The vicar had been detained later
-than he foresaw on a sick-call, and was hurrying home to dress for
-dinner. It was raining sharply. Sir Simon hailed him:
-
-“Shall I give you a lift, Langrove?”
-
-“Thank you; I shall be very glad. I am rather late as it is.” And they
-got into the brougham together.
-
-“And how wags the world with you, my reverend friend? Souls being saved
-in great numbers, eh?” inquired the baronet when they had exchanged their
-friendly greetings.
-
-“Humph! I am thankful not to have the counting of them,” was the reply,
-with a shake of the head that boded ill for the sanctification of
-Dullerton.
-
-“That’s it, is it? Well, we are all going down the hill together; there
-is some comfort in that. But how about Miss Bulpit? Don’t her port wine
-and tracts snatch a few brands from the burning?”
-
-“For the love of heaven don’t speak to me of her! Don’t, I beg of you!”
-entreated the vicar, throwing up his hands deprecatingly, and moved from
-the placid propriety that seemed a law of nature to him.
-
-“Suppose I had good news to report of her?”
-
-“How so?” cried Mr. Langrove with sudden vivacity. “She’s not going to
-marry Sparks, is she?”
-
-“Not just yet; but the next best thing to that. She is going to leave the
-neighborhood.”
-
-“You don’t mean it!”
-
-“I do indeed. How is it you’ve not heard of it before? She’s been
-pestering Anwyll these two years about some repairs or improvements she
-wants done in her house--crotchets, I dare say, that would have to be
-pulled to pieces for the next tenant. He has always politely referred
-her to his agent, which means showing her to the door; but at last she
-threatened to leave if he did not give in and do what she wants.”
-
-“Oh! is that all?” exclaimed the vicar, crestfallen. “I might have waited
-a little before I hallooed; we are not out of the woods yet. Anwyll is
-sure to give in rather than let her go.”
-
-“Nothing of the sort. He dislikes the old lady, and so does his mother,
-and so particularly does your venerable _confrère_ of Rydal Rectory. I
-met Anwyll this morning at the club, and he told me he had made up his
-mind to let her go. It happens--luckily for you, I suspect--that he has a
-tenant in view to take her place. Come, now, cheer up! Is not that good
-news?”
-
-“Most excellent!” said the vicar emphatically. “I wonder where she will
-move to?”
-
-“Perhaps I could tell you that too. She is in treaty with Charlton for
-a dilapidated old hunting lodge of his in the middle of a fir-wood
-the other side of Axmut Common, about twenty miles the other side of
-Moorlands; it is as good as settled, I believe, and if so we are all safe
-from her.”
-
-“Well, you do surprise me!” exclaimed Mr. Langrove, his countenance
-expanding into a breadth of satisfaction that was absolutely radiant.
-“Who is the incumbent of Axmut, let me see?” he said, musing.
-
-“There is as good as none; it is a lonely spot, with no church within
-ten miles, I believe. I shrewdly suspect this was the main attraction;
-for the life of him, Charlton says, he can’t see any other. It is a
-tumble-down, fag-end-of-the-world-looking place as you would find in all
-England. It must be the clear coast for ‘dealing with souls,’ as she
-calls it, that baited her. There is a community of over a hundred poor
-people, something of the gypsy sort, scattered over the common and in a
-miserable little hamlet they call the village; so she may preach away to
-her heart’s content, and no one to compete or interfere with her but the
-blacksmith, who rants every Sunday under a wooden shed, or on a tub on
-the common, according to the state of the weather.”
-
-“Capital! That’s just the place for her!” was the vicar’s jubilant remark.
-
-In spite of the pleasure that lit up his features, usually so mild and
-inexpressive, Sir Simon, looking closely at the vicar, thought him worn
-and aged. “You look tired, Langrove. You are overworked, or else Miss
-Bulpit has been too much for you; which is it?” he said kindly.
-
-“A little of both, perhaps,” the vicar laughed. “I have felt the recent
-cold a good deal; the cold always pulls me down. I’ll be all right when
-the spring comes round and hunts the rheumatism out of my bones,” he
-added, moving his arm uncomfortably.
-
-“You ought to do like the swallow--migrate to a warm climate before the
-cold sets in,” observed Sir Simon; “nothing else dislodges rheumatism.”
-
-“That’s just what Blink was saying to me this morning. He urged me very
-strongly to go away for a couple of months now to get out of the way of
-the east winds. He wants me to take a trip to the South of France.” Mr.
-Langrove laughed gently as he said this.
-
-“And why don’t you?”
-
-“Because I can’t afford it.”
-
-“Nonsense, nonsense! Take it first, and afford it afterwards. That’s my
-maxim.”
-
-“A very convenient maxim for you, but not so practicable for an incumbent
-with a large family and a short income as for the landlord of Dullerton,”
-said Mr. Langrove good-humoredly.
-
-The baronet winced.
-
-“Prudence and economy are all very well,” he replied, “but they may be
-carried too far; your health is worth more to you than any amount of
-money. If you want the change, you should take it and pay the price.”
-
-“I suppose we might have most things, if we choose to take them on those
-terms,” remarked the vicar. “‘Take it and pay the price!’ says the poet;
-but some prices are too high for any value. Who would do my work while I
-was off looking after my health? Is that Bourbonais hurrying up the hill?
-He will get drenched; he has no umbrella.”
-
-“Like him to go out a day like this without one,” said Sir Simon in an
-accent of fond petulance. “How is he? How is Franceline? How does she
-look?”
-
-“Poorly enough. If she were my child, I should be very uneasy about her.”
-
-“Ha! does Bourbonais seem uneasy? Do you see much of him?”
-
-“No; not through my fault, nor indeed through his. We have each our
-separate work, and these winter days are short. I met him this morning
-coming out of Blink’s as I went in. I did not like his look; he had his
-hat pulled over his eyes, and when I spoke to him he answered me as if he
-hardly knew who I was or what he was saying.”
-
-“And you did not ask if there was anything amiss?” said Sir Simon in a
-tone of reproach.
-
-“I did, but not him. I asked Blink.”
-
-“Ha! what did he say?” And the baronet bent forward for the answer with
-an eager look.
-
-“Nothing very definite--you know his grandiloquent, vague talk--but
-he said something about hereditary taint on the lungs; and I gathered
-that he thought it was a mistake not having taken her to a warm climate
-immediately after that accident to her chest; but whether the mistake was
-his or the count’s I could not quite see. I imagine from what he said
-that there was a money difficulty in the way, or he thought there was,
-and did not, perhaps, urge the point as strongly as he otherwise would.”
-
-Sir Simon fell back on the cushions, muttering some impatient exclamation.
-
-“That was perhaps a case where the maxim of ‘take it first and afford it
-afterwards’ would seem justifiable,” observed Mr. Langrove.
-
-“Of course it was! But Bourbonais is such an unmanageable fellow in
-those things. The strongest necessity will never extract one iota of a
-sacrifice of principle from him; you might as well try to bend steel.”
-
-“He has always given me the idea of a man of a very high sense of honor,
-very scrupulous in doing what he considers his duty,” said Mr. Langrove.
-
-“He is, he is,” assented the baronet warmly; “he is the very ideal and
-epitome of honor and high principle. Not to save his life would he swerve
-one inch from the straight road; but to save Franceline I fancied he
-might have been less rigid.” He heaved a sigh, and they said no more
-until the brougham let Sir Simon down at his own door, and then drove on
-to take Mr. Langrove to the vicarage.
-
-A well-known place never appears so attractive as when we look at it
-for the last time. An indifferent acquaintance becomes pathetic when
-seen through the softening medium of a last look. It is like breaking
-off a fraction of our lives, snapping a link that can never be joined
-again. A sea-side lodging, if it can claim one sweet or sad memory with
-our passing sojourn there, wears a touching aspect when we come to say
-“good-by,” with the certainty that we shall never see the place again.
-But how if the spot has been the cradle of our childhood, the home of our
-fathers for generations, where every stone is like a monument inscribed
-with sacred and dear memories? Sir Simon was not a sentimental man; but
-all the tenderness common to good, affectionate, cultivated natures
-had its place in his heart. He had always loved the old home. He was
-proud of it as one of the finest and most ancient houses of his class in
-England; he admired its grand and noble proportions, its architectural
-strength and beauty; and he had the reverence for it that every well-born
-man feels for the place where his fathers were born, and where they have
-lived and died. But never had the lordly Gothic mansion looked to him
-so home-like as on this cold January evening when he entered it, in all
-human probability, for the last time. It was brilliantly lighted up to
-welcome him. The servants, men and women, were assembled in the hall to
-meet him. It was one of those old-fashioned patriarchal customs that were
-kept up at the Court, where so many other old customs survived, unhappily
-less harmless than this. As Sir Simon passed through the two rows of
-glad, respectful faces, he had a pleasant word for all, as if his heart
-were free from care.
-
-The hall was a sombre, cathedral-like apartment that needed floods
-of light to dispel its oppressive solemnity. To-night it was filled
-with a festal breadth of light; the great chandelier that hung from
-the groined roof was in a blaze, while the bronze figures all around
-supported clusters of lamps that gleamed like silver balls against the
-dark wainscoting. The dining-room and library, which opened to the
-right, stood open, and displayed a brilliant illumination of lamps and
-wax-lights. Huge fires burned hospitably on all the hearths. The table
-was ready spread; silver and crystal shone and sparkled on the snowy
-damask; flowers scented the air as in a garden. Sir Simon glanced at it
-all as he passed. Could it be that he was going to leave all this, never
-to behold it again? It seemed impossible that it could be true.
-
-As he stood once more in the midst of his household gods, those familiar
-divinities whose gentle power he had never fully recognized until now,
-it seemed to him that he was safe. There was an unaccountable sense
-of security in their mere presence; they smiled on him, and seemed to
-promise protection for their shrine and their votary.
-
-The baronet went straight to his room, made a hasty toilet, and came down
-to the library to await his guests.
-
-He was in hopes that Raymond would have come before the others, and that
-they might have a little talk together. But Raymond was behind them all.
-Everybody was assembled, the dinner was waiting, and he had not yet
-arrived.
-
-It was a mere chance that he came at all. Nothing, in fact, but the
-dread of awakening Franceline’s suspicions had withheld him from sending
-an excuse at the last moment; but that dread, which so controlled his
-life in every act, almost in every thought, compelling him to hide his
-feelings under a mask of cheerfulness when his heart was breaking, drove
-him out to join the merry-makers. It was all true what Mr. Langrove had
-said. There had been a return of the spitting of blood that morning,
-very slight, but enough to frighten Angélique and hurry her off with
-her charge to the doctor. He had talked vaguely about debility--nervous
-system unstrung--no vital mischief so far; the lungs were safe. The
-old woman was soothed, and went home resolved to do what was to be
-done without alarming her master or telling him what had occurred.
-She counted, however, without Miss Merrywig. That pleasant old lady
-happened from the distance to see them coming from the doctor’s house,
-and, on meeting the count next morning, asked what report there was of
-Franceline. Raymond went straight to Blink’s.
-
-“I ask you as a man of honor to tell me the truth,” he said; “it is a
-matter of life and death to me to know it.”
-
-The medical man answered his question by another: “Tell me frankly, are
-you in a position to take her immediately to a warm climate? I should
-prefer Cairo; but if that is impossible, can you take her to the South of
-France?”
-
-Raymond’s heart stood still. Cairo! It had come to this, then.
-
-“I can take her to Cairo,” he said, speaking deliberately after a
-moment’s silence. “I will take her at once.”
-
-He thought of Sir Simon’s blank check. He would make use of it. He would
-save his child; at least he would keep her with him a few years longer.
-“Why did you not tell me this sooner?” he asked in a tone of quick
-resentment.
-
-“I did not believe it to be essential. I thought from the first it would
-have been desirable; but you may recollect, when I suggested taking her
-even to the South of France, your daughter opposed the idea with great
-warmth, and you were silent. I inferred that there was some insuperable
-obstacle in the way, and that it would have been cruel as well as useless
-to press the matter.”
-
-“And you say it is not too late?”
-
-“No. I give you my word, as far as I can see, it is not. The return of
-the spitting of blood is a serious symptom, but the lungs as yet are
-perfectly sound.” M. de la Bourbonais went home, and opened the drawer
-where he kept the blank check; not with the idea of filling it up there
-and then--he must consider many things first--but he wanted to see it, to
-make sure it was not a dream. He examined it attentively, and replaced
-it in the drawer. A gleam of satisfaction broke out on the worn, anxious
-face. But it vanished quickly. His eye fell on Sir Simon’s letter of
-the day before. He snatched it up and read it through again. A new and
-horrible light was breaking on him. Sir Simon was a ruined man; he was
-going to be turned out of house and home; he was a bankrupt. What was
-his signature worth? So much waste paper. He could not have a sixpence
-at his bankers’ or anywhere else; if he had, it was in the hands of the
-creditors who were to seize his house and lands. “Why did he give it to
-me? He must have known it was worth nothing!” thought Raymond, his eyes
-wandering over the letter with a gaze of bewildered misery.
-
-But Sir Simon had not known it. It was not the first time he had
-overdrawn his account with his bankers; but they were an old-fashioned
-firm, good Tories like himself. The Harnesses had banked with them from
-time immemorial, and there existed between them and their clients of this
-type a sort of adoption. If Sir Simon was in temporary want of ready
-money, it was their pleasure as much as their business to accommodate
-him; the family acres were broad and fat. Sir Simon was on friendly but
-not on confidential terms with his bankers; they knew nothing of the
-swarm of leeches that were fattening on those family acres, so there was
-no fear in their minds as to the security of whatever accommodation
-he might ask at their hands. When Sir Simon signed the check he felt
-certain it would be honored for any amount that Raymond was likely to
-fill it up for. But since then things had come to a crisis; his signature
-was now worth nothing. Lady Rebecca, on whose timely departure from
-this world of care he had counted so securely as the means of staving
-off a catastrophe, had again disappointed him, and the evil hour so
-long dreaded and so often postponed had come. Little as Raymond knew of
-financial mysteries, he was too intelligent not to guess that a man on
-the eve of being made a bankrupt could have no current account at his
-bankers’. Dr. Blink’s decree was, then, the death-warrant of his child!
-Raymond buried his face in his hands in an agony too deep for tears. But
-the sound of Franceline’s step on the stairs roused him. For her sake he
-must even now look cheerful; love is a tyrant that allows no quarter to
-self. She came in and found her father busy, writing away as if absorbed
-in his work. She knew his moods. Evidently he did not want her just now;
-she would not disturb him, but drew her little stool to the chimney
-corner and began to read. An hour passed. It was time for her father to
-dress for dinner; but still the sound of the pen scratching the paper
-went on diligently.
-
-“Petit père, it is half-past six, do you know?” said the bright, silvery
-voice, and Raymond started as if he had been stung.
-
-“So late, is it? Then I must be off at once.” And he hurried away to
-dress, and only looked in to kiss her as he ran down-stairs, and was off.
-
-“Loiterer!” exclaimed Sir Simon, stretching out both hands and clasping
-his friend’s cordially.
-
-“I have kept you waiting, I fear. The fact is, I got writing and forgot
-the hour,” said the count apologetically.
-
-Dinner was announced immediately, and the company went into the
-dining-room.
-
-They were a snug number, seven in all; the only stranger amongst them
-being a Mr. Plover, who happened to be staying at Moorlands. He was an
-unprepossessing-looking man, sallow, keen-eyed, and with a mouth that
-superficial observers would have called firm, but which a physiognomist
-might have described as cruel. His hair was dyed, his teeth were false--a
-shrunken, shrivelled-looking creature, whose original sap and verdure, if
-he ever had any, had been parched up by the fire of tropical suns. He had
-spent many years in India, and was now only just returned from Palestine.
-What he had been doing there nobody particularly understood. He talked
-of his studies in geology, but they seemed to have been chiefly confined
-to the study of such stones as had a value in the general market; he had
-a large collection of rubies, sapphires, and diamonds, some of which he
-had shown to Mr. Charlton, and excited his wonder as to the length of
-the purse that could afford to collect such costly souvenirs of foreign
-lands simply as souvenirs. Mr. Plover had met his host accidentally
-a week ago, and discovered that he and the father of the latter had
-been school-fellows. The son was not in a position either to verify or
-disprove the assertion, but Mr. Plover was so fresh in his affectionate
-recollection of his old form-fellow that young Charlton’s heart warmed
-to him, and he then and there invited him down to Moorlands. He could
-not do otherwise than ask Sir Simon to include him in his invitation to
-the Court this evening; but he did it reluctantly. He was rather ashamed
-of his pompous, self-sufficient friend, whose transparent faith in the
-power and value of money gave a dash of vulgarity to his manners, which
-was heightened by contrast with the well-bred simplicity of the rest of
-the company. He had not been ten minutes in the room when he informed
-them that he meant to buy an estate if he could find an eligible one in
-this neighborhood; if not, he would rent the first that was to be had on
-a long lease. He wanted to be near his young friend Charlton. Sir Simon
-was extremely civil to him--surprisingly so.
-
-The other faces we know: Mr. Langrove, bland, serious, mildly exhilarated
-just now, like a man suddenly relieved of a toothache--Miss Bulpit was
-going from the parish; Mr. Charlton running his turquois ring through
-his curly light hair, and agreeing with everybody all round; Lord
-Roxham, well-bred and lively; Sir Ponsonby Anwyll, a pleasant sample
-of the English squire, blond-visaged, good-tempered, burly-limbed, and
-displaying a vast amount of shirt-front; M. de la Bourbonais, a distinct
-foreign type, amidst these familiar English ones, the face furrowed with
-deep lines of study, of care too, unmistakably, the forehead moulded to
-noble thought, the eyes deep-set under strong projecting black brows,
-their latent fire flashing out through the habitually gentle expression
-when he grew animated. He was never a talkative man in society, and
-to-night he was more silent than usual; but no one noticed this, not
-even Sir Simon. He was too much absorbed in his own preoccupation.
-Raymond sat opposite him as his _alter ego_, doing the honors of one side
-of the hospitable round table.
-
-The conversation turned at first on generalities and current events;
-the presence of Mr. Plover, instead of feeding it with a fresh stream,
-seemed to check the flow and prevent its becoming intimate and personal.
-Sir Simon felt this, and took it in his own hands and kept it going,
-so that, if not as lively as usual, it did not flag. Raymond looked
-on and listened in amazement. Was yesterday’s letter a dream, and
-would this supreme crisis vanish as lesser ones had so often done?
-Was it possible that a man could be so gay--so, to all appearance,
-contented and unconcerned, on the very brink of ruin, disgrace, beggary,
-banishment--all, in a word, that to a man of the baronet’s character and
-position constitute existence? He was not in high spirits. Raymond would
-not so much have wondered at that. High spirits are sometimes artificial;
-people get them up by stimulants as a cloak for intense depression. No,
-it was real cheerfulness and gayety. Was there any secret hope bearing
-him up to account for the strange anomaly? Raymond could speculate on
-this in the midst of his own burning anxiety; but for the first time
-in his life bitterness mingled with his sympathy for the baronet. Was
-it not all his own doing, this disgrace that had overtaken him? He had
-been an unprincipled spendthrift all his life, and now the punishment
-had come, and was swallowing up others in its ruin. If he had not been
-the reckless, extravagant man that he was, he might at this moment be a
-harbor of refuge to Raymond, and save his child from a premature death.
-But he was powerless to help any one. This is what his slavish human
-respect had brought himself and others to. A few hundred pounds might
-save, or at any rate prolong for perhaps many years, the life of the
-child he professed to love as his own, and he had not them to give; he
-had squandered his splendid patrimony in the most contemptible vanity,
-in selfish indulgence and unprofitable show. And there he sat, a piece
-of tinsel glittering like true gold, affable, jovial, as if care were a
-hundred miles away from him. M. de la Bourbonais felt as if he were in a
-dream, as if everything were unreal--everything except the vulture that
-was gnawing silently at his own heart.
-
-The conversation grew livelier as the wine went round. Mr. Plover was
-attending carefully to his dinner, and was content to let others do the
-most of the talking. A discussion arose as to a case of something very
-like perjury that a magistrate of the next county had been involved in.
-Some were warmly defending, while others as warmly condemned, him. Mr.
-Plover suspended the diligence of his knife and fork to join with the
-latter; he was almost aggressive in his manner of contradicting the other
-side. The story was this: A magistrate had to judge a case of libel
-where the accused was a friend of his own, who had saved him from being
-made a bankrupt some years before by lending him a large sum of money
-without interest or security. The evidence broke down, and the man was
-acquitted. It transpired, however, a few days later, that the magistrate
-had in his possession at the time of the trial proof positive of his
-friend’s guilt. In answer to this charge he replied that the evidence in
-question had come to his knowledge under the seal of confidence; that he
-was therefore bound in honor not only not to divulge it, but to ignore
-its existence in forming his judgment on the case. The statement was
-denied, and it was affirmed that the only seal which bound him was one of
-gratitude, and that he was otherwise perfectly free to make use of his
-information to condemn the accused.
-
-The dispute as to the right and the wrong of the question was growing
-hot, when Sir Ponsonby Anwyll, who noticed how silent Raymond was, called
-out to him across the table:
-
-“And what do you say, count?”
-
-“I should say that gratitude in such a case might stand in the place of a
-verbal promise and compel the judge to be silent,” replied Raymond.
-
-“The temptation to silence was very strong, no doubt, but would it
-justify him in pronouncing an acquittal against his conscience?” asked
-Mr. Langrove.
-
-“It was not against his conscience,” replied the count; “on the contrary,
-it was in accordance with it, since it was on the side of mercy.”
-
-“Quite a French view of the subject!” said Mr. Plover superciliously,
-showing his shining teeth through his coal-black moustache. “If I were
-a criminal, commend me to a French jury; but if innocent, give me an
-English one!”
-
-“Mercy has perhaps too much the upper hand with our tender-hearted
-neighbors,” observed Sir Simon; “but justice is none the worse for being
-tempered with it.”
-
-“That is neither here nor there,” said Mr. Plover. “Justice is justice,
-and law is law; and it strikes me this Mr. X---- has tampered with both,
-and it’s a very strange thing if he is not tabooed as a perjurer who has
-dodged the letter of the law and escaped the hulks, but whom no gentleman
-ought from this out to associate with.”
-
-“Come, come, that is rather strong language,” said Mr. Langrove. “We must
-not outlaw on mere inferential evidence a man who has borne all his life
-a most honorable name; and if worse comes to worst, we must remember
-it would go hard with the best of us to put a social brand on a friend
-that we were deeply indebted to, if we could by any possibility find a
-loophole of escape for him. A man may remain strictly honest in the main,
-and yet not be heroic enough not to save a friend on a quibble.”
-
-“Why, to be sure; there are honest men and honest men,” assented Plover.
-“I’ve known some whose moral capacity expanded to camels when expediency
-demanded the feat and it could be done discreetly. It’s astounding what
-some of these honest men can swallow.”
-
-Sir Simon felt what this speech implied of impertinence to Mr. Langrove,
-and, indeed, to everybody present. “Roxham,” he said irrelevantly, “why
-is your glass empty? Bourbonais, are you passing those delectable little
-_patés de foie gras_?”
-
-Raymond helped himself mechanically, as the servant presented again the
-rejected dish.
-
-“It would be a nice thing to define exactly the theory of truth and its
-precise limits,” observed Mr. Langrove in his serious, sententious way,
-addressing himself to no one in particular.
-
-“One should begin by defining the nature of truth, I suppose,” said Mr.
-Plover. “Let us have a definition from our host!”
-
-“Oh! if you are going in for metaphysics, I hand you over to Bourbonais!”
-said Sir Simon good-humoredly. “Take the pair of them in hand, Raymond,
-and run them through the body for our edification.”
-
-Raymond smiled.
-
-“I should very much like to have the count’s opinion on this particular
-point of metaphysics or morals, whichever it may be,” said Mr. Plover.
-“Do you believe it possible for a man to effect such a compromise with
-his conscience, and yet be, as our reverend friend describes him, a
-blameless and upright man?”
-
-“I do,” answered M. de la Bourbonais with quiet emphasis. “I doubt if
-any simple incident can with safety be taken as the key of a man’s
-character. One fault, for instance, may stand out in his life and color
-it with dishonor, and yet be a far less trustworthy index to his real
-nature than, a very slight fault committed deliberately and involving no
-consequences. We are more deliberate in little misdeeds than in great
-ones. When a man commits a crime, he is not always a free agent as
-regards the command of his moral forces; there are generally a horde of
-external influences at work overpowering his choice, which is in reality
-his individual self. When he succumbs to this pressure from without,
-we cannot therefore logically consider him as the sole and deliberate
-architect of his sin; hard necessity, fear of disgrace, love of life,
-nay, some generous feeling, such as gratitude or pity, may hurry a man
-into a criminal action as completely at variance with the whole of his
-previous and subsequent life as would be the act of a Christian flinging
-himself out of the window in a fit of temporary insanity.”
-
-“Subtly put,” sneered Mr. Plover. “If we were to follow up that theory,
-we might find it necessary on investigation to raise statues to our
-forgers and murderers, instead of sending them to the hulks and the
-gallows.”
-
-“It opens a curious train of thought, nevertheless,” remarked Lord Roxham.
-
-“I don’t fancy it would be a very profitable one to pursue,” said Plover.
-
-“I have sometimes considered whether it may not on given occasions be
-justifiable to do evil; I mean technically evil, as we class things,”
-said Lord Roxham.
-
-“For instance?” said Mr. Langrove.
-
-“Well, for instance--I’ll put it mildly--to convey a false idea of facts,
-as your friend X---- seems to have done in this libel business. I suppose
-there are cases where it would be morally justifiable?”
-
-“To tell a lie, you mean? That is a startling proposition,” said the
-vicar, smiling.
-
-“It has the merit of originality, at least,” observed Mr. Plover, helping
-himself to a tumblerful of claret.
-
-“I’m afraid it can’t boast even that,” said Lord Roxham; “it is only an
-old sophism rather bluntly put.”
-
-“I should like to hear the Count de la Bourbonais’ opinion on it,” said
-Mr. Plover, rolling the decanter across to his self-elected antagonist.
-
-Raymond had feigned unconsciousness of the stranger’s insolent tone thus
-far, though he had detected it from the first, and was only too deeply
-possessed by other thoughts to resent it or to care a straw for what
-this stranger or any human being thought of him or said to him. But the
-persistency of the attack forced him to notice it at last, if not to
-repel it; he was not sufficiently interested in the thing for that. But
-he was roused from the kind of stinging lethargy in which he had hitherto
-sat there, nibbling at one thing or another, oftener playing with his
-knife and fork, and touching nothing. He laid them down now, and pushed
-aside his glass, which had been emptied to-night oftener than was his
-wont.
-
-“You mean to ask,” he said, “if, according to our low French code of
-morals, we consider it justifiable to commit a crime for the sake of some
-good to ourselves or others?”
-
-“I don’t go quite that length,” replied Mr. Plover; “but I assume from
-what you have already said that you look on it as permissible to--tell a
-lie, for example, under given circumstances.”
-
-“I do,” said Raymond.
-
-There was a murmur of surprise and dissent.
-
-“My dear Bourbonais! you are joking, or talking for the mere sake of
-argument,” cried Sir Simon, forcing a laugh; but he looked vexed and
-astonished.
-
-“I am not joking, nor am I arguing for argument’s sake,” protested
-Raymond with rising warmth. “I say, and I am prepared to prove it, that
-under given circumstances we are justified in withholding the truth--in
-telling a lie, if you like that way of putting it better.”
-
-“What are they?”
-
-“Prove it!”
-
-“Let us hear!”
-
-Several spoke together, excited and surprised, and every head was bent
-towards M. de la Bourbonais. Raymond moved his spectacles, and, fixing
-his dark gray eyes on Mr. Plover as the one who had directly challenged
-him, he said:
-
-“Let us take an illustration. Suppose you entrust me with that costly
-diamond ring upon your finger, I having promised on my oath to carry
-it to a certain person and to keep its possession a secret. We will
-suppose that your life and your honor depend on its being delivered at
-its destination by me and at a given time. On my way thither I meet an
-assassin, who puts his pistol to my breast and says, ‘Deliver up your
-purse and a diamond which I understand you have on your person, or I
-shoot you and take them; but if you give me your word that you have not
-got it, I will believe you and let you go.’ Am I not justified, in order
-to save your honor and life and my own in answering, ‘No, I have not got
-the diamond’?”
-
-“Certainly not!” cried Plover emphatically, bringing his jewelled hand
-down on the table with a crash.
-
-“My dear sir!…” began some one; but Raymond echoed sharply:
-
-“‘Certainly not!’ Just so. But suppose I draw my pistol and shoot the
-robber dead on the spot? God and the law absolve me; I have a right
-to kill any man who threatens my life or my property, or that of my
-neighbor.”
-
-“You have! Undoubtedly you have!” said two or three, speaking together.
-
-“And yet homicide is a greater sin than a lie!” cried Raymond. He was
-flushed and excited; his eye sparkled and his hand trembled as he pushed
-the glasses farther away, and leaned on the table, surveying the company
-with a glance that had something of triumph and something of defiance in
-it.
-
-“Well done, Bourbonais!” cried Sir Simon. “You’ve not left Plover an inch
-of ground to stand on!”
-
-“Closely reasoned,” said Mr. Langrove, with a dubious movement of the
-head; “but.…”
-
-“Sophistry! a very specious bit of sophistry!” said Mr. Plover in a loud
-voice, drowning everybody else’s. “Comte and Rousseau and the rest of
-them in a nutshell.”
-
-“Crack it, then, and let’s have the kernel!” said Lord Roxham. He was
-growing out of patience with the dictatorial tone of this vulgar man.
-
-“Just so!” chimed in Mr. Charlton, airing a snowy hand and signet gem,
-and falling back in his chair with the air of a man wearied with hard
-thinking.
-
-“It’s too preposterous to answer,” was Plover’s evasive taunt; “it’s mere
-casuistry.”
-
-“A very compact bit of casuistry, at any rate,” said Sir Simon, with
-friendly pride in Raymond’s manifest superiority over his assembled
-guests; “it strikes me it would take more than our combined wits to
-answer it.”
-
-“Egad! I’d eat my head before _I’d_ answer it!” confessed Ponsonby
-Anwyll, who shared the baronet’s personal complacency in the count’s
-superior brain. But Raymond had lapsed into his previous silent mood, and
-sat absently toying with a plate of bonbons before him, and apparently
-deaf to the clashing of tongues that he had provoked. There was something
-very touching in his look, in the air of gentle dejection that pervaded
-him, and which contrasted strikingly with the transient warmth he had
-displayed while speaking. Sir Simon noticed it, and it smote him to
-the heart. For the first time this evening he bethought him how his
-own cheerfulness must strike Raymond, and how he must be puzzled to
-account for it. He promised himself the pleasure of explaining it to
-his satisfaction before they parted to-night; but meanwhile it gave him
-a pang to think of the iron that was in his friend’s soul, though it
-was part of his pleasant expectation that he would be able to draw it
-out and pour some healing balm on the wound to-morrow. He would show
-him why he had borne so patiently with the vulgar pedagogue who had
-permitted himself to fail, at least by insinuation, in respect to M. de
-la Bourbonais. The pedagogue meanwhile seemed bent on making himself
-disagreeable to the inoffensive foreigner.
-
-“It is a pity X---- was not able to secure Count de la Bourbonais as
-counsel,” he began again. “In the hands of so skilful a casuist his
-backsliding might have come out quite in a heroic light. It would have
-been traced to his poverty, which engendered his gratitude, and so on
-until we had a verdict that would have been virtually a glorification of
-impecuniosity. It is a pity we have missed the treat.”
-
-“Poverty is no doubt responsible for many backslidings,” said Raymond,
-bridling imperceptibly. He felt the sting of the remark as addressed to
-him by the rich man, or he fancied he did. “The world would no doubt be
-better as well as happier if riches were more equally divided; but there
-are worse things in the world than poverty, for all that.”
-
-“There is the excess of riches, which is infinitely worse--a more
-unmitigated source of evil, taking it all in all,” said Mr. Langrove.
-
-“Well said for a professional, my dear sir,” laughed Mr. Plover; “but
-you won’t find many outsiders to agree with you, I suspect.”
-
-“If by outsiders you mean Turks, Jews, and Hottentots, I daresay you are
-right,” said the vicar good-temperedly.
-
-“I mean every sensible man who is not bound by his cloth to talk cant--no
-offence; I use the word technically--you won’t find one such out of a
-thousand to deny that riches are the best gift of heaven, the one that
-can buy every other worth having--love and devotion into the bargain.”
-
-“What rank heresy you are propounding, my dear sir!” exclaimed Sir Simon,
-taking a pinch from his enamelled snuff-box, and passing it on. “You will
-not find one sane man in a thousand to agree with you!”
-
-“Won’t I though? What do you say, count?”
-
-“I agree with you, monsieur,” said Raymond with a certain asperity;
-“money can purchase most things worth having, but I deny that it can
-always pay for them.”
-
-“Ha! there we have the sophist again. It can buy, and yet it can’t pay.
-Pray explain!”
-
-“What do you mean, Raymond?” said Sir Simon, darting a curious, puzzled
-look at his friend.
-
-“It is very simple. I mean that money may sometimes enable us to confer
-an obligation which no money can repay. We may, for instance, do a
-service or avert a sorrow by means of a sum of money, and thus purchase
-love and gratitude--things which Mr. Plover has included in those worth
-having, and which money cannot pay for, though it may be the means of
-buying them.” The look that accompanied the answer said more to Sir Simon
-than the words conveyed to any one else. He averted his eyes quickly,
-and was all at once horrified to discover several empty glasses round the
-table. They were at dessert now.
-
-“Charlton, have you tried that Madeira? Help yourself again, and pass it
-on here, will you? I shall have to play Ganymede, and go round pouring
-out the nectar to you like so many gods, if you don’t bestir yourselves.”
-
-And then there was a clinking of glasses, as the amber and ruby liquid
-was poured from many a curious flagon into the glistening crystal cups.
-
-“Talking of gods, that’s a god’s eye that you see there on Plover’s
-finger,” observed Mr. Charlton, whose azure gem was quite eclipsed by the
-flashing jewel that had suggested M. de la Bourbonais’ illustration. “It
-was set in the forehead of an Indian idol. Just let Sir Simon look at
-it; he’s a judge of precious stones,” said the young man, who felt that
-his feeble personality gained something from the proximity of so big a
-personage, and was anxious to show him off. The latter complacently drew
-the ring from his finger and tossed it over to his host. It was a large
-white diamond of the purest water, without the shadow of a flaw.
-
-“It _is_ a beauty!” exclaimed Sir Simon with the enthusiasm of a
-connoisseur; “only it’s too good to be worn by a man. It ought to have
-gone to a beautiful woman when it left the god. I suppose it will soon,
-eh, Plover?”
-
-Mr. Plover laughed. He was not a marrying man, he said, but he would
-make no rash vows. Then he went on to tell about other precious stones
-in his possession. He had some amazingly sensational stories to relate
-concerning them and how he became possessed of them. We generally
-interest others when we get on a subject that thoroughly interests
-ourselves and that we thoroughly understand. Mr. Plover understood a
-great deal about these legendary gems, and the celebrated idols in which
-they had figured; he had, moreover, imbibed a certain tinge of Oriental
-superstition concerning the talismanic properties of precious gems, and
-invested them, perhaps half unconsciously, with that kind of prestige
-that is not very far off from worship. This flavor of superstition
-pierced unawares through his discourse on the qualities and adventures
-of various rubies and sapphires that had played stirring parts in the
-destinies of particular gods, and were universally believed to influence
-for good or evil the lives of mortals who became possessed of them.
-
-The company began to find him less disagreeable as he went on. They did
-not quite believe in him; but when a story-teller amuses us, we are not
-apt to quarrel with him for using a traveller’s privilege and drawing the
-long bow.
-
-By the time this vein was exhausted the party had quite forgiven
-the obnoxious guest, and admitted him within the sympathetic ring
-of good-fellowship and conviviality. M. de la Bourbonais had become
-unusually talkative, and contributed his full share to the ebb and flow
-of lively repartee. He was generally as abstemious as an anchorite; but
-to-night he broke through his ascetic habits, and filled and refilled his
-glass many times. It was deep drinking for him, though for any one else
-it would have been reckoned moderate. Before the dessert was long on the
-table the effect of the wine was visible in his excited manner and the
-shrill tone of his voice, that rose high and sharp above the others in a
-way that was quite foreign to his gentleness. Sir Simon saw this, and at
-once divined the cause. It gave him a new pang. Poor Raymond! Driven to
-this to keep his misery from bursting out and overwhelming him!
-
-“Shall we finish our cigars here or in the library?” asked the baronet
-when his own tired limbs suggested that a change of posture might be
-generally agreeable.
-
-As by tacit consent, the chairs were all pushed back and everybody rose.
-The clock in the hall was striking ten.
-
-“Do you know I think I must be going?” said Mr. Langrove. “Time slips
-quickly by in pleasant company; I had no idea it was so late!”
-
-“Nonsense! you are not going to leave us yet!” protested Sir Simon.
-“Don’t mind the clocks here; they’re on wheels.”
-
-“Are they?” said the vicar, and innocently pulled out his watch to
-compare it with the loud chime that was still trembling in the air.
-“Humph! I see your wheels are five minutes slower than mine!” he said,
-with a nod and a laugh at his prevaricating host.
-
-“Come, now, Langrove, never mind the time. ‘Hours were made for slaves,’
-you know. Come in and have another cigar,” urged Sir Simon.
-
-But the vicar was firm.
-
-“Then I may as well go with you,” said M. de la Bourbonais; “it’s late
-already for me to be out.”
-
-Sir Simon was beginning to protest, when his attention was called away by
-Lord Roxham.
-
-“Have you that diamond ring, Harness?”
-
-“What ring? Plover’s? No; I passed it to you to look at, and it didn’t
-come round to me again. Can it not be found?”
-
-“Oh! it’s sure to turn up in a minute!” said Mr. Plover. “It has slipped
-under the edge of a plate, very likely!” And he went to the table and
-began to look for it.
-
-“Come, let us be going, as we are going,” said M. de la Bourbonais to the
-vicar, and he went towards the door.
-
-“Wait a bit,” replied Mr. Langrove--“wait a moment, Bourbonais; we must
-see the end of this.”
-
-“What have we to see in it? It is no concern of ours,” was the slightly
-impatient rejoinder. Raymond was in that state of unnatural excitement
-when the least trifle that crosses us chafes and irritates. He had
-nothing for it, however, but to comply with the vicar’s fancy and wait.
-
-“Most extraordinary!” Sir Simon exclaimed, as crystal dishes and
-porcelain plates were lifted and moved, and silver filigree baskets
-overturned and their delicate fruits sent rolling in every direction. “It
-must have dropped; stand aside, everybody, while I look under the table.”
-Every one drew off. Sir Simon flung up the ends of the snowy cloth, and,
-taking a chandelier with several lights, set it on the floor and began
-carefully to examine the carpet; but the ring was nowhere to be seen.
-
-“If it is here, it is certain to be seen,” he said, still bent down.
-“Look out, all of you, as you stand; you may see it flash better in the
-distance.”
-
-But no flash was anywhere visible. The wax-lights discovered nothing
-brighter than the subdued colors of the rich Persian carpet. Sir Simon
-went round to the other side of the table, and searched with the same
-care and the same result.
-
-“You are not an absent man, are you?” he said, lifting the chandelier
-from the ground, and addressing the owner of the missing ring. “You are
-not capable of slipping it into your pocket unawares?”
-
-“I never did such a thing in my life; but that is no reason why I may not
-have done it now. Old wine sometimes plays the deuce with one,” said Mr.
-Plover, and he began to rummage his pockets and turn their contents on to
-the table-cloth. Its whiteness threw every article into vivid relief; but
-there was no ring.
-
-“This is very singular, very extraordinary indeed!” said Sir Simon in
-a sharp tone of annoyance. “Is any one hoaxing? Charlton, you’re not
-playing a trick on us, are you?”
-
-“What should I play such a stupid trick as that for?” demanded the young
-man. “I’m not such an idiot; but here goes! Let us have my pockets on the
-table too!”
-
-And following his friend’s example, he turned them inside out, coat,
-waistcoat, and trousers pockets in succession; but no ring appeared.
-
-“It is time we all followed suit,” said Sir Simon, and he cleared a
-larger space by sweeping away plates and glasses. “I am given to absence
-of mind myself, and, as you say, I may have taken a glass more than was
-good for me.”
-
-As he spoke he turned out one pocket after another, with no other result
-than to show the solidity and unblemished freshness of the linings; there
-was not a slit or the sign of one anywhere where a diamond ring, or a
-diamond without a ring, could have slipped through.
-
-“Well, gentlemen, I invite you all to follow my example!” said the host,
-stepping back from the table, and motioning for any one that liked to
-advance. His voice had a ring of command in it that would have compelled
-obedience if that had been necessary; but it did not seem to be so. One
-after another the guests came up and repeated the operation, while the
-owner of the ring watched them with a face that grew darker with every
-disappointment. Mr. Langrove and M. de la Bourbonais were standing
-somewhat apart from the rest near the door, and were now the only two
-that remained. The vicar came first. He submitted his pockets to the same
-rigorous scrutiny, and with the same result. A strange gleam passed over
-Mr. Plover’s features, as he turned his sallow face in the direction of
-M. de la Bourbonais. Suspicion and hope had now narrowed to this last
-trial. Raymond did not move. “Come on, Bourbonais; I have done!” said
-Mr. Langrove, consigning his spectacles and his handkerchief to his last
-pocket.
-
-But Raymond remained immovable, as if he were glued to the carpet.
-
-“Come, my dear friend, come!” Sir Simon called out, in a voice that was
-meant only to be kind and encouraging, but in which those who knew its
-tones detected a nervous note.
-
-“I will not!” said the count in a sharp, high key. “I will not submit to
-such an indignity; it has been got up for the purpose of insulting me. I
-refuse to submit to it!”
-
-He turned to leave the room.
-
-“Raymond, you are mad! You _must_ do it!” cried Sir Simon imperatively.
-
-“I am not mad! I am poor!” retorted the count, facing round and darting
-eyes of defiance at Sir Simon. “This person, who calls himself a
-gentleman, has insulted me from the moment I sat down to table with him,
-and you allowed him to do it. He taunted me with my poverty; he would
-make out now that because I am poor I am a thief! I have borne with him
-so far because I was at your table; but there is a limit to what I will
-bear. I will not submit to the outrage he wants to put upon me.”
-
-Again he turned towards the door.
-
-“You shall hand out my ring before you stir from here, my fine sir!”
-cried Mr. Plover, taking a stride after him, and stretching out an arm
-as if to clutch him; but Sir Simon quick as thought intercepted him by
-laying a hand on the outstretched arm, while Ponsonby Anwyll stepped
-forward and placed his tall, broad figure like a bulwark between Raymond
-and his assailant.
-
-“Let me go!” said the latter, shaking himself to get free from the
-baronet’s clasp; but the long, firm fingers closed on him like grim death.
-
-“You shall not touch M. de la Bourbonais in my presence,” he said; “you
-have insulted him, as he says, already. If I had seen that he detected
-what was offensive in your tone and manner, I would not have suffered it
-to pass. Stand back, and leave me to deal with him!”
-
-“Confound the beggar! Let him give me my ring! I don’t want to touch him;
-but as I live he doesn’t stir from this room till I’ve seen his breeches
-pocket turned wrong-side out!”
-
-The man had been drinking heavily, and, though he was still to all
-intents and purposes sober, this excitement, added to that caused by
-the wine, heated his blood to boiling-point. He looked as if he would
-have flown at Raymond; but cowed by Sir Simon’s cool self-command and
-determined will, he fell back a step, fastening his eyes on Raymond with
-a savage glare.
-
-Raymond meantime continued obstinate and impracticable. Mr. Langrove took
-his hand in both his, and in the gentlest way entreated him to desist
-from his suicidal folly; assuring him that he was the last man present
-whom any one in his senses would dream of suspecting of a theft, of the
-faintest approach to anything dishonorable, but that it was sheer madness
-to refuse to clear himself in the eyes of this stranger. It was a mere
-form, and meant no more for him than for the rest of them. But Raymond
-turned a deaf ear to his pleading.
-
-“Let me go! I will not do it! He has been insulting me from the
-beginning. I will not submit to this,” he repeated, and shook himself
-free from Mr. Langrove’s friendly grasp.
-
-Sir Simon came close up to him. He was pale and agitated in spite of his
-affected coolness, and his hand shook as he laid it on Raymond’s shoulder.
-
-“Raymond, for my sake, for God’s sake!” he muttered.
-
-But Raymond thrust away his hand, and said with bitter scorn: “Ha! I am a
-beggar, and so I must be a thief! No, I will not clear myself! Let this
-rich man go and proclaim me a thief!” And breaking away from them all, he
-dashed out of the room.
-
-“Hold! Stop him, or by ---- I’ll make hot work of it for you!” shouted
-Mr. Plover, making for the door; but Ponsonby Anwyll set his back to it,
-and defied him to pass. If the other had been brave enough to try, it
-would have been a hopeless attempt; his attenuated body was no match
-for the stalwart limbs of the young squire. He involuntarily recoiled as
-if Ponsonby’s arms, stoutly crossed on his breast, had dealt him a blow.
-Lord Roxham and Mr. Charlton pressed round him, expostulating and trying
-to calm him. This was no easy task, and they knew it. They were terribly
-shaken themselves, and they felt that it was absurd to expect this
-stranger, fuming for his diamond, to believe that M. de la Bourbonais had
-not taken it.
-
-“No one but a madman would have done such a thing, when it’s as certain
-as death to be found out,” said Sir Ponsonby, whose faith in Raymond was
-sustained by another faith. “Besides, we all know he’s no more capable of
-it than we are ourselves!”
-
-“Very fine talk, but where is the ring? Who has taken it, if not this
-Frenchman? I tell you what, he will be making out that it was his right
-and his duty to steal from a rich man to help a poor one. Perhaps he’s
-hard up just now, and he blesses Providence for the opportunity.”
-
-“Remember, sir, that you are speaking of a gentleman who is my friend,
-and whom I know to be incapable of an unworthy action,” said Sir Simon in
-a stern and haughty tone.
-
-“I compliment you on your friends; it sha’n’t be my fault if you don’t
-see this one at the hulks before long. But curse me! now I think of it,
-I’m at your mercy, all of you. I have to depend on you as witnesses, and
-it seems the fashion in these parts for gentlemen to perjure themselves
-to screen a friend; you will most likely refuse to swear to facts--if you
-don’t swear against them, eh?”
-
-“You must be drunk; you don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Mr.
-Charlton, forgetting to drawl, and speaking quickly like a sensible man.
-“It is as premature as it is absurd to imagine the ring is stolen; it
-must be in the room, and it must be found.”
-
-“In the room or out of it, it must and it shall be found!” echoed Mr.
-Plover, “or if not.…”
-
-“If not, it shall be paid for,” added Mr. Charlton; “it shall be
-replaced.”
-
-“Replaced! All you’re worth could not buy a stone like that one!”
-
-“Not its duplicate as a god’s eye invested with magical virtue,” said Mr.
-Charlton ironically; “but its value in the market can be paid, I suppose.
-What price do you put on it?”
-
-“As a mere stone it is worth five hundred pounds to any jeweller in
-London.”
-
-“Five hundred pounds!” repeated several in chorus with Mr. Charlton.
-
-Sir Simon said nothing. A mist came before his eyes. He saw Raymond in
-the grip of this cruel man, and he was powerless to release him. If the
-dread was an act of disloyalty to Raymond, Sir Simon was scarcely to
-blame. He would have signed away five years of his life that moment to
-see M. de la Bourbonais cleared of the suspicion that he had so insanely
-fastened on himself; but how could he help doubting? He knew as no one
-else knew what the power of the temptation was which had--had it?--goaded
-him to the mad act. Its madness was the strongest argument against its
-possibility. To pocket a ring worth five hundred pounds--worth five
-pounds--in the very teeth of the person it belonged to, and with the
-clear certainty of being immediately detected--no one in his right mind
-would have done such a thing. But was Raymond in his right mind when
-he did it? Had he been in his right mind since he entered the house
-to-night? There is such a thing as delirium of the heart from sorrow or
-despair. Then he had been drinking a great deal more than usual, and wine
-beguiles men to acts of frenzy unawares. If Sir Simon could even say to
-this man, “I will pay you the five hundred pounds”; but he had not as
-many pence to call his own. There had been a momentary silence after the
-exclamation of surprise that followed the announcement of the value of
-the diamond. Would Mr. Charlton not ratify his offer to pay for it? And
-if he did not, what could save Raymond?
-
-“Five hundred pounds! You are joking!” said the young man.
-
-“We’ll see whether I am or not! I had the diamond valued with several
-others at Vienna, where it was set,” said Mr. Plover.
-
-“Consider me your debtor for the amount,” said Sir Ponsonby Anwyll,
-stepping forward; “if the ring is not found to-night, I will sign you a
-check for five hundred pounds.”
-
-“Let us begin and look for it in good earnest,” said Lord Roxham. “We
-will divide; two will go at each side of the table and hunt for it
-thoroughly. It must have rolled somewhere into a crevice or a corner.”
-
-“I don’t see how a ring was likely to roll on this,” said Mr.
-Plover, scratching the thick pile of the carpet with the tip of his
-patent-leather boot.
-
-“Some of us may have kicked it to a distance in pushing back our
-chairs,” suggested Mr. Langrove; “let us set the lights on the floor, and
-divide as Lord Roxham proposes.”
-
-Every one seized a chandelier or a lamp and set it on the floor, and
-began to prosecute the search. They had hardly been two minutes thus
-engaged when a loud ring was heard, and after a momentary delay the door
-opened and M. de la Bourbonais walked in.
-
-“Good heavens, Bourbonais! is it you?” cried Sir Simon, rising from his
-knees and hastening to meet him.
-
-But Raymond, with a haughty gesture, waved him off.
-
-They were all on their feet in a moment, full of wonder and expectation.
-
-“I made a mistake in refusing to submit to the examination you asked of
-me,” said the count, addressing himself to all collectively. “I was wrong
-to listen only to personal indignation in the matter; I saw only a poor
-man insulted by a rich one. I have come back to repair my mistake. See
-now for yourselves, and, if you like, examine every corner of my clothes.”
-
-He advanced to the table, intending to suit the action to the words, when
-a burst of derisive laughter was heard at the other end of the room. It
-was from Mr. Plover. The others were looking on silent and confounded.
-
-“Do you take us all for so many born fools?” cried Mr. Plover, and he
-laughed again a short, contemptuous laugh that went through Raymond’s
-veins.
-
-He stood there, his right hand plunged into his pocket in the act of
-drawing out its contents, but arrested by the sound of that mocking
-laugh, and by the chill silence that followed. He cast a quick,
-questioning glance at the surrounding faces; pity, surprise, regret,
-were variously depicted there, but neither confidence nor congratulation
-were visible anywhere. A gleam of light shot suddenly through his mind.
-He drew out his hand and passed it slowly over his forehead.
-
-“My God, have pity on me!” he murmured almost inaudibly, and turned away.
-
-“Raymond! listen to me.” Sir Simon hurried after him.
-
-But the door was closed. Raymond was gone. Sir Simon followed into the
-hall, but he did not overtake him; the great door closed with a bang, and
-the friend he loved best on earth was beyond his hearing, rushing wildly
-on in the darkness and under the rain, that was falling in torrents.
-
-The apparition had come and gone so quickly that the spectators might
-have doubted whether they had not dreamt it or seen a ghost. No one
-spoke, until Mr. Plover broke out with a hoarse laugh and an oath:
-
-“If the fellow has not half convinced me of his innocence! He’s too great
-a fool to be a thief!”
-
-“Until he has been proved a thief, you will be good enough not to apply
-the term to Monsieur de la Bourbonais under my roof,” said Sir Simon.
-“Now, gentlemen, we will resume our search.”
-
-They did, and prosecuted it with the utmost care and patience for more
-than an hour; but the only effect was to fasten suspicion more closely on
-the absent.
-
-Mr. Plover was so triumphant one would have fancied the justification of
-his vindictive suspicion was a compensation for the loss of his gem.
-
-“Have you a pen and ink here, or shall I go into the library? I want to
-write the check,” said Ponsonby.
-
-“You will find everything you want in the library,” said Sir Simon,
-and Ponsonby went in. Some one rang, and the carriages and horses were
-ordered. In a few minutes Ponsonby returned with the check, which he
-handed to Mr. Plover.
-
-“If you require any one to attest my solvency, I dare say Charlton, whom
-you can trust, will have no objection to do it,” he remarked.
-
-“Certainly not!” said Mr. Charlton promptly.
-
-“Oh! it’s not necessary; I’m quite satisfied with Sir Ponsonby Anwyll’s
-signature,” Mr. Plover replied. And as he pocketed the check he went to
-the window and raised the curtain to see if Mr. Charlton’s brougham had
-come round. The rest of the company were saying good-by, cordial but sad.
-Sir Simon and the young squire of Rydal stood apart, conversing in an
-earnest, subdued voice.
-
-“Have you a trap waiting, or shall I drop you at the vicarage?” inquired
-Lord Roxham of Mr. Langrove.
-
-“Thank you! I shall be very glad,” said the vicar. “The night promised to
-be so fine I said I would walk home.”
-
-“You will have a wet ride of it, Anwyll; is not that your horse I see?”
-cried Mr. Charlton from the window, where he had followed his ill-omened
-friend. “Had you not better leave him here for the night, and let me give
-you a lift home?”
-
-“Oh! thank you, no; I don’t mind a drenching, and it would take you too
-far out of your way.”
-
-Mr. Plover and Mr. Charlton were leaving the room when Sir Simon’s voice
-arrested them.
-
-“One moment, Charlton! Mr. Plover, pray wait a second. I need not
-assure any one present how deeply distressed I am by what has occurred
-to-night--distressed on behalf of every one concerned. I know you all
-share this feeling with me, and I trust you will not refuse me the only
-alleviation in your power.”
-
-He stopped for a moment, while his hearers turned eager, responsive faces
-towards him.
-
-“I ask you as a proof of friendship, of personal regard and kindness to
-myself, to be silent concerning what has happened under my roof to-night;
-to let it remain buried here amongst ourselves. Will you grant me this,
-probably the last favor I shall ever ask of you?”
-
-His voice trembled a little; and his friends were touched, though they
-did not see where the last words pointed.
-
-There was a murmur of assent from all, with one exception.
-
-“Plover, I hope I may include your promise with that of my older
-friends?” continued the baronet, his voice still betraying emotion. “I
-have no right, it is true, to claim such an act of self-denial at your
-hands; I know,” he added with a faint laugh that was not ironical, only
-sad--“I know that it is a comfort to us all to talk of our misfortunes
-and complain of them to sympathizing acquaintances; but I appeal to you
-as a gentleman to forego that satisfaction, in order to save me from a
-bitter mortification.”
-
-As he spoke, he held out his fine, high-bred hand to his guest.
-
-Sir Simon did not profess to be a very deep reader of human nature, but
-the most accomplished Macchiavellist could not have divined and touched
-the right chords in his listener’s spirit with a surer hand than he
-had just done. Mr. Plover laid his shrivelled fingers in the baronet’s
-extended hand, and said with awkward bluntness:
-
-“As a proof of personal regard for you, I promise to hold my tongue in
-private life; but you can’t expect me not to take steps for the recovery
-of the stone.”
-
-“How so?” Sir Simon started.
-
-“It is pretty certain to get into the diamond market before long, and,
-unless the police are put on the watch, it will slip out of the country
-most likely, and for ever beyond my reach, and I would give double the
-money to get it back again. But I pledge myself not to mention the affair
-except to the officers.”
-
-He bowed another good-night to the company, and was gone. The rest
-quickly followed, and soon the noise of wheels crushing the wet gravel
-died away, and Sir Simon Harness was left alone to meditate on the events
-of the evening and many other unpleasant things.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-RECOLLECTIONS OF WORDSWORTH.[131]
-
-BY AUBREY DE VERE, ESQ.
-
-
-PART I.
-
-It was about eight years before his death that I had the happiness of
-making acquaintance with Wordsworth. During the next four years I saw
-a good deal of him, chiefly among his own mountains, and, besides many
-delightful walks with him, I had the great honor of passing some days
-under his roof. The strongest of my impressions respecting him was that
-made by the manly simplicity and lofty rectitude which characterized
-him. In one of his later sonnets he writes of himself thus: “As a _true_
-man who long had served the lyre”; it was because he was a true man that
-he was a true poet; and it was impossible to know him without being
-reminded of this. In any case he must have been recognized as a man of
-original and energetic genius; but it was his strong and truthful moral
-nature, his intellectual sincerity, the abiding conscientiousness of
-his imagination, so to speak, which enabled that genius to do its great
-work, and bequeath to the England of the future the most solid mass of
-deep-hearted and authentic poetry which has been the gift to her of any
-poet since the Elizabethan age. There was in his nature a veracity
-which, had it not been combined with an idealizing imagination not
-less remarkable, would to many have appeared prosaic; yet, had he not
-possessed that characteristic, the products of his imagination would
-have lacked reality. They might still have enunciated a deep and sound
-philosophy; but they would have been divested of that human interest
-which belongs to them in a yet higher degree. All the little incidents of
-the neighborhood were to him important.
-
-The veracity and the ideality which are so signally combined in
-Wordsworth’s poetic descriptions of nature made themselves, at least, as
-much felt whenever nature was the theme of his discourse. In his intense
-reverence for nature he regarded all poetical delineations of her with
-an exacting severity; and if the descriptions were not true, and true
-in a twofold sense, the more skilfully executed they were the more was
-his indignation roused by what he deemed a pretence and a deceit. An
-untrue description of nature was to him a profaneness, a heavenly message
-sophisticated and falsely delivered. He expatiated much to me one day,
-as we walked among the hills above Grasmere, on the mode in which nature
-had been described by one of the most justly popular of England’s modern
-poets--one for whom he preserved a high and affectionate respect. “He
-took pains,” Wordsworth said; “he went out with his pencil and note-book,
-and jotted down whatever struck him most--a river rippling over the
-sands, a ruined tower on a rock above it, a promontory, and a mountain
-ash waving its red berries. He went home, and wove the whole together
-into a poetical description.” After a pause Wordsworth resumed with
-a flashing eye and impassioned voice: “But nature does not permit an
-inventory to be made of her charms! He should have left his pencil and
-note-book at home; fixed his eye, as he walked, with a reverent attention
-on all that surrounded him, and taken all into a heart that could
-understand and enjoy. Then, after several days had passed by, he should
-have interrogated his memory as to the scene. He would have discovered
-that while much of what he had admired was preserved to him, much was
-also most wisely obliterated. That which remained--the picture surviving
-in his mind--would have presented the ideal and essential truth of the
-scene, and done so, in a large part, by discarding much which, though
-in itself striking, was not characteristic. In every scene many of the
-most brilliant details are but accidental. A true eye for nature does not
-note them, or at least does not dwell on them.” On the same occasion he
-remarked: “Scott misquoted in one of his novels my lines on Yarrow. He
-makes me write,
-
-    “‘The swans on sweet St. Mary’s lake
-    Float double, swans and shadow.’
-
-but I wrote,
-
-    “‘The _swan_ on _still_ St. Mary’s lake.’
-
-“Never could I have written ‘swans’ in the plural. The scene when I saw
-it, with its still and dim lake, under the dusky hills, was one of utter
-loneliness; there was _one_ swan, and one only, stemming the water,
-and the pathetic loneliness of the region gave importance to the one
-companion of that swan--its own white image in the water. It was for
-that reason that I recorded the swan and the shadow. Had there been
-many swans and many shadows, they would have implied nothing as regards
-the character of the scene, and I should have said nothing about them.”
-He proceeded to remark that many who could descant with eloquence on
-nature cared little for her, and that many more who truly loved her had
-yet no eye to discern her--which he regarded as a sort of “spiritual
-discernment.” He continued: “Indeed, I have hardly ever known any one
-but myself who had a true eye for nature--one that thoroughly understood
-her meanings and her teachings--except” (here he interrupted himself)
-“one person. There was a young clergyman called Frederick Faber,[132]
-who resided at Ambleside. He had not only as good an eye for nature
-as I have, but even a better one, and sometimes pointed out to me on
-the mountains effects which, with all my great experience, I had never
-detected.”
-
-Truth, he used to say--that is, truth in its largest sense, as a thing at
-once real and ideal, a truth including exact and accurate detail, and yet
-everywhere subordinating mere detail to the spirit of the whole,--this,
-he affirmed, was the soul and essence not only of descriptive poetry, but
-of all poetry. He had often, he told me, intended to write an essay on
-poetry, setting forth this principle, and illustrating it by references
-to the chief representatives of poetry in its various departments. It
-was this twofold truth which made Shakspere the greatest of all poets.
-“It was well for Shakspere,” he remarked, “that he gave himself to the
-drama. It was that which forced him to be sufficiently human. His poems
-would otherwise, from the extraordinarily metaphysical character of his
-genius, have been too recondite to be understood. His youthful poems, in
-spite of their unfortunate and unworthy subjects, and his sonnets also,
-reveal this tendency. Nothing can surpass the greatness of Shakspere
-where he is at his greatest; but it is wrong to speak of him as if even
-he were perfect. He had serious defects, and not those only proceeding
-from carelessness. For instance, in his delineations of character he does
-not assign as large a place to religious sentiment as enters into the
-constitution of human nature under normal circumstances. If his dramas
-had more religion in them, they would be truer representations of man, as
-well as more elevated and of a more searching interest.” Wordsworth used
-to warn young poets against writing poetry remote from human interest.
-Dante he admitted to be an exception; but he considered that Shelley,
-and almost all others who had endeavored to outsoar the humanities, had
-suffered deplorably from the attempt. I once heard him say: “I have
-often been asked for advice by young poets. All the advice I can give
-may be expressed in two counsels. First, let nature be your habitual and
-pleasurable study--human nature and material nature; secondly, study
-carefully those first-class poets whose fame is universal, not local, and
-learn from them; learn from them especially how to observe and how to
-interpret nature.”
-
-Those who knew Wordsworth only from his poetry might have supposed that
-he dwelt ever in a region too serene to admit of human agitations. This
-was not the fact. There was in his being a region of tumult as well a
-higher region of calm, though it was almost wholly in the latter that his
-poetry lived. It turned aside from mere _personal_ excitements; and for
-that reason, doubtless, it developed more deeply those special ardors
-which belong at once to the higher imagination and to the moral being.
-The passion which was suppressed elsewhere burned in his “Sonnets to
-Liberty,” and added a deeper sadness to the “Yew-trees of Borrowdale.”
-But his heart, as well as his imagination, was ardent. When it spoke
-most powerfully in his poetry, it spoke with a stern brevity unusual in
-that poetry, as in the poem, “There is a change, and I am poor,” and
-the still more remarkable one, “A slumber did my spirit seal”--a poem
-impassioned beyond the comprehension of those who fancy that Wordsworth
-lacks passion, merely because in him passion is neither declamatory nor,
-latently, sensual. He was a man of strong affections--strong enough on
-one sorrowful occasion to withdraw him for a time from poetry.[133]
-Referring once to two young children of his who had died about forty
-years previously, he described the details of their illnesses with an
-exactness and an impetuosity of troubled excitement such as might have
-been expected if the bereavement had taken place but a few weeks before.
-The lapse of time appeared to have left the sorrow submerged indeed, but
-still in all its first freshness. Yet I afterwards heard that at the
-time of the illness, at least in the case of one of the two children,
-it was impossible to rouse his attention to the danger. He chanced
-to be then under the immediate spell of one of those fits of poetic
-inspiration which descended on him like a cloud. Till the cloud had
-drifted he could see nothing beyond. Under the level of the calm there
-was, however, the precinct of the storm. It expressed itself rarely but
-vehemently, partaking sometimes of the character both of indignation
-and sorrow. All at once the trouble would pass away and his countenance
-bask in its habitual calm, like a cloudless summer sky. His indignation
-flamed out vehemently when he heard of a base action. “I could kick such
-a man across England with my naked foot,” I heard him exclaim on such
-an occasion. The more impassioned part of his nature connected itself
-especially with his political feelings. He regarded his own intellect
-as one which united some of the faculties which belong to the statesman
-with those which belong to the poet; and public affairs interested
-him not less deeply than poetry. It was as patriot, not poet, that he
-ventured to claim fellowship with Dante.[134] He did not accept the term
-“reformer,” because it implied an organic change in our institutions,
-and this he deemed both needless and dangerous; but he used to say that,
-while he was a decided conservative, he remembered that to preserve our
-institutions we must be ever improving them. He was, indeed, from first
-to last, pre-eminently a patriot--an impassioned as well as a thoughtful
-one. Yet his political sympathies were not with his own country only,
-but with the progress of humanity. Till disenchanted by the excesses
-and follies of the first French Revolution, his hopes and sympathies
-associated themselves ardently with the new order of things created by
-it; and I have heard him say that he did not know how any generous-minded
-_young_ man, entering on life at the time of that great uprising, could
-have escaped the illusion. To the end his sympathies were ever with the
-cottage hearth far more than with the palace. If he became a strong
-supporter of what has been called “the hierarchy of society,” it was
-chiefly because he believed the principle of “equality” to be fatal to
-the well-being and the true dignity of the poor. Moreover, in siding
-politically with the crown and the coronets, he considered himself to be
-siding with the weaker party in our democratic days.
-
-The absence of love-poetry in Wordsworth’s works has often been remarked
-upon, and indeed brought as a charge against them. He once told me that
-if he had avoided that form of composition, it was by no means because
-the theme did not interest him, but because, treated as it commonly
-has been, it tends rather to disturb and lower the reader’s moral and
-imaginative being than to elevate it. He feared to handle it amiss.
-He seemed to think that the subject had been so long vulgarized that
-few poets had a right to assume that they could treat it worthily,
-especially as the theme, when treated unworthily, was such an easy
-and cheap way of winning applause. It has been observed also that the
-religion of Wordsworth’s poetry, at least of his earlier poetry, is
-not as distinctly “revealed religion” as might have been expected from
-this poet’s well-known adherence to what he has called emphatically “The
-lord, and mighty paramount of truths.” He once remarked to me himself
-on this circumstance, and explained it by stating that when in youth
-his imagination was shaping for itself the channel in which it was to
-flow, his religious convictions were less definite and less strong than
-they had become on more mature thought; and that, when his poetic mind
-and manner had once been formed, he feared that he might, in attempting
-to modify them, have become constrained. He added that on such matters
-he ever wrote with great diffidence, remembering that if there were
-many subjects too low for song, there were some too high. Wordsworth’s
-general confidence in his own powers, which was strong, though far from
-exaggerated, rendered more striking and more touching his humility in
-all that concerned religion. It used to remind me of what I once heard
-Mr. Rogers say, viz.: “There is a special character of _greatness_ about
-humility; for it implies that a man can, in an unusual degree, estimate
-the _greatness_ of what is above us.” Fortunately, his diffidence did
-not keep Wordsworth silent on sacred themes. His later poems include
-an unequivocal as well as beautiful confession of Christian faith; and
-one of them, “The Primrose of the Rock,” is as distinctly Wordsworthian
-in its inspiration as it is Christian in its doctrine. Wordsworth was
-a “High-Churchman,” and also, in his prose mind, strongly anti-Roman
-Catholic, partly on political grounds; but that it was otherwise as
-regards his mind poetic is obvious from many passages in his Christian
-poetry, especially those which refer to the monastic system and the
-Schoolmen, and his sonnet on the Blessed Virgin, whom he addresses as
-
-    “Our tainted nature’s solitary boast.”
-
-He used to say that the idea of one who was both Virgin and Mother had
-sunk so deep into the heart of humanity that there it must ever remain.
-
-Wordsworth’s estimate of his contemporaries was not generally high. I
-remember his once saying to me: “I have known many that might be called
-very _clever_ men, and a good many of real and vigorous _abilities_, but
-few of genius; and only one whom I should call ‘wonderful.’ That one was
-Coleridge. At any hour of the day or night he would talk by the hour, if
-there chanced to be _any_ sympathetic listener, and talk better than the
-best page of his writings; for a pen half paralyzed his genius. A child
-would sit quietly at his feet and wonder, till the torrent had passed by.
-The only man like Coleridge whom I have known is Sir William Hamilton,
-Astronomer Royal of Dublin.” I remember, however, that when I recited
-by his fireside Alfred Tennyson’s two political poems, “You ask me why,
-though ill at ease,” and “Of old sat Freedom on the heights,” the old
-bard listened with a deepening attention, and, when I had ended, said
-after a pause, “I must acknowledge that those two poems are very solid
-and noble in thought. Their diction also seems singularly stately.” He
-was a great admirer of Philip van Artevelde. In the case of a certain
-poet since dead, and little popular, he said to me: “I consider his
-sonnets to be certainly the best of modern times”; adding, “Of course
-I am not including my own in any comparison with those of others.” He
-was not sanguine as to the future of English poetry. He thought that
-there was much to be supplied in other departments of our literature,
-and especially he desired a really great history of England; but he
-was disposed to regard the roll of English poetry as made up, and as
-leaving place for little more except what was likely to be eccentric or
-imitational.
-
-In his younger days Wordsworth had had to fight a great battle in poetry;
-for both his subjects and his mode of treating them were antagonistic to
-the maxims then current. It was fortunate for posterity, no doubt, that
-his long “militant estate” was animated by some mingling of personal
-ambition with his love of poetry. Speaking in an early sonnet of
-
-    “The poets, who on earth have made us heirs
-    Of truth, and pure delight, by heavenly lays,”
-
-he concludes:
-
-    “Oh! might my name be numbered among theirs,
-    Then gladly would I end my mortal days.”
-
-He died at eighty, and general fame did not come to him till about
-fifteen years before his death. This might perhaps have been fifteen
-years too soon, if he had set any inordinate value on it. But it was
-not so. Shelley tells us that “Fame is love disguised”; and it was
-intellectual sympathy that Wordsworth had always valued far more than
-reputation. “Give me thy love; I claim no other fee,” had been his demand
-on his reader. When fame had laid her tardy garland at his feet, he found
-on it no fresher green than his “Rydalian laurels” had always worn. Once
-he said to me: “It is indeed a deep satisfaction to hope and believe
-that my poetry will be, while it lasts, a help to the cause of virtue and
-truth, especially among the young. As for myself, it seems now of little
-moment how long I may be remembered. When a man pushes off in his little
-boat into the great seas of Infinity and Eternity, it surely signifies
-little how long he is kept in sight by watchers from the shore.”
-
-Such are my chief recollections of the great poet, whom I knew but in
-his old age, but whose heart retained its youth till his daughter Dora’s
-death. He seemed to me one who from boyhood had been faithful to a high
-vocation; one who had esteemed it his office to minister, in an age of
-conventional civilization, at nature’s altar, and who had in his later
-life explained and vindicated such lifelong ministration, even while he
-seemed to apologize for it, in the memorable confession,
-
-    “But who is innocent? By grace divine,
-    Not otherwise, O Nature! are we thine.”[135]
-
-It was to nature as first created, not to nature as corrupted by
-“disnatured” passions, that his song had attributed such high and healing
-powers. In singing her praise he had chosen a theme loftier than most
-of his readers knew--loftier, as he perhaps eventually discovered,
-than he had at first supposed it to be. Utterly without Shakspere’s
-dramatic faculty, he was richer and wider in the humanities than any
-poet since Shakspere. Wholly unlike Milton in character and in opinions,
-he abounds in passages to be paralleled only by Milton in solemn and
-spiritual sublimity, and not even by Milton in pathos. It was plain
-to those who knew Wordsworth that he had kept his great gift pure,
-and used it honestly and thoroughly for that purpose for which it had
-been bestowed. He had ever written with a conscientious reverence for
-that gift; but he had also written spontaneously. He had composed with
-care--not the exaggerated solicitude which is prompted by vanity, and
-which frets itself to unite incompatible excellences, but the diligence
-which shrinks from no toil while eradicating blemishes that confuse a
-poem’s meaning and frustrate its purpose. He regarded poetry as an art;
-but he also regarded art, not as the compeer of nature, much less her
-superior, but as her servant and interpreter. He wrote poetry likewise,
-no doubt, in a large measure, because self-utterance was an essential
-law of his nature. If he had a companion, he discoursed like one whose
-thoughts must needs run on in audible current; if he walked alone among
-his mountains, he murmured old songs. He was like a pine-grove, vocal
-as well as visible. But to poetry he had dedicated himself as to the
-utterance of the highest truths brought within the range of his life’s
-experience; and if his poetry has been accused of egotism, the charge
-has come from those who did not perceive that it was with a human, not
-a mere personal, interest that he habitually watched the processes of
-his own mind. He drew from the fountain that was nearest at hand what he
-hoped might be a refreshment to those far off. He once said, speaking of
-a departed man of genius, who had lived an unhappy life and deplorably
-abused his powers, to the lasting calamity of his country: “A great poet
-must be a great man; and a great man must be a good man; and a good man
-ought to be a happy man.” To know Wordsworth was to feel sure that if he
-had been a great poet, it was not merely because he had been endowed with
-a great imagination, but because he had been a good man, a great man, and
-a man whose poetry had, in an especial sense, been the expression of a
-healthily happy moral being.
-
-_P.S._--Wordsworth was by no means without humor. When the Queen, on one
-occasion, gave a masked ball, some one said that a certain youthful poet,
-who has since reached a deservedly high place both in the literary and
-political world, but who was then known chiefly as an accomplished and
-amusing young man of society, was to attend it dressed in the character
-of the father of English poetry--grave old Chaucer. “What!” said
-Wordsworth, “M---- go as Chaucer! Then it only remains for me to go as
-M----!”
-
-
-PART II.
-
-SONNET--RYDAL WITH WORDSWORTH.
-
-BY THE LATE SIR AUBREY DE VERE.
-
-    “What we beheld scarce can I now recall
-    In one connected picture; images
-    Hurrying so swiftly their fresh witcheries
-    O’er the mind’s mirror, that the several
-    Seems lost, or blended in the mighty all.
-    Lone lakes; rills gushing through rock-rooted trees;
-    Peaked mountains shadowing vales of peacefulness;
-    Glens echoing to the flashing waterfall.
-    Then that sweet twilight isle! with friends delayed
-    Beside a ferny bank ’neath oaks and yews;
-    The moon between two mountain peaks embayed;
-    Heaven and the waters dyed with sunset hues:
-    And he, the poet of the age and land,
-    Discoursing as we wandered hand in hand.”
-
-The above-written sonnet is the record of a delightful day spent by
-my father in 1833 with Wordsworth at Rydal, to which he went from the
-still more beautiful shores of Ulswater, where he had been sojourning at
-Halsteads. He had been one of Wordsworth’s warmest admirers when their
-number was small, and in 1842 he dedicated a volume of poems to him.[136]
-He taught me when a boy of eighteen years old to admire the great bard.
-I had been very enthusiastically praising Lord Byron’s poetry. My father
-calmly replied: “Wordsworth is the great poet of modern times.” Much
-surprised, I asked: “And what may his special merits be?” The answer was,
-“They are very various; as, for instance, depth, largeness, elevation,
-and, what is rare in modern poetry, an _entire_ purity. In his noble
-‘Laodamia’ they are chiefly majesty and pathos.” A few weeks afterwards
-I chanced to take from the library shelves a volume of Wordsworth, and
-it opened on “Laodamia.” Some strong, calm hand seemed to have been laid
-on my head, and bound me to the spot till I had come to the end. As I
-read, a new world, hitherto unimagined, opened itself out, stretching far
-away into serene infinitudes. The region was one to me unknown, but the
-harmony of the picture attested its reality. Above and around were indeed
-
-    “An ampler ether, a diviner air,
-    And fields invested with purpureal gleams”;
-
-and when I reached the line,
-
-    “Calm pleasures there abide--majestic pains,”
-
-I felt that no tenants less stately could walk in so lordly a precinct.
-I had been translated into another planet of song--one with larger
-movements and a longer year. A wider conception of poetry had become
-mine, and the Byronian enthusiasm fell from me like a bond that is
-broken by being outgrown. The incident illustrates poetry in one of
-its many characters--that of the “deliverer.” The ready sympathies
-and inexperienced imagination of youth make it surrender itself easily
-despite its better aspirations, or in consequence of them, to a false
-greatness; and the true greatness, once revealed, sets it free. As early
-as 1824 Walter Savage Landor, in his “Imaginary Conversation” between
-Southey and Porson, had pronounced Wordsworth’s “Laodamia” to be “a
-composition such as Sophocles might have exulted to own, and a part of
-which might have been heard with shouts of rapture in the regions he
-describes”--the Elysian Fields.
-
-Wordsworth frequently spoke of death, as if it were the taking of a
-new degree in the University of Life. “I should like,” he remarked to
-a young lady, “to visit Italy again before I move to another planet.”
-He sometimes made a mistake in assuming that others were equally
-philosophical. We were once breakfasting at the house of Mr. Rogers, when
-Wordsworth, after gazing attentively round the room with a benignant and
-complacent expression, turned to our host, and, wishing to compliment
-him, said: “Mr. Rogers, I never see this house, so perfect in its taste,
-so exquisite in all its arrangements, and decorated with such well-chosen
-pictures, without fancying it the very house imaged to himself by the
-Roman poet when, in illustration of man’s mortality, he says: ‘Linquenda
-est domus.’” “What is that you’re saying?” replied Mr. Rogers, whose
-years between eighty and ninety, had not improved his hearing. “I was
-remarking that your house,” replied Wordsworth, “always reminds me of
-the ode (more properly called an elegy, though doubtless the lyrical
-measure not unnaturally causes it to be included among Horace’s odes)
-in which the Roman poet writes: ‘Linquenda est domus’; that is, since,
-ladies being present, a translation may be deemed desirable, _The house
-is_, or _has to be, left_; and again,’et placens uxor’--and the pleasing
-wife; though, as we must all regret, that part of the quotation is not
-applicable on the present occasion.” The Town Bard, on whom “no angle
-smiled” more than the end of St. James’ Place, did not enter into the
-views of the Bard of the Mountains. His answer was what children call
-“making a great face,” and the ejaculation, “Don’t talk Latin in the
-society of ladies.” When I was going away, he remarked, “What a stimulus
-the mountain air has on the appetite! I made a sign to Edmund to hand him
-the cutlets a second time. I was afraid he would stick his fork into that
-beautiful woman who sat next him.” Wordsworth never resented a jest at
-his own expense. Once when we had knocked three times in vain at the door
-of a London house, I exclaimed, quoting his sonnet written on Westminster
-Bridge,
-
-    “Dear God, the very houses seem asleep.”
-
-He laughed heartily, then smiled gravely, and lastly recounted the
-occasion and described the early morning on which that sonnet was
-written. He did not recite more than a part of it, to the accompaniment
-of distant cab and carriage; and I thought that the door was opened too
-soon.
-
-Wordsworth, despite his dislike to great cities, was attracted
-occasionally in his later years
-
-    “To the proud margin of the Thames
-    And Lambeth’s venerable towers,”
-
-where his society was courted by persons of the most different character.
-But he complained bitterly of the great city. It was next to impossible,
-he remarked, to tell the truth in it. “Yesterday I was at S---- House;
-the Duchess of S----, showing me the pictures, observed: ‘This is the
-portrait of my brother’ (naming him), ‘and it is considered very like.’
-To this I assented, partly perhaps in absence of mind, but partly, I
-think, with an impression that her grace’s brother was probably a person
-whose face every one knew or was expected to know; so that, as I had
-never met him, my answer was in fact a lie! It is too bad that, when more
-than seventy years old, I should be drawn from the mountains to London
-in order to tell a lie!” He made his complaint wherever he went, laying
-the blame, however, not so much on himself or on the duchess as on the
-corrupt city; and some of those who learned how the most truthful man
-in England had thus quickly been subverted by metropolitan snares came
-to the conclusion that within a few years more no virtue would be left
-extant in the land. He was likewise maltreated in lesser ways. “This
-morning I was compelled by my engagements to eat three breakfasts--one
-with an aged and excellent gentleman, who may justly be esteemed an
-accomplished man of letters, although I cannot honestly concede to him
-the title of a poet; one at a fashionable party; and one with an old
-friend whom no pressure would induce me to neglect, although for this,
-my first breakfast to-day, I was obliged to name the early hour of seven
-o’clock, as he lives in a remote part of London.”
-
-But it was only among his own mountains that Wordsworth could be
-understood. He walked among them not so much to admire them as to
-converse with them. They exchanged thoughts with him, in sunshine or
-flying shadow, giving him their own and accepting his. Day and night,
-at all hours, and in all weathers, he would face them. If it rained, he
-might fling his plaid over him, but would take no admonition. He must
-have his way. On such occasions, dutiful as he was in higher matters, he
-remained incurably wayward. In vain one reminded him that a letter needed
-an answer or that the storm would soon be over. It was very necessary
-for him to do what he liked; and one of his dearest friends said to
-me, with a smile of the most affectionate humor: “He wrote his ‘Ode to
-Duty,’ and then he had done with that matter.” This very innocent form of
-lawlessness, corresponding with the classic expression, “Indulge genio,”
-seemed to belong to his genius, not less than the sympathetic reverence
-with which he looked up to the higher and universal laws. Sometimes there
-was a battle between his reverence for nature and his reverence for other
-things. The friend already alluded to was once remarking on his varying
-expressions of countenance: “That rough old face is capable of high and
-real beauty; I have seen in it an expression quite of heavenly peace and
-contemplative delight, as the May breeze came over him from the woods
-while he was slowly walking out of church on a Sunday morning, and when
-he had half emerged from the shadow.” A flippant person present inquired:
-“Did you ever chance, Miss F----, to observe that heavenly expression on
-his countenance as he was walking into church on a fine May morning?” A
-laugh was the reply. The ways of nature harmonized with his feelings in
-age as well as in youth. He could understand no estrangement. Gathering a
-wreath of white thorn on one occasion, he murmured, as he slipped it into
-the ribbon which bound the golden tresses of his youthful companion,
-
-    “And what if I enwreathed my own?
-      ’Twere no offence to reason;
-    The sober hills thus deck their brows
-      To meet the wintry season.”
-
-
-SIR THOMAS MORE.
-
-_A HISTORICAL ROMANCE._
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.
-
-III.
-
-“Ah! well, and so you are going to carry the French birds back!”
-exclaimed the old keeper Jack, with a loud, coarse laugh, as he leaned
-against one of the century-old trees in Windsor forest. “Well, well, so
-be it, my friends; but give us a little drop to drink,” he added in a
-jocular but self-important tone. As he said these words, he familiarly
-slapped the shoulder of one of the falconers, who was engaged in
-fastening the chains again to the feet of the tiercelets, whilst his
-comrades cut off the heads of the game taken, and threw them as a reward
-to the cruel birds, who devoured them with avidity.
-
-“After a while,” replied the falconer a little impatiently. “Wait till
-our work is done, father Jack; you are always in a hurry--to drink. We
-will take our glass together now directly. See that troop of birds! They
-must first be chained and put with the others.”
-
-“Well, well!” replied Jack, “provided we lose nothing by waiting. These
-are beautiful birds, if they do come from France.”
-
-“No, no, you shall lose nothing by waiting,” cried the second falconer.
-“Come here; I will let you taste a liquid that these birds have brought
-over under their wings, and we will see then if you have ever drunk
-anything equal to it since you drew on your boots in the service of his
-majesty.”
-
-And he poured out of a canteen that hung from his shoulder-belt a very
-acid gin, filling, until it foamed over, a large pewter cup, which he
-handed to father Jack.
-
-It was swallowed at one draught.
-
-“Oh! superb, superb!” cried the old keeper, returning the cup and
-smacking his lips. “During the five-and-forty years past that I have had
-the honor of keeping Windsor, I have drunk nothing better. Let’s go! That
-strengthens a man’s courage and warms up his old blood! I believe the
-deer will give us a hard drive to-day; I have seen the tracks of fourteen
-or fifteen at least.” And saying this, he remounted his old wind-broken
-mare.
-
-“Wait, father Jack, wait for us! We will all go together,” exclaimed the
-_gens de l’equipage_; for Jack contributed much to their amusement. When
-they had mounted their horses, they followed the keeper, getting off a
-hundred jokes on the old mare, to which he was much attached.
-
-They very soon passed by two young lords who had halted near the verge of
-the forest, and were engaged in conversation.
-
-One of them held in leash four beautiful greyhounds, especial favorites
-of the king because of their great sagacity and swiftness in the chase.
-Their keeper, however, was obliged to use the lash, in order to stop
-their clamorous baying.
-
-“You have seen her, then?” he remarked to his companion.
-
-“Yes, I have seen her down yonder. She crossed the road with all of her
-ladies,” replied the latter, who belonged to Wolsey’s household and wore
-his livery. “She was dressed in a black velvet cap and green riding-habit
-and she is really charming!”
-
-“Well, my poor friend,” replied the other, “but do you know I have
-serious fears that your cardinal will soon fall into disfavor? But a
-moment ago, as they passed by here, I heard the Duke of Norfolk remark
-to a lady that the red cloak was decidedly out of style, and altogether
-it was at this time so completely used up that he did not think it could
-ever again be mended. The lady smiled maliciously, and said he was
-right--she believed the green mantle would eventually end by tearing the
-red to pieces! And pointing to the young Anne Boleyn, who was not far
-off, she made a sign that left no doubt on my mind it was that lady she
-meant to designate as the destroyer.”
-
-“Truly,” replied the young domestic,[137] “what you tell me is anything
-but encouraging. And so our dear duke must have _his_ finger in the pie!
-I shall be very sorry for all this if it happens, because my own clothes,
-are made of scarlet, you see; and when one has succeeded, in the course
-of time, in getting a suit well made up, he doesn’t like the trouble of
-having to commence again and make it over.”
-
-As he said this a cloud of dust arose, and a troop of horsemen passed at
-full gallop and with a terrible hue and cry.
-
-“My dogs! my dogs!” cried the king in the midst of the crowd. “Let
-loose my dogs! The deer makes for the ponds. Let them hasten to tell the
-ladies, that they may be in at the death.”
-
-He disappeared like a flash of lightning, of which we obtain but a
-glimpse ere it is gone. The shrill notes of the hunter’s horn resounded
-from afar, awaking countless echoes through the forest.
-
-“Let us go,” exclaimed the two young men simultaneously. “We will then
-get rid of these accursed hounds.”
-
-“To the ponds! To the ponds!” they cried. “The ladies, to the ponds! The
-ladies, to the ponds!” And they started on, laughing and shouting.
-
-“What is that you are shouting down there?” cried a huntsman from a
-distance, whose horse had just made him roll in the dust.
-
-“To the ponds! My lord, to the ponds!” they cried.
-
-The retinue surrounding the Duke of Suffolk put whip to their horses and
-followed in a sweeping gallop. From every side of the hills surrounding
-these ponds there appeared, at the same moment, troops of eager hunters,
-panting and covered with dust. The different roads traversing the forest
-in every direction converged and met on the banks of the ponds that slept
-in the basin thus formed.
-
-The ladies had already assembled, and nothing could have been more
-entertaining than the rapid and eager movements of the remainder of the
-hunters as they came galloping up. The king arrived before any of the
-others. He excelled in exercises of this kind, and took great delight
-in ending the chase in a brilliant manner by shooting the deer himself.
-On this occasion he had decided that, contrary to the usual custom, it
-should be taken alive; consequently, they hastened to spread in every
-direction the nets and fillets.
-
-In this case the skill of the hunters consisted in driving the game into
-the snare.
-
-Very soon the deer made his appearance, followed by a multitude of
-hounds, who pursued him so furiously, and crowded so closely one against
-the other, that, to use a familiar expression of the hunters, they could
-have been covered with a table-cloth.
-
-At sight of the nets the beautiful animal paused for an instant. He
-shook his horns menacingly, and stamped the ground with his feet; then
-suddenly, feeling already the scorching breath of the infuriated pack
-of hounds about to seize him, he made a desperate effort, and, leaping
-at a single bound the entire height of the fillets, threw himself into
-the lake. Instantly a loud and deafening shout arose, while the furious
-hounds, arrested in their course by the nets, uttered the most frightful
-howlings on seeing their prey escape.
-
-“My cross-bow!” cried the king. “Quick! my cross-bow!” and he drew it so
-skilfully that at the first shot he pierced the flank of the poor animal,
-who immediately ceased to swim.
-
-Satisfied with his brilliant success, the king, after having heard the
-plaudits of the ladies and received the congratulations of the hunters,
-proceeded to the pavilion, constructed of evergreens and foliage, as
-elegant as it was spacious, which he had had erected in the midst of the
-forest, in order to dine under cover.
-
-The Duchess of Suffolk did the honors of the festival, taking the place
-of Queen Catherine, who, under the pretext of bad health, declined
-appearing at these hunting parties, the noisy sports having become
-insupportable to her.
-
-Meanwhile the courtiers were greatly excited by observing a roll of paper
-the extremity of which projected from the right pocket of the king’s
-hunting-jacket; on one of the leaves, a corner of which was turned down,
-two words were visible--the name of “Wolsey” and that of “traitor.” Each
-one sought to approach the king or pass behind him in order to assure
-himself of the astonishing fact, of which they had the temerity to
-whisper mysteriously together.
-
-But in spite of all their efforts, they were unable to discover anything
-more; the day and the festival ended with numerous conjectures--the
-fears and hopes excited in the minds of that court where for so long the
-learned favorite had ruled with as much authority as the king himself.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-At daybreak on the morning succeeding the festival the gates were thrown
-open, and a carriage, bearing the royal arms and colors, drove from the
-great courtyard of Windsor Palace.
-
-While the postilion trotted leisurely along, looking around from time
-to time as he wonderingly reflected why the horse on his right grew
-constantly lean in spite of the generous addition he had made to his
-rations, the two occupants of the carriage engaged in the following
-conversation:
-
-“It is cold this morning,” said one of them, wrapping his cloak more
-closely about him.
-
-“Yes; and how this fog and the heavy dew covering the earth remind one of
-the bivouac!”
-
-“It does indeed,” responded Norfolk to his companion; “but such
-souvenirs are always agreeable, and carry us back to the happiest days
-of life--years spent amid the tumult and vicissitudes of the camp.
-Eighteen! that impulsive, impetuous age, when presumptuous courage rushes
-headlong into danger, comprehending nothing of death; when reckless
-intrepidity permits not a moment’s reflection or hesitation, transported
-by the ardent desire of acquiring glory; the intoxicating happiness of a
-first success--such are the thrilling emotions, the brilliant illusions
-of youth, which we shall experience no more!” And the old warrior
-sorrowfully bowed his head.
-
-“Ah! well, others replace them,” replied Suffolk.
-
-“Yes, to be displaced and disappear in their turn,” answered the duke,
-brushing back the white locks the wind had blown over his forehead, on
-which appeared a deep scar.
-
-“Well, my lord,” exclaimed the Duke of Suffolk, “do not spoil, by
-your philosophic reflections, all the pleasure we ought to enjoy in
-the thought that, thanks to the influence and good management of your
-charming niece, we are now going to inform Monseigneur Wolsey that the
-time has at last arrived for him to abdicate his portion of the crown.”
-
-“Yes, perhaps so,” replied the duke. “And yet I don’t know. Yesterday,
-even, I detested this man, and desired most ardently his ruin;
-to-day--no, no; an enemy vanquished and prostrate at my feet inspires
-only compassion. Now I almost regret the injury my niece has done him and
-the blow she has struck.”
-
-“Come, come, my lord, do you not know that an excess of generosity
-becomes a fault? We have nothing to regret,” continued Suffolk, with an
-exulting laugh. “I only hope he may not be acquitted (and thus be able to
-settle the scores with us afterwards); that Parliament will show him no
-mercy. Death alone can effectually remove him. The little memorandum you
-have there contains enough to hang all the chancellors in the world.”
-
-“It is very certain,” replied the Duke of Norfolk, abstractedly turning
-the leaves of the book he held in his hand (the same that had excited
-such eager curiosity among the courtiers)--“it is certain this book
-contains grave accusations. Nevertheless, I do not think it has entirely
-accomplished the end proposed by the author.”
-
-“In truth, no,” answered Suffolk; “for Wiltshire counted very certainly
-on replacing Wolsey. He will be astounded when he learns of the choice of
-the king.”
-
-“Although Wiltshire is a relative of mine,” replied the duke, “I am
-compelled to acknowledge that it would have been impossible for the king
-to have made a better selection or avoided a worse one. Wiltshire is both
-ignorant and ambitious, while Thomas More has no superior in learning
-and merit. I knew him when quite a child, living with the distinguished
-Cardinal Morton, who was particularly attached to him. I remember very
-often at table Morton speaking of him to us, and always saying: ‘This
-young boy will make an extraordinary man. You will see it. I shall not be
-living, but you will then recall the prediction of an old man.’”
-
-“Extraordinary!” replied Suffolk in his habitual tone of raillery;
-“most extraordinary! We are promised, then, a chancellor of a peculiar
-species! I suppose he will not be the least astonished at receiving so
-high and singular a favor. But, the devil! he will need to be a wonderful
-man. If he sustains himself on the throne ministerial, he will find a
-superior degree of wisdom necessary. Between the king, the queen, the
-council, Wiltshire, the Parliament, the clergy, and the people, I would
-not risk my little finger, brother-in-law of his majesty although I have
-the honor to be.”
-
-And he began laughing as he looked at Norfolk, although, out of deference
-to him, he had not included in the list of difficulties the most
-formidable of all, and the one that carried all others in its train--his
-niece, Mlle. Anne.
-
-“In the sense you use the word,” the duke answered coldly, “I believe,
-on the contrary, he is by no means an astute man. The intrigues of court
-will be altogether foreign to his character; but otherwise, in science
-and learning, he has no equal. He is in possession of all that a man
-is capable of acquiring in that direction, and no man has made a more
-profound study of the common law and the statutes of the kingdom. Morton
-placed him at Oxford, then at the Chancellors’ College at Lincoln, and he
-achieved the most brilliant success.”
-
-“Admirable!” exclaimed Suffolk, laughing.
-
-“Since that time,” pursued the Duke of Norfolk, “his reputation has
-continued to increase. When he lectured in S. Lawrence’s Church, the
-celebrated Dr. Grocyn and all of our London _savants_ crowded eagerly to
-hear him.”
-
-“Well! well! I knew nothing of these most agreeable particulars,” said
-Suffolk; “I only knew that it was he who induced Parliament to refuse
-the subsidy demanded for the Queen of Scots. If he continues to repeat
-such exploits as that, I venture to predict he will not be chancellor
-very long.”
-
-“Oh! as to that,” replied the duke, “he is a man who will never
-compromise his conscience. Yes, yes, I recall distinctly the enraged
-expression of the present king’s father when Mr. Tyler came to inform him
-that the House of Commons had rejected his demand, and a beardless youth
-had been the cause of it. I have not forgotten, either, that Henry VII.,
-of happy memory, well knew how to avenge himself by having an enormous
-fine imposed on Sir Thomas’ father.”
-
-“Well,” replied Suffolk, “but it was not always expedient for the House
-of Commons to raise money in that way.”
-
-The conversation was continued in this manner, as the hours glided by,
-until at length the glittering spires of the London churches appeared in
-the distance, and very soon the carriage had entered the narrow, gloomy
-streets of that great city.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Just at this time the soul of Wolsey was replenished with an
-inexpressible quietude and contentment. “At last,” he said to himself,
-“my enemies have all been confounded. I can no longer entertain a doubt
-respecting my power, after the most gracious manner in which the king
-has treated me at Grafton. I trust the influence of Anne Boleyn has
-diminished in the same proportion that mine has increased. Now she wants
-Sir Thomas Cheney recalled; but I shall not consent to that. Campeggio
-goes loaded with honorable presents. The influence of the mistress
-will soon cease, and that ambitious fool Wiltshire will lose the fruit
-of his intrigues.…” As the Cardinal of York consoled himself with these
-agreeable reflections, the arrival of the Venetian ambassador was
-announced.
-
-“Ah! so he presents himself at last,” Wolsey exclaimed. “He has been a
-long time demanding an audience!” And he ordered him to be introduced.
-
-Wolsey received him in the most gracious manner. After the usual
-compliments were exchanged, he proposed showing him the honors of the
-palace. He had spent his life in embellishing and adorning it with
-wonderful treasures of industry and art, of which he was the enlightened
-and generous protector, bestowing on them from his own purse the most
-liberal encouragement.
-
-Numerous galleries, in which an exquisite taste had evidently directed
-even the most trivial ornamentation, were filled with paintings, statues,
-and precious antique vases. Superb Flanders tapestries gleamed on all
-sides, covered the panels, were disposed around the windows, and fell in
-heavy drapery before the openings of the doors to conceal the entrance.
-These precious cloths, then of inestimable value, were only found in the
-palaces of kings. They usually represented some historical or poetical
-subject; and sometimes landscapes and the rarest flowers were wrought and
-tinted with reflections of gold. Finally, Wolsey took occasion to point
-out, among all these treasures, the presents he had received at different
-times from the various princes of Europe who had sought to secure his
-influence.
-
-Charmed with the order, taste, and beauty that reigned throughout the
-palace, the Italian admired everything, surprised to find in this foreign
-clime a condition of luxury that recalled the memory, always pleasing,
-yet sometimes sad, of his own country.
-
-“Alas!” he exclaimed at length, “we also were rich and happy, and reposed
-in peace and security in our palaces, before this war in which we have
-been so unfortunate as to rely on the King of France for assistance. He
-has abandoned us; and now, compelled to pay an enormous tribute, the
-republic finds itself humiliated in the dust beneath the sceptre of the
-haughty emperor!”
-
-“Such is the right of the conqueror,” replied Wolsey. “You are fortunate,
-inasmuch as he is forced to use that right with moderation.”
-
-“It seems a heavy burden to us, this moderation!” replied the ambassador.
-“He not only exacts immense sums of money, but compels us to surrender
-territory we have conquered with our blood. Florence is placed under the
-dominion of the Medici, and all of our Italian princes are reduced to a
-condition of entire dependence.”
-
-“Which, of course, they will shake off at the first opportunity,”
-interrupted Wolsey. “Charles V. is too shrewd not to foresee that. Be
-assured he will endeavor to secure your good-will, because your support
-is indispensable to enable him to resist the formidable power of the
-Sultan Soliman, and the invasions of the barbarians subject to his
-authority.”
-
-“In that we have placed our last hope. If our services can be made
-available, then from vanquished enemies we may become united allies.
-Already the emperor foresees it; for he overwhelms Andrew Doria and the
-republic of Genoa with favors. He seems to have forgotten the injuries he
-suffered from Sforza; he received him most affably at court, and promised
-him the Princess of Denmark, his niece, in marriage.”
-
-“I am informed,” said Wolsey, “that he is deeply afflicted by the death
-of the Prince of Orange.”
-
-“Very much,” replied the ambassador. “The prince was a valiant captain.
-He leaves no children; his titles and landed property will descend to the
-children of his sister Rénée, the Countess of Nassau.”
-
-“And they are all German princes who have thrown themselves headlong
-into the Lutheran heresy. They will endeavor to cast off the yoke of the
-emperor, and become altogether independent.”
-
-“They have no other intention,” replied the ambassador; “and by
-separating from the Church of Rome they hope more surely to effect their
-purpose. However, the decree laid before the diet against the religious
-innovations has passed by a large majority.”
-
-“Yes,” replied Wolsey; “but you see the Elector of Saxony, the Marquis
-of Brandenburg, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Dukes of Luneburg, and the
-Prince d’Anhalt are all leagued against the church, with the deputies of
-fourteen imperial cities, and are designated by no other name than that
-of Protestant.”
-
-“I am aware of that,” replied the ambassador. “It will greatly increase
-the difficulties in carrying out the emperor’s secret project,” he
-continued after a moment’s silence. “Perhaps, however, he may succeed in
-making the crown hereditary in his family.”
-
-“That is what we shall have to prevent!” cried Wolsey vehemently, who,
-at the words of the ambassador, felt all his old hatred toward Charles V.
-revive. “We will never suffer it, neither will France. No, no; I am very
-certain France will never permit it.”
-
-“Ah!” replied the ambassador, shaking his head with a doubtful air,
-either because he was not convinced, but more probably because he was
-well pleased to arouse against the conqueror of Venice the animosity of
-England (still, as he considered, entirely governed by the will of the
-minister who stood before him).
-
-“I assure you of it most positively,” answered Wolsey; “and I wish you
-to bear it in mind.” And he regarded him with an expression of perfect
-confidence and authority.
-
-“I hope it may be so,” said the ambassador in an abstracted manner. “We
-certainly desire nothing more.”
-
-“Ah! if he had only you to oppose him,” answered Wolsey, resuming his
-usual haughtiness, “I should doubt of success. See where you stand,” he
-continued, with the secret satisfaction of national pride. “Invaded on
-all sides, Italy can oppose but a feeble barrier to the power of two
-such bold and daring pirates. Is it not a shame, then, to see these
-obscure and cruel robbers, sons of a Lesbian potter--two barbarians, in
-fact--reigning sovereigns of the kingdom of Algiers, which they have
-seized, and from whence they fearlessly go forth to destroy the Christian
-fleets on every sea? When would you be able to conquer these ocean
-pirates--you, who have but a gibbet for your couch and a halter for your
-vestment? Justice would be kept a long time waiting!”
-
-The Italian reddened and bit his lip. He vainly sought words in which
-to reply, and was relieved of his embarrassment when the door opened and
-admitted the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.
-
-They entered without the usual ceremonies or salutations, and Wolsey,
-surprised at seeing Suffolk, whom he had not met since the altercation
-at Blackfriars, regarded them with astonishment. He arose, however, and
-advanced toward them. Suffolk, with a disdainful gesture, referred him to
-the Duke of Norfolk.
-
-Astonished at the coldness of the one, the brusque impoliteness of the
-other, and embarrassed by the presence of the ambassador, the cardinal
-stood motionless, undecided what to think or say.
-
-“My lords,” he at length exclaimed, “what do you desire of me?”
-
-“We want you to deliver up the seal of state,” replied Norfolk, without
-changing countenance.
-
-“What do you say, my lord?” cried Wolsey, stupefied with astonishment.
-
-“The king has ordered it,” continued the duke with the same imperturbable
-manner.
-
-“The king! Can it be possible?” said Wolsey, dismayed, and in a voice
-almost inaudible. “The seal of state! And what have I done? What? Can
-this be true? No, my lord, no,” he suddenly exclaimed with an expression
-of indescribable terror; “it cannot be true! You have mistaken the king;
-I do not deserve any such treatment. I pray you let me see him; let me
-speak to him for a moment--one single moment. Alas! alas!”
-
-And he glanced at the ambassador, who, astounded himself at first, and
-feeling himself out of place in the presence of this mighty downfall,
-had involuntarily withdrawn towards the door.
-
-“It is no longer a question to be submitted to the king,” cried Suffolk
-in a threatening and defiant manner; “it is only necessary now to obey
-him, and he orders you instantly to deliver up the seal.”
-
-“The order is imperative,” added Norfolk in a cold and serious manner. “I
-regret being charged with a commission which to you, my lord, must be so
-painful.”
-
-He said no more. But Suffolk, base and jealous in his nature, was not
-ashamed to add to the humiliation of the unfortunate cardinal.
-
-“Come, my good friend,” he said in an ironical voice, “why do you beg so
-imploringly? One would suppose we had demanded the apple of your eye. You
-have been putting the seal so long now on our purses and tongues, you
-ought not to be surprised nor annoyed that we feel like using it awhile
-ourselves.”
-
-This cowardly insult exasperated Wolsey, but his courage was roused with
-his indignation.
-
-“My Lord Suffolk,” he answered with dignity, “I am sorry for you and
-for the prompt manner in which you seem to forget in their misfortune
-those who in days of prosperity were always found ready to come to your
-assistance. I hope you may never experience how painful it is to endure a
-similar cruel ingratitude.”
-
-He immediately withdrew, and returned with the richly-adorned casket
-containing the great seal of state.
-
-Holding it in his trembling hand, he avoided Suffolk, and, advancing
-rapidly toward the Duke of Norfolk, handed it to him.
-
-“My lord,” he said, “here are the seals of the kingdom of England.
-Let the king’s will be done. Since I received them from his hand,
-fifteen years ago, I am conscious of having done nothing to merit his
-displeasure. I trust he will one day deign to render me full justice, for
-I have never proved myself unworthy of his favor.”
-
-As he uttered the last words, he was unable to restrain the tears which
-involuntarily arose to his eyes.
-
-Although the cardinal was by no means a favorite with the Duke of
-Norfolk, he was moved with compassion, and sadly reflected that he had
-still more painful intelligence to communicate.
-
-He glanced at his companion, but, fearing the bitter and poignant irony
-in which Suffolk never failed to indulge, he hastened to prevent it in
-order to spare Wolsey.
-
-“My lord cardinal,” he said, “you ought to reflect that the king is too
-just and impartial to withdraw the favor he has so long bestowed on you
-without having weighed well the reasons and necessities requiring such
-a course. Nevertheless, his goodness has not abandoned you; he permits
-you to select such counsel as you may desire to defend you against the
-accusations presented against you to Parliament.”
-
-“To Parliament!” murmured Wolsey, terror-stricken; for the duke’s last
-words suddenly disclosed the depth of the abyss into which he had fallen.
-“To Parliament!” he repeated. The shock he had experienced was so
-violent that his pride of character, the sense of personal dignity, the
-presence of his enemies, were all forgotten in a moment, and he abandoned
-himself to despair. Unable longer to sustain himself, he sank on his
-knees. “I am lost!” he cried, weeping and extending his hands toward
-his persecutors. “Have pity on me, my Lord Norfolk! I give up all to
-the king! Let him do with me what he will! Since he says I am culpable,
-although I have never had the intention, yet I will acknowledge that I
-am. But, alas! of what do they accuse me?”
-
-“Of having violated the statutes of præmunire,” replied Norfolk.
-
-“And betraying your country,” continued Suffolk, “by carrying on a secret
-correspondence with the King of France. You well remember that it was you
-who had me recalled at the moment when, having become master of Artois
-and Picardy, I had the Parisians trembling within their walls? Will you
-dare deny that you were the cause of it, and that it was the _prière
-d’argent_ of Mme. Louise[138] induced you to give the order for me to
-retire? The king has been already long enough your dupe, and our duty was
-to enlighten him. As to the rest, my lord cardinal, you understand the
-proceedings; your advocate ought to be here, and you should immediately
-confer with him with regard to the other charges herein contained.”
-
-As he said this, he threw on the cardinal’s table the bill of
-presentment, which contained no less than forty-four chief accusations.
-
-They then took possession of all the papers they could find, carrying
-away the seal of state, and left Wolsey in a condition deserving pity.
-
-As they retired, they proposed sending in the advocate, who was waiting
-in an adjoining apartment conversing with Cromwell.
-
-“Ha! ha! you are here, then, Sir Cromwell,” said the Duke of Suffolk,
-laughing. “Go in, go in there at once,” he cried, pointing to the door
-of Wolsey’s cabinet. “The cardinal needs you; I fear he will be hard to
-console.”
-
-Cromwell watched with great anxiety the course of events, and, not
-knowing to which side to turn, determined at least to secure for
-himself the appearance and merit of fidelity to his benefactor. Without
-reflecting on the consequences, he hastily replied that he would not
-leave Wolsey, would never abandon him, but follow him to the end.
-
-“You will follow him to the end, eh?” replied Suffolk. “When you know his
-intended destination, I doubt very much if you will then ask to follow
-him.”
-
-As he said this, he made a gesture giving Cromwell to understand that his
-master, besides losing place and power, was also in danger of losing his
-head.
-
-“High treason, my dear sir, high treason!” cried Suffolk. “Do you hear
-me?”
-
-“High treason?” repeated Cromwell slowly. “Ah! my lord duke, how could he
-be guilty?”
-
-He hastened to rejoin Wolsey, whom he found bathed in tears and
-endeavoring to decipher the act of presentment.
-
-“Ah! Cromwell,” exclaimed the unhappy cardinal on seeing him, “my dear
-friend, you have not then forsaken me! But, alas! I am lost. Read here
-for yourself--read it aloud to me; for my sight is failing.”
-
-Cromwell seized the paper and commenced reading the accusation. On
-hearing that it was based principally on the violation of the statutes of
-præmunire,[139] Wolsey was unable to control his indignation.
-
-“How,” he cried, “can the king be induced to sanction such unparalleled
-injustice? It is true that in receiving from the pope the title of
-legate, and exercising throughout the kingdom the authority conferred
-by that title, I have been brought in opposition to the precautionary
-statutes of King Richard; but still I have not violated them, since the
-king himself has sanctioned that power and recognized it by appearing
-in his own person before the court. Is he not more to blame, then, who
-desired and ordered it, than I, who have simply been made a party to it?
-I can prove this,” he cried--“yes, I can prove it; for I have still the
-letters-patent, signed by his own hand, and which he furnished me to that
-effect. Cromwell, look in my secretary; you will find them there.”
-
-Cromwell opened the secretary, but found nothing.
-
-“There is not a single paper here,” he said. “Where could you have placed
-them?”
-
-“Indeed!” exclaimed the cardinal. “Then they have all been carried away!
-All!” he repeated. “I have no longer any means of defence; I am lost!
-They are all arrayed against me; they have resolved upon my death. O
-Henry! O my king! is it thus you forget in one moment the services I
-have rendered you? Cromwell,” he continued in a low voice and gloomy,
-abstracted manner--“Cromwell, I am lost!”
-
-The same evening another messenger came to inform the unhappy cardinal
-the king wished to occupy, during the session of Parliament he was about
-to convene, his palace of York (the object of his care and pride), and
-that in leaving it he could retire to, and have at his disposal, a house
-about eight leagues from London, entirely abandoned, and belonging to the
-bishopric of Winchester.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The night, already far advanced, found Sir Thomas More still seated in
-his cabinet, conversing with the Bishop of Rochester, who had arrived at
-Chelsea very late that morning.
-
-A light was burning on a long table encumbered with books and papers;
-several high-backed chairs, covered with black morocco, cast their
-shadows on the walls; a capacious rug of white sheep-skin was spread
-before the hearth, where the remains of a fire still burned in the grate.
-
-Such was the simplicity of the home of Sir Thomas More.
-
-“And why, my dear friend,” asked the Bishop of Rochester, “will you
-consent to take upon your shoulders so terrible a responsibility? Once
-become chancellor, have you fully considered that you will be surrounded
-by enemies, who will watch your every movement and pursue you even to
-your death? Have you reflected well that you acknowledge no other laws
-than those of your own conscience, and feel no remorse unless for not
-having spoken your views with sufficient candor? Is it thus you hope to
-resist--thus you hope to escape the snares that will continually surround
-you?”
-
-“I fear nothing,” replied More; “for I believe in God! And you
-yourself--would you not blame such weakness? In refusing the king I
-refuse the queen. Would not Catherine then declare that the trusted
-servant, even he who had been called her friend, had sacrificed her
-interests to his love of ease? He had declared his life should be devoted
-to her cause, and now had abandoned and deprived her of the only hope of
-relief Providence seemed to have left her! No, Fisher, friendship has
-rights too sacred for me not to respect them.”
-
-“Then,” cried the bishop, “if you respect the rights of friendship,
-listen to my appeal! I ask you to decline a dignity that will prove
-destructive to you. In the name of all that you hold most dear, in the
-name of all that is good and beautiful in nature, in the entire universe,
-I conjure you to refuse this fatal honor! It is more than probable the
-very seal they wish now to place in your hands will be very soon affixed
-to your death-warrant! Believe me, my friend, all will unite against you.
-A deep conviction has taken possession of my soul, and I see, I feel, the
-wrath of this prince, as violent as he is cruel, ready to fall upon your
-devoted head. You will be crushed in this struggle, too unequal to admit
-for an instant the hope of escape.”
-
-“Ah! well,” replied More laughingly, “instead, then, of simply inscribing
-on my tombstone ‘Here lies Thomas More,’ there will appear in pompous
-style the inscription, ‘Here lies the Lord High Chancellor of England.’
-Assuredly, I think that would sound much better, and I shall take care to
-bequeath my first quarter’s salary to defray the expense of so elegant an
-inscription.”
-
-“More!” cried the Bishop of Rochester with impatience, “I cannot suffer
-you to jest on a subject of such grave importance. Do you, then, desire
-to die? Would you ruin yourself? Trust to my experience. I know the heart
-of Henry thoroughly; your attempt to save the queen will be vain, and
-you will inevitably be involved in her ruin. I conjure you, then, accept
-not this office. I will myself carry your refusal to the king.”
-
-“No, no!” exclaimed More. “I have decided--decided irrevocably.”
-
-“Irrevocably?” repeated Rochester, whom the thought reduced almost to
-despair. “More, I see it. You have become ambitious; the vainglory of
-the world, the fatal infatuation of its honors, have taken possession
-even of the soul of Thomas More! Your heart no longer responds to mine;
-your ear remains deaf to all my solicitations! Ah! well, since the desire
-of being honored among men, and to have them grovel at your feet, has
-made even you despise my counsel and advice, then listen, listen well,
-and God grant that I may be able to destroy in your heart the poison
-that pride has poured into it! You are willing to sacrifice to your
-vanity all the happiness, all the quiet and peace, of your future; know,
-then, what recompense will be meted out to you. Yesterday Wolsey was in
-a manner driven from his palace, and descended the Thames in a common
-boat, Cromwell alone accompanying him; for all have deserted him except
-his enemies, who, in order to enjoy his calamities, crowded the river in
-boats and followed after him. They hoped to see him arrested and carried
-to the Tower, the report having been circulated that he would be taken
-there. Wolsey--he whom you have so often seen make his appearance in
-Parliament, surrounded by an almost royal pomp and splendor--is now a
-fugitive, alone, abandoned, without defence, of the clamorous insults
-and bitter scorn of a populace always eager to feast their eyes on
-the ruins of fallen greatness. The air around him resounded with their
-maledictions. ‘Here is the man who fattened on the blood of the poor,’
-they cried. ‘The taxes will be reduced now,’ exclaimed others, ‘since
-he will have no farther use for palaces and gardens’; and all, in their
-ignorance, abused him as the cause of the wrongs and oppressions which
-it was probably not in his power to have averted. At length, overwhelmed
-with insults and outrages, he was landed at Pultney, and, in order to
-escape the mob, was hurriedly conducted to his house at Asher, where he
-has been banished. Such is the reward you will receive in the service of
-an avaricious prince and a blind infatuated multitude!”
-
-He paused, overcome by anxiety and excitement.
-
-“My dear Fisher,” responded More, deeply moved, “our hearts and thoughts
-are always in unison; you have only represented to me a second time the
-picture I had already painted myself.”
-
-“Indeed!” cried Rochester; “and do you still hesitate?”
-
-“What!” replied More, resolutely, “and does it require so much hesitation
-to sacrifice one’s self? I would not wish to live dishonored; and I
-should consider myself guilty if I forgot my duty toward my sovereign and
-the honor of England!”
-
-“So you are resolved! Ah! well, let your sacrifice be accomplished,” said
-the saintly bishop; “but then may God, whose goodness is infinite, hear
-my vows and grant my prayer: may the same dangers unite us; side by side
-with you may my last sigh be breathed out with yours; and if the life of
-the aged man is not extinguished before that of the man in his prime,
-then may the stroke of death cut us down at the same moment!”
-
-“My dear friend,” cried More, “the many years that have passed over your
-head and blanched your locks have not yet ripened your judgment, since
-you can believe it possible that the king’s anger, although it may one
-day fall on me, could ever be permitted to overtake you, the counsellor
-of his youth, whom he has so often called his father! No, I can conceive
-of no such fearful possibility; the wise, the virtuous Bishop of
-Rochester can never be involved in the misfortune that would crush Thomas
-More.”
-
-“Ah!” replied Fisher, “but I shall understand how to call down on my head
-the vengeance with which he may hesitate to strike me. Believe me, More,
-a man scarcely reaches the prime of life before he feels himself, as it
-were, daily beginning to fail. Just as in the autumn days the sun’s light
-rapidly diminishes, so the passing years despoil his body of physical
-strength and beauty; but it has no effect upon his soul. The heart--no,
-the heart never grows old! It loves, it suffers, as in the early morning
-of life; and when at last it has reached the age when wisdom and
-experience have destroyed the illusions of the passions, friendship,
-strengthened by so many blessed memories, reigns there alone and entire,
-like a magnificent flower that has been sheltered and preserved from the
-destroying worm.
-
-“Having almost arrived at the end of his career, he often takes a survey
-of the road he has passed over. He loves to recall his joys and his
-sorrows, and to weep again for the friends he has lost. I know that
-presumptuous youth imagines that the prudence he refuses to obey is the
-only good that remains after the labors of life have been terminated by
-time.
-
-“Your feelings are not in unison with those of an old man. It is because
-you do not understand them. He lives in memory, and you in hope. You
-pursue a phantom, a chimera, the nothingness of which he has already
-experienced; you accuse him, he complains of you, and often you do not
-deign to regard the last bitter tear that is drawn from him at the sight
-of the tomb into which he must soon descend.”
-
-“Oh!” exclaimed More, “you whom I venerate as a father and love as a
-friend--can you doubt for one moment the truth of a heart entirely
-devoted to you? Confirmed by your example, guided and sustained by
-your counsels, what have I to fear? Banish from your mind these sad
-presentiments. Why should this dread of the future, that perhaps after
-all is only chimerical, destroy the extreme happiness I enjoy in seeing
-you?”
-
-For a long time they continued to converse, until the light of early
-morning at length succeeded the uncertain glimmer of the candle, now
-flickering in its socket.
-
-“My friend, I must leave you,” said Rochester. “The day already dawns.
-God grant the sun may not this morning arise on the beginning of your
-misfortunes!”
-
-“Oh! no,” replied More, “this is my _fête_ to-day. S. Thomas will pray
-for and protect us.”
-
-The good bishop then descended to the courtyard and mounted his mule; but
-More, unwilling to give him up, walked on by his side as far as the road
-followed the course of the river. When they reached the cross-road where
-the bishop turned off, More shook his hand and bade him farewell.
-
-A great wooden cross stood near the roadside, on which was suspended a
-wreath of withered leaves; and More, seating himself on one of the stone
-steps upon which the cross was elevated, followed the good bishop with
-his eyes until he had disappeared in the distance.
-
-He then rested his head sadly on his hands, and recalled to mind all this
-venerable friend had said to him.
-
-“He is right!” he mentally exclaimed. “How clear-sighted his friendship
-renders him! Into what a sea of agitation, malignity, and hatred I shall
-be plunged! And all for what? In order that I may be lord chancellor
-of the kingdom through which this road passes. Behold, then, beside
-the highway,” he added, looking around him, “my lord the great high
-chancellor, shivering in the cold morning air just as any other man would
-do who had gone out at this hour without putting on his cloak!… Yes, I
-can understand how social distinctions might cause us to scorn other
-men, if they exempted us from the inconveniences of life. We might then
-perhaps believe that we had different natures. But let us change our
-garments, and we fall at once, and are immediately confounded with the
-common herd.”
-
-While making these sad reflections upon the follies of human nature, More
-arose and returned to the house, where his wife and children and his aged
-father--simple and peaceable old man, happy in the favor of the king and
-the virtues of his son--were all wrapped in profound slumber.
-
-In a spacious apartment, of which the dark and worm-eaten ceiling,
-ragged tapestry, and dilapidated windows presented the appearance of a
-desolate and abandoned edifice, a fragment of broken furniture still
-remained, upon which was placed a small piece of bread. Numberless crumbs
-strewed the dusty floor and were eagerly devoured by a little mouse, but
-recently the only inhabitant of the place. To-day, however, he had the
-company of a man whose extraordinary mind had conceived vast projects and
-executed great and useful enterprises--the Archbishop of York, Cardinal
-Wolsey. Seated upon the edge of a wooden stool which he had placed in the
-embrasure of a window, he held his hands crossed one upon the other, and
-bitterly reflected upon his unhappy destiny. Regrets, of which he felt
-all the impotency, pressed upon his agitated soul. It seemed to him that
-he still heard the cries and menaces of the furious populace that exulted
-in his distress, and to which perhaps, alas! he would again be subjected.
-At one time filled with courage and resolution, at another humble and
-cast down, the anxieties of his mind seemed wholly without measure. His
-eyes, wearied with straying listlessly over the plain which extended
-before him, beheld only a single laborer ploughing the field. “Man is
-small,” said he, “in presence of immensity; the point which he forms
-in space is imperceptible. Entire generations have passed away, have
-gathered the fruits of the earth, and now sleep in their native dust.
-My name has been unknown to them. Millions of creatures suffer, where
-I exist free from pain. Coming up from the lowest ranks of society, I
-have endeavored to elevate myself above them. And what has my existence
-signified to them? Has not each one considered himself the common centre
-around which all the others must revolve?”
-
-Here Wolsey, impelled by extreme hunger, approached the little worm-eaten
-table, and took up the morsel of dry bread left from his repast the
-evening before.
-
-Just as he was raising it to his mouth a man entered, dressed in the most
-scrupulous manner, and enveloped in an ample cloak of the finest material.
-
-Wolsey was startled, and gazed at him in astonishment.
-
-“What! Arundel,” he exclaimed at last, “what could have brought you to
-this place?”
-
-“Yourself,” replied Arundel, in a frank, abrupt manner. “You have lost
-everything, and have never informed me by a word! Do you think, then, I
-have forgotten all you have done for me?”
-
-“The favors I have conferred on you were so slight,” replied Wolsey,
-“that it would have been natural you should have no longer remembered
-them, especially since many who owe their wealth, and perhaps their
-lives, to me have so completely forgotten it.”
-
-“I have never learned how to flatter nor to wear velvet gloves,” replied
-Arundel; “but I am still more ignorant of the art of forgetting past
-favors. No, it has never been my custom to act thus; and you have
-offended me more than you imagine by proving you believed me capable of
-such baseness.”
-
-As he said this, Arundel took from his bosom an immense purse of red
-satin, filled with gold, and laid it on the dilapidated table beside a
-package of clothing which he had thoughtfully added to his gift.
-
-“There are no acknowledgments to be made,” he remarked; “it is essential
-first of all that you be made comfortable. You can return this when it
-suits your convenience. Now let us say no more about it.”
-
-“Alas!” cried Wolsey, “are you not aware, then, that I may never be able
-to return it? They will divide my ecclesiastical benefices among them.
-The Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Wiltshire have already been put in
-possession of the revenue from my bishopric of Winchester. This is the
-only food I have had since I came here,” he added, showing him the bread
-he still held in his hand.
-
-“Indeed! It is not very delicate,” replied Arundel; “but it is your own
-fault. When one has friends, he should not neglect them, and that is just
-what you have done.”
-
-“Misfortune often renders us unjust,” answered the cardinal, deeply
-moved by the generous frankness and brusque proceedings of Arundel, whom
-he had always, until now, regarded as being haughty and ungrateful,
-because he had never observed him among his crowd of fawning courtiers.
-“I must confess that I could not endure the thought of being repulsed
-by those for whom I have done everything. I do not believe that among
-the immense number of those who daily wearied me with protestations of
-their ostentatious regard there is to-day one who has condescended to
-think of me in my misfortunes. You only have thought to succor me in my
-distress--you, who, without my being aware of it, have doubtless been all
-the while the most sincere among them all.”
-
-“I cannot believe,” replied Arundel, without appearing to notice the
-acknowledgments with which Wolsey continued to overwhelm him, “that they
-would all thus have abandoned you had they known the extreme severity
-with which you have been treated; it would be too foul a blot upon the
-name of humanity. Notwithstanding they laugh at our misfortunes, I think
-it appears worse to us than it really is. No, be assured you will find
-some faithful friends who will defend you. For instance, Sir Thomas More,
-your successor, whose fortune you have made, cannot fail to use his
-influence in your favor.”
-
-“More owes me nothing,” replied the cardinal. “I have not made his
-fortune; when I proposed him to the king as Treasurer of the Exchequer,
-he had for a long time been acquainted with his rare merits. Knowing that
-the appointment would prove both useful and agreeable to the king, I
-recommended him to make it; but really it was more for the king’s benefit
-than More’s. Besides, I am aware that More is one of the most zealous
-partisans of Catherine. Thus, you see, there exists no reason why he
-should feel inclined to assist me. I am only surprised that a man of his
-exalted integrity should accept a position where he will necessarily be
-compelled to act in opposition to his convictions.”
-
-“It is with the eager desire of ultimately being able to convert all
-the world and to correct all consciences,” replied Arundel with a smile
-of derision; for he never lost an occasion of ridiculing the importance
-which many attach to political intrigues, and, as they say, to the
-public good, in whose management they pretend to take a hand, in order
-to win admiration at any cost for their talents. “And verily, he will
-find it difficult to sustain his position, unless he becomes the very
-humble servant of my Lady Anne, regent of the kingdom; for nothing is
-done but what she ordains, and her uncle, whom she has appointed chief
-of the council, executes the orders which the king claims the honor
-of communicating to him. Oh!” continued Arundel in the same ironical
-tone, and without perceiving the painful effect his words produced on
-the unhappy cardinal, “truly it is a very great advantage, and above
-all highly honorable for England, to see her king put in tutelage to
-the caprices of a woman as weak and vain as she is arrogant. If he was
-absolutely determined to go into leading-strings, why did he not beseech
-the good Queen Catherine to take charge of him? She, at least, would
-have been careful to hold the reins equally on both sides, so that the
-swaddling could have been made to walk straight.”
-
-“A swaddling,” repeated Wolsey, “… who devoured his nurse!”
-
-“Hold, my dear lord,” continued Arundel; “it cannot be denied that
-you have made a great mistake in encouraging the king in his divorce
-project--yes, a great mistake, which they now begin to discover. But I do
-wrong, perhaps, to reproach you, since you are the first to be punished
-for your manner of seeing things. But listen to me; as for myself, if, in
-order to avoid dying of starvation, or being compelled to subsist on just
-such bread as you have there, I had been obliged to accept the place of
-lord chancellor, on the day when I found myself relieved of so burdensome
-and exacting an office I should have cried aloud: ‘Thank heaven that I am
-again seated by my own fireside, where in peace and quiet I can get up
-at my leisure and contemplate passing events.’ For myself, these are my
-principles: to have nothing to do is the first essential to happiness;
-nothing to lose, the second; nothing to disturb or annoy, the third;
-and upon these rest all the others. Such is my system--the best of all
-systems, the only.…”
-
-Arundel would have still continued explaining the numerous theories he
-had originated for securing happiness for an indefinite length of time,
-perhaps, but he suddenly perceived that Wolsey no longer heard him, but,
-with his head sunk on his breast, seemed absorbed in thought.
-
-“Well, my lord,” said Arundel, “you are not listening to me, it seems?
-Really, it is not worth while to explain to you the true method of being
-happy.”
-
-“Ah! my dear Arundel,” replied Wolsey, aroused by the exclamation of his
-visitor, “how could you expect me to think of profiting by your lessons,
-or to make an application of your theories of happiness, when at this
-very moment, perhaps, I have been condemned to death by Parliament?”
-
-“There is no proof of that,” replied Arundel. “Sufficient unto the day
-is the evil--gloomy apprehensions profit us nothing; they do not delay
-the progress of events; on the contrary, they send them on us in advance,
-and only serve to aggravate the consequences. Moreover, I must not forget
-to suggest that if it would be more agreeable for you to be with your
-friends, there are many who will be happy to receive you, and offer you
-a mansion as commodious, although less sumptuously furnished, than your
-palace of York or that of Hampton Court, the latter of which I have never
-liked since you added the gallery.”
-
-“What is that gallery to me now? I surrender it up to you,” said the
-cardinal.
-
-The endless arguments of Arundel began to weary him exceedingly. In spite
-of the extreme gratitude he felt for his sincere and generous offers,
-Wolsey could not divest himself of the conviction that Arundel belonged
-to that class who, while in other respects full of good impulses and
-laudable intentions, are so entirely wanting in tact and delicacy, and
-contend so urgently for their own opinions, that the consolations they
-would force you to adopt, far from alleviating your sufferings, only
-augment them and render their sympathy irksome and oppressive. This
-feeling was experienced by Wolsey, uncertain as he was what fate was
-reserved for him, trembling even for his life, while Arundel endeavored
-to paint for him a minute picture of the happiness and tranquillity
-enjoyed by a man living in peace and quiet, with nothing to disturb him
-in the enjoyment of his possessions.
-
-“Alas!” he exclaimed at length impatiently, “why has not kind Providence
-blessed me with a nature like yours? I should be less unhappy, nor every
-instant see yawning before me the terrible depths of the precipice on
-which I now stand. I could catch, at least, at the branches of absurdity,
-until the moment when I should be dashed to pieces! But no, I cannot;
-I am too well acquainted with men and things to expect the slightest
-assistance. They are always ready to strike those who are falling,
-but never attempt to raise them up. Yesterday, only yesterday, the
-commissioners of Parliament demanded of me the letters-patent I had
-received from the king in order to exercise my authority as legate,
-although every one knew that, as he had given them to me, it was his
-right alone to take them away again. Ah! well, they have persisted in
-their demand, and have refused to believe me on oath! No, I will indulge
-in no more illusions; my enemies have sworn my death, and they will
-obtain it! And the king, the king my master, after fifteen years of the
-most faithful service, he delivers me up, helpless and defenceless, to
-all the cruelties their hatred may inspire; and yet you, Arundel, think
-that I should still indulge in hope?”
-
-“But all this will be arranged, I tell you,” replied Arundel with an
-imperturbable coolness. “You should not trouble yourself in advance,
-because, if the worst _should_ happen, it will change nothing; and if it
-does _not_, your present suffering will have been needless.”
-
-As Arundel finished this wise reasoning, Cromwell appeared.
-
-He came from London, where he had been, he said, to defend Wolsey before
-the Parliament.
-
-On seeing him enter the cardinal was seized with an uncontrollable alarm,
-thinking his fate had been decided.
-
-“Cromwell!” he cried, and could say no more.
-
-“Ah!” replied Cromwell, “you should not thus give way to your
-apprehensions, although.…” He paused on seeing the cardinal grow deadly
-pale. “You need have no uneasiness, because the king has sent Norris to
-bid me assure you he would take you under his protection.”
-
-“I have been condemned, then!” cried the unhappy Wolsey. “Speak,
-Cromwell, speak; conceal nothing from me. I am not a child,” he added
-with firmness.
-
-“You have been condemned by the Star Chamber, but the king says he will
-have the bill rejected in the House of Commons,” replied Cromwell.
-
-“He will not do it!” cried Wolsey, the tears coursing rapidly down his
-cheeks. “He will sacrifice me, Cromwell, I know it; he has no longer any
-use for me, and my past services have left no impression on his mind. But
-how far has their rage carried them? To what have they condemned me?”
-
-“You have been placed beyond the protection of the king, and all your
-property confiscated.”
-
-“The king’s protection is already recovered,” gently interrupted Arundel,
-who had listened until this time in silence. “As for the confiscation,
-that will be more difficult, inasmuch as they are generally more ready
-to take than to give. However, my dear cardinal, you should despair of
-nothing; then let us try and console you. They cannot confiscate me, who
-have never had anything to do with the gentlemen of the council. I have a
-good house, an excellent cook; you will come home with me, and, my word
-for it, you shall want for nothing.”
-
-“Arundel,” interrupted the cardinal, “I am deeply grateful for your kind
-offer; but believe me, they will not leave me the choice of profiting by
-it.”
-
-“Why not? why not?” exclaimed Arundel. “The devil! Why, these gentlemen
-of the council are not wild beasts! A little avaricious, a little
-ambitious, a little envious, and slightly selfish, but they are at least
-as accommodating as the devil!”
-
-“No!” replied Wolsey.
-
-“I assure you, before receiving the king’s message,” said Cromwell, “I
-was in despair, for they spoke of having you arrested and immediately
-urging the accusation of high treason; but since the king has declared
-you under his protection, I do not believe that all is entirely lost.
-Norris has repeated to me twenty times: ‘Say positively to the cardinal
-that the king advises him not to be troubled, and to remember that he can
-give him, any moment he pleases, far more than they can take away.’”
-
-“I hope I may be mistaken, dear Cromwell,” replied the cardinal with
-a sombre air; “but I fear a momentary compassion only has excited the
-king to say what you tell me, and it will not be long before that wicked
-night-bird[140] will again have possession of his ear. She will not
-fail to use her influence in defaming me and blackening anew all my
-actions, until the king will cease to oppose the wicked designs they have
-conceived against me.”
-
-Saying this, he buried his face in his hands and sank into a state of
-despondency impossible to describe.
-
-Cromwell made no reply, and Arundel silently took his leave, inwardly
-congratulating himself, as he returned home, upon the tranquil and happy
-life he knew so well how to lead, and censuring those who would not
-imitate his example; without once reflecting that few were in a position
-so agreeable or independent as his, and consequently were not able to
-enjoy themselves equally nor after his own deliberate fashion.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-SINE LABE CONCEPTA
-
-    Predestined second Eve. For this conceiv’d
-      Immaculate--not lower than the first.
-      Chosen beginner in the loss reversed,
-    And mediatress in the gain achieved,
-    When, the new angel, as the old, believed,
-      Thy hearkening should bless whom Eve’s had curst.
-      And therefore we, whose bondage thou hast burst,
-    Grateful for our inheritance retrieved,
-    Must deem this jewel in thy diadem
-      The brightest--hailing thee alone “all fair,”
-        Nor ever soil’d with the original stain:
-    Alone, save Him whose heart-blood bought the gem
-      With peerless grace preventive none might share--
-        Redemption’s perfect end, all else tho’ vain.
-
-
-VILLAGE LIFE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.
-
-“I think I shall start for New Hampshire to-morrow,” I said. “Do you know
-anything about L----, in Cheshire County?”
-
-Jones, who had been meditatively examining the coloring of a
-richly-tinted meerschaum, sat up erect at this question, with a sudden
-access of vigor.
-
-“L----?” he said. “By George! there’s where Agnes Cortland lives now in
-the summer.”
-
-It was the middle week of July. Aspirations for one whiff of the breeze
-among the hills had become irresistible. We were sitting together, Jones
-and I, in my room up-town after luncheon. Jones was a young New York
-artist in his first season after his return from Italy the previous
-autumn. He, too, was about to start on a sketching tour through Vermont,
-in which State his people lived. He was late leaving town, but money
-was not easy with him--a handsome young fellow of that golden age
-between twenty-three and twenty-four, when one is apt to think he needs
-only a very short-handled lever to move the world. He was of medium
-height, but squarely and powerfully built; with a face good-natured,
-but very resolute, in expression. A stranger would not be likely to
-take a liberty with him. I had a strong notion that Jones would make a
-better soldier than artist, if there were any question of blows being
-struck for the country, which happily there is not. But hitherto I had
-shrewdly kept that opinion to myself. Considerably older than he was,
-and engaged in another occupation, circumstances had thrown us a good
-deal together. Intimacy had brought confidence, and confidence, at
-his age, meant--nothing more nor less than it always does under such
-circumstances--the unbosoming of his love affairs. How few there are
-who have not found themselves in the same position, either as actors or
-sympathetic chorus, or in time as both! What countless dramas of passion
-are continually being put upon the private stage before this limited
-audience!
-
-Now, it is not the purpose of this paper to pursue the history of
-Jones’ captivity at the hands of the tender goddess through all the
-infinitesimal and transcendental chapters a first romance runs into. More
-placid emotions and observations, befitting the serenity of approaching
-middle age, are in store for the reader. And in fact the history of
-Jones’ passion is still incomplete. But so much of it may be given as
-fell within the purview of our New Hampshire observations.
-
-Jones was poor--prosaic fact, which robs life of so many compensations as
-we grow old. But at twenty-three we spurn the mastery of the glittering
-dross--that is, if Congress gives us any to spurn! Let us say rather
-of the flimsy paper. At that age of our flowing life we coin money at
-our own mint; or, more truly, draw limitless drafts on the Bank of
-the Future. Happy the man who meets them when they fall due! Jones,
-at least, had no doubts as to his future solvency. But his plans were
-vague--very!
-
-Agnes Cortland was the daughter of a railroad director--or two or
-three directors rolled into one--and had the world, or at least the
-New York world, to choose from. Poor Jones! his story might almost be
-predicted from the start. Yet this inheritor of the (latent) genius
-of any half-dozen masters, ancient or modern, you choose to name,
-believed, perhaps with some reason, that this daughter of Dives liked
-him; and as for himself, he vowed with hyperbole that he adored her.
-They had frequently met--their families then being neighbors in the
-country--before he went to Italy, where he had spent two years studying
-and wandering about. No avowal of affection had been made between them,
-but he had gone away with the consciousness many little signs and tokens
-give that he was not disliked. Since his return a year ago some meetings
-had taken place--at rarer intervals--in society. At an evening party
-some months before she had given him, he said, a slight but unmistakable
-opportunity of declaring himself, if he had wished to do so.
-
-“But I did not take it,” said Jones, who, spite of his being in love, was
-as manly a young fellow as one could meet. “She knows I am poor; and I
-don’t want to be thought a fortune-hunter.”
-
-I laughed at this quixotic declaration.
-
-“My dear fellow,” I said, “you fly at high game. But I should not let
-the _auri sacra fames_ interfere, one way or the other, with my tender
-emotions. If I did so at all, Plutus would have his due weight in the
-scale, believe me!”
-
-“What would you do?” said Jones. This was in one of those “tobacco
-parliaments” in early spring--if so they might be called, where one,
-only, smoked, and the other looked on with sympathy; for I had abandoned
-the “weed” some years before--hardly of such profundity, nor yet so
-silent, as those Mr. Carlyle speaks of. Jones had recurred to his usual
-topic of hopes and perplexities.
-
-“Do?” I answered, looking at him retrospectively, as it were, as if
-contemplating my own departed youth, as he sat there in his favorite
-attitude after dinner, gracefully balancing one leg over the arm of
-my chintz-covered easy-chair, while I was stretched out on the sofa.
-“Ah! that is an easy question to propound, but not so easy to answer.
-At your age I should not think you would need much prompting. But if
-you ask me, I would say, leave it alone! Love is a luxury for the rich
-or the evenly-mated poor. But you are not likely to take that advice.
-A good deal would depend on the reinforcements she might bring to the
-struggle. A woman is not always a passive instrument in those affairs,
-but sometimes has a will of her own. I have never seen your fair one,
-and know nothing about her. But if she be a girl of some strength of
-character, and her love do not prove a mere school-girl’s fancy, she
-might possibly gain her father’s consent. But it is not a promising
-adventure, at the best; and I would not recommend you to embark your
-hopes in it. Keep clear of serious entanglements until you see your way
-before you. Above all, avoid anything like a clandestine engagement. It
-will not add to your happiness or hers. I don’t suppose you will think
-this a very encouraging opinion. But there may be circumstances in your
-favor I know nothing of. Marry her, if you can, and can get the father’s
-consent; and go into “railroading” with him in his office. You will make
-more money at that than you are ever likely to do sticking little dabs of
-color on a piece of canvas.”
-
-I saw Jones wince at this mercenary view of his art. But he bore it
-like a man, and continued silent. The suggestion of such a change of
-vocation did not appear to surprise him, though it was plain no active
-intention of throwing up his art had yet entered his mind. The fact is,
-Jones is one of those young men--not inconsiderable in numbers in the
-profession--who “have a studio,” but are not likely ever to send many
-master-pieces out of it. Developing some precocious talent for drawing
-when they are boys, and seizing with boyish eagerness upon the suggestion
-of being “an artist,” they are offered by fond but undiscerning parents
-upon the altar of art. But they never advance beyond a mechanical
-dexterity in putting conventional scenes upon canvas. They haven’t
-a spark of that genius that is often observed where other pursuits
-have prevented a devotion to the profession. Eventually they abandon
-altogether the study or practice of their art, or sink into drudges for
-the picture or chromo dealers, or grind out a living as drawing-masters,
-or--Heaven knows how. I will not say that Jones was altogether deficient
-in talent, but the talent that makes an agreeable accomplishment for
-the rich amateur is a different thing from that which will pay the
-piper or win eminence in the art. Jones painted his pictures for the
-autumn and spring exhibitions, and had one or two on view in one of
-the up-town windows. But at Du Vernet’s big sale I know that a clever
-little bit of coloring on which he had spent some time was knocked down
-to a chromo-dealer for sixteen dollars! How was he going to live on such
-prices? And as for marrying Agnes Cortland--it was simply preposterous
-to think of it. Nor is this redundancy of young native artists on whom
-neither genius nor fashion smiles confined to New York alone. In Boston,
-which is the only other city boasting of a native school of art, the same
-low prices prevail. It is disheartening; but a more disheartening thing
-still is that those prices often represented the actual value of the
-picture.
-
-Jones was imperfectly educated, though his continental travel had made
-him a fair linguist. He certainly drew very little inspiration from the
-antique, for he knew next to nothing about it; nor had he much of that
-sympathy with the undercurrent of life, and its relations with nature,
-which gives significance to common things. He had a fondness for pleasure
-which, of course, did not contribute to his success. Yet he was one of
-those young fellows whom it is impossible to meet without liking. He was
-frank, honorable, and spirited, and had a robust shrewdness about him in
-dealing with men and things that made him a pleasant companion. That he
-would eventually choose a more active kind of life--and probably succeed
-in it--I was half-convinced, and my advice about “railroading,” though
-spoken partly in jest, was inwardly meant in good faith.
-
-On this particular July evening on which our paper opens Jones followed
-up the announcement of my proposed trip to L---- by expressing a wish
-that he were going there too, so that he might come to a definite
-understanding with Agnes Cortland; and the wish was soon followed by the
-determination to act on it.
-
-“How long do you intend to stay there?” he asked.
-
-“Till the first week in September,” I said.
-
-“Then I will come back that way, and join you for a few days about the
-first of September. The Cortlands don’t leave there till October. We can
-come back to New York together.”
-
-It would have been ungracious on my part to have objected to this
-proposal, though I had a good many doubts about its wisdom. So it
-happened that my little excursion to L----, which I had innocently
-designed to be a season of simple lotus-eating such as Mr. Tennyson
-ascribes to his Olympian deities, “reclined upon the hills together,
-careless of mankind,” was complicated by a subordinate interest in a
-comedy from real life which had that quiet village for a stage.
-
-The next day I started, taking Boston _en route_. That staid, quiet,
-cleanly city seems always to be, compared with New York, like a good
-school-boy by the side of a big, blustering brother fonder of a street
-row than his books. Then to Fitchburg, where I stopped over night, as
-some stage travelling was to be done from our “jumping-off” place, and
-riding over the country roads in the morning was more promising than on
-a dark and cloudy night. In the morning the Fitchburg Railroad again,
-and one of its branches to L----. The unwonted coolness of the morning
-breeze, as the train entered the New Hampshire hills, already began to
-refresh mind and body alike. The pines and hemlocks extending back into
-deep, dim recesses carpeted with moss and ferns; the cattle moving slowly
-over the pastures in the distance; the pastures themselves stretching
-up the sides of the highest hills, still of the freshest green, without
-a hint of the yellow undertone that I watched gradually overspread them
-as the summer ripened into autumn; a lake in the foreground, silent,
-unvisited, its clear waters unpolluted by the dregs of commerce or the
-drainage of a vast metropolis; even the caw! caw! of the ravens flying
-off from the tops of the pine stumps, send a novel and delicious feeling
-of freedom through the breast of the city traveller who has put care and
-work behind him for a season. Nor is this feeling altogether evanescent.
-Even now, as winter approaches and the north winds from the same hills
-come sweeping down over the great city, sending us chattering and
-freezing to our cosey firesides, the glory of the July foliage moves our
-memory like a far-off dream of youth. Yet, after all, it may be doubted
-whether the charm of country scenes is not due in great part to their
-novelty and the feeling that we are not bound to them longer than we
-please. Of all that has been written in praise of country life, how much
-is the work of the city resident; how little, comparatively speaking,
-springs from the country itself! There drudgery too often takes the
-place of sentiment. It is the Epicurean poet, Horace, satiated with the
-noise of the Forum and the gossip of the baths, who sings sweetest of
-rural contentment, of the “lowing herds,” the “mellow fruits of autumn,”
-and the “brooks murmuring over stony beds.” But when he gives play to
-his satiric vein, none pictures more truthfully than the Venusian the
-grumbling of the husbandman, who “turns the heavy clay with the hard
-plough.” Embowered in some shady arbor on the windings of the Digentia
-through his Sabine farm, or doing a little amateur farming, to the
-amusement, as he confesses, of his blunt country neighbors, who laughed
-at the dandy poet with a hoe in his hand, it was easy for Horace to
-chant the smooth and sunny side of country life. But the eight laborers
-on his estate, chained literally to the soil, as many a New England
-farmer morally is by the burden of debt or family, no doubt saw things
-differently. And the bailiff of his woodlands we know to have despised
-those “desert and inhospitable wilds,” and to have longed for the streets
-and shows of Rome. It is amazing upon what inattentive ears the music of
-our wild birds falls in a secluded farm-house. Often it seems absolutely
-unheard; while the clatter of the long street of the country town that
-the farmer visits once a month is for ever in his mind.
-
-But we delay too long at the way station at L----. Let us onwards.
-
-The carrier of the United States mail, who is at the same time the Jehu
-of the passenger stage, slings our _impedimenta_ up behind with an energy
-to be envied by a veteran “baggage-smasher” at some of our big depots,
-straps it down, and jumps upon the box. We mount more slowly beside him,
-disdaining to be shut up in the close interior, and intent upon looking
-at the country we pass through this lovely morning. The two stout grays
-breast the hill leading to L---- Centre, eight miles distant.
-
-The surface of the country is hilly and broken; as we approach L----,
-mountainous. Mounting the crest of the first steep hill, a beautiful
-natural panorama spreads out before us: long, narrow, intersecting lines
-of timber, like giant hedges, dividing the hill farms from each other.
-A rolling country spreads toward the east, bounded on the horizon by a
-low range of mountains wooded to the summit, and with a white steeple
-flashing out here and there among the trees at their base. The effects of
-light and shade, caused by the clouds on a brilliant day, on one of those
-white steeples, standing out solitarily against the side of a mountain
-eight or ten miles distant, are peculiar. Sometimes it becomes invisible,
-as the circle of the shadow is projected upon that area of the mountain
-which includes it. Then, as the dark veil moves slowly, with a sliding
-motion, up the side and over the crest of the mountain, the white spire
-flashes out from the obscure background of the forest with a sudden
-brilliancy. On this side patches of blue water among the trees in the
-hollows revealed the presence of numerous ponds, as the small lakes, and
-some of the large ones, are universally called in New England.
-
-To the northwest what seemed to be a level plain from the height over
-which we rode, but which was in reality broken and undulating ground,
-stretched beneath us for ten or twelve miles to the base of Mt.
-Monadnock. The mountain, grand, massive, and still veiled by a thin mist,
-rose boldly from the low country at its foot to a height of nearly four
-thousand feet.
-
-A ride of an hour and a half brought us to the top of the hill on the
-side of which stands L----. A dozen scattered houses flank the broad
-village green, and a Congregational meeting-house, with white belfry
-tower and green blinds, stands half-way down the incline.
-
-The post-office and country store combined is at the cross-roads as you
-drive down the hill, and some ancient elms on the green seem to nod at
-the stranger with a friendly air as he enters the village. “Here,” said I
-to myself, “is rural quiet and simplicity. Farewell for many slumberous
-weeks the busy haunts of men.” L---- is quite out of the beaten track of
-summer travel, and had been recommended me by a friend who had spent some
-seasons there, on the ground of economy, charming scenery, good fishing,
-and repose. Nor did I find any reason to regret having listened to him.
-A country tavern offers entertainment to man and beast, and is resorted
-to by the drummers and sample men who invade L----, as elsewhere, with
-their goods. But I was not forced to be dependent on it, as a letter from
-my friend opened to me the hospitable doors of the comfortable farm-house
-where he had boarded two years before.
-
-Here let it be said at the outset that whatever the other drawbacks of
-village life in New Hampshire, there is among the farming class a natural
-courtesy, and, among the women, even an inherited refinement of manner,
-especially in their treatment of strangers, which speaks well for the
-native stock. Prejudices there are among both men and women--deep-rooted,
-as we shall see--and narrow-minded opinions in plenty; but even these
-are concealed where to manifest them might give offence. The family
-in which I was domiciled consisted of Mr. Allen and his wife, their
-married daughter--who, together with her husband, resided with them--an
-unmarried daughter, and a pretty little girl, the grandchild. Mr. Allen
-kept a country store--for L---- boasted of two--and traded also in cattle
-with Canada, making a journey sometimes as far as Montreal in the spring
-to buy stock, which he fattened on his pastures through the summer and
-autumn, and sold in the early part of the winter. These various ventures,
-which were on the whole successful--as the command of a little ready
-money enabled him to take his time and buy and sell to advantage--had
-made him more “forehanded” than most of his neighbors. He was one of
-the selectmen of L----. His dwelling-house, a large, white, well-kept
-two-story edifice, with a garden-plot facing the village street, a piazza
-on the sunny side, and two beautiful maples dividing the carriage yard
-from the road, was one of the handsomest in L----. Mrs. Allen was one of
-those energetic housewives whose sound sense and domestic capacity had
-evidently contributed not a little to her husband’s present prosperity.
-
-They were a sturdy couple, intelligent, honest, and knowing what was due
-to themselves and others; now going down the hill together with mutual
-dependence and confidence in each other. I consider them a good example
-of the best type of the New Hampshire farming class.
-
-The married daughter did not compare favorably with the mother. One could
-not say of her in any sense:
-
-    “O matre pulchra filia pulchrior!”
-
-for, as to the question of female beauty, I will not say, as far as my
-observations extend, that the New Hampshire, or indeed the New England
-women generally, outside the radius of Boston and some of the large
-towns, are very generously endowed by nature with that gracious but
-dangerous gift. The lines of the face are too strongly marked; they are
-sallow, the form angular; or, where the figure is fuller, it is apt to be
-as redundant as the old Flemish painters make the women at a village fair.
-
-But this absence of feminine beauty is not universal. I have seen a
-young mother with her babe in her lap--a visitor sitting in Mrs. Allen’s
-parlor--who made a picture of beautiful maternity as dignified and
-simple as Murillo ever painted. As for that more lasting moral beauty
-which, where it is feminine, puts on its most delightful and engaging
-charm, Mrs. Harley, the married daughter, was too much engaged with
-her own little cares and gossip--poor woman!--to think much of so
-intangible a possession. Brought up, probably, in habits of more leisure
-and pleasure-seeking than her mother, who still took all the household
-work upon herself, she was a victim of _ennui_ and of that blight of
-too many American homes--only one child to care for. Her health was
-delicate and uncertain, and she bade fair to sink eventually into that
-class of invalid wives which forms such an unhappily large percentage
-of American women. How often have I heard her complain of the dreadful
-dulness of the day! “But,” I asked, “what will you do in the winter, if
-you find the summer so unbearable?” Her answer was that they generally
-enjoyed themselves enough in the summer-time to be able to get through
-the winter. I don’t know whether this was a covert thrust at my lack of
-entertaining power; but I laughed at the stroke of satire at my expense,
-innocent or intended. That long dreary, snow-shrouded New Hampshire
-winter--it demanded indeed a stout heart to face it in one of those
-isolated villages. Mrs. Harley had given up her music when she married;
-the piano stood idle in the best room. She read nothing--unless looking
-at the fashion-plates in a ladies’ magazine be considered reading. A
-Sunday-school picnic, a day’s shopping in the nearest country town, were
-white days in her calendar. Is such a picture of life cheerless? Yet too
-many women are forced to endure it elsewhere. Happy they if the abounding
-resources of the faith and its literature come to their aid! Mrs. Harley
-was a kind woman withal, if her attention were drawn for a moment from
-herself; and an affectionate and anxious wife. This and her love for
-her child--fretful and over-indulgent as the latter sentiment was apt
-to be--were her redeeming qualities. Placed in a large city, with means
-equal in proportion to those within her reach in L----, she would have
-made a more agreeable woman, and would have been tenfold happier herself.
-The influence of semi-solitary life--where a religious vocation does not
-exalt and sanctify it--is more unfavorable in its effects upon women than
-upon men. The latter commonly have work to do which keeps their faculties
-from rusting. Woman’s nature is essentially social.
-
-Mr. Harley assisted his father-in-law in the store--a tall, handsome
-young man with a city air, who, at that season, sat in the store the
-whole afternoon with perhaps one customer. Such a life for youth, with
-its superabundant energies ready to pour like a torrent into any
-channel, is stagnation. The highest of man’s natural powers rust and
-decay. But natural forces have their sway in the great majority of such
-cases, and force an outlet for themselves. The youth of these villages
-leave their homes for the great cities, or take Horace Greeley’s advice
-and “go West.” Life is hard, and it is monotonous, which adds a new
-slavery to hardship. The exodus is constant. L---- has less population
-and fewer inhabited houses now than it had forty years ago. The same is
-true of other villages--a striking fact in a comparatively new country.
-One rambles along some by-road overgrown with grass, and presently comes
-upon a deserted and ruined house and barn, the rafters only standing, or
-perhaps nothing more than a heap of bricks in the cellar. He asks about
-the people, and is told that they have “gone away.” The answer is vague
-and uncertain as their fate. I spoke to an old man of eighty-seven,
-seated in the shade on the long bench before the country store, where he
-could hear the news in the morning. He remembered with distinctness the
-events of the war of 1812. He spoke with regret of the flourishing times
-of his youth in L---- and its dulness to-day. This roving disposition
-of the American youth is the result of immense elbow-room, and has
-been providential in building up new States and subduing the virgin
-wilderness. The manufacturing cities of New Hampshire also gain yearly at
-the expense of the small villages. The township--or town, as it is most
-commonly called--embraces three or four of such villages, and is subject
-to the same reciprocal movement. Comparatively few new farms have been
-broken in during the last twenty or thirty years; and too rarely it
-happens on the old farms that fresh ground is taken in from the pasture
-for cultivation. The son tills what his father or grandfather cleared.
-
-The first few days in L---- I spent rambling about the pastures--some
-of them literally red with the raspberry, which, though it has not the
-delicacy or fragrance of the wild strawberry, is not to be disdained
-by the city palate--or climbing to the tops of the highest neighboring
-hills. What a sense of elastic joy and freedom to me, who had not spent
-a summer in the country for three years, to lie stretched at full length
-on the top of a new-mown hill, and let the eye wander over the valley
-beneath, with its intervening woods and ponds, till it rested upon the
-distant mountains, the cloud-shadows chasing each other over their sides
-and summits! If this were not in truth an Arcadia to those who lived and
-died there, and were buried in the white-stoned churchyard among the
-elms--if to them life brought its cares, its jealousies, and sorrows--to
-the stranger who sought nothing more than to enjoy its natural beauties
-it renewed all the associations of rural happiness and simplicity. Not
-that one might hope to see a Corydon and Phillis issue from the New
-Hampshire woods--for there is a sternness among those northern scenes,
-even in the brightest bloom of summer, foreign to the poetry of the
-South--but that in its dark pine groves and on its windy hills fancy
-might picture an eclogue or a romance not less sweet and tender because
-more real.
-
-L---- is on the height of land between the valleys of the Connecticut and
-Merrimac, between twenty and thirty miles distant from each. It is from
-one thousand to one thousand three hundred feet above the sea level. It
-is said of the rain that falls on the roof of the village church that
-part of it eventually runs into the Connecticut, part into the Merrimac,
-so evenly does its roof-tree divide the water-shed of those rivers.
-But as the same story is told of other churches in the central belt of
-Cheshire County, it may be regarded rather in the light of a rhetorical
-illustration than as a fact of physical geography. The scenery is not
-of the grand or sublime order to be seen further north among the White
-Mountains, except where Mt. Monadnock raises its dark and solemn front
-above the surrounding landscape; but it is beautiful and picturesque.
-Its greatest charm is its variety. In the morning, when the sun was well
-towards the zenith--for the fresh air of those hills made the day at
-all hours delightful--I would stroll out over the pastures to a hill a
-quarter of a mile distant from the farm-house. There would I seat myself,
-protected from the sun’s ardent rays, under a young maple bush, the
-elastic branches of which, with the sloping ground thick with ferns, made
-a natural easy-chair. The valley is below me, the farms stretch along
-the nearer hills, and in the further distance the blue-veiled mountains
-define the skyline. I bend down a branch of the maple, and before me is
-the upper half of Mt. Monadnock, a thin gray mist still enveloping it.
-The base of the mountain is hidden by an intervening hill. Leaving this
-pasture, and walking a few hundred rods further on, I enter a field where
-the hay has just been cut, and which is now as smooth as a croquet lawn,
-but not so level; for it is the crest of one of the highest hills. Here a
-new scene awaits me. To the north and west the hill has the shape almost
-of a perfect dome. Stretched on the top, I cannot see the declivities
-of the sides, but only the tops of the trees at some distance. One has
-the sensation of being on the roof of a high building with a deep drop
-between him and the surrounding country. The view is superb. The whole
-mass of Mt. Monadnock, from its base to the highest elevation, rises
-from the valley ten miles distant. At its foot is the village of West
-Jaffrey, a fashionable watering place. The white spire of the church
-is conspicuous among the trees. Further south is Gap Mountain and
-Attleborough Mountain; and sweeping round to the east, the view stretches
-along the New Ipswich Mountains to Watatick Hill. The circuit extends
-about twenty or thirty miles, making a picture of great natural beauty.
-The English hay, as the timothy and red clover are generally called, was
-still standing in many of the fields, but here and there the whirr of
-the mowing-machine could be heard, and the eye, following the direction
-of the sound, could discern the mower in his shirt-sleeves driving his
-pair of horses in the distant field. The meadow-grass of the lowlands was
-still in most places untouched. On the sides of the hills the scattered
-fields of wheat, barley, and oats, still green, made darker patches of
-verdure on the yellowish ground-color.
-
-But the view I most preferred was from a hill a little to the south of
-the village near some deserted buildings. Here the scene was wilder
-and more extensive. To the west Mt. Monadnock could be seen through
-a gorge between two hills; to the east was a wild and broken country;
-while to the south the woods seemed to extend as far as the eye could
-reach, and over the furthest range of hills the great dome of Mt.
-Wachusett in Massachusetts, nearly thirty miles distant, was plainly
-seen, gray and massive, with the naked eye. It was only when one turned
-to Mt. Monadnock, ten miles distant, and observed how plainly he could
-distinguish the different colors of the mountain--the dark woods, the
-brown, bare surfaces, and the slate-colored rocks--that, looking at Mt.
-Wachusett, and noting its uniform pale gray outline, he was able to
-estimate the real distance of the latter, so comparatively close at hand
-did it appear.
-
-Seated at ease on the smooth turf on the summit of this “heaven-kissing”
-hill, and looking at this wide and beautiful prospect, one might repeat
-to himself Mr. Longfellow’s lines:
-
-    “Pleasant it was, when woods were green
-        And winds were soft and low,
-    To lie amid some sylvan scene,
-    Where, the long, drooping boughs between,
-    Shadows dark and sunlight sheen
-        Alternate come and go;”
-
-substituting only for “drooping boughs” the irregular ranges of hills.
-
-But descriptions of natural scenery, if long continued, are wearisome.
-Even a Ruskin is read best in snatches. The mind otherwise becomes
-clogged with images. Let us return, therefore, to animated life.
-
-As Sunday approached, I made inquiries about the nearest Catholic church.
-I found it was at W----, eight or nine miles distant. I had no means
-of getting there the first Sunday. I retired to my room and read some
-chapters of that sublime and affecting work, the _Imitation of Christ_,
-the gift of a good and beloved mother.
-
-A Catholic is still almost a being from another moral world in some
-of the isolated New Hampshire villages. Nowhere are the traditions of
-Puritanism more zealously or rigidly maintained. These good folk seem
-hardly yet to have emerged from a fog of wild amazement that “popish”
-priests and their followers should be tolerated by the selectmen. Not
-that any overt or offensive change of manner follows the announcement
-that one is a Catholic--as I have elsewhere said, there is a natural or
-inherited vein of good manners among the people that forbids it--but a
-momentary silence reveals to the speaker that he has stated something
-strange and unlooked for. There is an unmistakable tone of intolerance
-manifest, however, in any allusion to the poorer class of Irish and
-French that congregate in the larger towns, and are sometimes found in
-the villages in a wooden-ware factory, or cutting wood or hemlock-bark,
-or doing an odd job of haymaking. They are looked upon with dislike
-and distrust, mixed with a feeling of contempt. Curious it is that the
-native-born New Englander, with his mind saturated with hereditary
-theories of personal liberty, equality, and fraternity, should yet
-evince a more unconquerable aversion to the foreign element, which has
-contributed so largely to the greatness of the country, than is shown in
-European countries to men of a different race, unless war has temporarily
-embittered national feeling. Yet the explanation is not hard to find.
-This descendant of the Puritan, chained to the rocky and ungrateful
-soil his forefathers won from the Indians and the wilderness, sees with
-sullen indignation and jealousy the same rights and privileges which
-he enjoys under our free institutions extended so largely to those of
-a different nationality and religion. In revenge he draws himself more
-jealously into his shell. Nor is this feeling confined to the rich and
-refined; it penetrates the mass of the native-born New England population.
-
-To speak of lighter things. Society in L---- is eminently aristocratic.
-Better, perhaps, it would be to say that the lines of society are very
-strongly marked, and that the aristocratic element is essentially
-conservative.
-
-Mrs. Cortland, the wife of the New York capitalist, who resides there
-three months in the summer, a stout, refined, tight-gloved, graciously
-condescending lady, gives a metropolitan tone to L---- society. Mr.
-Cortland, an easy-going, easy-tempered man in private life, but reported
-to be hard as flint in business matters, seldom finds time to leave New
-York, and his visits to L---- are uncertain. His country house, a large,
-handsome mansion with well-kept grounds, croquet-lawn, coach-house, and
-stables, is on the highest ground in the village; and Mrs. Cortland
-occupies without dispute the highest ground socially. It is an imperial
-elevation, after the manner of the saying attributed to Cæsar. A call
-on Mrs. Cortland is the event of a week, and a return call from her
-is a matter not to be lightly treated. How have I seen this good Mrs.
-Allen, my landlady, prepare her best room for the grand occasion, and
-Mrs. Harley speculate about it with well-assumed indifference a whole
-afternoon. One or two other magnates from Boston, scattered through L----
-and adjacent townships, save Mrs. Cortland from complete exhaustion by
-contact with the village people during the summer.
-
-Then there is the local aristocracy, consisting of the wife of the
-Congregational pastor _ex-officio_, and Mrs. Parsons, the wife of
-“Squire” Parsons, who owns a small bucket-factory near L----. These two
-ladies maintain a strict alliance, offensive and defensive, with Mrs.
-Cortland during the summer. Then come the middle classes, comprising Mrs.
-Allen and Mrs. Harley, the young doctor’s wife--a stranger and somewhat
-snubbed by the autochthonous _élite_--and the well-to-do farmers’ wives.
-Finally, we have the _profanum vulgus_, the tail of L---- society, or,
-to speak more correctly, those whom society does not recognize--some
-farmers’ wives whose husbands were too much in debt to allow them to keep
-up appearances; one or two hapless women who sold milk in a wagon to
-the neighboring towns, and drove the wagon themselves; and the village
-washerwoman, who went around doing “chores.” I think I have exhausted the
-classification of the social strata of L----. I observed that the men
-eschewed as much as possible the aristocratic distinctions made by their
-wives, and were apt to resent by silence or the assumption of an unwonted
-bluntness the empty airs and loud voice with which some vulgar rich man
-from a neighboring large town would sometimes stride through the village.
-
-Wanderers and waifs, destined apparently to be at some time drawn into
-the great caldron of city life--perhaps to their own destruction--were
-not wanting in L----. I have said that the women were not remarkable
-for beauty. But there was one exception. A girl belonging to one of
-the most destitute families in the village, by one of those whims of
-nature which are not uncommon, was gifted with a face and figure to
-attract even an unobservant eye, and which seemed out of place in that
-quiet and homely neighborhood. The mother, a poor, struggling woman with
-a growing-up family of all ages, managed to live somehow by the days’
-work and occasional assistance given her by the well-to-do families.
-The father was living, but spent most of his time in the county jail
-for drunkenness. The daughter of whom I speak was about nineteen or
-twenty years of age; tall, of fair complexion, with a naturally elegant
-carriage and a proud and almost defiant air, as if she resented the
-caprice of fortune which had placed her in that lowly station. She had
-the art of dressing well with limited means, which some women possess
-to the envy of others. On Sundays and at picnics she outshone the more
-expensively-dressed daughters of the farmers. She had been, and perhaps
-still is, the maid at the village inn. It may be imagined that gossip was
-not idle about this poor girl, thus singularly placed and dangerously
-gifted. Dreadful quarrels had taken place between the father and mother
-about the girl’s staying at the hotel; the drunken father, with a true
-sense of what was becoming, insisting that she should leave, the mother
-as strenuously maintaining that she should remain. The beauty of the
-girl herself was not of that domestic type I have elsewhere noticed
-in the mother and her babe I saw in Mrs. Allen’s parlor, but of that
-showy, restless, naturally haughty stamp which presaged storm, perhaps
-disaster. It is this class misfortune follows and the great cities sweep
-into their net. Poverty often makes vice of that which, under happier
-fortunes, might have been attractive virtue. _Absit omen_. May this
-rustic beauty find a happier, if more homely, destiny as the wife of some
-honest farmer in L----!
-
-The summer passed, week after week. I fished, I walked, I rode, I read,
-I loitered. The barley ripened on the hill behind the farm-house, and
-a golden tint began to spread over the distant fields. The apples grew
-large and ruddy on one side where the sun struck the laden branch in
-the orchard. The tassels of the corn showed purple. August blazed. The
-doves flew thirstily to the large blue pump, and perched on the edges
-of the horse-trough after the farmer watered his horse at mid-day. The
-bees hummed three at a time in the big yellow cups of the squash-vines.
-Have you ever observed of that homely vegetable how ingeniously and
-dexterously it fastens its daring and aggressive vines to the ground as
-it shoots out over the close-cut grass? Stoop down among the after-math,
-or rowen, as it is called in New Hampshire, and you will see that at the
-inosculation of each successive joint of the vine, where it throws out
-its tendrils and blossoms, it also thrusts forth slender, white, curling
-ligaments that twist, each of them, tightly around a tiny tuft of the
-short grass. Thus it moors itself, as if by so many delicate living
-cables, to the bosom of the life-giving earth.
-
-I might, if space allowed, tell of my fishing ventures, and how one
-glorious morning we rode out of L---- in a big yellow wagon with
-three horses--a party of seven of us, ladies and gentlemen, from the
-village--to make the ascent of Mt. Monadnock. This is the lion of all the
-country round. Parties are made up every week to climb its rugged summit.
-Over the hills and rolling ground we gaily rattled. Through the sandy
-country roads, where the branches of the trees met overhead and made dim
-aisles of verdure, we smoothly sped. And then what panting, laughing,
-climbing, shrill screaming, as we toiled up the winding path from the
-half-way house to the top of the mountain! What a magnificent, boundless
-view repaid us! The day was clear. To the north, Mt. Kearsarge and
-rolling ranges of mountains; to the southeast, a diversified surface of
-country spreading onwards far as the eye could reach towards the unseen
-ocean; to the south, Mt. Wachusett; below us woods, valleys, and lakes. A
-feeling of awe creeps over one in these mountain solitudes.
-
-As to the fishing, I will confess that to me, who had thrown a fly over
-more than one Canadian river, and had killed my twenty-pound salmon
-on the Nipisiquit, loafing with a pole in a boat over a lily-covered
-pond for a half-pound pickerel was not tremendously exciting sport. But
-what mattered it? The mornings were soft and wooing; the woods were
-full of mysterious shadows; the water was limpid as if Diana and her
-nymphs bathed there in the spectral moonlight. Life passed smoothly and
-agreeably. I sought no more.
-
-The blackberries began to ripen, first one by one and then in sable
-clusters, in the pastures. The days were growing shorter. The twilight
-sank more quickly into night. September approached, and I began to
-look for the appearance of my friend Jones. I had seen Miss Cortland
-two or three times coming from or going to the meeting-house on Sunday
-mornings, when all the beauty and fashion of L---- for miles around rode
-up in buggies, carryalls, or open wagons; but I had never met her to be
-introduced to her--a little imperial beauty, with a fresh and rosy color,
-and a mouth shaped like Cupid’s bow, that needed only to smile to conquer.
-
-On a bright September morning, when the surrounding atmosphere was clear
-as a bell, but a thin haze still clung about Mt. Monadnock and the
-far-off mountains, Jones rode over on the stage-coach from the railroad
-station and joined me at L----. He asked eagerly about Miss Cortland.
-
-Was she in the village?
-
-Yes.
-
-Had I met her?
-
-No; but I had seen her two or three times.
-
-What did I think of her?
-
-Well, I thought her pretty enough to excuse a little wildness of
-imagination on his part. He would be a lucky fellow if he got her and
-some of her father’s money or a position in his business!
-
-Did I think he would give up his Art so easily?
-
-“My dear Jones,” I replied, “I don’t want to appear cold-blooded,
-or to dash your enthusiasm for your art in the least; but, to speak
-candidly, I should not be surprised if you did some day under sufficient
-temptation--the prospect of marrying Miss Cortland, for example.”
-
-Jones declared his intention of calling on Miss Cortland that very day.
-He had a sketch-book full of studies, spirited, but many of them mere
-hints. He came back before dinner, full of life, and proposing a score
-of schemes for to-morrow. He made a sort of small whirlwind in my quiet
-life. Mrs. Cortland had received him civilly, but he thought a little
-coolly. But he had seen Agnes, and had spoken a few words to her that
-might mean much or little as they were taken, and he was happy--rather
-boisterously happy, perhaps, as a young fellow will be at such
-times--full of jokes, and refusing to see a cloud on his horizon.
-
-Jones fell easily into our farm-house ways, though he was apt to steal
-off in the mornings to play croquet on the Cortlands’ lawn with Miss
-Cortland and Miss Parsons, and any other friend they could get to join
-them.
-
-One afternoon, when the sun was getting low and a southerly wind blowing,
-we started to try for some fish at a pond about half an hour’s walk from
-the house. As we turned off the highway into a by-road covered with grass
-that led to the pond, I saw Miss Cortland standing on the rising ground
-some distance before us. She was looking from us towards the sinking sun,
-now veiled in quick-drifting clouds. Her dog, a large, powerful animal, a
-cross between a Newfoundland and Mount St. Bernard, was crouched at her
-feet. Some vague thoughts about Una and her lion flitted through my mind.
-But I was more struck by the way the light touched her figure, standing
-out motionless against the gray sky. It reminded me very much of the
-general effect of a painting by a foreign artist--Kammerer, I think it
-was--that I saw at the exhibition of the Boston Art Club last year. It
-was the picture of a girl standing on a pier on the French coast, looking
-out to sea. Her golden hair was slightly stirred by the breeze, her lips
-a little parted, and there was a far-away look in her eyes, as if she may
-have expected a lover to be coming over the sea in one of the yachts that
-lined the horizon. The dress of the girl and the stone-work of the pier
-were both white. It was a good example of the striking effects produced
-by the free use of a great deal of almost staring white, which is a
-favorite device of the latest school of French art.
-
-As we advanced, the dog growled and rose, but, recognizing Jones, wagged
-his tail inoffensively as we drew nearer. Miss Cortland turned towards us.
-
-“Shall I introduce you?” said Jones.
-
-“No,” I said. “I’ll go on to the pond. I’ll see you to-night.”
-
-Jones advanced, hat in hand. “What happy fortune,” he said, addressing
-her, “has led me to meet the goddess of these woods?” Then, altering his
-tone, he added in a bantering way: “I see you have been poaching on our
-preserves, Miss Cortland. But I do wonder at your taste, fishing for
-eels!” pointing to a small basket on her arm from which hung some of the
-long stems of the pond-lily. This he said to vex her, knowing her horror
-of those creatures. “Eels?” she exclaimed indignantly, with a tone and
-gesture of aversion at the thought. “They are pond-lilies.”
-
-“Oh! that is very well to say,” replied Jones, “when you have the lid of
-the basket down to hide them; but I insist upon their being eels unless
-you show them to me.”
-
-By this time I was out of hearing. I left them together, and kept on down
-the road to the pond.
-
-That night Jones came into my room with a quieter manner than usual. He
-was evidently very happy, but his happiness had a sobering effect upon
-him. He told me that he had made a plain avowal of his feelings to Agnes
-Cortland as they walked home together, and that he had won from her the
-confession that she loved him and had not been indifferent to him before
-he left for Europe. I wished him joy of his good-fortune, though I could
-foresee plainly enough that his difficulties had only begun. For a little
-time these two innocent young souls--for Jones I knew to be singularly
-unsullied by the world for a man of his age--would enjoy their paradise
-undisturbed together. Then would come maternal explanations, and the
-father’s authority would be invoked. A solemn promise would be exacted
-from her to see him no more. Miss Cortland was much attached to her
-parents, who would be sincerely anxious for her welfare. She would not
-make much resistance. Some day there would come a storm of tears, and
-poor Jones’s letters and the ring he gave her would be returned to him
-by a faithful messenger, and a little note, blotted with tears, asking
-him to forgive her and praying for his happiness. This must be the end.
-A year or two of separation and a summer and winter in Europe with her
-parents would leave nothing more than a little sad memory of her brief
-New Hampshire romance; and in five years she would be married to some
-foreigner of distinction or successful man of business, and would be a
-happy wife and mother. As for poor Jones, he would probably be heard of
-at rare intervals for a year or two as a trader on the Pacific coast
-or prospecting a claim in Nevada. But men like him, vigorous, powerful,
-well equipped in body and temper for the struggle with the world, are not
-kept down long by such disappointments. The storm is fierce, and leaves
-its scars after it; but the man rises above it, and is more closely knit
-thereafter. Jones will make his mark in the world of business, if not of
-art.
-
-No unwelcome prophecies of mine, however, disturbed his happiness for
-those few days. I let events take their course. Why should I interrupt
-his dream by Cassandra-like anticipations of woe, which would have been
-resented as a reflection upon the constancy of his idol? I know that
-they met frequently for the following three or four days. Then came the
-packing up for departure. My long holiday was over.
-
-On a foggy morning in September we steamed up the Sound on a Fall
-River boat. Through Hell Gate the stately boat sped on her way, past
-Blackwell’s Island, and across the bows of the Brooklyn ferry-boats,
-crowded with passengers for the city in the early morning. Around the
-Battery we swept, into the North River, and slowly swung alongside of
-Pier 28. Then the hackmen yelled at us; our coach stuck at the corner of
-the street; a jam followed; the drivers swore; the policemen shouted and
-threatened; the small boys grinned and dodged between the horses; and a
-ward politician, with a ruby nose, looked on complacently from the steps
-of a corner “sample” room. In one word, we were in New York, and our
-village life in Hampshire was a thing of the past.
-
-
-THE PALATINE PRELATES OF ROME.
-
-Whatever is connected with our Holy Father must have an interest for
-Catholics; and at the present time especially it would seem desirable to
-know something about the origin and functions of those faithful prelates
-of whom this article treats, and with some of whom American visitors to
-Rome may be likely to have relations. They are called palatine prelates
-because lodged in the same palace as the sovereign, and in these days of
-trouble are the nearest to his most sacred Majesty in his solitude and
-sufferings. They are four in number, and belong to the pope’s intimate
-court and confidence, their names being registered in the Roman _Notizie_
-immediately after those of the palatine cardinals among the members of
-the pontifical family.
-
-
-MAGGIORDOMO.
-
-The majordomo, called in good Latin, the official language of the church,
-_Magister Domus Papæ_, is the first of these prelates and one of the
-highest dignitaries of the Holy See. The chief of the royal palace
-has had in all countries immense influence and power; and in France
-and Scotland, at least, the _Maires du palais_ and stewards succeeded
-in mounting the throne. This officer, who, like the other three, is
-always a clergyman, is the high steward of his Holiness and master of
-his household, remaining day and night conveniently near to the Pope’s
-person, of which he has the special care, and for the safety of which he
-is responsible to the Sacred College. Until the present reign he was
-supreme under the sovereign, in the civil, military, and ecclesiastical
-affairs of the court, having his own tribunal of civil and criminal
-jurisdiction.[141] Some years ago, however, a part of the prerogatives
-of this office was transferred to the Cardinal Secretary of State; but
-even now the majordomo is at the head of the administration of the palace
-in which the Pope may reside for the time being, and on a vacancy of the
-see is _ex-officio_, by a decree of Clement XII. in 1732, governor of
-the conclave.[142] In this latter capacity, by a natural order of things
-which cannot be long delayed (yet God grant it may!), he will have to
-act a part during one of the most critical periods in the history of
-Christian Rome. He has the privilege[143] for life of using the pope’s
-arms with his own, and consequently retains this heraldic distinction
-even after he has been promoted to the cardinalate to which his office
-surely leads, sooner or later, according to a court custom that began
-in the middle of the XVIIth century.[144] The origin of this office is
-involved in some doubt, owing to its antiquity. It must have been that,
-in the palace given to Pope Melchiades by the Emperor Constantine, some
-person conspicuous for piety and prudence was appointed to keep the
-members of a large and constantly-increasing court in mutual harmony and
-subjection to authority, while relieving the pontiff of the immediate
-superintendence of his household, and leaving him free to give his
-precious time to public and more important matters. At all events, at
-a very early period after this there is mentioned among the officers
-attached to the _Patriarchium Lateranense_--as the old _Ædes Lateranæ_
-were then called--a _Vice-dominus_, who was chosen from the Roman clergy,
-and was often, as the more modern prelates have been, invested with the
-episcopal dignity. He was answerable for the good order and harmonious
-administration of the palace; and the extent of that portion of it
-in which he dwelt and had his offices, as well as held his court of
-jurisdiction over the papal domestics,[145] must have been large, since
-it was called the _vicedominium_; and although his successor fifteen
-hundred years later has not the same ample powers that he enjoyed, he is
-still a personage so considerable that the part of the Vatican in which
-he resides is known officially as the _Maggiordomato_. The earliest name
-(not title) of such an officer which has come down to us is that of a
-certain priest Ampliatus, who is mentioned in the year 544 as having
-accompanied Pope Vigilius to Constantinople for the affair of the Three
-Chapters, and being detached from the pontiff’s suite at Sicily on their
-way back, with orders to hurry on to Rome, where the concerns of the
-Lateran seem to have suffered by his absence. Anatolius, a deacon, held
-the office under S. Gregory the Great, who was very particular to have
-only virtuous and learned men about him; and in 742 Benedict, a bishop,
-held it under S. Zachary, who sent him on a mission to Luitprand, King of
-the Lombards. This officer is mentioned for the last time in history as
-_Vice-dominus_ in the year 1044, when an archdeacon Benedict served under
-Benedict IX. After this period, those who held the analogous position
-were styled chamberlains of the Holy Roman Church until 1305, when, the
-court being at Avignon, a large share of their duties and privileges was
-given to a nobleman of high standing, who was called _Maestro del sacro
-Ospizio_.[146]
-
-Under Alexander V., in 1409, the Holy Father having returned to Rome,
-mention is made for the first time, in a paper drawn up for the guidance
-of the court, of a prefect of the apostolic palace--_Magister domus
-pontificiæ_--who was the same as the later majordomo, the name only
-having been changed by Urban VIII. in 1626. The series of these high
-prelates, to the number of 99--belonging generally to the very first
-nobility of Italy, and showing such illustrious names as Colonna,
-Gonzaga, Farnese, Frangipani, Visconti, Acquaviva, Cybo, Cenci, Caraffa,
-Pico della Mirandola, Piccolomini, Borghese, Borromeo, etc.--begins with
-Alexander Mirabelli, a Neapolitan, who was named to the office by Pius
-II. in the month of August, 1458.
-
-
-MAESTRO DI CAMERA.
-
-This officer, whose official title in Latin is _Prefectus cubiculi
-Sanctitatis suæ_, is the second palatine prelate. He is the grand
-chamberlain of his Holiness, carries out the entire court ceremonial,
-and has the supervision of all audiences, as well as admittances of
-whatever kind to the presence of the Pope. How important and confidential
-is this post which he holds at the door of the papal chambers may best
-be judged from the single fact that no one can approach the sovereign
-without his knowledge in all and his consent[147] in most cases. He has
-sometimes the episcopal character--in truth, was usually in times past
-an archbishop _in partibus_; but it is now more customary for him to be
-simply in priest’s orders. If, however, he be not already a prelate of
-high rank, he is always, immediately after his nomination to the office,
-made an apostolic prothonotary, with precedence over all his brethren
-in that ancient and honorable college. Like his immediate superior, he
-has the privilege of quartering the Pope’s arms with his own. He is the
-keeper of the Fisherman’s ring, and at the Pope’s death delivers it up
-to the cardinal chamberlain of the Holy Roman College, who gives him a
-notarial receipt for it. This celebrated ring is the official one of the
-popes, and gets its name from having the figure of S. Peter in a bark
-and casting his net into the sea engraved upon it. Above this figure is
-cut the name of the reigning pontiff. It is the first among the rings,
-but the second in the class of seals, since it only serves as the privy
-seal or signet used on apostolic briefs and matters of subordinate
-consequence,[148] whereas the Great Seal is used to impress the heads
-of SS. Peter and Paul in lead (sometimes, but rarely, in gold) on papal
-bulls. At first this ring was a private and not an official one of the
-pope; for in a letter from Perugia of March 7, 1265, addressed by Clement
-IV. to his nephew Peter Le Gros, he says that he writes to him and to his
-other relatives, not _sub bulla, sed sub piscatoris sigillo, quo Romani
-Pontifices in suis secretis utuntur_; from which we gather that the ring
-was in use some time before, but by whom introduced is unknown, as is
-also the precise period when it became official, although this happened
-during one or other of the XVth century pontificates. Perhaps the first
-time that the now familiar expression, “Given under the Fisherman’s
-ring,” is met with in the manner of a formal statement or curial formula,
-such as it has been ever since retained, is in a document of Nicholas V.
-dated from Rome--_Datum Romæ_--on the 15th of April, 1448.
-
-The institution of this office is extremely ancient, but, like most
-others of the court, it has had different names and increased or
-diminished attributions at various periods. The modern Romans take a
-legitimate pride in being able to deduce many of their great court
-offices from the corresponding ones of the Cæsars, to whom their
-sovereign has succeeded. Thus this officer is sometimes called in
-classical Latin _Magister admissionum_, such an one being mentioned by
-the historian Ammianus Marcellinus (xv. 5); and his office _Officium
-admissionis_, which is found in Suetonius’ _Life of Vespasian_ (xiv.)
-Among the members of the household of S. Gregory the Great in the year
-601 there was a certain (S.) Paterius, _Secundicerius_ of the Holy See
-(corresponding to the modern sub-dean of the apostolic prothonotaries,
-the dean being _Primicerius_). He had to make known to the pope the
-names of those who solicited the favor of an interview; and it is
-probable that he also gave (as is now given) along with the name some
-account of the quality and business of the visitor, for fear that the
-pontiff should be unnecessarily intruded upon or brought in contact
-with unworthy and perhaps dangerous characters. Investigators into the
-origin of the offices of the Holy See have fixed upon this person as
-the remote predecessor of the present _Maestro di Camera_; but all the
-charges of the palace having been remodelled and placed nearly on their
-present footing about four hundred and fifty years ago, and many of
-the court records having been lost or stolen during the disturbed era
-between the pontificates of Clement V. (1305) and Martin V. (1417)--which
-includes the periods of Avignon and the schism--the authentic roll of the
-holders of these high offices of state rarely begins earlier than the
-XVth century. Thus the first grand chamberlain of the modern series is
-Bindaccio Ricasoli of Florence, who was _Magister aulæ palatii_ to John
-XXIII. in 1410. The present one is Monsignor Ricci-Paracciani, a Roman,
-who, however, has become majordomo by Monsignor Pacca’s promotion. The
-_Maestro di Camera_, being constantly in company with exalted personages
-who seek an audience of the Holy Father and wait their turn in, or at all
-events pass through, the _Anticamera nobile_, which opens immediately
-into the Pope’s reception-room, must be distinguished for good breeding
-and courtliness, and serve as a model to his subordinates in that august
-apartment, lest it be said of him:
-
-    “His manners had not the repose
-    That marks the caste of Vere de Vere.”
-
-Hence we are prepared to find the noblest families of Italy represented
-in the office, and notice such patrician names as Odescalchi, Altieri,
-Fieschi, Ruffo, Doria, Massimo, Pignatelli, Caracciolo, Barberini,
-Riario-Sforza, etc.
-
-
-UDITORE.
-
-The auditor of his Holiness--_Auditor Papæ_--is the agent-general, most
-intimate privy councillor, and canonist of the Pope. He is third in rank
-of the palatine prelates, and lived in the Quirinal, where his offices
-and the archives were situated, until the present iniquitous occupation,
-since which they have been removed to the Torlonia palace, near the
-Vatican. This office was instituted by Paul II. (1464-1471), and the
-first to hold it was the renowned J. B. Millini, a Roman, who was at the
-same time Bishop of Urbino (which was administered by some one else in
-his name); he later became a cardinal under Sixtus IV., in 1476. His
-successor at the present time is Monsignor Sagretti. Up to this century
-the power and general influence of the auditor were extraordinary, since
-he had a court of justice and ample jurisdiction, even exercising in the
-name of the Pope the supremacy of appeal in many matters. For this reason
-the great epigraphist Morcelli, who wrote before these judicial functions
-were abolished, called him _Judex sacrarum cognitionum_. Formerly he gave
-audience to all comers about matters of equity and appeal on Tuesdays,
-in his apartment at the Quirinal, standing in his prelatic robes behind
-a low-backed throne supposed by a sort of fiction to be then occupied
-by the Pope;[149] hence he was called in choice Latin _Cognoscens vice
-sacrâ_--_i.e._, in _lieu_ of his Holiness. The common Italian appellation
-_Uditore Santissimo_ is only a corrupt rendering of the Latin _Auditor
-Sanctissimi_. This post has always been occupied by one of the ablest
-jurists in Italy; and even now the auditor must be both very learned and
-most incorruptible, from the part that he takes officially in filling
-vacant sees and making other important nominations.
-
-
-MAESTRO DEL SACRO PALAZZO.
-
-The Master of the Holy Apostolic Palace--_Magister Sacri Palatii
-Apostolici_--is one of the most distinguished members for piety and
-doctrine of the Dominican Order. He is the Pope’s official theologian,
-and usually a consultor of several Roman congregations, more nearly
-concerned with matters of faith and morals, as the Inquisition,
-Indulgences and Relics, Index, etc. He ranks fourth among the palatine
-prelates, and resided until the late invasion in the Quirinal Palace
-with his “companion” and two lay brothers of his order. He is considered
-an honorary auditor of the Rota, and as such has a place with the
-prelates of this class in the papal chapels and reunions. He retains
-the habit of his order, but wears on his hat a black prelatical band.
-He is _ex-officio_ president of the Theological Faculty in the Roman
-University, and the person to whom was entrusted the censorship of the
-press. The origin of this office dates from the year 1218, when S.
-Dominic, who established the Order of Friars Preachers, suggested to
-Honorius III. that it would be proper if some one were charged to give
-religious instruction to the many servants of cardinals, prelates, and
-others, who used to spend their time idly in useless talk and slanderous
-gossip with their brethren of the papal palace while their masters
-were expecting an audience or engaged with his Holiness.[150] The Pope
-was pleased, and at once appointed Dominic to the good work, who began
-by explaining the Epistles of S. Paul.[151] The fruit of these pious
-conferences was so apparent that the pope determined to perpetuate
-them under the direction of a Dominican. Besides the more familiar
-instructions, which were given at first extempore, it was arranged
-later that while the pope and court were listening to the preacher
-appointed to sermonize in the palace during Advent and Lent, the papal
-domestics and other servants should also have the benefit of formal
-discourses, but in another part of the building. It was always the father
-_master_--_i.e._, doctor--who held forth to them until the XVIth century,
-when the duties of his office becoming more onerous, especially by reason
-of the many attempts to misuse the recently-discovered art of printing
-to corrupt faith and morals in Rome itself, the obligation devolved upon
-his companion--_Pro-Magister_ or _Socius_--who also holds three days of
-catechism in preparation for each of the four general communions that
-are given yearly in the palace. This deputy is appointed by the master,
-and is a person of consequence, succeeding sometimes to the higher
-office. The present master is Vincenzo Maria Gatti. When the learned
-Alexander V. became pope (1409), the Master of the Palace was required
-to stand by at his meals, especially on Sundays and festival days, and
-be ready to propose difficult points of debate, or to enter into an
-argument on any matter and with any person present as the Holy Father
-should command.[152] There have been seventy-nine occupants of this
-office since its institution (not to count several anti-masters created
-by anti-popes), of whom seventeen have been made cardinals, and among
-them the celebrated church historian Orsi. The great writer on Christian
-antiquities, Mamachi, held this office with distinction. It is one, of
-course, in which “brains” rather than “blood” find a place; and since
-there is no royal road to learning--for as an old monkish couplet says:
-
-    “Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi, sed sæpe cadendo,
-    Sic homo fit doctus, non vi, sed sæpe studendo”
-
---we are not surprised that the series of Masters of the Apostolic Palace
-exhibits no such names as those that predominate among the chamberlains
-and majordomos--“Not many noble” (1 Cor. i. 26).
-
-In the mother-church of the Dominican Order at Rome, _Santa Maria sopra
-Minerva_, which is also the title of the first American cardinal,[153]
-there is a special vault beneath the chapel of S. Dominic for the
-entombment of the masters; but the brutal invaders who now hold
-possession of Rome having forbidden all intra-mural burials--evidently
-through malice, because, from the dry nature of the soil and the
-perfection of Roman masonry, there could not be the slightest danger
-from a moderate number of interments within the city--they will have to
-sleep after death in some less appropriate spot: “How long shall sinners,
-O Lord, how long shall sinners glory?… Thy people, O Lord, they have
-brought low: and they have afflicted thy inheritance” (Ps. xciii.)
-
-
-POWER, ACTION, AND MOVEMENT.
-
-The word “motion” is now commonly used for movement, but it properly
-means the action by which a thing is set into movement. This action,
-or motion, of course proceeds from an agent, and consists in the
-production of an act, or momentum, which must be terminated or received
-in a patient. The active power of the agent is its substantial act as
-virtually containing in itself all the acts which the agent is ready to
-produce, according to its nature. This active power may therefore be
-called the virtuality, or terminability, of the act by which the agent
-is. The momentum produced by such a power stands to the power in the same
-ontological relation as the _now_ of time to the virtuality of God’s
-eternity, and as the ubication of a point in space to the virtuality of
-God’s immensity; for in all these cases there is question of nothing
-else than of an extrinsic terminability and an extrinsic term. We may,
-therefore, in treating of motive powers and momentums, follow the same
-order of questions which we have followed in our articles on space and
-duration.
-
-But the subject which we are about to investigate has a special feature
-of its own; because in the exertion of active power, and consequently in
-the momentums produced, there is something--_intensity_--which is not to
-be met with either in the _when_ or in the _where_. For the _when_ and
-the _where_ are mere terms of intervals or distances, and do not partake
-in their continuity; from which it follows that they are not quantities,
-but merely terms of quantities, whereas the momentum of motion is the
-formal principle of the real changes produced by the agent in the
-patient. And these changes admit of different degrees, and thus by their
-greater or less magnitude reveal the greater or less intensity of the
-exertion. The reason of this difference is very plain; for the _when_ and
-the _where_ are not efficiently produced by God’s eternity and immensity,
-for these divine attributes do not connote action. Their origin is not
-to be traced to action, but to resultation, as we have explained in
-our preceding articles. The entity of every creature, on the contrary,
-proceeds from God as efficient cause--that is, it does not merely result
-from the existence of other things, but it is actively produced; and,
-since an act produced must have some degree of perfection, creatures are
-more or less perfect as to their entity, and therefore have in their own
-act a greater or less power of acting, according to the degree of their
-entitative perfection. This explains why it is that there is intensity in
-all action and in all act produced, whereas there is no intensity in the
-_when_ and the _where_.
-
-But, apart from this special feature, the questions regarding active
-powers, actions, and the acts produced are entirely similar to those
-which we have answered in treating of space and of duration. Nay, more,
-the same questions may be viewed under three distinct aspects--viz.,
-first, with reference to the divine power and its causality of contingent
-things; secondly, with reference to second causes, their actions, and
-the momentums produced by them; and, thirdly, with reference to these
-momentums themselves and the local movements resulting from them. This
-third view of the subject is the only one immediately connected with
-the notions of space and of time, and we might limit ourselves to its
-consideration. Nevertheless, to shed more light on the whole treatise,
-we propose to say something of the other two also; for, by tracing
-the actions and the phenomena of the material world to their original
-sources, we shall discover that all different grades of reality are
-linked with their immediate principles in such a manner as to exhibit
-a perpetual analogy of the lower with the higher, till we reach the
-highest--God.
-
-To ascertain the truth of this proposition, let us recall to mind the
-main conclusions established by us with respect to space. They were as
-follows:
-
-1st. There is void space--that is, a capacity which does not imply the
-presence of anything created.
-
-2d. Void space is an objective reality.
-
-3d. Void space was not created.
-
-4th. Absolute space is the virtuality, or extrinsic terminability, of
-God’s immensity.
-
-5th. Absolute space is not modified by the presence of matter in it--that
-is, by its extrinsic termination.
-
-6th. Ubications are extrinsic terms of absolute space, and their
-relations have in space itself an extrinsic foundation.
-
-A similar series of conclusions was established in regard to duration.
-They were:
-
-1st. There is a standing duration--that is, an actuality which does not
-imply succession.
-
-2d. Standing duration is an objective reality.
-
-3d. Standing duration is not created.
-
-4th. Standing duration is the virtuality, or extrinsic terminability, of
-God’s eternity.
-
-5th. Standing duration is not modified by the existence in it of created
-things--that is, by its extrinsic termination.
-
-6th. The _whens_ of creatures are extrinsic terms of standing duration,
-and their relations have in standing duration their extrinsic foundation.
-
-Before we give the analogous conclusions concerning active powers and
-their causality, we have to premise that all power ready to act is
-said to be _in actu primo_, or in the “first act,” with respect to its
-termination and term, or act, which it is ready to produce. Its action
-is its termination, and it consists in the causation of a _second act_.
-This second act, inasmuch as it exists in its proper term, potency, or
-subject, is called _actio in facto esse_--that is, an action wholly
-complete, though the action proper is always _in fieri_; for it consists
-in the very production of such a second act, as we have just stated. The
-result of this production is the existence of a new reality, substantial
-or accidental, according to the nature of the act produced. This
-well-known terminology we shall use here for the parallel development of
-the three classes of questions which we have to answer.
-
-_Origin of Power._--First, then, with regard to the primary origin of
-active and moving powers, we lay down the following conclusions:
-
-1st. There is some absolute power--that is, a first act which has no need
-of producing any second act.
-
-2d. Absolute power is an objective reality.
-
-3d. Absolute power is uncreated.
-
-4th. Absolute power is the virtuality, or extrinsic terminability, of the
-act by which God is.
-
-5th. Absolute power is not modified by the production of effects--that
-is, by its extrinsic termination.
-
-6th. The beings thus produced are extrinsic terms of God’s power; and
-although, owing to their intrinsic perfection, which may be greater or
-less, they can be related to one another by an intrinsic foundation, yet
-their “entitative distances” have only an extrinsic foundation--to wit,
-God’s omnipotence.
-
-Some of these propositions are so obvious that they might have been
-omitted but for the object we have in view of pointing out the
-parallelism of absolute power with space and duration.
-
-The first of these conclusions is proved thus: All first act which
-naturally needs to produce some second act has an intrinsic and natural
-ordination to something distinct from itself; for all effect is really
-distinct from its efficient principle. But it cannot be admitted without
-absurdity that every first act has such an intrinsic and natural
-ordination; for, if everything were thus ordained to something else,
-all things would tend to some subordinate end, while there would be no
-supreme end at all; for nothing that is ordained to something else can
-rank as the supreme end. On the other hand, no subordinate ends can be
-admitted without a supreme end. And therefore there must be some first
-act which has no intrinsic necessity of producing any second act. Such a
-first act is altogether absolute.
-
-The second conclusion is evident. For what we call here “a first act”
-is not an imperfect and incomplete act, since it needs no termination;
-nor is it a result of mental abstraction and analysis, but a perfect
-principle of real operations; for the epithet “first,” by which we
-characterize it, does not imply that it lacks anything in its entity,
-but, on the contrary, it means that it already contains eminently the
-whole reality of the effects which it is competent to produce. Hence it
-is clear that, if such effects are objective realities, the first act on
-which their production depends is an objective reality, and a much better
-one too.
-
-The third conclusion needs no proof, it being evident that whatever
-is created must tend to the end of its creation, which is the
-manifestation of the perfections of its creator. This manifestation
-implies action--viz., a transition of the first act to its second act.
-Accordingly, a first act which has no necessary ordination to second acts
-cannot be created.
-
-The fourth conclusion follows from the third, since an uncreated act can
-be nothing else than the act by which God is. This act, inasmuch as it
-eminently contains the reality of all possible things, is extrinsically
-terminable, and as thus terminable it exhibits itself as a “first” act.
-But, since God has no need of creatures, such a first act has no need
-of extrinsic terminations, and, as first, it constitutes omnipotence,
-or God’s absolute power. This power in its infinite simplicity has an
-infinite range, as it extends to all conceivable reality.
-
-The fifth conclusion will be easily understood by reflecting that the
-extrinsic termination of active power consists in giving existence to
-contingent things by efficient action. Now, to act efficiently does not
-bring about any intrinsic change in the agent; for all intrinsic change
-follows from passion, which is the opposite of action. Nor does God, when
-giving existence and active powers to any number of creatures, weaken
-his own power. For the power imparted to creatures is not a portion of
-the divine power, but a product of creation, and nothing, in fact, but
-the created act itself. For, as all contingent things are created for
-the manifestation of God’s perfections, all creatures must be active;
-and as everything acts as it is in act, the act being the principle of
-the acting, it follows that all act produced by creation is an active
-power of greater or less perfection according to the part it is destined
-to fill in the plans of its Maker. This shows that the act by which a
-creature is, bears a resemblance to the act by which God is, inasmuch as
-it virtually contains in itself all those acts which it is fit to produce
-according to its nature. But, since all contingent act is extrinsic
-to God, divine omnipotence is not entitatively and intrinsically more
-actuated by creation than by non-creation; though, if God creates any
-being, from the term produced he will acquire the real denomination of
-Creator. Thus the existence of a contingent being is the existence of a
-real term, which extrinsically terminates the virtuality of God’s act, in
-which it is eminently contained. Its relation to its Creator is one of
-total dependence; whilst God’s relation to it is that of first causality.
-The foundation of this relation is the action which proceeds from God
-and terminates in the creature.
-
-The first part of the sixth conclusion, that beings produced by creation
-are extrinsic terms of God’s power, has just been explained. But we say,
-moreover, that the entitative distances between such beings have an
-extrinsic foundation in God’s omnipotence. By “entitative distance” we
-mean the difference in degree between distinct beings--_v.g._, between
-a man and a tree--as we have explained in another place.[154] And we
-say that, as the distance between two material points in space has its
-extrinsic foundation in the virtuality of God’s immensity, so also the
-entitative distance of two beings has its extrinsic foundation in the
-virtuality of God’s infinite act--that is, in divine omnipotence. In
-fact, the different degrees of entity conceivable between the tree and
-the man are all virtually contained in God’s omnipotence, just as all the
-distinct ubications possible between two points are virtually in God’s
-immensity. Hence the foundation of such entitative distances is extrinsic
-to the beings compared in the same manner as the foundation of local
-distances.
-
-But the terms produced by creative action, inasmuch as they possess a
-greater or less perfection in their individual constitution, can be
-compared with one another according to the relative degree of their
-intrinsic reality; and thus, besides the extrinsic relation just
-mentioned, they have a mutual relativity arising from an intrinsic
-foundation. The relative degree of reality of a contingent being becomes
-known to us through the relative intensity of its active power; which
-implies that the beings compared have powers of the same species. If they
-are not of the same species, the comparison will give no result.
-
-_Remarks._--Before leaving this part of our subject, we have to notice
-that, as the ubication, so also the act produced by creation, can be
-considered both absolutely and respectively. A created act, considered
-absolutely, is an act intrinsically completed by its essential potency,
-and constitutes the being as it is _in actu secundo_. The same act,
-considered respectively, or as ordained to something else, is a power
-ready to act, and thus it is _in actu primo_ with regard to all the acts
-which it is able to produce.
-
-The essential act of a contingent being, be it considered absolutely or
-respectively, bears no proportion to the perfection of its Creator, no
-more indeed than a point in space to immensity, or a _now_ of time to
-eternity. Hence all contingent act or power, whatever be its perfection
-or intensity, as compared with God, is like nothing. It is only when
-a created act or power is compared with another of the same kind that
-we can establish a proportion between them as to degrees of perfection
-and of intensity. These degrees are measured by comparing the relative
-intensities of the effects produced by distinct causes of the same kind,
-acting under the same conditions.
-
-The quantity of efficient power may be conceived as a virtual sum of
-degrees of power. In this particular the quantity of power differs
-entirely from the quantity of distance; because this latter cannot be
-conceived as a virtual sum of ubications. The reason of this difference
-is that ubications, as being simple points, have no quantity, and
-therefore cannot by addition make up a continuous quantity; whereas the
-degrees of power always possess intensity, and are quantities; hence
-their sum is a quantity of the same kind.
-
-It may be useful to remark that all continuous quantity has a necessary
-connection with the quantity of power, and that all extension owes its
-being to the efficacy of some motive principle. In fact, all intervals,
-whether of space or of time, are reckoned among continuous quantities
-only on account of the quantity of continuous movement which can be
-made, or is actually made, in them, as we have explained in a preceding
-article; but the quantity of movement is itself to be traced to the
-intensity of the momentum produced by the agent, and the momentum to the
-intensity of the motive power. As soon as movement is communicated to
-a point, its ubication begins to shift and to extend a continuous line
-in space; and its _now_, too, for the same reason begins to flow and to
-extend continuous time.
-
-When the quantity of power is expressed by a number, its value is
-determined, as we have stated, by the intensity of its efficiency in
-a given time and fixed conditions. The unit of intensity by which the
-amount of the effect produced is measured is arbitrary; for there is
-no natural unit for the degrees of intensity, it being evident that
-such degrees can be divided and subdivided without end, just like the
-continuum. Hence the numbers by which we express degrees of intensity are
-only virtually discrete, just as those by which we express continuous
-quantities. The ordinary unit assumed for the measure of intensity is
-that degree of intensity which causes a unit of weight to measure a unit
-of distance in a unit of time. As all these units are arbitrary, it is
-evident that such is also the unit of intensity.
-
-Let us remark, also, that the power of natural causes has in its action a
-twofold continuity--that is, with regard both to space and to duration.
-As long as a natural cause exists, it acts without interruption, owing
-to its intrinsic determination, provided there be, as there is always in
-fact, some subject capable of being acted upon by it. This constitutes
-the continuity of action with regard to duration. On the other hand,
-the motive power of such natural causes is exerted, according to the
-Newtonian law, throughout an indefinite sphere, as we have shown in
-another place;[155] and this constitutes the continuity of action through
-space. Moreover, if the point acted upon approaches the agent or recedes
-from it, the continuous change of distance will be accompanied by a
-continuous change of action; and thus the intensity of the act produced
-by the agent will increase or decrease in a continuous manner through
-infinitesimal degrees corresponding to the infinitesimal changes of local
-relations occurring in infinitesimal instants of time. This relation of
-changes is the base of dynamics. But enough on this point.
-
-_Origin of movement._--We may now pass to the conclusions concerning
-movement as dependent on its proximate cause. The power by which the
-natural causes produce momentums of movement is called “motive power.”
-This power is to be found both in material and in spiritual beings; but
-as in spiritual substances the exercise of the motive power is subject
-to their will, and consists in the application of a nobler power to the
-production of a lower effect, we do not and cannot consider the power of
-spiritual beings as merely “motive,” for it is, above all, intellective
-and volitive. Material things, on the contrary, because they possess
-no other power than that of moving, are characterized by it, and are
-naturally determined to exercise it according to a law which they cannot
-elude. It is of these beings in particular that the following conclusions
-are to be understood.
-
-1st. There is in all material creatures a motive power--that is, a first
-act of moving--which, considered in its absolute state, has no need of
-extrinsic termination, that is, of producing a momentum of movement.
-
-2d. This motive power is an objective reality.
-
-3d. The same power is nothing accidentally superadded to the being of
-which it is the power.
-
-4th. This power is the virtuality, or extrinsic terminability, of the act
-by which the agent is.
-
-5th. This power is not modified by the production of momentums in
-extrinsic terms.
-
-6th. The momentums thus produced are second acts of the motive power,
-extrinsic to it; and though, owing to their intensity, which may be
-greater or less, they can be related to one another through an intrinsic
-foundation, yet their entitative distances have only an extrinsic
-foundation--to wit, the agent’s power.
-
-Some of these propositions are quite evident; but our present object is
-not only to explain what may require a special discussion, but also,
-and principally, to dissect our subject in such a manner as to make
-it manifest that a perpetual analogy exists between the conditions and
-the principles of all kinds of continuum, and that in all of them the
-transition from the absolute to the relative, from the cause to the
-effect, and from the formal reason to its formal result, is made through
-a like process and through similar degrees. For this reason we think that
-even those conclusions which seem too obvious to deserve mention become
-interesting and serve a good purpose; for in the parallel treatment
-of analogous subjects, those things which are clearer throw light on
-those which are more abstruse, and about which we often feel a certain
-hesitation.
-
-The first of our present conclusions needs only a short explanation. When
-we say that in every creature there is a motive power which, _considered
-in its absolute state_, has no need of producing a momentum, we mean that
-in every creature there is an act which is a principle of activity, but
-that the exercise of this activity is not required for the substantial
-perfection and essential constitution of the creature itself, though
-it may be required for some other reason, as we shall see presently.
-In fact, every substance has its own complete being independently of
-accidents; and since the exertion of motive power is an accident, every
-substance is entitatively independent of it. We conceive that if God had
-created nothing but an element of matter, such an element would indeed
-(on its own part) be ready to act and to produce a momentum of movement;
-but, as there would be no subject capable of receiving a momentum, the
-motive power would remain _in actu primo_--that is, without actual
-exertion. And yet it is evident that the non-existence of other elements
-can have no bearing on the intrinsic constitution and substantial
-perfection of the element in the question. Therefore the power of an
-element of matter is a first act, which, as far as the entity of the
-element itself is concerned, has no need of producing any second act.
-
-Nevertheless, since all creatures must in some manner glorify God
-as long as they exist, because such is the true and highest end of
-their existence, hence to every created power some proportionate term
-or subject corresponds, in which its exertion is received without
-interruption. In the same manner as the understanding never lacks an
-intelligible object, and the sense never lacks a sensible term, about
-which to exercise itself by immanent operation, the motive power
-of inferior beings never fails to meet a proportionate--that is,
-movable--term and to impress upon it a momentum of a certain intensity.
-Hence, when we regard, not the substance of natural things as such,
-but the natural necessity they are under of tending constantly to the
-ultimate end of their creation, we see that their first act of moving
-must always entail some second act, or momentum, in all the terms which
-it can reach according to its natural determination.
-
-The second conclusion is self-evident; for, if the principle of real
-movement were not an objective reality, a real effect would proceed from
-an unreal cause--which is absurd. Nor does it matter that the power is
-only a “first” act. For, as we have explained above, it is first as
-compared with the acts which it can produce, but it is intrinsically
-complete in the entity of the agent, as it is terminated to its
-substantial term.
-
-The third conclusion is nothing but a corollary of the well-known axiom
-that in all things the principle of operation is the substantial act:
-_Forma est id quo agens agit_, and _Principium essendi est principium
-operandi_. We have proved in another place[156] that no natural accident
-possesses active power or is actually concerned in any of the effects
-produced by the agent. This truth should be well understood by the modern
-scientists who very commonly mistake the conditions of the action for
-the active principle. Of course no creature can act independently of
-accidental conditions; but these conditions have no bearing on the active
-power itself--they only determine (formally and not efficiently) the
-mode of its application according to a constant law. Thus the distance
-of two material points has no _active_ influence on their motive power
-or on their mutual action, but only constitutes the two points in a
-certain relation to one another; and when such a relation is altered, the
-action is changed, not because the power is modified, but because its
-determination to act--that is, its very nature--demands that it should
-in its application follow the Newtonian law of the inverse ratio of the
-squared distances.
-
-The philosophers of the old school admitted, but never proved, that,
-although the substantial form is the main principle of activity in
-natural things, nevertheless this principle was in need of some
-accidental entity, that it might be proximately disposed to produce its
-act. This opinion, too, originated in the confusion of active power
-with the conditions on which the mode of its exertion depends. What
-they called “active qualities” is now acknowledged to be, not a new
-kind of active power superadded to the substantial forms, but merely a
-result of the concurrence of many simple powers acting under determinate
-conditions. The accidental change of the conditions entails the change
-of the result and action, but the active powers evidently remain the
-same. The ancients said also that the substantial forms were the active
-principles of substantial generations, whereas the “active qualities”
-were the active principles of mere alterations. As we have shown that
-the whole theory of substantial generations, as understood by the
-peripatetic school, is based on assumption and equivocation, and leads to
-impossibilities,[157] we may be dispensed from giving a new refutation of
-the opinion last mentioned.
-
-Our fourth conclusion directly follows from the general principle that
-the act by which a thing has its first being is its principle of action:
-_Quo aliquid primo est, eo agit_. The substantial act, considered as to
-its absolute entity, does not connote action, but simply constitutes the
-being of which it is the act. In order to conceive it as an active power,
-we must refer to the effects which it virtually contains--that is, we
-must consider its virtuality. In this manner what is a second act with
-regard to the substance of the agent, will be conceived as a first act
-with reference to the effects it can produce, according to a received
-axiom: _Actus secundus essendi est actus primus operandi_.
-
-The fifth conclusion, notwithstanding the contrary opinion of many
-philosophers, is quite certain. For all intrinsic modification is the
-result of passive reception or passion. Now, to produce a momentum of
-movement is action, not passion. Therefore, when such a momentum is
-produced, no other subject is intrinsically modified by it except the one
-which passively receives it. It is therefore the being which is acted
-on, not that which acts, that acquires an intrinsic modification. The
-power of the agent is not entitatively and intrinsically more actuated
-by action than by non-action. Its action is an extrinsic termination,
-and gives it nothing but the real denomination of agent, by which it is
-really related to the term acted on. The patient, by its reception of
-the momentum, becomes similarly related to the agent, as is evident. And
-the relation consists in this: that the patient acquires formally an
-act which the agent virtually contains. This relation is of accidental
-causality on the one side and of accidental dependence on the other. The
-foundation of the relation is the accidental action as coming from the
-one and terminating in the other.
-
-As everything that is in movement must have received the motion from
-a distinct agent, according to the principle _Omne quod movetur, ab
-alio movetur_, it follows that whatever is in movement is accidentally
-dependent on an extrinsic mover; and, since all material elements are
-both movers and moved, they all have a mutual accidental causality and
-dependence.
-
-Our sixth conclusion is sufficiently clear from what has been said
-concerning the sixth conclusion of the preceding series. The momentum
-of movement is evidently the second act of the motive power--that is,
-the extrinsic term of its exertion. The entitative distance between two
-momentums produced by the same mover is an extrinsic relation; for its
-foundation is the virtuality of the act by which the agent is, as has
-been explained above. But the same momentums, as possessing greater or
-less intensity, can also be compared with one another according to their
-intrinsic entity or degree; and thus they will be found to have a mutual
-relation arising from an intrinsic foundation.
-
-_Remarks._--As the ubication, so also the momentum produced by accidental
-action, can be considered both absolutely and respectively. The momentum,
-considered absolutely, is an act received in a subject--an absolute
-momentum, an extrinsic term of the virtuality of the motive principle;
-and, as such a momentum is only one out of the innumerable acts which
-can proceed from the agent, it has an entity infinitely less than that
-of the agent. It is evident, in fact, that between a substantial and
-an accidental act there must be an infinite entitative disproportion,
-both because no substance can be substantially changed by its accidents,
-and because the substantial act can never be exhausted, and not even
-weakened, by the production of accidental acts, as we have established in
-another place.[158] The momentum is considered respectively when it is
-compared with another momentum, in which case we can find the relation of
-the one to the other as to intensity. This intensity is measured by the
-quantity of the movement to which they give rise when not counteracted.
-
-The unit of intensity is arbitrary in the momentums, as in their
-principles, for the same reason--that is, because in neither case a
-natural unit of intensity can be found. The number expressing the
-relative intensity of a momentum is only virtually discrete, because
-the momentum is only virtually compounded, since it is not a number of
-distinct acts, but one act equivalent to many.
-
-_Movement and its affections._--The production of a momentum entails
-movement. The general definition of movement, according to Aristotle and
-S. Thomas, is _Actus existentis in potentia ut in potentia_, or, as we
-would say, an actual passage from one potential state to another. Now,
-all created being is potential in two manners: first, on account of its
-passive receptivity; secondly, on account of its affectibility, which is
-a consequence of its passivity, as we have explained in the “Principles
-of Real Being.”[159] Hence the momentum of movement, inasmuch as it is
-received in the patient, actuates its passive potency; and inasmuch as
-its reception entails a certain mode of being, it affects its resultant
-potentiality. But besides this double potentiality, which is intrinsic to
-the subject, there is another potentiality which refers to an extrinsic
-term, and for this reason movement is considered both as it is a
-modification of its subject, _ratione subjecti_, and as it points at an
-extrinsic term, _ratione termini_.
-
-With regard to its subject, movement is usually divided into _immanent_
-and _transient_. It is called immanent when it results from immanent
-acts, as when the soul directs its attention to such or such an object
-of thought; and it is called transient when it brings about a change in
-a subject distinct from the agent, as when a man moves a stone, or when
-the sun moves the earth. But this is inaccurate language; for what is
-transient in these cases is the _action_, not the _movement_.
-
-With regard to its term, movement is divided into two kinds--that is,
-movement to a place, _motus ad ubi_, and movement towards a certain
-degree of perfection or intensity of power, _motus virtutis_.[160] The
-first is called _local_ movement, of which we will speak presently. The
-second is subdivided into _intension_, _remission_, and _alteration_.
-Intension and remission are the acquisition or loss of some degree of
-perfection or of intensity with regard to power and qualities; alteration
-is the passage from one kind of quality or property to another. Thus, in
-water, heat is subject to intension and remission; but when the cohesive
-force of the molecules is superseded by the expansive force of vapor,
-there is alteration.
-
-It is important to notice that there is no _motus virtutis_ in primitive
-elements of matter. The exertion of their power varies indeed according
-to the Newtonian law, but the power itself is always exactly the same,
-as its principle is the substantial act, which cannot be modified by
-accidental action. It is only in material compounds that the _motus
-virtutis_ can be admitted, for the reason that the active powers and
-qualities in them are a result of composition; hence a change in the
-mode of the composition brings about a change in the resultant. So also
-in spiritual substances there is no _motus virtutis_, because their
-active faculties are always substantially the same. True it is that the
-intellect has also its passivity with regard to intelligible species,
-and that it acts by so much the more easily and perfectly in proportion
-as it is better furnished with intelligible species distinctly expressed
-and arranged according to their logical and objective connection. But
-this cannot mean that the active power of the intellect can be increased,
-but only that it can be placed in more suitable conditions for its
-operations. And the like is to be said of all acquired habits; for they
-give a greater facility of acting, not by intensifying the intrinsic
-power, but by placing the active faculty in such conditions as are more
-favorable for its operation.
-
-But let us revert to local movement. This movement may be defined as _the
-act of gliding through successive ubications_. Such a gliding alters the
-relations of one body to another, as is evident, but it involves no new
-intrinsic modification of the subject. As long as the subject continues
-to move under the same momentum, its intrinsic mode of being remains
-uniformly the same, while its extrinsic relations to other bodies are
-in continual change. Hence the local movement of any point of matter
-merely consists in the act of extending from ubication to ubication, or,
-as we may say, in _the evolution of the intensity of the momentum into
-continuous extension_. The reason of this evolution is that the momentum
-impressed on a subject has not only a definite intensity, but also a
-definite direction in space; whence it follows that the subject which
-receives the momentum receives a determination to describe a line in a
-definite direction, which it must follow, owing to its inertia, with an
-impetus equal to the intensity of the momentum itself. And in this manner
-a material point, by the successive flowing of its ubication, describes a
-line in space, or evolves the intensity of its momentum into extension.
-
-Hence, of local movement we can predicate both _intensity_ and
-_extension_. The intensity is the formal principle, which, by actuating
-the inertia or mobility of the subject, evolves itself into extension.
-The extension is the actual evolution of the momentum, and constitutes
-the essence of local movement, which is always _in fieri_. And this
-is what is especially pointed out in Aristotle’s words: _Motus est
-actus existentis in potentia, ut in potentia_. The _actus_ refers to
-the intensity, which is not _in fieri_, but has a definite actuality;
-whilst the _in potentia ut in potentia_ clearly refers to the evolution
-of extension, which is continually _in fieri_ under the influx of said
-act. Accordingly, local movement is both intensive and extensive. But
-this last epithet is to be looked upon as equivalent to “extending,” not
-to “extended”; for it is the line drawn, or the track of the movement
-already made, that is properly “extended,” whereas the movement itself is
-the act of extending it.
-
-The formal intensity of local movement is called _velocity_. We say the
-_formal_ intensity, because movement has also a _material_ intensity.
-The formal intensity regards the rate of movement of each element of
-matter taken by itself, and it is greater or less according as it evolves
-a greater or a less extension in equal times. The material intensity
-regards the quantity of matter which is moving with a given velocity, and
-is measured by the product of the velocity into the mass of the moving
-body. This product is called the momentum of the body, or its quantity of
-movement.
-
-Local movement is subject to three affections--viz., _intension_,
-_remission_, and _inflexion_. In fact, since local movement consists
-in extending with a certain velocity in a certain direction, it is
-susceptible of being modified either by a change of velocity, which
-will intensify or weaken it, or by a change of direction--that is, by
-inflexion. So long, however, as no agent disturbs the actual movement
-already imparted to a body, the movement must necessarily continue in
-the same direction and with the same velocity; for matter, owing to its
-inertia, cannot modify its own state. This amounts to saying that the
-tendency uniformly to preserve its rate and its direction is not an
-accidental affection, but the very nature, of local movement.
-
-This being premised, we are going to establish a series of conclusions,
-concerning movement and its affections, parallel to that which we have
-developed in the preceding pages respecting power and its exertions. The
-reader will see that the chain of our analogies must here end; for, since
-movement is not action, it affects nothing new, and produces no extrinsic
-terms, but only entails changes of local relations. On the other hand,
-the affections of local movement are not of a transient, but of an
-immanent, character, and thus they give rise to no new entity, but are
-themselves identified with the movement of which they are the modes. Our
-conclusions are the following:
-
-1st. There is in all local movement something permanent--that is, a
-general determination of a lasting character, which has no need of being
-individuated in one manner more than in another.
-
-2d. This constant determination is an objective reality.
-
-3d. This same determination is nothing accidentally superadded to local
-movement.
-
-4th. This determination is the virtuality of the momentum of movement, or
-the act of evolving extension in a definite direction.
-
-5th. This determination is not intrinsically modified by any accidental
-modification of local movement.
-
-6th. The affections of local movement are intrinsic and intransitive
-modes, which identify themselves with the movement which they modify.
-
-The first of these conclusions is briefly proved thus: whatever is a
-subject of real modifications has something permanent. Local movement
-is a subject of real modifications. Therefore, local movement involves
-something permanent.
-
-The second conclusion is self-evident.
-
-The third conclusion, too, is evident. For whatever is accidentally
-superadded to a thing can be accidentally taken away, and therefore
-cannot belong to the thing permanently and invariably. Hence the constant
-and fixed determination in question cannot be an accident of local
-movement.
-
-The fourth conclusion is a corollary of the third. For nothing is
-necessarily permanent in local movement, except that which constitutes
-its essence. Now, its essence lies in this: that it must evolve
-extension at the rate and in the direction determined by the momentum
-of which it is the exponent. Therefore the permanent determination of
-which we are speaking is nothing else than the virtuality of the momentum
-itself as developing into extension. And since the momentum by which the
-moving body is animated has a determinate intensity and direction, which
-virtually contains a determinate velocity and direction of movement,
-it follows that the permanent determination in question consists in
-the actual tendency of movement to evolve uniformly and in a straight
-line--_uniformly_, because velocity is the form of movement, and the
-velocity determined by the intensity of the actual momentum is actually
-one; _in a straight line_, because the actual momentum being one, it
-gives but one direction to the movement, which therefore will be straight
-in its tendency. Whence we conclude that it is of the essence of local
-movement to have _an actual tendency to evolve uniformly in a straight
-line_.
-
-Some will object that local movement may lack both uniformity and
-straightness. This is quite true, but it does not destroy our conclusion.
-For, as movement is always _in fieri_, and exists only by infinitesimal
-instants in which it is impossible to admit more than one velocity and
-one direction, it remains always true that within every instant of its
-existence the movement is straight and uniform, and that in every such
-instant it tends to continue in the same direction and at the same
-rate--that is, with the velocity and direction it actually possesses.
-This velocity and direction may, of course, be modified in the following
-instant; but in the following instant, too, the movement will tend to
-evolve uniformly and in a straight line suitably to its new velocity
-and direction. Whence it is manifest that, although in the continuation
-of the movement there may be a series of different velocities and
-directions, yet the tendency of the movement is, at every instant of its
-existence, to extend uniformly in a straight line. This truth is the
-foundation of dynamics.
-
-Our fifth conclusion is sufficiently evident from what we have just
-said. For, whatever be the intensity and direction of the movement, its
-determination to extend uniformly in a straight line is not interfered
-with.
-
-Our last conclusion has no need of explanation. For, since the affections
-of local movement are the result of new momentums impressed on the
-subject it is plain that they are intrinsic modes characterizing a
-movement individually different from the movement that preceded. The
-tendency to evolve uniformly in a straight line remains unimpaired,
-as we have shown; but the movement itself becomes entitatively--viz.,
-quantitatively--different.
-
-_Remarks._--Local movement is divided into _uniform_ and _varied_.
-Uniform movement we call that which has a constant velocity. For, as
-velocity is the form of movement, to say that a movement is uniform is
-to say that it has but one velocity in the whole of its extension. We
-usually call “uniform” all movement whose apparent velocity is constant;
-but, to say the truth, no rigorously uniform movement exists in nature
-for any appreciable length of time. In fact, every element of matter lies
-within the sphere of action of all other elements, and is continually
-acted on, and continually receives new momentums; the evident consequence
-of which is that its real movement must undergo a continuous change of
-velocity. Hence rigorously uniform movement is limited to infinitesimal
-time.
-
-Varied movement is that whose rate is continually changing. It is divided
-into _accelerated_ and _retarded_; and, when the acceleration or the
-retardation arises from a constant action which in equal times imparts
-equal momentums, the movement is said to be _uniformly_ accelerated or
-retarded.
-
-_Epilogue._--The explanation we have given of space, duration, and
-movement suffices, if we are not mistaken, to show what is the true
-nature of the only continuous quantities which can be found in the
-real order of things. The reader will have seen that the source of all
-continuity is motive power and its exertion. It is such an exertion
-that engenders local movement, and causes it to be continuous in its
-entity, in its local extension, and in its duration. In fact, why is the
-local movement continuous _in its entity_? Because the motive action
-strengthens or weakens it by continuous infinitesimal degrees in each
-successive infinitesimal instant, thus causing it to pass through all
-the degrees of intensity designable between its initial and its final
-velocity. And again: why is the local movement continuous _in its local
-extension_? Because it is the property of an action which proceeds from
-a point in space and is terminated to another point in space, to give a
-local direction to the subject in which the momentum is received; whence
-it follows that the subject under the influence of such a momentum must
-draw a continuous line in space. Finally, why is the local movement
-continuous _in its duration_? Because, owing to the continuous change of
-its ubication, the subject of the movement extends its absolute _when_
-from _before_ to _after_, in a continuous succession, which is nothing
-but the duration of the movement.
-
-Hence absolute space and absolute duration, which are altogether
-independent of motive actions, are not _formally_ continuous, but only
-supply the extrinsic reason of the possibility of formal continuums.
-It is matter in movement that by the flowing of its _ubi_ from _here_
-to _there_ actually marks out a continuous line in space, and by the
-flowing of its _quando_ from _before_ to _after_ marks out a continuous
-line in duration. Thus it is not absolute space, but the line drawn in
-space, that is _formally_ extended from _here_ to _there_; and it is not
-absolute duration, but the line successively drawn in duration, that is
-_formally_ extended from _before_ to _after_.
-
-With regard to the difficulties which philosophers have raised at
-different times against local movement we have very little to say. An
-ancient philosopher, when called to answer some arguments against the
-possibility of movement, thought it sufficient to reply: _Solvitur
-ambulando_--“I walk; therefore movement is possible.” This answer was
-excellent; but, while showing the inanity of the objections, it took no
-notice of the fallacies by which they were supported. We might follow the
-same course; for the arguments advanced against movement are by no means
-formidable. Yet we will mention and solve three of them before dismissing
-the subject.
-
-_First._ If a body moves, it moves where it is, not where it is not. But
-it cannot move where it is; for to move implies not to remain where it
-is, and therefore bodies cannot move. The answer is, that bodies neither
-move where they are nor where they are not, but _from_ the place where
-they are _to_ the place where they are not.
-
-_Second._ A material element cannot describe a line in space between
-two points without gliding through all the intermediate ubications.
-But the intermediate ubications are infinite, as infinite points can
-be designated in any line; and the infinite cannot be passed over. The
-answer is that an infinite multitude cannot be measured by one of its
-units; and for this reason the infinite multitude of ubications which may
-be designated between the terms of a line cannot be measured by a unit
-of the same kind. Nevertheless, a line can be measured by movement--that
-is, not by the ubication itself, but _by the flowing_ of an ubication;
-because the flowing of the ubication is continuous, and involves
-continuous quantity; and therefore it is to be considered as containing
-in itself its own measure, which is a measure of length, and which may
-serve to measure the whole line of movement. If the length of a line
-were an infinite sum of ubications--that is, of mathematical points--the
-objection would have some weight; but the length of the line is evidently
-not a sum of points. The line is a continuous quantity evolved by the
-flowing of a point. It can therefore be measured by the flowing of a
-point. For as the line described can be divided and subdivided without
-end, so also the time employed in describing it can be divided and
-subdivided without end. Hence the length of a line described in a finite
-length of time can be conceived as an infinite virtual multitude of
-infinitesimal lengths, just in the same manner as the time employed in
-describing it can be conceived as an infinite multitude of infinitesimal
-instants. Now, the infinite can measure the infinite; and therefore it
-is manifest that an infinite multitude of infinitesimal lengths can be
-measured by the flowing of a point through an infinite multitude of
-infinitesimal instants.[161]
-
-_Third._ The communication of movement, as we know by experience,
-requires time; and yet time arises from movement, and cannot begin before
-the movement is communicated. How, then, will movement be communicated?
-The answer is that time and movement begin together, and evolve
-simultaneously in the very act of the communication of movement. It is
-not true, then, that all communication of movement requires time. Our
-experience regards only the communication of _finite_ movement, which,
-of course, cannot be made except the action of the agent continue for a
-finite time. But movement is always communicated by infinitesimal degrees
-in infinitesimal instants; and thus the beginning of the motive action
-coincides with the beginning of the movement, and this coincides with the
-beginning of its duration.
-
-And here we end. The considerations which we have developed in our
-articles on space, duration, and movement have, we think, a sufficient
-importance to be regarded with interest by those who have a philosophical
-turn of mind. The subjects which we have endeavored so far to investigate
-are scarcely ever examined as deeply as they deserve by the modern
-writers of philosophical treatises; but there is no doubt that a clearer
-knowledge of those subjects must enable us to extricate ourselves
-from many difficulties to be met in other parts of metaphysics. It is
-principally in order to solve the sophisms of the idealists and of the
-transcendental pantheists that we need an exact, intellectual notion of
-space and of time. We see how Kant, the father of German idealism and
-pantheism, was led into numerous errors by his misconception of these two
-points, and how his followers, owing to a like hallucination, succeeded
-in obscuring the light of their noble intellects, and were prompted to
-deny and revile the most certain and fundamental principles of human
-reasoning. In fact, a mistaken notion of space lies at the bottom of
-nearly all their philosophical blunders. If we desire to refute their
-false theories by direct and categorical arguments, we must know how far
-we can trust the popular language on space, and how we can correct its
-inaccuracies so as to give precision to our own phraseology, lest by
-conceding or denying more than truth demands we furnish them with the
-means of retorting against our argumentation. This is the main reason
-that induced us to treat of space, duration, and movement in a special
-series of articles, as we entertained the hope that we might thus help in
-cutting the ground from under the feet of the pantheist by uprooting the
-very germ of his manifold errors.
-
-
-NOT YET.
-
-    Methought the King of Terrors came my way:
-      Whom all men flee, and none esteem it base.
-    But lo! his smile forbidding me dismay,
-      I stood--and dared to look him in the face.
-    “So soon!” the only murmur in my heart:
-      For I had shaped the deeds of many years--
-    Ambitioning atonement, and, in part,
-      To reap in joy what I had sown in tears.
-    Then, turning to Our Lady: “O my Queen!
-      ’Twere very sweet already to have won
-    My crown, and pass to see as I am seen,
-      And nevermore offend thy Blessed Son:
-    Yet would I stay--and for myself, I own:--
-    To stand, at last, the nearer to thy throne.”
-
-
-SONGS OF THE PEOPLE.
-
-Without going back to abstruse speculations on the origin of music in
-England (there is a mania in our century for discovering the “origin”
-of everything, and theorizing on it, long before a sufficient number of
-facts has been collected even to make a pedestal for the most modest and
-limited theory), we gather from the mention of it in old English poems,
-and books on ballads and songs, glees and catches, that it existed in a
-very creditable form at least eight hundred years ago. Indeed, there was
-national and popular music before this, and the Welsh songs, the oldest
-of all, point far back to a legendary past as the source of their being.
-The first foreign song that mingled with the rude music of the early
-Britons was doubtless that of the Christian missionaries in the first
-century of our era, and after that there can have been little music among
-the converted Britons but what was more or less tinged with a foreign
-and Christian element. We know, too, that at various times foreign monks
-either came or were invited to the different kingdoms in England to
-teach the natives the ecclesiastical chant. Gardiner, in his _Music of
-Nature_, says that “as the invaders came from all parts of the Continent,
-our language and music became a motley collection of sounds and words
-unlike that of any other people; and though we have gained a language of
-great force and extent, yet we have lost our primitive music, as not a
-single song remains that has the character of being national.” He also
-says that before music was cultivated as an art, England, in common with
-other countries, had its national songs, but that these, with the people
-who sang them, were driven by the conquerors into Ireland, Scotland,
-and Wales. This assertion is rather a sweeping one, and the recognized
-formula about the ancient inhabitants of Britain being _all_ crowded
-into certain particular districts is one that will bear modifying and
-correcting. The British Anthropological Society has, during the last ten
-years, made interesting researches in the field of race-characteristics
-in different parts of England, and an accumulation of facts has gone far
-to prove the permanence of some Gaelic, Cymric, and Celtic types in other
-parts, exclusive of Wales and Cornwall. Dr. Beddoe and Mr. Mackintosh
-have published the result of their observations, and the latter concludes
-that “a considerable portion of the west Midland and southwestern
-counties are scarcely distinguishable from three of the types found in
-Wales--namely, the British, Gaelic, and Cymrian. In Shropshire, and
-ramifying to the east and southeast, the Cymrian type may be found in
-great numbers, though not predominating.… In many parts of the southwest
-the prevailing type among the working classes is decidedly Gaelic.… North
-Devon and Dorset may be regarded as its headquarters in South Britain.”
-Then, again, the district along the borders of Wales, especially between
-Taunton and Oswestry, and as far east as Bath, shows a population more
-naturally intellectual than that of any other part of England, and that
-without any superiority of primary education to account for it. The
-people are what might be called Anglicized Welsh, and there is among
-them a greater taste for solid knowledge than in the heart of England.
-Lancashire is to a great extent Scandinavian, and also somewhat Cymrian,
-as we have seen, and there the people are known as a shrewd, hardy race,
-thoughtful and fond of study, and great adepts in music.
-
-At a large school in Tiverton, Devonshire, nine-tenths of the boys
-presented the most exaggerated Gaelic physiognomy; while at another, near
-Chichester, the girls were all of the most unmistakable Saxon type. We
-need not go further in this classification, and only introduced it to
-show that massing together all British types in Wales and Cornwall is a
-fallacy, such as all hasty generalizations are. It is not so certain,
-therefore, that there exists no indigenous element in the old songs that
-have survived, though in many an altered form, in some of the rural
-districts of England. Then, again, how is the word “national” used--in
-the sense of indigenous, or of popular, or of exclusively belonging to
-one given country? English music was, before the Commonwealth, at least
-as indigenous as the English language, as that gradually grew up and
-welded itself together. As to popularity, there was a style of song--some
-specimens of which we shall give--which was known and used by the
-poorest and humblest, and a style, too, far removed from the plebeian,
-though it may have been rather sentimental. Then glees and catches are,
-though of no very great antiquity, essentially English, and are scarcely
-known in any other country. If “national” stands for “political,” as many
-people at this day seem to take for granted, then, indeed, England has
-not much to boast of. That music is born rather of oppression and defeat,
-and loves to commemorate a people’s undying devotion to their own race,
-laws, customs, and rulers. Irish and Welsh and Jacobite songs exhibit
-that style best, though only the first of the three have any present
-significance, the two other kinds having long ago become more valuable
-for their intrinsic or historical merit than for their political meaning.
-Certain modern English songs, such as “Ye Mariners of England,” “Rule
-Britannia,” “The Death of Nelson,” might be called national songs in the
-political sense; but “God Save the King,” though patriotic and loyal, is
-thoroughly German in style and composition, and therefore hardly deserves
-the title national.
-
-The Welsh have kept their musical taste pure. Mr. Mackintosh, in his
-paper on the _Comparative Anthropology of England and Wales_, says of
-the quiet and thoughtful villagers of Glan Ogwen, near the great Penrhyn
-slate quarries, that “their appreciation of the compositions of Handel
-and other great musicians is remarkable; and they perform the most
-difficult oratorios with a precision of time and intonation unknown in
-any part of England, except the West Riding of Yorkshire, Lancashire,
-Worcester, Gloucester, and Hereford.” The three latter are towns where
-the musical festivals are so frequent that the taste of the people
-cannot help being educated up to a good standard. Hereford, too, is
-very near the Welsh border. “The musical ear of the Welsh is extremely
-accurate. I was once present in a village church belonging to the late
-Dean of Bangor, when the choir sang an anthem composed by their leader,
-and repeated an unaccompanied hymn-tune five or six times without the
-slightest lowering of pitch. The works of Handel, Haydn, Beethoven, and
-Mozart are republished with Welsh words at Ruthin and several other
-towns, and their circulation is almost incredible. At book and music
-shops of a rank where in England negro melodies would form the staple
-compositions, Handel is the great favorite; and such tunes as ‘Pop goes
-the Weasel’ would not be tolerated. The native airs are in general very
-elegant and melodious. Some of them, composed long before Handel, are in
-the Handelian style; others are remarkably similar to some of Corelli’s
-compositions. The less classical Welsh airs, in 3-8 time, such as ‘Jenny
-Jones’ are well known. Those in 2-4 time are often characterized by a
-sudden stop in the middle or at the close of a measure, and a repetition
-of pathetic slides or slurs.”
-
-Much of this eulogium might be equally applied to the people of
-Lancashire, especially the men, who know the great oratorios by heart,
-and sing the choruses faultlessly among themselves, not only at large
-gatherings, but in casual reunions, whenever three or four happen to
-meet. Their part-singing, too, in glees, both ancient and modern, is
-admirable, and they have scarcely any taste for the low songs which are
-only too popular in many parts of England.
-
-The songs of chivalry were another graft on the stock of English music,
-and the honor paid to the bards and minstrels was a mingling of the love
-of a national institution at least as old as the Druids--some say much
-older--and of the enthusiasm produced by the metrical relation of heroic
-feats of arms. The Crusades gave a great impulse to the troubadours’
-songs, while the ancient British custom of commemorating the national
-history by the oral tradition and the music of the harpers, seemed to
-merge into and strengthen the new order of minstrels. Long before the
-bagpipe became the peculiar--almost national--instrument of Scotland,
-the harp held that position, as it has not yet ceased to do, in Ireland
-and Wales. The oldest harp now in Great Britain is an Irish one, which
-was already old in 1064. It is now in the museum of Trinity College,
-Dublin. These ancient instruments were very different from the modern
-ones on which our grandmothers used to display their skill before the
-pianoforte became, to its detriment, the fashionable instrument for young
-ladies; and even now the Irish and Welsh harps are made exactly on the
-old models, and have no pedals. But the use of the harp was not confined
-to the Welsh, and in the reign of King John, in the XIIth century, on
-the occasion of an attack made on the old town of Chester by the Welsh
-during the great yearly fair, it is recorded in the town annals that the
-commandant assembled all the minstrels who had come to the place upon
-that occasion, and marched them in the night, with their instruments
-playing, against the enemy, who, upon hearing so vast a sound, were
-filled with such terror and surprise that they instantly fled. In memory
-of this famous exploit, no doubt suggested by the Biblical narrative of
-Gideon’s successful stratagem, a meeting of minstrels is annually kept up
-to this day, with one of the Dutton family at their head, to whom certain
-privileges are granted. In the reign of Henry I. the minstrels were
-formed into corporate bodies, and enjoyed certain immunities in various
-parts of the kingdom. Gardiner[162] says that “the most accomplished
-became the companions and favorites of kings, and attended the court
-in all its expeditions.” Perhaps we may refer the still extant office
-of poet-laureate to this custom of retaining a court minstrel near the
-person of the sovereign. In the time of Elizabeth the profession of
-a harper had become a degraded one, only embraced by idle, low, and
-dissolute characters; and so it has remained ever since, through the
-various stages of ballad-monger, street-singer and fiddler, in which the
-memory of the once noble office has been merged or lost. In Scotland the
-piper, a personage of importance, has taken the place of the harper since
-the time of Mary, Queen of Scots, who introduced the pipes from France;
-but in Wales the minstrel, with his harp, upheld his respectability much
-longer, and even now most of the old families, jealous and proud of their
-national customs, retain their bard as an officer of the household. The
-writer has seen and heard one of these ancient minstrels, in the service
-of a family living near Llanarth, the mistress (a widow) making it her
-special business to promote the keeping up of all old national customs.
-She was an excellent farmer, too, and had a pet breed of small black
-Welsh sheep, whose wool she prepared for the loom herself, and with which
-she clothed her family and household. In the neighboring town she had got
-up an annual competition of harpers and choirs for the performance of
-Welsh music exclusively. The concert was always the occasion of a regular
-country festivity, ending with a ball, and medals and other prizes were
-given by her own hand to the best instrumental and vocal artists.
-
-In Percy’s _Reliques_ a description is given of the dress and appearance
-of a mediæval bard, as personated at a pageant given at Kenilworth in
-honor of Queen Elizabeth. The glory of the brotherhood was already so
-much a thing of the past that it was thought worth while to introduce
-this figure into a mock procession. This very circumstance is enough
-to mark the decline of the art in those days, but already a new sort
-of popular song had sprung up to replace the romances of chivalry. “A
-person,” says Percy, “very meet for the purpose, … his cap off; his head
-seemly rounded tonsure-wise, fair-kembed [combed], that with a sponge
-daintily dipt in a little capon’s grease was finely smoothed, to make it
-shine like a mallard’s wing. His beard smugly shaven; and yet his shirt,
-after the new trink, with ruffs fair starched, sleeked and glittering
-like a pair of new shoes; marshalled in good order with a setting stick
-and strut, that every ruff stood up like a wafer.[163] A long gown of
-Kendal-green gathered at the neck with a narrow gorget, fastened afore
-with a white clasp and a keeper close up to the chin, but easily, for
-heat, to undo when he list. Seemly begirt in a red caddis girdle; from
-that a pair of capped Sheffield knives hanging at two sides. Out of his
-bosom was drawn forth a lappet of his napkin [handkerchief] edged with a
-blue lace, and marked with a true-love, a heart, and _D_ for Damain; for
-he was but a bachelor yet. His gown had long sleeves down to mid-leg,
-lined with white cotton. His doublet-sleeves of black worsted; upon them
-a pair of poynets [wristlets, from _poignet_] of tawny chamlet, laced
-along the wrist with blue threaden points; a wealt towards the hand of
-fustian-a-napes. A pair of red neather stocks, a pair of pumps [shoes] on
-his feet, with a cross cut at the toes for corns; not new, indeed, yet
-cleanly blackt with soot, and shining as a shoeing-horn. About his neck
-a red riband suitable to his girdle. His harp in good grace dependent
-before him. His wrest [tuning-key] tyed to a green lace, and hanging
-by. Under the gorget of his gown, a fair chain of silver as a squire
-minstrel of Middlesex, that travelled the country this summer season,
-unto fairs and worshipful men’s houses. From his chain hung a scutcheon,
-with metal and color, resplendent upon his breast, of the ancient arms of
-Islington.” The peculiarities marking his shoes no doubt referred to the
-long pedestrian tours of the early minstrels.
-
-Chaucer, in the XIVth century, makes frequent mention of music, both
-vocal and instrumental. Of his twenty-nine Canterbury Pilgrims, six could
-either play or sing, and two, the Squire and the Mendicant Friar, could
-do both. Of the Prioress he quaintly says:
-
-    “Ful wel she sangé the service devine,
-    Entunéd in hire nose ful swetély.”
-
-Dr. Burney thinks that part-singing was already known and practised in
-Chaucer’s time, and draws this inference from the notice the poet takes
-in his “Dream” of the singing of birds:
-
-    “… for some of them songe lowe
-    Some high, and all of one accorde”;
-
-and it is certain that this kind of music was a great favorite with the
-English people at a very early period, and was indebted to them for many
-improvements. The same writer says that the English, in their secular
-music and in part-singing, rather preceded than followed the European
-nations, and that, though he could find no music in parts, except church
-music, in foreign countries before the middle of the XVIth century, yet
-in England he found Masses in four, five, and six parts, as well as
-secular songs in the vulgar tongue in two or three parts, in the XVth and
-early part of the XVIth centuries. Ritson, it is true, in his _Ancient
-Songs from the Time of King Henry III. to the Revolution_, disputes
-this, but Hawkins is of the same opinion as Burney. Mr. Stafford Smith,
-at the end of the last century, made a collection of old English songs
-written in score for three or four voices; but though the oldest music
-to such songs is scarcely intelligible, the number collected proves how
-popular that sort of music was in early times. (Perhaps the illegibility
-of the music is due to the old notation, in use before the perfected
-stave of four lines became general--the pneumatic notation, supposed by
-Coussemaker, Schubiger, Ambros, and other writers on music to have been
-developed out of the system of accents of speech represented by signs,
-such as are still used in French.)
-
-Landini, an Italian writer of the XVth century, in his _Commentary
-on Dante_, speaks of “many most excellent musicians” as coming from
-England to Italy to hear and study under Antonio _degli organi_ (a name
-denoting his profession); while another writer, the choir-master of the
-royal chapel of Ferdinand, King of Naples, mentions the excellence of
-the English vocal music in parts, and even (incorrectly) calls John of
-Dunstable (a musician of the middle of the XVth century) the “inventor of
-counterpoint.”
-
-One of the oldest compositions of this kind is a manuscript score in the
-British Museum, a canon in unison for four voices, with the addition
-of two more voices for the _pes_, as it is called, which is a kind of
-ground, and is the basis of the harmony. The words, partially modernized,
-are as follows (they are much older than the music, which is only four
-hundred years old):
-
-    “Summer is a-coming in,
-    Loud sing cuckoo;
-    Groweth seed
-    And bloweth mead,
-    And springeth the weed new.
-    Ewe bleateth after lamb;
-    Loweth after calf, cow;
-    Bullock sterteth [leaps],
-    Buckè verteth [frequents green places],
-    Merry sing cuckoo;
-    Nor cease thou ever now.”
-
-Dr. Burney says of this song that the modulation is monotonous, but
-that the chief merit lies in “the airy, pastoral correspondence of the
-melody with the words”--a merit which many modern compositions of the
-“popular” type are very far from possessing. Under the Tudors music made
-rapid strides. Dr. Robert Fairfax was well known as a composer in those
-days, and a collection of old English songs with their music (often in
-parts), made by him, has been preserved to this day. Besides himself,
-such writers as Cornyshe, Syr Thomas Phelyppes, Davy, Brown, Banister,
-Tudor, Turges, Sheryngham, and William of Newark are represented. Of
-these, Cornyshe was the best, and Purcell, two hundred years later,
-imitated much of his rondeau style, most of these composers being
-entirely secular. Henry VIII. himself wrote music for two Masses, and
-had them sung in his chapel; and to be able to take a part in madrigals,
-and sing at sight in any piece of concerted music, was reckoned a part
-of a gentleman’s education in those days. The invention of printing gave
-a great impulse to song-writing and composing, though for some time
-after the words were printed the music was probably still copied by hand
-over the words; for the printing of notes was of course a further and
-subsequent development of the new art. A musician and poet of the name
-of Gray became a favorite of Henry VIII. and of the Protector Somerset
-“for making certain merry ballades, whereof one chiefly was ‘The hunt is
-up--the hunt is up.’”[164]
-
-“A popular species of harmony,” says Ritson, “arose in this reign; it was
-called ‘King Henry’s Mirth,’ or ‘Freemen’s Songs,’ that monarch being
-a great admirer of vocal music. ‘Freemen’s Songs’ is a corruption of
-‘Three-men’s Songs,’ from their being generally for three voices.” Very
-few songs were written for one voice.
-
-Ballads were very popular, and formed one of the great attractions at
-fairs. An old pamphlet, published in the reign of Elizabeth, mentions
-with astonishment that “Out-roaring Dick and Wat Winbars” got twenty
-shillings a day by singing at Braintree Fair, in Essex. It does seem
-a good deal, considering that the sum was equal to five pounds of
-the present money, which again is equivalent to about thirty dollars
-currency. These wandering singers, the lowly successors of the proud
-minstrels, were in their way quite as successful; but, what is more
-wonderful, their songs were for the most part neither coarse nor vulgar.
-Good poets wrote for music in those days; _now_, as a general rule, it
-is only rhymers who avowedly write that their words may be set to music.
-As quack-doctors, fortune-tellers, pedlers, etc., mounted benches and
-barrel-heads to harangue the people, and thus gained the now ill-sounding
-name of mountebanks, so too did these singers call over their songs and
-sing those chosen by their audience; and they are frequently called
-by the writers of those times _cantabanchi_, an Italian compound of
-_cantare_ (to sing) and _banchi_ (benches). Among the headings given of
-these popular songs are the following: “The Three Ravens: a dirge”; “By
-a bank as I lay”; “So woe is me, begone”; “Three merry men we be”; “But
-now he is dead and gone”; “Now, Robin, lend me thy Bow”; “Bonny Lass
-upon a green”; “He is dead and gone, Lady,” etc. There is a quaint grace
-and sadness about the titles which speaks well for the manners of those
-who listened and applauded. Popular taste has certainly degenerated in
-many parts of England; for such titles _now_ would only provoke a sneer
-among an average London or Midland county audience of the lower classes.
-Gardiner says: “The most ancient of our English songs are of a grave
-cast, and commonly written in the key of G minor.”
-
-Among the composers of the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. was Birde,
-who wrote a still popular canon on the Latin words “Non nobis, Domine,”
-and set to music the celebrated song ascribed to Sir Edward Dyer, a
-friend of Sir Philip Sidney, “My Mind to me a Kingdom is.”
-
-Birde’s scholar, Morley, produced a great number of canzonets, or short
-songs for three or more voices; and Ford, who was an original genius,
-published some pieces for four voices, with an accompaniment for lutes
-and viols, besides other pieces, especially catches of an humorous
-character. George Kirbye was another canzonet composer, and Thomas
-Weelkes has been immortalized by the good-fortune which threw him in
-Shakspere’s way, so that the latter often wrote words for his music.
-Yet doubtless the fame of the one, as that of the other, was chiefly
-posthumous; and poet and musician, on a par in those days, may have
-starved in company, unknowing that a MS. of theirs would fetch its weight
-in gold a hundred years after they were in their graves.
-
-“The musical reputation of England,” says a writer in an old review of
-1834, “must mainly rest on the songs in parts of the period between 1560
-and 1625.” And Gardiner says: “If we can set up any claim to originality,
-it is in our glees and anthems.” The gleemen, who were at first a class
-of the minstrels, are supposed to have been the first who performed vocal
-music in parts, according to set rules and by notes, though the custom
-must have existed long before it was thus technically sanctioned. The
-earliest pieces of the kind _upon record_ are by the madrigal writers,
-and were, perhaps, founded upon the taste of the Italian school; but
-there soon grew up a distinction sufficient to mark English glee-music
-as a separate species of the art. It is said that glee-singing did not
-become generally popular till about the year 1770, when glees formed
-a prominent part of the private concerts of the nobility; but their
-being adopted into fashionable circles only at that date is scarcely
-a proof of their late origin. The canzonets for three or four voices
-must have been closely allied to glees, and a family likeness existed
-between these and the madrigals for four or five voices, the ballets, or
-fa-las, for five, and the songs for six and seven parts, which are so
-prodigally mentioned in a list of works by Morley within the short space
-of only four years--1593 to 1597. The number of these songs proves their
-wonderful popularity, and we incline to think, with the writer we have
-quoted, that the English, in the catches and glees, the works of the
-composers of the days of Elizabeth and James I., and those of Purcell,
-Tallis, Croft, Bull, Blow, Boyce, etc., at a later period, possess a
-music essentially national and original--not imitative, as is the modern
-English school, and not more indebted to foreign sources than any other
-progressive and liberal art is to the lessons given it by its practisers
-in other civilized communities. For if _national_ is to mean isolated
-and petrified, by all means let us forswear nationalism.
-
-Shakspere’s songs are scattered throughout his works, and were evidently
-written for music. Both old and new composers have set them to music,
-and of the latter none so happily as Bishop Weelkes and John Dowland,
-his contemporaries and friends; the latter, the composer of Shakspere’s
-favorite song (not his own), “Awake, sweet Love,” often wrote music
-for his words. In his plays Shakspere has introduced many fragments of
-_old_ songs and ballads; but Ritson says of him: “This admirable writer
-composed the most beautiful and excellent songs, which no one, so far as
-we know, can be said to have done before him, nor has any one excelled
-him since.” This statement is qualified by an exception in favor of
-Marlowe, a predecessor of Shakspere, and the author of the “Passionate
-Shepherd to his Love”; and besides, it means that he was the first great
-poet among the song-writers, who, in comparison with him, might be called
-mere ballad-mongers. Shakspere’s love for the old, simple, touching music
-of his native land, shown on many occasions throughout his works, is most
-exquisitely expressed in the following passage from _Twelfth Night_:
-
-    “Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
-    That old and antique song we had last night:
-    Methought it did relieve my passion much,
-    More than light airs and recollected terms
-    Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
-    …
-    O fellow, come, the song we had last night.
-    Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
-    The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
-    And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,[165]
-    Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth,
-    And dallies with the innocence of love,
-    Like the old age.”
-
-Though Shakspere’s plays were marked with the coarseness of speech
-common in his time, and therefore not, as some have thought, chargeable
-to him in particular, his songs, on the contrary, are of singular
-daintiness. They are too well known to be quoted here, but they breathe
-the very spirit of music, being evidently intended to be sung and
-popularly known. The chorus, or rather refrain, of one, beginning, “Blow,
-blow, thou winter wind,” runs thus:
-
-    “Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly;
-    Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
-              Then heigh ho! the holly!
-              This life is most jolly!”
-
-The “Serenade to Sylvia” is lovely, chaste and delicate in speech as it
-is playful in form; and the fairy song “Over hill, over dale,” is like
-the song of a chorus of animated flowers. The description of the cowslips
-is very poetic:
-
-    “The cowslips tall her pensioners be,
-    In their gold coats spots you see--
-    Those be rubies, fairy favors;
-    In those freckles live their savors.
-    I must go seek some dew-drops here,
-    And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.”
-
-Bishop Hall, in 1597, published a satirical poem in which he complains
-that madrigals and ballads were “sung to the wheel, and sung unto the
-pail”--that is, by maids spinning and milking, or fetching water; and
-Lord Surrey, in one of his poems, says (not satirically, however):
-
-    “My mother’s maids, when they do sit and spin,
-    They sing a song.”
-
-Now, we gather what was the style of these songs of peasant girls and
-laborers from the writings of good old Izaak Walton, who mentions, as a
-common occurrence, that he often met, in the fields bordering the river
-Lee, a handsome milkmaid who sang like a nightingale, her voice being
-good and the ditties fitted for it. “She sang the smooth song which was
-made by Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty years ago, and the milkmaid’s
-mother sang the answer to it which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in
-his younger days.… They were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good; I
-think much better than that now in fashion in this critical age.”[166] He
-wrote in the reign of Charles I., and already deplored the influx of more
-pretentious songs; but those he mentions with such commendation were the
-famous “Passionate Shepherd to his Love” and the song beginning “If all
-the world and love were young,” two exquisite lyrics of an elegance much
-above what is now termed the taste of the vulgar.
-
-Izaak Walton was as fond of music as of angling, and quotes many of the
-popular songs of his day. He was a quiet man, and only describes the
-pastimes of humble life. He used to rest from his labors in an “honest
-ale-house” and a “cleanly room,” where he and his fellow-fishermen, and
-sometimes the milkmaid, whiled away the evenings by singing ballads and
-duets. Any casual dropper-in was expected to take his part; and among the
-music mentioned as common in these gatherings are numbers of “ketches,”
-or, as we should say, catches. The music of one of his favorite duets,
-“Man’s life is but vain, for ’tis subject to pain,” is given in the old
-editions of his book. It is simple and pretty; the composer was Mr. H.
-Lawes. Other songs, favorites of his, were “Come, shepherds, deck your
-heads”; “As at noon Dulcina rested”; “Phillida flouts me”; and that
-touching elegy, “Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,” by George
-Herbert. This is as full of meaning as it is short:
-
-    “Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
-    The bridal of the earth and sky,
-    Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night
-            For thou must die.
-
-    “Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
-    Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
-    Thy root is ever in its grave,
-            And thou must die.
-
-    “Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
-    A box where sweets compacted lie,
-    My music shows you have your closes
-            And all must die.
-
-    “Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
-    Like seasoned timber never gives,
-    But, when the whole world turns to coal,
-            Then chiefly lives.”
-
-Sir Henry Wotton’s song for the poor countryman, beginning--
-
-    “Fly from our country pastimes, fly,
-    Sad troops of human misery!
-      Come, serene looks,
-      Clear as the crystal brooks,
-    Or the pure, azured heaven that smiles to see
-    The rich attendance on our poverty!”
-
-and some verses of Dr. Donne (both these writers being contemporaries
-of James I.), are also mentioned by Walton as popular among the lower
-classes in his day. Here is another instance of the power of song over
-the peasantry in the early part of the XVIIth century. In the spring
-of 1613, on the occasion of Queen Anne of Denmark’s return from Bath,
-where she had gone for her health, she was met on Salisbury Plain by the
-Rev. George Fereby, vicar of some obscure country parish, who entreated
-that her majesty would be pleased to listen to a concert performed by
-his people. “When the queen signified her assent, there rose out of the
-ravine a handsome company, dressed as Druids and as British shepherds
-and shepherdesses, who sang a greeting, beginning with these words, to a
-melody which greatly pleased the musical taste of her majesty:
-
-    “‘Shine, oh! shine, thou sacred star,
-    On seely[167] shepherd swains!’
-
-We should suppose, from the commencing words, that this poem had
-originally been a Nativity hymn pertaining to the ancient church; and
-it is possible that the melody might be traced to the same source.…
-The music, the voices, and the romantic dresses, so well corresponding
-with the mysterious spot where this pastoral concert was stationed,
-greatly captivated the imagination of the queen.”[168] Anne of Denmark
-admired and patronized the genius of Ben Jonson, the writer of several
-musical masques often performed at court by the queen and her noble
-attendants. The really classical time of English poetry and music was
-before the Commonwealth, and popular music certainly received a blow
-during the Puritan rule. Songs and ballads were forbidden as profane;
-and in 1656 Cromwell enacted that “if any of the persons commonly called
-fiddlers or minstrels shall at any time be taken playing, fiddling,
-and making music in any inn, ale-house, or tavern, or shall be taken
-proffering themselves, or designing or entreating any to hear them play
-or make music in any of the places aforesaid,” they should be “adjudged
-and declared to be rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars.” Fines and
-imprisonments were often the penalties attached to a disregard of these
-ordinances; but this opposition only turned the course of popular song
-into political channels, and it became a point of honor among the
-Royalists to listen to, applaud, and protect the veriest scamp who
-called himself a minstrel. Songs were written with no poetical merit,
-but full of political allusions, bitter taunts and sneers; and it was
-the delight of the Cavaliers to sing these doggerel rhymes and make the
-wandering fiddlers sing them. Many a brawl owed its origin to this. Even
-certain tunes, without any words, were considered as identified with
-political principle, and led to dangerous ebullitions of feeling, or
-kept alive party prejudices in those who heard them. Popular music has
-always been a powerful engine for good or bad, in a political sense.
-Half the loyalty of the Jacobites of Scotland in the XVIIIth century
-was due to inflammatory songs; Körner’s lyrics fired German patriotism
-against Napoleon; and there has never been a party of any kind that did
-not speedily adopt some representative melody to fan the ardor of its
-adherents.
-
-But if music and poetry were proscribed by the over-rigorous Puritans,
-a worse excess was fostered by the immoral reign of Charles II. The
-Restoration polluted the stream which the Commonwealth had attempted to
-dam up. Just as, in a spirit of bravado and contradiction, the Cavaliers
-had ostentatiously made cursing and swearing a badge of their party, to
-spite the sanctimoniousness of the Roundheads, so they affected to oppose
-to the latter’s psalm-singing roaring and immodest songs. Ritson says
-that Charles II. tried his hand at song-writing, and quotes a piece by
-him, beginning:
-
-    “I pass all my hours in a shady old grove.”
-
-“Though by no means remarkable for poetical merit,” says the critic, “it
-has certainly enough for the composition of a king.” Molière was not
-more severe on the attempts of Louis XIV. But though the general spirit
-of the age was licentious, many good songs were still written. Sedley,
-Rochester, Dorset, Sheffield, and others wrote unexceptionable ones,
-and the great Dryden flourished in this reign. One of his odes, “On S.
-Cecilia’s Day,” is thoroughly musical in its rhythm, the refrains at the
-end of each stanza having the ring of some of the old German Minnesongs
-of the XIIth and XIIIth centuries. But his verses were scarcely simple
-or flowing enough to become popular in the widest sense, which honor
-rather belonged to the less celebrated poets of his day. Lord Dorset,
-for instance, was the author of a sea-song said to have been written the
-night before an engagement with the Dutch in 1665, and which, from its
-admirable ease, flow, and tenderness, became at once popular with all
-classes. The circumstances under which it was supposed to be written had,
-no doubt, something to do with its popularity; but Dr. Johnson says:
-“Seldom any splendid story is wholly true. I have heard from the late
-Earl of Orrery, who was likely to have good hereditary intelligence,
-that Lord Dorset had been a week employed upon it, and only retouched
-or finished it on the memorable evening. But even this, whatever it
-may subtract from his facility, leaves him his courage.” The anonymous
-writer to whom we have referred[169] tells us that “the shorter pieces
-of most of the poets of the time of Charles II. had a rhythm and cadence
-particularly well suited to music. They were, in short, what the Italians
-call _cantabile_, or fit to be sung.… In the succeeding reigns, with
-the growth of our literature, there was a considerable increase in
-song-writing; most of our poets of eminence, and some who had no eminence
-except what they obtained in that way, devoting themselves occasionally
-to the composition of lyrical pieces. Prior, Rowe, Steele, Philips,
-Parnell, Gay, and others contributed a stock which might advantageously
-be referred to by the composers of our own times.” Prior was a friend
-and _protégé_ of Lord Dorset, who sent him to Cambridge and paid for his
-education there. Parnell was an Irishman. His “Hymn to Contentment” is a
-sort of counterpart to the old song “My Mind to me a Kingdom is”:
-
-    “Lovely, lasting peace, appear;
-    This world itself, if thou art here,
-    Is once again with Eden blest,
-    And man contains it in his breast.”
-
-Gay, the elegant, the humorous, and the pathetic, shows to most advantage
-in this group. He it was who wrote the famous ballad “Black-eyed Susan,”
-and many others which, though less known at present, are equally
-admirable. One of them was afterwards set to music by Handel, and later
-on by Jackson of Exeter. But music did not keep pace with poetry; and
-though Purcell, Carey, and one or two other composers flourished in the
-latter part of the XVIIth and beginning of the XVIIIth centuries, they
-kept mostly to sacred music, and the new songs of the day were generally
-set to old tunes. Gay’s _Beggar’s Opera_, a collection of seventy-two
-songs, could not boast of a single air composed for the purpose. The
-music was all old, but the stage, says Dr. Burney, ruined the simplicity
-of the old airs, as it invariably does all music adapted to dramatic
-purposes. Indeed, we, in our own day, sometimes have the opportunity
-of verifying this fact, when old airs or ballads are introduced into
-operas to which they are unfitted. The “Last Rose of Summer” put into
-the opera of _Martha_ is an instance in point; but, worse than that,
-the writer once heard “Home, Sweet Home” sung during the music-lesson
-scene in the _Barbier de Seville_. Adelina Patti was the _prima donna_,
-and any one who has seen and heard her can imagine the contrast between
-the simple, pathetic air and words, and the kittenish, coquettish,
-Dresden-china style of the singer! Add to this the costume of a Spanish
-_señorita_ and the stage finery of Rosina’s boudoir, not to mention the
-absurd anachronism involved in a girl of the XVIIth century singing
-Paine’s touching song. Of course the audience applauded vigorously;
-for an English audience at the opera goes into action in the spirit of
-Nelson’s words, “England expects every man to do his duty,” and the
-incongruousness of the scene never troubles its mind.
-
-Carey tried to stem the downfall of really good popular music by writing
-both the words and music of the well-known ballad of “Sally in our
-Alley,” which attained a popularity (using the word in its proper sense)
-that it has never lost and never will lose. The song was soon known
-from one end of the country to the other, and, like the old songs, was
-“whistled o’er the furrowed land” and “sung to the wheel, and sung unto
-the pail.” Addison was no less fond of it than the common people; but the
-song was an exception in its time, and the poetry of the day never again
-made its way among the great body of the people, as it had done under
-the Tudors and the early Stuarts. Music and poetry both grew artificial
-under the Hanoverian dynasty, and the mannerisms and affectations of
-rhymers and would-be musical critics were sharply satirized by Pope and
-Swift. In the reign of Queen Anne the Italian opera was introduced into
-London, and the silly rage for foreign music, _because_ it was foreign,
-soon worked its way among all classes. Handel brought about the first
-salutary return to natural and simple musical expression, and, setting
-many national and pastoral pieces to music, diffused the taste for good
-music through the intermediate orders of the people, especially the
-country gentry, but the masses still clung to interminable ballads,
-with monotonous tunes and no individuality either of sense or of form.
-Although England could boast of some good native composers and poets in
-the XVIIIth century--for instance, among the former, Boyce, Arne, Linley,
-Jackson, Shield, Arnold, etc.--still no good music penetrated into the
-lower strata of society; for these musicians mostly confined themselves
-to pieces of greater pretension than anything which was likely to become
-popular. Wales and the North of England still kept up a better standard,
-but the general taste of the nation was decidedly vitiated. Dibdin’s
-sea-songs broke the spell and reached the heart of the people; but this
-was rather a momentary flash than a permanent resurrection of good taste
-and discernment. The custom of writing the majority of songs for one
-voice, we think, had had much to do with destroying the genuine love of
-music among the people. It seemed to shift the burden of entertainment
-upon one member of a social gathering, instead of assuming that music
-was the welcome occupation and pastime of the greater number; and
-besides this, it no doubt fostered an undue rage for melody, or, as it
-is vulgarly called, _tune_. We have often had occasion to notice how
-bald and meagre--trivial, indeed--a mere thread of melody can sound
-when sung by one voice, which, if sung in parts, acquires a majestic
-and full tone. The fashion of solo-singing, which obtains so much
-in our day, has another disadvantage: it encourages affectation and
-self-complacency in the singer. The solo-singer is very apt to arrogate
-to him or herself the merit and effect of the piece; to think more of the
-individual performance than of the music performed; and to spoil a good
-piece by interpolating runs and shakes to show off his or her powers of
-vocal gymnastics. All this was impossible in the old part-songs, where
-attention and precision were indispensable.
-
-There are hopeful indications at present that England is not utterly
-sunk into musical indifference, but, strange to say, wherever the good
-leaven _does_ work, it does so from below upwards. The lower classes in
-the North of England have mainly given the impulse; the higher are still,
-on the whole, superficial in their tastes and trivial and mediocre in
-their performances. Even as far back as 1834, the writer in the _Penny
-Magazine_ already quoted gives an interesting account of a surprise he
-met with at a small village in Sussex. (This, be it remembered, is an
-almost exclusively Saxon district of the country.) Being tired of the
-solitude of the little inn and the dulness of a country newspaper, he
-walked down the street of the village, and, in so doing, was brought to a
-pause before a small cottage, nowise distinguished from the other humble
-homesteads of the place, from which proceeded sounds of sweet music. The
-performance within consisted, not of voices, but of instruments; and
-the piece was one of great pathos and beauty, and not devoid of musical
-difficulty. When it was finished, and the performers had rested a few
-seconds, they executed a German quartet of some pretensions in very
-good style. This was followed by variations on a popular air by Stephen
-Storace, which they played in excellent time and with considerable
-elegance and expression. Several other pieces, chosen with equal good
-taste, succeeded this, and the stranger enjoyed a musical treat where
-he little expected one. On making inquiries at the inn, he found that
-the performers were all young men of the village, humble mechanics and
-agricultural laborers, who, for some considerable time, had been in the
-habit of meeting at each other’s houses in the evening, and playing
-and practising together. The taste had originated with a young man of
-the place who had acquired a little knowledge of music at Brighton. He
-had taught some of his comrades, and by degrees they had so increased
-in number and improved in the art that now, to use the words of the
-informant, “there were eight or ten that could play by book and in
-public.”
-
-At that time, and in that part of the country, this was an unusual and
-remarkable proof of refinement and good taste; but at present, though
-still the exception, it is no longer quite so rare to find uneducated
-people able to a certain degree to appreciate good music. Much has
-been written to vindicate English musical taste within the last thirty
-or forty years; but still the fact can scarcely be overlooked that,
-notwithstanding all efforts to the contrary, the standard of taste among
-the masses is lower than it was in Tudor days.
-
-Every one is familiar with the choral unions, the glee-clubs, the
-carol-singing, Leslie’s choir, and Hullah’s methods, which all go far to
-raise the taste of the people and enlist the vocal powers of many who
-otherwise would have been tempted to leave singing to the “mounseers”
-and other “furriners,” as the only thing those benighted individuals
-could be good for. There is, as there has been for many generations, the
-Chapel Royal, a sort of informal school of music; there is the Academy
-of Music; there are “Crystal Palace” and “Monday Popular Concerts”;
-musical festivals every year in the various cathedrals, oratorios in
-Exeter Hall; and there soon will be a “National School of Music,” which
-is to be a climax in musical education, the pride of the representative
-bodies of wealthy and noble England (for princes and corporations have
-vied with each other in founding scholarships); but with all this, the
-palmy days of the Tudors are dead and gone beyond the power of man to
-galvanize them into new activity. True, every young woman plays the
-pianoforte; you see that instrument in the grocer’s best parlor and the
-farmer’s keeping-room; but the sort of music played upon it is trivial
-and foreign, an exotic in the life of the performer, a boarding-school
-accomplishment, not a labor of love. You can hear “Beautiful Star,” and
-“Home, Sweet Home,” and Mozart’s “Agnus Dei” sung one after the other,
-with the same expression, the same “strumminess,” the same stolidity,
-or the same affected languor, and you will perceive that, though the
-singer may _know_ them, she neither feels nor understands them. Moore’s
-melodies, too, you hear _ad nauseam_, murdered and slurred over anyhow;
-but both the delicacy of the poetry and the pathos of the music are a
-dead-letter to the performer. But though a few songs by good writers are
-popular in the middle classes--for instance, Tennyson’s “Brook” and “Come
-into the garden, Maud,” the immortal and almost unspoilable “Home, Sweet
-Home”--yet there is also a dark side to the picture in the prevalence of
-comic songs, low, slangy ballads, sham negro melodies (utterly unlike the
-real old pathetic plantation-song), and other degrading entertainments
-classed under the title of “popular music.” The higher classes give
-little countenance or aid to the upward movement in music, and still look
-upon the art as an adjunct of fashion. With such disadvantages, it is a
-wonder that England has struggled back into the ranks of music-lovers
-at all, even though, as yet, she can take but a subordinate place among
-them.
-
-
-PIOUS PICTURES.
-
-A great deterioration having been observable for some time past in
-the multitudinous little pictures published in Paris, ostensibly with
-a religious object, some of the more thoughtful writers in Catholic
-periodicals have on several recent occasions earnestly protested against
-the form these representations are taking. Their remonstrances are,
-however, as yet unsuccessful. The “article” continues to be produced on
-an increasing scale, and is daily transmitted in immense quantities,
-not only to the farthest extremities of the territory, but far beyond,
-especially to England and America, to ruin taste, sentimentalize piety,
-and “give occasion to the enemy to” _deride_ if not to “blaspheme.”
-
-The bishops of France have already turned their attention to this
-unhealthy state of things in what may be called pictorial literature
-for the pious, and efforts are being made in the higher regions of
-ecclesiastical authority to arrest its deterioration. In the synod lately
-held at Lyons severe censure was passed on the objectionable treatment
-of sacred things so much in vogue in certain quarters; and, still more
-recently, Father Matignon, in his conference on “The Artist,” condemned
-these “grotesque interpretations of religious truths, which render
-them ridiculous in the eyes of unbelievers, and corrupt the taste of
-the faithful.” The eloquent preacher at the same time recommended the
-Catholic journalists to denounce a species of commerce as ignorant as it
-is mercenary, and counselled the members of the priesthood to “declare
-unrelenting war against this school of _pettiness_, which is daily
-gaining ground in France, and which gives a trivial and vulgar aspect to
-things the most sacred.”
-
-This appeal has not been without effect. There appears in the _Monde_,
-from the pen of M. Léon Gautier, the author of several pious and learned
-works, a Letter “Against Certain Pictures,” addressed “to the president
-of the Conference of T----,” in which the absurdity of these silly
-compositions is attacked with much spirit and good sense. The _Semaine
-Religieuse de Paris_ reproduces this letter, with an entreaty to its
-readers to enroll themselves in the crusade therein preached by the
-eminent writer--a crusade the opportuneness of which must be only too
-evident to every thoughtful and religious mind. M. Léon Gautier writes as
-follows:
-
-    You have requested me, dear friend, to purchase for you a
-    “gross” of little pictures for distribution among your poor and
-    their children.…
-
-    As to the selection of these pictures I must own myself
-    greatly perplexed, and must beg to submit to you very humbly
-    my difficulties, and not only my difficulties, but also my
-    distress, and, to say the truth, my indignation. I have before
-    my eyes at this moment four or five hundred pictures which
-    have been sold to me as “pious,” but which I consider as in
-    reality among the most detestable and irreverent of any kind of
-    merchandise. A great political journal the other day gave to
-    one of its leaders the title of _L’Ecœurement_.[170] I cannot
-    give a title to my letter, but, were it possible to do so, I
-    should choose this one in preference to any other. I am in the
-    unfortunate state of a man who has swallowed several kilograms
-    of adulterated honey. I am suffering from an indigestion of
-    sugar; and what sugar! Whilst in the act of buying these
-    little horrors, I beheld numberless purchasers succeed each
-    other with feverish eagerness in the shops, which I will not
-    specify. Yes, I had the pain of meeting there with Christian
-    Brothers and with Sisters of Charity, who made me sigh by their
-    simple avidity and ingenuous delight at the sight of these
-    frightful little black or rose-colored prints. They bought them
-    by hundreds, by thousands, by ten thousands; for schools, for
-    orphanages, for missions. Ah! my dear friend, how many souls
-    are going to be well treacled in our hapless world! It is the
-    triumph of confectionery. “Why are you choosing such machines
-    as these?” I asked of the good Brother Theodore, whom, to my
-    great astonishment, I found among the purchasers; “they are
-    disagreeable.” “Agreed.” “They are stupid.” “I know it.” “They
-    are dear.” “My purse is only too well aware of the fact.” “Then
-    why do you buy them?” “Because I find that these only are
-    acceptable.” And thereupon the worthy man told me that he had
-    the other day distributed among his children pictures taken
-    from the fine head of our Saviour attributed to Morales--a
-    _chef-d’œuvre_. The children, however, perceiving that there
-    was no gilding upon them, had thrown them aside, gaping.
-    Decidedly, the evil is greater than I had supposed, and it is
-    time to consider what is to be done.
-
-    In spite of all this, I have bought your provision of pictures;
-    but do not be uneasy--I am keeping them myself, and will
-    proceed to describe them to you. I do not wish that the taste
-    of your beloved poor should be vitiated by the sight of these
-    mawkish designs; but I will take upon myself to analyze them
-    for your benefit, and then see if you are not very soon as
-    indignant as myself.
-
-    In the first place we have the “symbolical” pictures, and these
-    are the most numerous of all. I do not want to say too much
-    against them. You know in what high estimation I hold true
-    symbolism, and we have many a time exchanged our thoughts on
-    this admirable form of the activity of the human mind. A symbol
-    is a comparison between things belonging to the physical and
-    things belonging to the immaterial world. Now, these two worlds
-    are in perfect harmony with each other. To each phenomenon of
-    the moral order there corresponds exactly a phenomenon of the
-    visible order. If we compare these two facts with each other,
-    we have a symbol. There is a life, a breath, a whiteness,
-    which are material. Figurative language is nothing else than a
-    vast and wonderful symbolism, and you remember the marvellous
-    things written on this subject by the lamented M. Landriot.
-    In the supernatural order it is the same, and all Christian
-    generations have made use of symbolism to express the most
-    sacred objects of their adoration. There has been the symbolism
-    of the Catacombs; there has been also that of the Middle Ages.
-    The two, although not resembling, nevertheless complete, each
-    other, and eloquently attest the fact that the Christian race
-    has never been without the use of symbols.
-
-    Thus it is not symbolism which I condemn, but this particular
-    symbolism of which I am about to speak, and which is so
-    odiously silly. I write to you with the proofs before me. I am
-    not inventing, but, mirror-wise, merely reflecting. I am not
-    an author, but a photographer.
-
-    Firstly, here we have a ladder, which represents “the way of
-    the soul towards God.” This is very well, although moderately
-    ideal; but then who is mounting this ladder? You would never
-    guess. It is a dove! Yes; the poor bird is painfully climbing
-    up the rounds as if she were a hen getting back to roost,
-    and apparently forgetting that she owns a pair of wings. But
-    we shall find this dove elsewhere; for our pictures are full
-    of the species, and are in fact a very plentifully-stocked
-    dove-cote. I perceive down there another animal; it is a
-    roe with her fawn, and with amazement I read this legend:
-    “The fecundity of the breast of the roe is the image of the
-    abundance and sweetness of grace.” Why was the roe selected,
-    and why roe’s milk? Strange! But here again we have a singular
-    collection. On a heart crowned with roses is placed a
-    candlestick (a candlestick on a heart!), and this candelabrum,
-    price twenty-nine sous, is surmounted by a lighted candle,
-    around which angels are pressing. This, we are told underneath,
-    is “good example.” Does it mean that we are to set one for the
-    blessed angels to follow? Next, what do I see here? A guitar;
-    and this at the foot of the cross. Let us see what can be the
-    reason of this mysterious assemblage; the text furnishes it:
-    _Je me délasserai à l’abri de la Croix_--“I will refresh myself
-    in the shelter of the cross”--from whence it follows that one
-    can play the guitar upon Golgotha. Touching emblem! And what do
-    you say of this other, in which our Saviour Jesus, the Word,
-    and, as Bossuet says, the Reason and Interior Discourse of
-    the Eternal Father, is represented as occupied in killing I
-    know not what little insects on the leaves of a rose-bush? “The
-    divine Gardener destroys the caterpillars which make havoc in
-    his garden,” says the legend. I imagine nothing, but merely
-    transcribe, and for my part would gladly turn insecticide to
-    this collection of _imagerie_.
-
-    This hand issuing out of a cloud I recognize as the hand of my
-    Lord God, the Creator and Father of all, who is at the same
-    time their comforter, their stay, and their life. I admit
-    this symbol, which is ancient and truly Christian; but this
-    divine hand, which the Middle Ages would most carefully have
-    guarded against charging with any kind of burden; this hand,
-    which represents Eternal Justice and Eternal Goodness--can
-    you imagine what it is here made to hold? [Not even the fiery
-    bolt which the heathen of old times represented in the grasp
-    of their Jupiter Tonans, but] a horrible and stupid little
-    watering-pot, from the spout of which trickles a driblet
-    of water upon the cup of a lily. Further on I see the said
-    watering-pot is replaced by a sort of jug, which the Eternal
-    is emptying upon souls in the shape of doves; and this, the
-    legend kindly informs me, is “the heavenly dew.” Heavenly
-    dew trickling out of a jug! And there are individuals who
-    can imagine and depict a thing like this when the beneficent
-    Creator daily causes to descend from his beautiful sky those
-    milliards of little pearly drops which sparkle in the morning
-    sunshine on the fair mantle of our earth! Water, it must be
-    owned, is scarcely a successful subject under any form with our
-    picture-factors. Here is a poor and miserably-painted thread
-    lifting itself up above a basin, while I am informed underneath
-    that “the jet of water is the image of the soul lifting itself
-    towards God by meditation.”
-
-    I also need to be enlightened as to how “a river turned aside
-    from its course is an image of the good use and of the abuse
-    of grace.” It is obscure, but still it does not vulgarize and
-    debase a beautiful and Scriptural image, like the next I will
-    mention, in which, over the motto, “Care of the lamp: image of
-    the cultivation of grace in our hearts,” we have a servant-maid
-    taking her great oily scissors and cutting the wick, of which
-    she scatters the blackened fragments no matter where.
-
-    The quantity of ribbon and string used up by these
-    symbol-manufacturers is something incalculable. Here lines of
-    string unite all the hearts of the faithful (doves again!)
-    to the heart of Our Blessed Lady; there Mary herself, the
-    Immaculate One and our own incomparable Mother, from the height
-    of heaven holds in leash, by an interminable length of string,
-    a certain little dove, around the neck of which there hangs a
-    scapular. This, we are told, means that “Mary is the directress
-    of the obedient soul.” Elsewhere the string is replaced by
-    pretty rose-colored or pale-blue ribbons, which have doubtless
-    a delicious effect to those who can appreciate it. Here is a
-    young girl walking along cheerfully enough, notwithstanding
-    that her heart is tied by one of these elegant ribbons to
-    that of the Blessed Mother of God, apparently without causing
-    her the slightest inconvenience. Her situation, however, is,
-    I think, less painful than that of this other young person,
-    who is occupied in carving her own heart into a shape
-    resembling that of Mary. Another young female has hoisted this
-    much-tormented organ (her own) on an easel, and is painting
-    it after the same pattern. But let us hasten out of this
-    atelier to breathe the open air among these trees. Alas! we
-    there find, under the form and features of an effeminate child
-    of eight years old, “the divine Gardener putting a prop to a
-    sapling tree,” or “grafting on the wild stock the germ of good
-    fruits.” This is all pretty well; but what can be said of this
-    ciborium which has been energetically stuck into a lily, with
-    the legend, “I seek a pure heart”? These gentlemen, indeed,
-    treat you to the Most Holy Eucharist with a free-and-easyness
-    that is by no means fitting or reverent. It is forbidden to the
-    hands of laics to touch the Sacred Vessels, and it is only just
-    that the same prohibition should apply to picture-makers. They
-    are entreated not to handle thus lightly and irreverently that
-    which is the object of our faith, our hope, and our love.
-
-    Hitherto I have refrained from touching upon that very delicate
-    subject which it is nevertheless necessary that I should
-    approach--namely, the representation of the Sacred Heart. And
-    here I feel myself at ease, having beforehand submitted to all
-    the decisions of the church, and having for long past made it
-    my great aim to be penetrated with her spirit. Like yourself,
-    I have a real devotion to the Sacred Heart, nor do I wish to
-    conceal it. When any devotion takes so wide a development in
-    the Holy Church, it is because it is willed by God, who watches
-    unceasingly over her destinies and the forms of worship which
-    she renders to him. All Catholics are agreed upon this point.
-    It is true that certain among them regard the Sacred Heart
-    as the symbol of Divine Love, and that others consider it
-    under the aspect of a very adorable part of the Body of the
-    God-Man, and, if I may so express it, as a kind of centralized
-    Eucharist. Well, I hold that to be accurate one ought to admit
-    and harmonize the two systems, and therefore I do so. You
-    are aware that it is my belief that physiology does not yet
-    sufficiently understand the mechanism of our material heart,
-    and I await discoveries on that subject which shall establish
-    the fact of its necessity to our life. The other day, at
-    Baillère’s, I remained a long time carefully examining a fine
-    engraving representing the circulation of the blood through the
-    veins and arteries, and I especially contemplated the heart
-    the source and receptacle of this double movement, and said
-    to myself, “The worship of the Sacred Heart will be one day
-    justified by physiology.” But why do I say this, when it is so
-    already? Behold me, then, on my knees before the Sacred Heart
-    of my God, in which I behold at the same time an admirable
-    symbol and a yet more admirable reality. But is this a reason
-    for representing the Sacred Heart in a manner alike ridiculous
-    and odious? I will not here enter upon the question as to
-    whether it is allowable to represent the Sacred Heart of Jesus
-    otherwise than in his Sacred Breast, and I only seek to know
-    in order to accept unhesitatingly whatever with regard to this
-    may be the thought of the church. But that which to my mind is
-    utterly revolting is the sight of the profanations of which
-    these fortieth-rate picture-manufacturers are guilty. What
-    right have they, and how do they dare, to represent hundreds
-    of consecrated Hosts issuing from the Sacred Heart, and a
-    dove pecking at them as they are dropping down? What right
-    have they to make the Heart of our Lord God a pigeon-house, a
-    roosting-place for these everlasting doves, or into a vase out
-    of which they are drinking? What right have they to insert a
-    little heart (ours) into the Divine Heart of Jesus? What right
-    have they to represent to us [a Pelion, Ossa, and Olympus on
-    a small scale] three hearts, the one piled upon the other,
-    and cascades of blood pouring from the topmost, which is that
-    of Our Lord; upon the second, which is that of his Blessed
-    Mother; and thence upon the third, which is our own? What right
-    have they to make the Sacred Heart shed showers of roses, or
-    to give its form to their “mystic garden”? Lastly, what right
-    have they to lodge it in the middle of a full-blown flower, and
-    make the latter address to it the scented question, “What would
-    you desire me to do in order that I may be agreeable to you?”
-    Ye well-meaning picture-makers! beware of asking me the same
-    question; for both you and I very well know what would be the
-    answer.
-
-    The truth is that these clumsy persons manage to spoil
-    everything they touch, and they have dishonored the symbolism
-    of the dove, as they have compromised the representations of
-    the Sacred Heart. The dove is undoubtedly one of the most
-    ancient and evangelical of all the Christian symbols; but a
-    certain discretion is nevertheless necessary in the employment
-    of this emblem of the Holy Spirit of God. This discretion
-    never failed our forefathers, who scarcely ever depicted the
-    dove, except only in the scene of Our Lord’s baptism and in
-    representations of the Blessed Trinity. In the latter the
-    Eternal Father, vested in pontifical or imperial robes, holds
-    between his arms the cross, whereon hangs his Son, while the
-    Holy Dove passes from the Father to the Son as the eternal love
-    which unites them. This is well, simple, and even fine. But
-    there is a vast difference between this and the present abuse
-    and vulgarization of the dove as an emblem, where it is made
-    use of to represent the faithful soul. No, truly, one is weary
-    of all this. Do you see this flight of young pigeons hovering
-    about with hearts in their beaks? The beaks are very small and
-    the hearts very large, but you are intended to understand by
-    this that “fervent souls rise rapidly to great perfection.”
-    These other doves, lower down, give themselves less trouble and
-    fatigue; they are quietly pecking into a heart, and I read this
-    legend: “The heart of Love is inexhaustible; let us go to it in
-    all our wants.” The pigeon that I see a little farther off is
-    not without his difficulties; he is carrying a stout stick in
-    his delicate beak, and--would you believe it?--the explanation
-    of this remarkable symbol is, “Thy rod and thy staff have
-    comforted me.” Here again are carrier-pigeons, bringing us in
-    their beaks nicely-folded letters in charming envelopes. One of
-    these birds [who possibly may belong to the variety knows as
-    tumbler pigeons] has evidently fallen into the water; for he is
-    shown to us standing to recover himself on what appears to be a
-    heap of mud in the middle of the ocean, with the motto, “Saved!
-    he is saved!” Next I come upon a party of doves again--always
-    doves!--whose occupation is certainly no sinecure. Oars have
-    been fitted to their feeble claws, and these hapless creatures
-    are rowing. Here is another unfortunate pigeon. She is in
-    prison with a thick chain fastened to her left foot, and we are
-    told that she is “reposing on the damp straw of the dungeon.”
-    Further on appears another of this luckless species, on its
-    back with its claws in the air. It is dead. So much the better.
-    It is not I who will encourage it to be so unwise as to return
-    to life. True, in default of doves, other symbols will not
-    be found lacking. Here are some of the tender kind--little
-    souvenirs to be exchanged between friend and friend, wherein
-    one finds I know not what indescribable conglomerations of
-    religious sentiment and natural friendship. Flowers, on all
-    sides flowers: forget-me-nots, pansies, lilies, and underneath
-    all the treasures of literature: “It is a friend who offers
-    you these”; “Near or far away, yours ever”; “These will pass;
-    friendship will remain.” “C’est la fleur de Marie Que je vous
-    ai choisie.” (N.B.--This last is in verse.)
-
-    I know not, my dear friend, whether you feel with me on this
-    point. While persuading myself that all these playfulnesses are
-    very innocent, I yet find in them a certain something which
-    strikes me as interloping, and I do not like mixtures.
-
-    We have also the politico-religious pictures. Heaven forbid
-    that I should speak evil of the _fleurs-de-lys_ which embalmed
-    with their perfume all the dear Middle Ages to which I have
-    devoted so much of my life; but we have in these pictures of
-    which I am speaking mixtures which are, to my mind, detestable,
-    and I cannot endure this pretty little boat, of which the sails
-    are covered with _fleurs-de-lys_, its mast is the Pontifical
-    Cross, and its pilot the Sacred Heart. Is another allusion to
-    legitimacy intended in this cross surrounded with flowers and
-    bearing the legend, “My Beloved delights himself among the
-    lilies”? I cannot tell; but if we let each political party
-    have free access to our religious picture-stores, we shall see
-    strange things, and then _Gare aux abeilles!_--“Beware of the
-    bees.”
-
-    One characteristic common to all these wretched picturelings is
-    their insipidity and petty childishness. They are a literature
-    of nurses and nursery-maids. The designers must surely belong
-    to the female portion of humanity; for one is conscious
-    everywhere of the invisible hand of woman. One is unwilling
-    to conceive it possible that any one with a beard on the chin
-    could bring himself to invent similar meagrenesses. These
-    persons are afraid of man, and have wisely adopted the plan of
-    never painting him, and of making everybody under the age of
-    ten years. Never have they had any clear or serious idea of the
-    Word, the God made man--of him, the mighty and terrible One,
-    who pronounced anathema on the Pharisees and the sellers in the
-    Temple. They can but represent a little Jesus in wax, or sugar,
-    or treacle; and alarmed at the loftiness of Divinity, and being
-    incapable of hewing his human form in marble, they have kneaded
-    it in gingerbread.
-
-    And yet our greatest present want is manliness. Truly, truly,
-    in France we have well-nigh no more men! Let us, then, have no
-    more of these childishnesses, but let us behold in the divine
-    splendor and perfect manhood of the Word made flesh the eternal
-    type of regenerated humanity.
-
-
-SUMMER STORMS.
-
-    Summer storms are fleeting things,
-      Coming soon, and quickly o’er;
-    Yet their wrath a shadow brings
-      Where but sunshine dwelt before.
-
-    On the grass the pearl-drops lie
-      Fresh and lovely day appears;
-    Yet the rainbow’s arch on high
-      Is but seen through falling tears.
-
-    For, though clouds have passed away,
-      Though the sky be bright again,
-    Earth still feels the transient sway
-      Of the heavy summer rain.
-
-    Broken flow’rs and scattered leaves
-      Tell the short-lived tempest’s power;
-    Something still in nature grieves
-      At the fierce and sudden shower.
-
-    There are in the human breast
-      Passions wild and deep and strong,
-    Bearing in their course unblest
-      Brightest hopes of life along.
-
-    O’er the harp of many strings
-      Often comes a wailing strain,
-    When the hand of anger flings
-      Discord ’mid its soft refrain.
-
-    Tears may pass, and smiles again
-      Wreathe the lip and light the brow;
-    But, like flowers ’neath summer’s rain,
-      Some bright hope lies crushed and low.
-
-    Some heart-idol shattered lies
-      In the temple’s inner shrine:
-    Ne’er unveiled to human eyes,
-      Sacred kept like things divine.
-
-    Speak not harshly to the loved
-      In your holy household band;
-    Days will come when where they moved
-      Many a vacant chair will stand.
-
-    To the erring--oh, be kind!
-      Balm give to the weary heart;
-    Soft words heal the wounded mind,
-      Bid the tempter’s spell depart.
-
-    Let not passion’s storm arise,
-      Though it pass like summer showers;
-    Clouds will dim the soul’s pure skies,
-      Hope will weep o’er broken flowers.
-
-    Speak, then, gently; tones of strife
-      Lightly breathed have lasting power;
-    Memories that embitter life
-      Often rise from one rash hour.
-
-
-THE KING OF METALS
-
-FROM THE FRENCH.
-
-There once lived a widow named Mary Jane, who had a beautiful daughter
-called Flora. The widow was a sensible, humble woman; the daughter,
-on the contrary, was very haughty. Many young persons desired her in
-marriage, but she found none to please her; the greater the number of
-her suitors, the more disdainful she became. One night the mother awoke,
-and, being unable to compose herself again to sleep, she began to say her
-rosary for Flora, whose pride gave her a great deal of disquietude. Flora
-was asleep near her, and she smiled in her sleep.
-
-The next day Mary Jane inquired:
-
-“What beautiful dream had you that caused you to smile in your sleep?”
-
-“I dreamed that a great lord conducted me to church in a copper coach,
-and gave me a ring composed of precious stones that shone like stars; and
-when I entered the church, the people in the church looked only at the
-Mother of God and at me.”
-
-“Ah! what a proud dream,” cried the widow, humbly drooping her head.
-
-Flora began to sing. That same day a young peasant of good reputation
-asked her to marry him. This offer her mother approved, but Flora said to
-him:
-
-“Even were you to seek me in a coach of copper, and wed me with a ring
-brilliant as the stars, I would not accept you.”
-
-The following night Mary Jane, being wakeful, began to pray, and, looking
-at Flora, saw her smile.
-
-“What dream did you have last night?” she asked Flora.
-
-“I dreamed that a great lord came for me in a coach of silver, gave me a
-coronet of gold, and when I entered the church those present were more
-occupied in looking at me than at the Mother of God.”
-
-“O poor child!” exclaimed the widow, “what an impious dream. Pray, pray
-earnestly that you may be preserved from temptation.”
-
-Flora abruptly left her mother, that she might not hear her remonstrances.
-
-That day a young gentleman came to ask her in marriage. Her mother
-regarded this proposal as a great honor, but Flora said to this new
-aspirant:
-
-“Were you to seek me in a coach of silver and offer me a coronet of gold,
-I would not wed you.”
-
-“Unfortunate girl!” cried Mary Jane, “renounce your pride. Pride leads to
-destruction.”
-
-Flora laughed.
-
-The third night the watchful mother saw an extraordinary expression on
-her child’s countenance, and she prayed fervently for her.
-
-In the morning Flora told her of her dream.
-
-“I dreamed,” she said, “that a great lord came to seek me in a coach of
-gold, gave me a robe of gold, and when I entered the church all there
-assembled looked only at me.”
-
-The poor widow wept bitterly. The girl left her to escape seeing her
-distress.
-
-That day in the court-yard of the house there stood three equipages,
-one of copper, the other of silver, and the third of gold. The first
-was drawn by two horses, the second by four, the third by eight. From
-the first two descended pages clothed in red, with green caps; from the
-third descended a nobleman whose garments were of gold. He asked to marry
-Flora. She immediately accepted him, and ran to her chamber to decorate
-herself with the golden robe which he presented to her.
-
-The good Mary Jane was sorrowful and anxious, but Flora’s countenance
-was radiant with delight. She left her home without asking the maternal
-benediction, and entered the church with a haughty air. Her mother
-remained on the threshold praying and weeping.
-
-After the ceremony, Flora entered the golden equipage with her husband,
-and they departed, followed by the two other equipages.
-
-They drove a long, a very long distance. At last they arrived at a rock
-where there was a large entrance like the gate of a city. They entered
-through this door, which soon closed with a terrible noise, and they were
-in midnight darkness. Flora was trembling with fear, but her husband said:
-
-“Reassure yourself; you will soon see the light.” In truth, from every
-side appeared little creatures in red clothes and green caps--the dwarfs
-who dwell in the cavities of the mountains. They carried flaming torches,
-and advanced to meet their master, the King of Metals.
-
-They ranged themselves around, and escorted him through long valleys and
-subterranean forests. But--a very singular thing--all the trees of these
-forests were of lead.
-
-At last the cortége reached a magnificent prairie or meadow; in the
-midst of this meadow was a château of gold studded with diamonds. “This,”
-said the King of Metals, “is your domain.” Flora was much fatigued and
-very hungry. The dwarfs prepared dinner, and her husband led her to a
-table of gold. But all the meats and all the food presented to her were
-of this metal. Flora, not being able to partake of this food, was reduced
-to ask humbly for a piece of bread. The waiters brought her bread of
-copper, of silver, and of gold. She could not bite either of them. “I
-cannot give you,” her husband said, “the bread that you wish; here we
-have no other kind of bread.”
-
-The young woman wept, and the king said to her:
-
-“Your tears cannot change your fate. This is the destiny you have
-yourself chosen.”
-
-The miserable Flora was compelled to remain in this subterranean abode,
-suffering with hunger, through her passion for wealth. Only once a year,
-at Easter, she is allowed to ascend for three days to the upper earth,
-and then she goes from village to village, begging from door to door a
-morsel of bread.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    AN EXPOSITION OF THE CHURCH IN VIEW OF RECENT DIFFICULTIES AND
-    CONTROVERSIES, AND THE PRESENT NEEDS OF THE AGE. London: Basil
-    Montagu Pickering, 196 Piccadilly. 1875. New York: THE CATHOLIC
-    WORLD, April, 1875.
-
-(From _Le Contemporain_.)
-
-I. _Renewed Working of the Holy Spirit in the World._--We are, in a
-religious, social, and political point of view, in times of transition
-which we are not able to understand, for the same reason that no one
-can follow the movements of the battle-field who is in the midst of the
-engagement.
-
-To judge from appearances, especially those which are nearest at hand, we
-are on the brink of an abyss. The Catholic religion, openly persecuted
-in Germany, prostrated now for several years in Italy and Spain by the
-suppression of the religious congregations, attacked in all countries,
-abandoned by all sovereigns, appears, humanly speaking, to be on the
-brink of destruction. There are not wanting prophets who predict the
-collapse of Christianity and the end of the world. There are, however,
-manly souls who do not allow themselves to be discouraged, and who see
-grounds for hope in the very events which fill ordinary hearts with
-terror and consternation.
-
-Of this number is an American religious, Father Hecker, who has
-just issued a pamphlet in English, wherein, without concealing the
-difficulties of the present, he avows his expectation of the approaching
-triumph of religion.
-
-His motives are drawn from the deep faith he professes in the action of
-the Holy Spirit in the church, outside of which he does not see any real
-Christianity. It is the Holy Spirit whom we must first invoke; it is
-the Holy Spirit of whom we have need, and who will cure all our ills by
-sending us his gifts.
-
-“The age,” he says, “is superficial; it needs the gift of wisdom, which
-enables the soul to contemplate truth in its ultimate causes. The age
-is materialistic; it needs the gift of intelligence, by the light of
-which the intellect penetrates into the essence of things. The age is
-captured by a false and one-sided science; it needs the gift of science,
-by the light of which is seen each order of truth in its true relations
-to other orders and in a divine unity. The age is in disorder, and is
-ignorant of the ways to true progress; it needs the gift of counsel,
-which teaches how to choose the proper means to attain an object. The age
-is impious; it needs the gift of piety, which leads the soul to look up
-to God as the heavenly Father, and to adore him with feelings of filial
-affection and love. The age is sensual and effeminate; it needs the gift
-of force, which imparts to the will the strength to endure the greatest
-burdens, and to prosecute the greatest enterprises with ease and heroism.
-The age has lost and almost forgotten God; it needs the gift of fear to
-bring the soul again to God, and make it feel conscious of its great
-responsibility and of its destiny.”
-
-The men to whom these gifts have been accorded are those of whose
-services our age has need. A single man with these gifts could do more
-than ten thousand who possessed them not. It is to such men, if they
-correspond with the graces which have been heaped upon them, that our age
-will owe its universal restoration and its universal progress. This being
-admitted, since, on the other hand, it is of faith that the Holy Spirit
-does not allow the church to err, ought we not now to expect that he will
-direct her on to a new path?
-
-Since the XVIth century, the errors of Protestantism, and the attacks
-upon the Catholic religion of which it gave the signal, have compelled
-the church to change, to a certain extent, the normal orbit of her
-movement. Now that she has completed in this direction her line of
-defence,[171] it is to be expected that she will resume her primitive
-career, and enter on a new phase, by devoting herself to more vigorous
-action. It is impossible to dispute the fresh strength which the
-definition lately promulgated by the Council of the Vatican has bestowed
-upon the church. It is the axis on which now revolves the church’s
-career--the renewal of religion in souls, and the entire restoration of
-society.
-
-Do we not see an extraordinary divine working in those numerous
-pilgrimages to authorized sanctuaries, in those multiplied novenas, and
-those new associations of prayer? And do they not give evidence of the
-increasing influence of the Holy Spirit on souls?
-
-What matter persecutions? It is they which purify what remains of the too
-human in the church. It is by the cross we come to the light--_Per crucem
-ad lucem_.
-
-A little farther on the author explains in what the twofold action of the
-Holy Spirit consists.
-
-He acts at one and the same time in an intimate manner upon hearts, and
-in a manner quite external on the church herself.
-
-An indefinite field of action conceded to the sentiments of the heart,
-without a sufficient knowledge of the end and object of the church,
-would open the way for illusions, for heresies of every kind, and would
-invite an individual mysticism which would be merely one of the forms of
-Protestantism.
-
-On the other hand, the exclusive point of view of the external authority
-of the church, without a corresponding comprehension of the nature of
-the operations of the Holy Spirit within the heart of every one of the
-faithful, would make the practice of religion a pure formalism, and would
-render obedience servile, and the action of the church sterile.
-
-Moreover, the action of the Holy Spirit made visible in the authority of
-the church, and of the Holy Spirit dwelling invisibly in the heart, form
-an inseparable synthesis; and he who has not a clear conception of this
-double action of the Holy Spirit runs the risk of losing himself in one
-or other of the extremes which would involve the destruction and end of
-the church.
-
-In the external authority of the church the Holy Spirit acts as the
-infallible interpreter and the criterion of the divine revelation. He
-acts in the heart as giving divine life and sanctification.
-
-The Holy Spirit, who, by means of the teachings of the church,
-communicates divine truth, is the same Spirit which teaches the heart to
-receive rightly the divine truth which he deigns to teach. The measure
-of our love for the Holy Spirit is the measure of our obedience to
-the authority of the church; and the measure of our obedience to the
-authority of the church is the measure of our love for the Holy Spirit.
-Whence the saying of S. Augustine: _Quantum quisque amat ecclesiam Dei,
-tantum habet Spiritum Sanctum_.
-
-It is remarkable that no pope has done so much for the despised rights of
-human reason as Pope Pius IX.; that no council has done better service
-to science than that of the Vatican, none has better regulated its
-relations to the faith; that none has better defined in their fundamental
-principles the relations of the natural and the supernatural; and the
-work of the pontiff and of the council is not yet finished.
-
-Every apology for Christianity must henceforth make great account of the
-intrinsic proofs of religion, without which people of the world would be
-more and more drawn to see the church only on her human side.
-
-The Holy Spirit, by means of the sacraments, consummates the union of
-the soul of the believer with God. It is this end which true religion
-should pursue. The placing in relief the internal life, and the
-constitution of the church, and the intelligible side of the mysteries
-of the church--in short, the intrinsic reasons of the truths of the
-divine revelation combined with the external motive of credibility--will
-complete the demonstration of Christianity. Such an exposition of
-Christianity, founded on the union of these two categories of proofs,
-will have the effect of producing a more enlightened and intense
-conviction of religion in the souls of the faithful, and of stimulating
-them to more energetic action; and it will have, as its last result,
-the opening of the door to their wandering brethren, and gathering them
-back into the bosom of the church. With the vigorous co-operation of the
-faithful, the ever-augmenting action of the Holy Spirit will raise the
-human personality to such an intensity of strength and greatness that
-there will result from it a new era for the church and for society--an
-admirable era, which it would be difficult to describe in human
-expressions, without having recourse to the prophetic language of the
-inspired Scriptures.
-
-II. _The Mission of Races._--In pursuing his study upon the action of the
-Holy Spirit in the world, the author says that a wider and more explicit
-exposition of the dogmatic and moral verities of the church, with a view
-to the characteristic gifts of every race, is the means to employ in
-order to realize the hopes he has conceived.
-
-God is the author of the different races of men. For known reasons of
-his providence, he has impressed on them certain characteristic traits,
-and has assigned to them from the beginning the places which they should
-occupy in his church.
-
-In a matter in which delicate susceptibilities have to be carefully
-handled, it is important not to exaggerate the special gifts of every
-race, and, on the other hand, not to depreciate them or exaggerate their
-vices.
-
-It would, however, be a serious error, in speaking of the providential
-mission of the races, to suppose that they were destined to mark with
-their imprint religion, Christianity, or the church. It is, on the
-contrary, God who makes the gifts and qualities with which he has endowed
-them co-operate in the expression and development of the truths which he
-created for them.
-
-Nevertheless, no one can deny the mission of the Latin and Celtic races
-throughout the greater part of the history of Christianity. The first
-fact which manifested their mission and established the influence they
-were to exercise was the establishment of the chair of S. Peter at
-Rome, the centre of the Latin race. To Rome appertained the idea of the
-administrative and governmental organization of the whole world. Rome was
-regarded as the geographical centre of the world.
-
-The Greeks having abandoned the church for schism, and the Saxons having
-revolted against her by heresy in the XVIth century, the predominance
-which the Latin race, united later on to the Celtic race, assumed in her
-bosom, became more and more marked.
-
-This absence of the Greeks and of a considerable part of the
-Saxons--nations whose prejudices and tendencies are in many respects
-similar--left the ground more free for the church to complete her action,
-whether by her ordinary or normal development, or by the way of councils,
-as that of Trent and that of the Vatican.
-
-That which characterizes the Latin and Celtic races, according to our
-author, is their hierarchical, traditional, and emotional tendencies.
-
-He means, doubtless, by this latter expression, that those races are very
-susceptible to sensible impressions--to those which come from without.
-
-As to the hierarchical sentiment of the Celtic and Latin races, it
-appears to us that for upwards of a century it has been much weakened, if
-it be not completely extinct.
-
-In the following passage the author is not afraid to say of the Saxon
-race:
-
-    “It is precisely the importance given to the external
-    constitution and to the accessories of the church which
-    excited the antipathies of the Saxons, which culminated in
-    the so-called Reformation. For the Saxon races and the mixed
-    Saxons, the English and their descendants, predominate in the
-    rational element, in an energetic individuality, and in great
-    practical activity in the material order.”
-
-One might have feared, perhaps, a kind of hardihood arising from a
-certain national partiality in regard to which the author would find it
-difficult to defend himself against his _half-brethren_ of Germany, if he
-had not added:
-
-    “One of the chief defects of the Saxon mind lay in not fully
-    understanding the constitution of the church, or sufficiently
-    appreciating the essential necessity of her external
-    organization. Hence their misinterpretation of the providential
-    action of the Latin-Celts, and their charges against the
-    church of formalism, superstition, and popery. They wrongfully
-    identified the excesses of those races with the church of God.
-    They failed to take into sufficient consideration the great
-    and constant efforts the church had made in her national and
-    general councils to correct the abuses and extirpate the vices
-    which formed the staple of their complaints.
-
-    “Conscious, also, of a certain feeling of repression of their
-    natural instincts, while this work of the Latin-Celts was
-    being perfected, they at the same time felt a great aversion
-    to the increase of externals in outward worship, and to the
-    minute regulations in discipline, as well as to the growth of
-    papal authority and the outward grandeur of the papal court.
-    The Saxon leaders in heresy of the XVIth century, as well as
-    those of our own day, cunningly taking advantage of those
-    antipathies, united with selfish political considerations,
-    succeeded in making a large number believe that the question
-    in controversy was not what it really was--a question; namely,
-    between Christianity and infidelity--but a question between
-    Romanism and Germanism!
-
-    “It is easy to foresee the result of such a false issue; for it
-    is impossible, humanly speaking, that a religion can maintain
-    itself among a people when once they are led to believe it
-    wrongs their natural instincts, is hostile to their national
-    development, or is unsympathetic with their genius.
-
-    “With misunderstandings, weaknesses, and jealousies on both
-    sides, these, with various other causes, led thousands and
-    millions of Saxons and Anglo-Saxons to resistance, hatred,
-    and, finally, open revolt against the authority of the church.
-
-    “The same causes which mainly produced the religious rebellion
-    of the XVIth century are still at work among the Saxons, and
-    are the exciting motives of their present persecutions against
-    the church.
-
-    “Looking through the distorted medium of their Saxon
-    prejudices, grown stronger with time, and freshly stimulated by
-    the recent definition of Papal Infallibility, they have worked
-    themselves into the belief--seeing the church only on the
-    outside, as they do--that she is purely a human institution,
-    grown slowly, by the controlling action of the Latin-Celtic
-    instincts, through centuries, to the present formidable
-    proportions. The doctrines, the sacraments, the devotions,
-    the worship of the Catholic Church, are, for the most part,
-    from their stand-point, corruptions of Christianity, having
-    their source in the characteristics of the Latin-Celtic races.
-    The papal authority, to their sight, is nothing else than the
-    concentration of the sacerdotal tendencies of these races,
-    carried to their culminating point by the recent Vatican
-    definition, which was due, in the main, to the efforts and the
-    influence exerted by the Jesuits. This despotic ecclesiastical
-    authority, which commands a superstitious reverence and servile
-    submission to all its decrees, teaches doctrines inimical to
-    the autonomy of the German Empire, and has fourteen millions
-    or more of its subjects under its sway, ready at any moment
-    to obey, at all hazards, its decisions. What is to hinder
-    this Ultramontane power from issuing a decree, in a critical
-    moment, which will disturb the peace and involve, perhaps, the
-    overthrow of that empire, the fruit of so great sacrifices,
-    and the realization of the ardent aspirations of the Germanic
-    races? Is it not a dictate of self-preservation and political
-    prudence to remove so dangerous an element, and that at all
-    costs, from the state? Is it not a duty to free so many
-    millions of our German brethren from this superstitious yoke
-    and slavish subjection? Has not divine Providence bestowed the
-    empire of Europe upon the Saxons, and placed us Prussians at
-    its head, in order to accomplish, with all the means at our
-    disposal, this great work? Is not this a duty which we owe to
-    ourselves, to our brother Germans, and, above all, to God? This
-    supreme effort is our divine mission!”
-
-It would be impossible to enter into the idea of the Bismarckian policy
-in a manner more ingenious, more exact, and more striking.
-
-It is by presenting to Germany this monstrous counterfeit of the church
-that they have succeeded in provoking its hatred of her, and the new
-empire proposes to be itself the resolution of a problem which can be
-only formulated thus: “Either adapt Latin Christianity, the Romish
-Church, to the Germanic type of character and to the exigences of
-the empire, or we will employ all the forces and all the means at
-our disposal to stamp out Catholicity within our dominions, and to
-exterminate its existence as far as our authority and influence extend.”
-
-This war against the Catholic religion is formidable, and ought not to
-leave us without alarm and without terror.
-
-Truth is powerful, it is said, and it will prevail. But truth has no
-power of itself, in so far as it is an abstraction. It has none, except
-on the condition of coming forth and showing itself living in minds and
-hearts.
-
-What is to be done, then?
-
-No thought can be entertained for a moment of modifying Catholic dogmas,
-of altering the constitution of the church, or of entering, to ever so
-small an extent, on the path of concessions. What is needed is to present
-religious truth to minds in such a manner as that they shall be able to
-see that it is divine. It is to prove to them that our religion alone
-is in harmony with the profoundest instincts of their hearts, and can
-alone realize their secret aspirations, which Protestantism has no power
-to satisfy. For that, the Holy Spirit must be invoked in order that he
-may develop the interior life of the church, and that this development
-may be rendered visible to the persecutors themselves, who hitherto see
-nothing in her but what is terrestrial and human. Already a certain
-ideal conception of Christianity exists amongst non-Catholics of England
-and of the United States, and puts them in the way of a more complete
-conversion. As to the Saxons, who, in these days, precipitate themselves
-upon an opposite course, we should try to enlighten their blindness.
-Already we have seen the persecutors, whether Roman or German, become
-themselves Christian in their turn. We shall see the Germans of our days
-exhibiting the same spectacle. It is a great race, that German race. Now,
-“the church is a divine queen, and her aim has always been to win to her
-bosom the imperial races. She has never failed to do it, too.”
-
-Already we can perceive a very marked return movement amongst the
-demi-Saxons, or Anglo-Saxons. It is a great sign of the times.
-
-At different epochs there have been movements of this kind in England.
-But none exhibited features so serious as that of which we are witnesses
-in these days. Conversions to the church multiply without number, above
-all amongst the most intelligent and influential classes of the nation;
-and that in spite of the violent cry of alarm raised by Lord John
-Russell, and in spite of the attacks of the ex-minister Gladstone, who
-has the reputation of being the most eloquent man in England.
-
-The gravitation towards the Catholic Church exhibits itself in a manner
-still more general and more clear in the bosom of the United States.
-
-The Catholics in that country amounted to scarcely a few hundreds at the
-commencement of this century. They form now a sixth of the population of
-the United States. They number about 7,000,000. And the Catholic is the
-only religion which makes any real progress.
-
-It is, then, true “that the Catholic religion flourishes and prospers
-wherever human nature has its due liberty. Let them but give to the
-church rights only equal to those of other confessions, and freedom of
-action, and we should see her regain Europe, and, with Europe, the world.”
-
-Now, might we not conclude that these two demi-Saxon nations, England
-and the United States, are predestined by Providence to lead the Saxons
-themselves in a vast movement of return towards the Catholic Church?
-
-Before concluding, the author returns to the Latin and Celtic nations,
-and directs towards them a sorrowful glance.
-
-As for France, he regrets that a violent reaction against the abuses of
-the ancient régime, of which he gives a somewhat exaggerated picture, has
-brought about an irreligious revolution and a political situation which
-oscillates ceaselessly between anarchy and despotism, and despotism and
-anarchy. He deplores still more that the progressive movement has been
-diverted from its course in Spain and in Italy by the evil principles
-imported from France.
-
-“At this moment,” says the author, “Christianity is in danger, on the one
-hand, of being exterminated by the persecution of the Saxon races; on the
-other, of being betrayed by the apostasy of the Celto-Latins. This is the
-great tribulation of the church at the present time. Between these two
-perils she labors painfully.”
-
-According to human probabilities, the divine bark should be on the point
-of perishing. But perish it cannot. God cannot abandon the earth to the
-spirit of evil. “Jesus Christ came to establish the kingdom of God on the
-earth, as a means of conducting men to the kingdom of God in heaven.”
-
-It is thus, in his last chapter, our author surveys the future:
-
-    “During the last three centuries, from the nature of the work
-    the church had to do, the weight of her influence had to be
-    mainly exerted on the side of restraining human activity.
-    Her present and future influence, due to the completion
-    of her external organization, will be exerted on the side
-    of soliciting increased action. The first was necessarily
-    repressive and unpopular; the second will be, on the contrary,
-    expansive and popular. The one excited antagonism; the other
-    will attract sympathy and cheerful co-operation. The former
-    restraint was exercised, not against human activity, but
-    against the exaggeration of that activity. The future will be
-    the solicitation of the same activity towards its elevation and
-    divine expansion, enhancing its fruitfulness and glory.
-
-    “These different races of Europe and the United States,
-    constituting the body of the most civilized nations of the
-    world, united in an intelligent appreciation of the divine
-    character of the church, with their varied capacities and the
-    great agencies at their disposal, would be the providential
-    means of rapidly spreading the light of faith over the whole
-    world, and of constituting a more Christian state of society.
-
-    “In this way would be reached a more perfect realization of
-    the prediction of the prophets, of the promises and prayers of
-    Christ, and of the true aspiration of all noble souls.
-
-    “This is what the age is calling for, if rightly understood, in
-    its countless theories and projects of reform.”
-
-The zealous religious who is the author of this important manifesto
-traversed the seas in order to submit it to the Holy Father. [A mistake.
-Father Hecker went to Europe for other reasons, and took advantage of
-the opportunity to submit his pamphlet to the examination of the Roman
-censors and other eminent theologians.] If we are well informed, the
-Roman Curia found in it neither error nor rashness.[172] It is a complete
-plan of action proposed to the apostolate of the church for the future.
-The old era would close, a new one would open.
-
-On this ground all ancient differences should disappear. Bitter and
-useless recriminations would be laid aside. All would be moving towards
-the same future, in accord not only as to the end, but as to the means.
-
-(From _Le Monde_.)
-
-The _Culturkampf_ advances daily. Its war-cry in precipitating itself
-upon the church, bent upon her destruction, is: “The doctrine of
-infallibility has made spiritual slaves of Catholics, who are thus a
-hindrance to civilization.” In presence of so furious an attack, every
-voice which suggests means of safety deserves our best attention.
-
-Of this kind is a pamphlet published lately in London, and which has been
-already translated into French, German, and Italian, and of which the
-journals of different countries, of the most opposite views, have given
-very favorable opinions.
-
-The lamented M. Ravelet would, had he been spared, have introduced it
-to the readers of the _Monde_; for he had met its author at Rome, and
-knew how to appreciate the breadth of his views. Father Hecker, its
-author, the founder of the Paulists of New York, is celebrated in his
-country for a style of polemics admirably adapted to the genius of his
-fellow-countrymen. Does he understand Europe, to which he has made
-prolonged visits, equally well? On that point our readers will soon be
-able to judge.
-
-How is it that the Catholic religion, which reckons more adherents
-than any other Christian religion, does not succeed in making itself
-respected? Evidently because many Catholics are not on a level with the
-faith which they profess. “We want heroes,” said J. de Maistre at the
-beginning of our century. At this moment is not the demand the same?
-There is no lack of religious practices; a number of exterior acts of
-exterior piety are performed; but the interior life of souls is not
-exalted; they seem to be afflicted with a kind of spiritual dyspepsia.
-The crises which threaten terrify them, instead of inflaming beforehand
-their courage and their confidence in God. It is in the sources of
-religion itself we shall find energy; it is to them we must betake
-ourselves to reinvigorate our strength, in the direct action of God
-upon our consciences, and in the operation of the Holy Spirit upon our
-souls. From this source issues the true religious life, and our external
-practices are availing only so far as they are inspired by this internal
-principle, itself inspired by the Spirit of God. Herein are the primal
-verities of Christianity. At every epoch of decadence the voices of
-saints remind the world of them; the spirit of the church inclines us to
-them; but, distracted by external agitations, we forget to correspond
-with its suggestions. We do not possess enough of God! Here is our
-weakness. A little more of divinity within us! Lo, the remedy!
-
-Father Hecker has well written upon the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and
-upon the men our age wants. Intelligences illuminated from on high,
-wills divinely strengthened--is not that what is wanted to maintain the
-struggle? Is he not right when he asserts that one soul adorned with
-these gifts would do more to promote the kingdom of God than a thousand
-deprived of them?
-
-This urgent call to a more intensely spiritual life will touch Christian
-hearts. But the pamphlet foresees an objection. Does not this development
-of our faculties and of our initiative under the divine influence expose
-us to some of the dangers of Protestantism? Do we not run the risk of the
-appearance of strong individualities who, filled with their own ideas,
-will think themselves more enlightened than the church, and so be seduced
-into disobeying her authority?
-
-This eternal question of the relation of liberty to authority! Catholics
-say to Protestants: “Liberty without the control of the divine authority
-of the church leads insensibly to the destruction of Christianity.”
-Protestants reply: “Authority amongst you has stifled liberty. You have
-preserved the letter of the dogmas; but spiritual life perishes under
-your formalism.” We are not estimating the weight of these reproaches; we
-merely state the danger. The solution of the religious problem consists
-in avoiding either extreme.
-
-No Catholic is at liberty to doubt that the Holy Spirit acts directly in
-the soul of every Christian, and at the same time acts in another way,
-indirect, but no less precious, by means of the authority of the church.
-Cardinal Manning has written two treatises on this subject, one on the
-external, the other on the internal, working of the Holy Spirit. It is
-these two workings which Father Hecker endeavors to connect in a lofty
-synthesis, and this is the main object of his work.
-
-The first step of the synthesis is the statement that it is one and the
-same spirit which works, whether by external authority or by the interior
-impulse of the soul, and that these two workings, issuing from a common
-principle, must agree in their exercise and blend in their final result.
-The liberty of the soul should not dispute the authority of the church,
-because that authority is divine; the church, on the other hand, cannot
-oppress the liberty of the soul, because that liberty is also divine.
-The second step is to prove that the interior action of the Holy Spirit
-in the soul alone accomplishes our inward sanctification and our union
-with God. The authority of the church, and, generally, the external
-observances of religion, having only for their aim to second this
-interior action, authority and external practices occupy only a secondary
-and subordinate place in the Catholic system, contrary to the notion of
-Protestants, who accuse us of sacrificing Jesus Christ to the church,
-and of limiting Christianity to her external action. The completion of
-the synthesis is in the following: The individual has not received for
-his interior life the promise of infallibility; it is to Peter and his
-successors--that is to say, to the church--that Jesus Christ has conceded
-this privilege. The Christian thus cannot be sure of possessing the Holy
-Spirit, excepting in so far as he is in union with the infallible church,
-and that union is the certain sign that the union of the two workings of
-the Holy Spirit is realized in him.
-
-We have no doubt that this theory is one of the most remarkable
-theological and philosophical conceptions of our age. Father Hecker is no
-innovator, but he seizes scattered ideas and gathers them into a sheaf of
-luminous rays; and this operation, which seems so simple, is the result
-of thirty years’ laborious meditation. One must read the pamphlet itself
-to appreciate its worth. The more we are versed in the problems which
-agitate contemporary religious thought, the better we shall understand
-the importance of what it inculcates.
-
-We shall briefly dispose of the application the author makes of his
-synthesis. One most ingenious one is that Protestantism, by denying the
-authority of the church, obliges her to put forth all her strength in
-its defence.
-
-If Luther had attacked liberty, the church would have taken another
-attitude, and would have defended with no less energy the free and direct
-action of the Holy Spirit in souls. It is this necessary defence of
-divine authority which gave birth to the Jesuit order, and which explains
-the special spirit which animates that society. If, however, the defence
-of assailed authority has been, for three centuries, the principal
-preoccupation of the church, she has not on that account neglected the
-interior life of souls. It is sufficient to name the spirituality, so
-deep and so intense, of S. Philip Neri, S. Francis of Sales, S. John of
-the Cross, and S. Teresa. Moreover, does not the support of authority
-contribute to the free life of souls by maintaining the infallible
-criterion for testing, in cases of doubt, the true inspirations of the
-Holy Spirit?
-
-The church, in these days, resembles a nation which marches to its
-frontiers to repel the invasion of the foreigner and protect its national
-life; its victory secured, it recalls its forces to the centre, to
-continue with security and ardor the development of that same life.
-
-According to Father Hecker, the church was in the last extremity of
-peril. He sees in the proclamation of the infallibility of the Pope the
-completion of the development of authority provoked by the Reformation,
-and believes that nothing now remains but its application.
-
-If, since the XVIth century, external action has predominated in the
-church, without, however, ever becoming exclusive, so now the internal
-working will predominate, always leaving to the external its legitimate
-share. Only, this new phase will be, in a way, more normal than the
-preceding, because, in religion as in man, the internal infinitely
-surpasses the external, without, however, annihilating it, as does
-Protestantism. This internal is the essence of Christianity; it is the
-kingdom of heaven within us, and whose frontiers it is our duty to
-extend. It is the treasure, the hidden pearl, the grain of mustard-seed,
-of the Gospel. It is to this interior of the soul that our Lord addressed
-the beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount. The external church--the
-priesthood, the worship, the sacraments--are only means divinely
-instituted to help the weakness of man to rise to the worship in spirit
-and in truth announced by our Saviour to the Samaritan woman. And the
-time has come for a fuller expansion of this internal life, for the more
-general development of the spirit of S. Francis of Sales and of the other
-saints of whom we spoke above.
-
-As to those outside the church, they will never believe in this
-evolution, because they suppose that the doctrine of infallibility has
-condemned us to a kind of petrifaction. But if they study the actual
-situation, events will undeceive them from this present moment.
-
-The persecutions which deprive the church of her temporalities, of her
-exterior worship, of her religious edifices, which go the length even of
-depriving the faithful of their priests and bishops, which suppress as
-far as they can the external part of Catholicity, do they not reveal the
-power of its interior?
-
-In the parts of Switzerland and Germany where the populations are robbed
-of their clergy and worship, do we not see faith developing in sacrifice,
-and piety becoming more serious and fervent in the privation of all
-external aid? This example is an additional proof of the opportuneness
-of Father Hecker’s pamphlet. If God wills that the persecution should
-increase, we must be prepared to do without the external means which he
-himself has instituted, and which he accords to us in ordinary times. For
-we must not forget that no human power can separate us from God, and that
-so long as this union exists religion remains entire as to its substance.
-
-The merit of the Christian is in the intention which inspires his acts.
-Religion exists only in the idea which clothes its rites; the sacraments,
-the channels of grace, are only effective in us as they are preceded by
-the dispositions of our soul. For a religion not to degenerate, it must
-perpetually renew the internal life, in order to resist the encroachments
-of routine.
-
-Here the author asks what is the polemic best suited to help the people
-of these times to escape from their unbelief, which often proceeds from
-regarding the church as having fallen into formalism and into a debasing
-authoritativism. He believes they might be undeceived by disclosing
-to them the inner life of religion and the internal proofs of her
-divinity--an idea he shares with the most illustrious writers of our
-age. Lacordaire wrote to Mme. Swetchine that he had reversed the point
-of view of the controversy in scrutinizing matters from within, which
-manifested truth under a new aspect.
-
-Father Hecker quotes in this sense the striking words of Schlegel: “We
-shall soon see, I think, an exposition of Christianity appear which will
-bring about union among all Christians, and convert the unbelieving
-themselves.” Ranke said with no less decision: “This reconciliation
-of faith and science will be more important, as regards its spiritual
-results, than was the discovery, three centuries ago, of a new
-hemisphere, than that of the true system of the universe, or than that of
-any other discovery of science, be it what it may.”
-
-The pamphlet ends with a philosophy of race. And here the author, whilst
-acknowledging his fear of wounding susceptibilities, expresses the hope
-that none of his views will be exaggerated. He inquires what natural
-elements the several races have offered to the church in the successive
-phases of her history; and, starting from the principle that God has
-endowed the races with different aptitudes, he examines in what way those
-aptitudes may co-operate in the terrestrial execution of the designs of
-Providence. The Latin-Celtic races, who almost alone remained faithful
-to the church in the XVIth century, have for authority and external
-observances tastes which coincide with the more special development of
-the church since that epoch.
-
-On the contrary, the Anglo-Saxon races have subjective and metaphysical
-instincts which, in a natural point of view, should attract them to the
-church in the new phase on which she is entering. Father Hecker has been
-accused with some asperity of predicting that the direction of the church
-and of the world will pass into the hands of the Saxon races, whose
-conversion, sooner or later, he anticipates. But he does not in any sense
-condemn the Latin races to inferiority. He merely gives it as his opinion
-that the Latin races can only issue from the present crisis by the
-development of that interior life of independent reason and deliberate
-volition which constitutes the force of the Saxon races. God has not
-given the church to the Latin races. He has not created for nothing the
-Saxon, Sclavonic, and other races which cover the surface of the globe.
-They have their predestined place in the assembly of all the children of
-God, and are called to serve the church according to their providential
-aptitudes.
-
-Father Hecker and Dr. Newman are not the only ones who think that the
-absence of the Saxon races has been, for some centuries, very prejudicial
-to the church. J. de Maistre, whose bias cannot be suspected, expressed
-himself even more explicitly to that effect. The Latin genius, under the
-inspiration of the Holy Spirit, has been and will continue to be of the
-utmost value to the church. Under the divine influence, the Saxon genius
-will, in its way, effect equally precious conquests.
-
-In conclusion, we summarize thus the ideas of Father Hecker:
-
-1. We have need of a spiritual awakening.
-
-2. The definition of infallibility has lent such strength to the church
-that henceforth personality may become as powerful as possible without
-the risk, as in the XVIth century, of injuring unity.
-
-3. This definition having completed the external system of Catholicity,
-the initiative of the church proceeds logically to concentrate itself on
-the aggrandizement of the interior life, which is the essence of religion.
-
-4. This is proved by the persecutions, which augment and strengthen the
-religious life of Catholics.
-
-5. The result of these persecutions will be to unveil to Protestants and
-unbelievers the interior view of Catholicity, and to prepare the way for
-religious unity.
-
-6. This unity will be effected when Protestants and unbelievers see
-that Catholicity, far from being opposed to the aspirations of their
-nature, understands them and satisfies them better than Protestantism and
-free-thinking.
-
-7. This expansion of Catholicity advances slowly, because it meets few
-souls great enough to admit of the full development of its working, and
-of showing what it is capable of producing in them.
-
-8. The way to multiply these souls is to place ourselves more and more
-under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
-
-Whatever opinion may be formed of certain details, on the whole, this
-work manifests a high grade of philosophical thought and theological
-insight. But to appreciate it fully it must be read and studied.
-
-Exceptions have been taken to it, on the ground that one meets nothing in
-it but theories, without any practical conclusion. Yet what can be more
-practical than the exhortation which confronts us on every page, to seek
-in all our religious acts, in sacraments, worship, and discipline, the
-divine intention involved therein? What more practical than to urge us to
-develop all the forces of our nature under the divine influence, and to
-tell us that the more conscientious, reasonable, and manly we are, the
-more completely men we are, so much the more favorable ground will the
-church find within us for her working?
-
-Far from urging any abrupt change, Father Hecker recommends that
-everything should be done with prudence, consideration being had for
-the manners of every country. He is persuaded that, by placing more
-confidence in the divine work in souls, they will become insensibly
-stronger, and will increase thus indefinitely the force and energy of
-the whole body of the church. Such a future will present us with the
-spectacle of the conversion of peoples who at present are bitterly
-hostile to her--a future which we shall purchase at the cost of many
-sacrifices. But our trials will be full of consolations if we feel
-that they are preparing a more general and abundant effusion of divine
-illumination upon the earth. _Per crucem ad lucem._
-
-    PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF LAMB, HAZLITT, AND OTHERS. The
-    Bric-à-Brac Series. Edited by R. H. Stoddard. New York:
-    Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 1875.
-
-This volume is a compendium of one of those books of memoirs or
-personal recollections bequeathed to us by the survivors of the
-English Renaissance of the beginning of the century--_My Friends and
-Acquaintances_, by P. G. Patmore. This the editor has supplemented, in
-the case of Hazlitt, by some letters and reminiscences culled from the
-_Memoirs_ published by his grandson, W. Carew Hazlitt. These works,
-it might be fairly supposed, would be of themselves light enough
-for the most jaded and flippant appetite. However, the aid of the
-“editor” is called in--heaven forgive the man who first applied that
-title, honored by a Scaliger and a Bentley, to the modern compiler of
-scandal!--the most entertaining and doubtfully moral tidbits are picked
-out; and the result is the class of books before us, which is doing
-for the national intellect what pastry has done for its stomach. The
-mutual courtesies--honorable enough when rightly understood--existing
-between publishers and the periodical press make honest criticism seem
-ungracious; and thus the public judgment is left uninstructed by silence,
-or its frivolous tastes are confirmed by careless approval.
-
-The motives impelling the awful scissors of the “editor” not only deprive
-the original works which fall under them of the modicum of value they may
-possess, but affirmatively they do worse. They give an absolutely false
-impression of the persons represented. Thus, in the case before us the
-character and genius of Lamb are as ridiculously overrated as his true
-merits are obscured; and the same may be said with even more justice
-of the portrait given of Hazlitt. Singularly enough, though the editor
-derives all he knows, or at least all he presents to the reader, from Mr.
-Patmore and Mr. Carew Hazlitt, he speaks in the most contemptuous terms
-of both. One he pronounces “not a man of note,” and the other he terms,
-with a delightful unconsciousness of self-irony, “a bumptious bookmaker,
-profusely addicted to scissors and paste”; and both he bids, at parting,
-to “make room for their betters.” If such be the character of Mr. Patmore
-and Mr. Hazlitt, what opinion, we may ask, is the reader called upon to
-entertain of the “editor” who is an accident of their existence? Nor
-is it in relation only to the authors after whom he gleans that the
-“editor” shows bad taste and self-sufficiency. The immortal author of the
-_Dunciad_, speaking of a kindred race of authors, tells us,
-
-    “Glory and gain the industrious tribe provoke,
-    And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.”
-
-“The ricketty little papist, Pope,” is the witticism the editor levels at
-the brightest and most graceful poet of his age--a master and maker of
-our English tongue, and a scourge of just such dunces as himself.
-
-Of the writers whose habits and personal characteristics are treated
-of in this volume we have little or no room to speak, nor does the
-work before us afford any sufficient basis to go upon. Lamb occupies
-a niche in the popular pantheon, as an essayist, higher than posterity
-will adjudge him. His essays are pleasing and witty, and the style is
-marvellously pure; but they want solidity; they are idealistic, humorous,
-subjective; they fail to present that faithful transcript of manners, or
-to teach in sober tones those lessons of morality, which make the older
-essayists enduring. Lamb’s other works are already forgotten. He was an
-amiable man in the midst of unhappy surroundings, and his unassuming
-manners have enshrined his name with affection in the works of his
-contemporaries.
-
-Hazlitt’s was not a character to be admired, nor in many ways even to be
-respected. He was devoured with vanity and grosser passions. His work was
-task-work, and therefore not high. ’Tis true Horace tells us,
-
-    “… paupertas impulit audar
-    Ut versus facerem.”
-
---poverty has often been the sting which urged genius to its grandest
-efforts. But Hazlitt, though undoubtedly a man of genius, was not gifted
-with that genius of the first order, which abstracts itself wholly from
-the miserable circumstances about it. The great body of his work is
-criticism, brilliant, entertaining, even instructive at the moment in
-which it was produced, but substantially only the fashion of a day.
-
-Of the poet Campbell and Lady Blessington it would be an impertinence to
-say anything on the slight foundation this volume gives us.
-
-The editor of the “Bric-à-Brac” Series has placed on the cover of each
-volume this motto:
-
-    “Infinite riches in a little room.”
-
-We will suggest one that will take up even less room:
-
-    “Stultitiam patiuntur opes.”
-
-    THE CIVIL GOVERNMENT OF THE STATES, AND THE CONSTITUTIONAL
-    HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES. By P. Cudmore, Esq.,
-    Counsellor-at-Law, Author of the _Irish Republic_, etc., etc.
-    New York: P. Cudmore. 1875.
-
-The author of this work informs us in the preface that his object
-has been to condense into one volume the colonial, general, and
-constitutional history of the United States. This volume professes to be
-a digest of the writings and speeches of the fathers of the Constitution
-of the United States, the statutes of the several States, the statutes of
-the United States, of the writings and speeches of eminent American and
-foreign jurists, the journals and annals of Congress, the _Congressional
-Globe_, the general history of the United States, the decisions
-of the Supreme Courts of the several States, the opinions of the
-attorneys-general of the United States, and the decisions of the Supreme
-Court of the United States; of extracts from De Tocqueville, the Madison
-Papers, the _Federalist_, Elliott’s _Debates_, the writings of Jefferson,
-Adams, Hamilton, and Vattel, and of extracts from Jefferson and other
-eminent authors on parliamentary law. The platforms of political parties
-are also given. This list is copied _verbatim_ from the author. It will
-be seen, therefore, that Mr. Cudmore has set himself no contemptible
-task to accomplish, and, as he has executed it in a thin octavo of 254
-pages, it may reasonably be conjectured that he possesses a talent
-for condensation that Montesquieu might have envied. Mr. Vallandigham
-finds a powerful advocate in this author, and his philippics against
-Mr. Stanton are proportionately severe. Mr. Cudmore has a fondness for
-notes of exclamation; and such is the ardor of constitutionalism with
-which he pursues this latter-day “tyrant of the blackest dye” (we quote
-Mr. Cudmore) that it often takes three notes of admiration to express
-his just abhorrence of his measures. The bulk of the work is taken up
-by a civil and military history of the late conflict, and the disputes
-that preceded it. If we might venture a hint to Mr. Cudmore, we would
-say that his tone is a little too warm for this miserably phlegmatic
-age, which affects a fondness for impartiality in great constitutional
-writers. The fact is, the questions which the author discusses with the
-greatest spirit are dead issues. They still preserve a faint vitality
-for the philosopher and speculative statesman, but they have sunk out of
-sight for the practical politician and man of to-day. The _vis major_ has
-decided them. We might as usefully begin to agitate for a re-enactment of
-the Agrarian Laws. Mr. Cudmore’s Chapters IV. and V., containing a digest
-of State and Federal law, show much meritorious industry. The history of
-land-grants, the homestead law, and the laws pertaining to aliens and
-naturalization, will be found useful.
-
-    THE YOUNG CATHOLIC’S ILLUSTRATED TABLE-BOOK AND FIRST LESSONS
-    IN NUMBERS. New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 9
-    Warren St. 1875.
-
-This is a very simple and attractive little book, designed to make
-the beginning of arithmetic, which certainly is rather a dry study in
-itself, interesting and capable of fixing the attention of the very young
-children for whose use the work is intended. We do not remember having
-seen any prettier or more practical little text-book for beginners, and
-cannot recommend it too highly. It is also very nicely illustrated.
-
-    SADLIER’S EXCELSIOR GEOGRAPHY, Nos. 1, 2, 3. New York: Wm. H.
-    Sadlier. 1875.
-
-As a first attempt in this country to prepare a series of geographies
-adapted to Catholic schools this is deserving of great praise. The type
-is clear, the maps and illustrations, and the mechanical execution
-generally, are excellent. It is based, to some extent, on a geographical
-course originally known as Monteith’s, and adapted by the insertion
-of additional matter interesting to Catholics. What we should have
-preferred, and hope eventually to see, is a series of geographies and
-histories entirely original, and written from the Catholic point of view,
-and pervaded by the Catholic tone which we find in this.
-
-    SEVENOAKS: A Story of To-day. By J. G. Holland, author of
-    _Arthur Bonnicastle_. New York: Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 1875.
-
-It gives us great pleasure to express, with slight qualifications, our
-entire approval of this work, so far as its moral purport is concerned.
-Its plot and incidents are all within the range of ordinary life and
-experience, and therefore not calculated to foster in the youthful reader
-extravagant anticipations in regard to his own future. There are many
-good hits at the weaknesses and inconsistencies of human nature, and
-faithful pictures of the vices and miseries to which an unscrupulous
-ambition leads. Selfishness and injustice prosper for a time, but
-eventually reap their reward; while integrity and true manliness, even in
-the rude and uncultivated, are recognized and appreciated.
-
-    THE ILLUSTRATED CATHOLIC FAMILY ALMANAC FOR 1876. New York: The
-    Catholic Publication Society.
-
-“Almanac,” when applied to this publication, seems to us a misnomer.
-The popular notion of an almanac is a thin, badly-printed pamphlet,
-containing incomprehensible astrological tables, delusive prophecies
-as to the weather, tradesmen’s advertisements, and a padding of stale
-jokes or impracticable recipes gathered from country newspapers; whereas
-the _Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac_ is an annual of 144 pages,
-containing each year enough solid, well-digested information to furnish
-forth an ordinary volume of three hundred pages, to say nothing of the
-many fine engravings--and this, too, at a price which should extend its
-circulation to equal that of the once-famous _Moore’s Almanac_ (published
-in England about the beginning of the XVIIIth century), which is said at
-one time to have sold annually more than four hundred thousand copies.
-
-The several volumes of the _Family Almanac_ form a valuable manual for
-Catholics, containing, as they do, articles of great interest to the
-literary student, the antiquarian, and the archæologist. Much of the
-information could be gathered only from exceedingly well-furnished
-libraries; some of it appears here for the first time in print.
-
-In the _Almanac_ for 1876, among other good things, we find an extended
-and very interesting biographical sketch of His Eminence Cardinal
-McCloskey; also, biographical sketches of Cardinals Wiseman and Altieri,
-of Bishops Bruté and Baraga, of Rev. Father Nerinckx and the Cura
-Hidalgo--the Washington of the Mexican revolution--and of Eugene O’Curry,
-the eminent Irish scholar--all of these being illustrated with portraits.
-The approaching centenary has not been forgotten, for in “Centennial
-Memorials” is shown the part--a glorious one, which received the public
-endorsement of the “Father of his Country,” as will be seen by perusal
-of the article--taken by Catholics of Irish origin in the Revolutionary
-struggle. In the same article are numerous statistics showing the
-temporal growth of our country during the century just closing; the
-article closes with an account of the wonderful growth of the Catholic
-Church during the same period--the whole being valuable for future
-reference. “About the Bible” and “The Bible in the Middle Ages” contain
-information of interest to every Christian, and which is to be got
-elsewhere only by much reading; the latter article also contains an ample
-refutation of the old slander that the Catholic Church of the middle
-ages kept the Scriptures from the laity. Besides the foregoing, there is
-much curious and entertaining prose and verse, and several pictures of
-churches and other edifices (among them one of old S. Augustine’s Church,
-Philadelphia, destroyed in the riots of 1844, and toward the building of
-which, in 1796, Washington contributed $150; Stephen Girard, $40; George
-Meade, father of Gen. Meade, $50; and Commodore Barry, $150), a complete
-and authentic list of the Roman pontiffs translated from the Italian,
-the American hierarchy, and the usual astronomical and church calendars,
-postal guide, etc.
-
-    MADAME RÉCAMIER AND HER FRIENDS. From the French of Madame
-    Lenormant. By the translator of Madame Récamier’s _Memoirs_.
-    Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1875.
-
-This volume will doubtless be welcome to those already familiar with the
-_Memoirs_ previously published. The work is largely made up of letters
-which are of no particular interest, except so far as they throw light
-on the character of the writers. Endowed by nature with extraordinary
-beauty, and possessing that knowledge of public events and skill in their
-interpretation which seems a special gift of Frenchwomen, Mme. Récamier
-became the centre of an admiring group of statesmen and _littérateurs_
-who sought the benefit of her intuitive wisdom.
-
-A very strong testimony to Mme. Récamier’s many virtues is found in the
-warm friendship which existed between herself and other ladies holding
-a similar position in French society; in the loving devotion of the
-child of her adoption, who subsequently became her biographer; and--in
-the fear and jealousy of the First Napoleon, who paid her the compliment
-of a temporary exile. The personal attention she gave to her adopted
-daughter’s education is worthy of imitation.
-
-    WAYSIDE PENCILLINGS, WITH GLIMPSES OF SACRED SHRINES. By the
-    Rev. James J. Moriarty, A.M. Albany: Van Benthuysen Printing
-    House. 1875.
-
-Father Moriarty’s work has one merit on which editors place a high
-value--brevity. A book of travels is not properly a history or topography
-of the countries visited, and a bird’s-eye view of the most salient
-features is all that we can reasonably ask at the traveller’s hand.
-The interlarded extracts with which some authors swell their volumes
-are often wearisome reading. In the above work the reverend traveller
-narrates all the important incidents of his journey, with descriptions of
-the various shrines on his route, in so picturesque a manner, and in so
-few words, that the reader will have no difficulty in laying up in his
-memory many pleasant subjects for reflection.
-
-    EIGHT COUSINS; OR, THE AUNT-HILL. By Louisa M. Alcott. Boston:
-    Roberts Brothers. 1875.
-
-An entertaining volume for youthful readers, and one which conveys many
-useful lessons. The same charming freshness which won for _Little Women_
-its wide reputation will render this volume a favorite, notwithstanding
-its defects--one of which is a spirit of self-assertion in the heroine
-which is only too true to nature in the average American girl. However
-reluctant we may be to acknowledge the fact, we cannot fail to see
-that our so-called progress has had a tendency to weaken veneration
-for age and respect for authority. Miss Alcott shows her sympathy with
-this fault by sometimes placing age in a ludicrous light before her
-juvenile readers. The young people of this generation do not need any
-encouragement in the belief that age does not always bring wisdom, and we
-the more regret this mistake in a book otherwise commendable. Destroy
-the confidence and veneration with which childhood looks up to those
-placed over it, and you rob parents of that which constitutes a great
-charm in their offspring, and go far to break down the chief bulwark of
-society--the family.
-
-    MANUAL OF THE SISTERS OF CHARITY. A Collection of Prayers
-    compiled for the use of the Society of Sisters of Charity in
-    the Diocese of Louisville, Kentucky. Adapted to general use.
-    Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co. 1875.
-
-This is a new volume added to the already large devotional literature of
-the church. As its title imports, it was prepared especially with a view
-to the wants of the daughters of St. Vincent, though adapted to those of
-other religious, and of persons in the world. As it bears the imprimatur
-of the Archbishop of Baltimore, and has the approval of the Bishop
-of Louisville, and, in addition, has had the benefit of Mr. Murphy’s
-careful _proofreading_--a matter the importance of which can scarcely be
-over-estimated in devotional works--we deem further comment unnecessary.
-We would, however, suggest whether the use of a somewhat thinner paper
-would not make a better proportioned volume.
-
-    MISCELLANEA: Comprising Reviews, Lectures, and Essays on
-    Historical, Theological, and Miscellaneous Subjects. By M. J.
-    Spalding, D.D., Archbishop of Baltimore. Sixth Edition, revised
-    and greatly enlarged. 1875.
-
-The publishers have added to the value of this edition by incorporating
-in it a number of papers not contained in previous editions, and which
-had received the author’s last corrections. Few writers of the present
-century in the English language have done more to popularize Catholic
-themes and relieve Protestants from the misconceptions which they had
-previously entertained regarding the history and doctrines of the church,
-than the late Archbishop of Baltimore. Those who have not previously
-possessed themselves of his admirable works have a new motive in the
-improvements now made.
-
-    A FULL COURSE OF INSTRUCTION IN EXPLANATION OF THE CATECHISM.
-    By Rev. J. Perry. St. Louis: P. Fox. 1875.
-
-The present edition of Perry’s _Instructions_ differs from the original
-one in the addition of questions, thus making it a text-book for advanced
-classes, whereas its use was heretofore limited in a great measure to
-teachers. The editor (Rev. E. M. Hennessey) has also incorporated an
-explanation of the doctrines of the Immaculate Conception and Papal
-Infallibility.
-
-
-BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS RECEIVED.
-
-    From P. Donahoe, Boston: Theologia Moralis Novissimi Ecclesiæ
-    Doctoris, S. Alphonsi, in Compendium Redacta et Usui
-    Venerabilis Cleri Americani Accommodata, Auctore A. Konings,
-    C.SS.R. Pars Tertia: Continens tractatus de Sacramentis, de
-    Censuris, de Irregularitatibus, et de Indulgentiis. 8vo, paper,
-    pp. x., 433.
-
-    From P. O’Shea, New York: Lives of the Saints, with a practical
-    Instruction on the Life of each Saint for every day in the
-    year. By F. X. Weninger, D.D., S.J. Part iv., 8vo, pp. 127,
-    flexible cloth.--Life and Letters of Paul Seigneret, Seminarist
-    of S. Sulpice, translated from the French by N. R. 12mo, pp.
-    311.
-
-    From the Author: The Sunday Laws: A Discussion of Church and
-    State, etc. By S. B. McCracken. 8vo, pp. 8, paper.
-
-    From P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia: Life of S. Benedict,
-    surnamed “The Moor.” The Son of a Slave. From the French of M.
-    Allebert. 18mo, pp. 213.
-
-
-
-
-THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-VOL. XXII., No. 130.--JANUARY, 1876.
-
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. I. T.
-HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
-
-
-THE PRESIDENT’S SPEECH AT DES MOINES.
-
-The utterances of any person occupying so lofty a station as that of
-President of the United States demand attention and respect, by reason
-of the source from whence they emanate. The deliberate judgments of
-such a man as President Grant have in themselves a special claim to
-the consideration of his fellow-citizens. He has had opportunities to
-study the length and breadth of the land. His private convictions have
-matured amidst the most varied experience of all classes and sections of
-our people--first in a profession affording ample leisure and abundant
-means of observation from an independent stand-point, and afterwards
-in commercial life, which placed him in the midst of daily events, no
-longer as a theorist, but as one actively concerned in their course and
-development. His position in military affairs has been that of one of the
-most celebrated commanders of the age, and his political career has been
-that of an independent statesman, always wielding supreme influence, and
-quite beyond the need of vulgar trickery, in order to maintain its power.
-Having almost completed an illustrious public life, he is now able to
-express the results of his observations, and no one can lightly question
-the validity of his conclusions. The country is prepared to receive
-anything he may have to say to it, with solicitous, intelligent, and
-earnest consideration.
-
-Those who may differ from him in political convictions, or who may retain
-a partiality for some of his less successful competitors for the highest
-prize of military glory, and even those who go so far as to question his
-greatness--all must admit that he is a true American, formed and moulded
-by the events in which he has moved, and truly representing the country
-and the times.
-
-We are disposed, therefore, to attach the fullest importance to his
-words, whether spoken officially or from the convictions of his heart,
-and to ponder them respectfully and thoughtfully.
-
-On the 29th of September last His Excellency attended, at Des Moines,
-the capital city of Iowa, a convention of the “Army of the Tennessee,”
-one of those military organizations composed of veterans of the late war.
-The nature of these and kindred associations is not political. Their aim
-is to keep up a brotherly spirit among those who formerly stood shoulder
-to shoulder on the battle-field. Nevertheless, the gallant men, who thus
-risked life and limb for the integrity of the national government, are
-supposed to retain their patriotism, and to look with pride and zeal
-upon the continuance and healthy growth of those institutions, which are
-vitally connected with the nation’s greatness.
-
-In the midst of such an assembly, composed of men of all creeds, our
-chief magistrate felt called upon to utter a prophetic warning, which has
-excited much comment at home, and has been extensively published abroad.
-We print his speech, delivered at the evening session of the “Army of the
-Tennessee,” as currently reported in the daily press. President Grant,
-being called for, came forward and said:
-
-    “COMRADES: It always affords me much gratification to meet
-    my comrades in arms of ten and fourteen years ago, and to
-    tell over again from memory the trials and hardships of
-    those days--of hardships imposed for the preservation and
-    perpetuation of our free institutions. We believed then, and
-    we believe now, that we have a government worth fighting for,
-    and, if need be, dying for. How many of our comrades paid the
-    latter price for our preserved Union! Let their heroism and
-    sacrifice be ever green in our memory. Let not the result
-    of their sacrifices be destroyed. The Union and the free
-    institutions for which they died should be held more dear for
-    their sacrifices. We will not deny to any of those who fought
-    against us any privilege under the government which we claim
-    for ourselves. On the contrary, we welcome all such who come
-    forward in good faith to help build up the waste places, and to
-    perpetuate our institutions against all enemies, as brothers
-    in full interest with us in a common heritage; but we are not
-    prepared to apologize for the part we took in the war.
-
-    “It is to be hoped that like trials will never again befall
-    our country. In this sentiment no class of people can more
-    heartily join than the soldier who submitted to the dangers,
-    trials, and hardships of the camp and the battle-field,
-    on whichever side he fought. No class of people are more
-    interested in guarding against a recurrence of those days. Let
-    us, then, begin by guarding against every enemy threatening
-    the prosperity of free republican institutions. I do not
-    bring into this assemblage politics, certainly not partisan
-    politics; but it is a fair subject for the soldiers, in their
-    deliberations, to consider what maybe necessary to secure the
-    prize for which they battled. In a republic like ours, where
-    the citizen is the sovereign and the official the servant,
-    where no power is exercised except by the will of the people,
-    it is important that the sovereign, the people, should foster
-    intelligence--that intelligence which is to preserve us as a
-    free nation. If we are to have another contest in the near
-    future of our national existence, I predict that the dividing
-    line will not be Mason and Dixon’s, but between patriotism and
-    intelligence on the one side, and superstition, ambition and
-    ignorance on the other.
-
-    “Now, the centennial year of our national existence, I
-    believe, is a good time to begin the work of strengthening
-    the foundations of the structure commenced by our patriotic
-    forefathers one hundred years ago at Lexington. Let us all
-    labor to add all needful guarantees for the security of free
-    thought, free speech, a free press, pure morals, unfettered
-    religious sentiments, and of equal rights and privileges to all
-    men, irrespective of nationality, color, or religion. Encourage
-    free schools, and resolve that not one dollar appropriated
-    for their support shall be appropriated to the support of any
-    sectarian schools. Resolve that neither the State nor nation,
-    nor both combined, shall support institutions of learning other
-    than those sufficient to afford every child growing up in the
-    land the opportunity of a good common-school education, unmixed
-    with sectarian, pagan, or atheistical dogmas. Leave the matter
-    of religion to the family altar, the church, and the private
-    school, supported entirely by private contributions. Keep the
-    church and the state for ever separate. With these safeguards,
-    I believe the battles which created the Army of the Tennessee
-    will not have been fought in vain.”
-
-Taking all things into consideration, the speech is fully equal to any
-written production of the President. It is direct. It is plain. It is
-manly and vigorous, and far superior to any other oration which we
-have heard of from the same distinguished quarter. Beyond all things
-it expresses, better than many imagine, the common sentiments of the
-American people.
-
-We have not been surprised at the general applause with which it has been
-greeted; and we think that all our readers will agree in the judgments
-which we are about to express with regard to it.
-
-An impression has been spread abroad that the views of President Grant
-are hostile to the Catholic Church, and that the speech was fulminated by
-his zeal against it. It has been averred that he was talked into making
-a public manifestation of his feelings by the mayor of the city of Des
-Moines, who called his attention to the political campaign in Ohio,
-where Catholics were vainly struggling for equal rights in the matter
-of the public schools. His Excellency is said to have been strongly
-moved, and hastened home from his ride, in order to prepare his speech
-for the evening. We have no means of definitely ascertaining the motives
-of the President’s speech. If he meant to hurl a thunderbolt at us, we
-honor him for using language, in the main, so just and courteous. But if
-his friends have sought to make use of him to stir up feeling against
-us, they must be sadly disappointed at his words; for, if they now
-repeat them too freely, for the purpose of injuring us, they will find
-themselves “hoist by” their “own petard.”
-
-Trying as hard as we can to lash ourselves into fury; trying to fancy
-ourselves insulted, by representing to ourselves that the head of this
-nation has gone out of his way and abased his dignity, in order to cast
-an aspersion at a large and respectable class of the community, we are
-forced to give it up, and to lay down our pen; for we find nothing in the
-oration with which we are in the least disposed to take issue. On the
-contrary, we are prepared to join our tribute to the burst of applause
-which echoes through the land. We are convinced that, if it meets with
-the attention which it merits, the country at large, and Catholics in
-particular, will treasure the “Des Moines speech” among the “Sayings
-of the Fathers.” Like Washington’s Farewell, and Webster’s mighty
-peroration, and Lincoln’s noble and pathetic Inaugural, it will pass from
-the vulgar atmosphere of party strife into the pure and serene empyrean
-of immortality.
-
-We have given the speech at length. We now propose to explain our
-decision with regard to it, and to examine at greater length those
-portions of it which seem to us most true, most wise, and most remarkable.
-
-“ENCOURAGE FREE SCHOOLS,” the President says, “AND RESOLVE THAT NOT ONE
-DOLLAR APPROPRIATED FOR THEIR SUPPORT SHALL BE APPROPRIATED FOR THE
-SUPPORT OF ANY SECTARIAN SCHOOLS.”
-
-Do we hear aright? Does the President of the United States maintain the
-proposition which has brought us so much contempt and derision?
-
-WHAT IS A FREE SCHOOL? A free school is one in which every scholar
-can obtain an education without violating the honest convictions of
-conscience, or--to use the words of the President--a free school is
-one where education can be obtained “unmixed with sectarian, pagan, or
-atheistical dogmas.”
-
-ARE OUR SO-CALLED COMMON SCHOOLS FREE? Let us glance at the general
-history of the controversy concerning them. As soon as the public
-schools had ceased to be purely charitable institutions, a new policy
-was inaugurated by our people. The government assumed that it was bound
-to ensure an intelligent use of the franchise, by encouraging the mental
-activity of its citizens. To this all Catholics agreed, and still agree.
-But our Protestant fellow-citizens, rightly desiring that some religious
-instruction should be given their children, wrongly insisted upon having
-the Bible read in the schools. The government might have permitted such
-a custom to continue, when no protest was made against it. But it soon
-became evident that the schools were essentially Protestant institutions,
-and served as an instrument to prevent the growth of “Popery.” This was
-no secret. It was openly preached.
-
-About this time Catholics began to see what everybody else was rejoicing
-over, and were, naturally, alarmed. They had assisted to found and build
-up the republic, or they had immigrated under the assurance of equal
-rights. To find it proclaimed a Protestant country was news to them.
-They insisted that the Government was bound to deny this imputation, and
-they registered an universal protest against the design of the falsely
-so-called “common” schools.
-
-We have demanded either that we be relieved from taxation for these
-sectarian schools, or that such arrangement be devised as shall render
-them equally desirable for Catholics and non-Catholics.
-
-We were not called upon to explain why we so earnestly desired this. It
-was nobody’s business but our own. The public schools are not held to
-be eleemosynary institutions. They are ostensibly for the benefit of
-all. And even if they were places for the confinement of criminals, or
-almshouses, both criminals and paupers have consciences, however dull or
-uninformed. What, then, is the objection to our having a right to direct
-the policy on which public institutions are to be conducted? None. But if
-we were to have taken such a position as this, we should, at once, have
-been indicted, for an insidious and damnable conspiracy.
-
-Therefore we have openly stated the grounds of our convictions, relying
-on the inherent force of truth to secure our rights. We regard morality
-as inseparable from religion. In this we merely echo the sentiments
-of the greatest American statesmen, and notably, of the Father of
-our republic. We say that, if we are to pay for the education of our
-children, we should like to have the worth of our money. What fairer
-demand can a Yankee make? We ask nothing to which every citizen has
-not a right. We have never met a fair reply to our demands, or a fair
-discussion of their merits. First we were greeted with silent scorn.
-The practical operation of the laws was found to force our children
-into Protestant schools. We proclaimed claimed them to be Protestant
-schools. It was unblushingly denied. We put the question to the test, by
-endeavoring to stop the Protestant Bible from being read in them. There
-was not enough power in our voice, nor enough fairness in our opponents,
-to enforce even an appearance of consistency. The schools were pronounced
-“un-sectarian,” a Protestant service was daily carried out, and we were
-bidden to hold our tongues, and to be thankful. And, now, that we are not
-willing, either to hold our peace, or to be grateful to those who deny us
-our equal rights, a loud outcry is raised, and every manner of evil is
-predicted, unless we are forcibly restrained. The party of malevolence
-seeks to create an issue where none exists, and to force us into a
-strife, in which it can avail itself of superior numbers to strike us a
-cruel and unjust blow. Now, neither this design nor the clamor with which
-it is urged, can be defended by any true or just plea. And we venture to
-predict that there is too much intelligence and love of fair play in the
-American people, to allow it to succeed in its sinister purpose.
-
-What is our position once more? Here we stand, on the same basis with
-all other American citizens. Is it not so? Where, then, is any legal
-disability proved against us? We ask for nothing which we are not willing
-to concede to all our fellow-citizens--viz., the natural right to have
-their children brought up according to their parents’ conscientious
-convictions. We want, and we will have, our children brought up
-Catholics. It can be done in various ways. The state can pay the salaries
-of our teachers, and the cost of our buildings, and other expenses,
-securing proper guarantees that the money will be honestly laid out, and
-the children receive their due amount of secular instruction. Again, the
-state may pay a _pro rata_, and allow teachers to compete for scholars.
-This is done in Protestant England and Prussia, as well as in Catholic
-France and Austria, and is, obviously, most in harmony with democratic
-principles. Other ways may be devised which will secure justice to all
-parties. There is no practical difficulty, except in the smallest country
-school districts. These are always settled by the citizens themselves.
-Or, we can educate our children, without the state. The state may let us
-alone, and may do away entirely with public education, except for those
-who are utterly without means--in other words, change the common schools
-into charitable institutions, and let parents provide. But this, we are
-persuaded, is full of practical difficulties.
-
-But the plan actually adopted has been to tax all alike for the common
-good, and yet maintain a system, which perfectly suits Protestants,
-but to which Catholics cannot honestly or conscientiously agree. OUR
-SO-CALLED COMMON SCHOOLS ARE NOT FREE. Millions of the people rise up and
-proclaim it. Let those who like them send their children to them. Let
-those support them who like them by their “private contributions.” Then
-all honor to President Grant when he says “that not one dollar should be
-appropriated to the support of any sectarian schools.”
-
-The President further says:
-
-    “RESOLVE THAT NEITHER STATE NOR NATION, NOR BOTH COMBINED,
-    SHALL SUPPORT INSTITUTIONS OF LEARNING OTHER THAN THOSE
-    SUFFICIENT TO AFFORD EVERY CHILD GROWING UP IN THE LAND THE
-    OPPORTUNITY OF A GOOD COMMON-SCHOOL EDUCATION, UNMIXED WITH
-    SECTARIAN, PAGAN, OR ATHEISTICAL DOGMAS.”
-
-Now, what is it that Catholics complain of, except that the state has
-supported, and does support, “institutions of learning” mixed “with
-sectarian, pagan, and atheistical dogmas”?
-
-There is no doubt about this fact. Protestants insist upon having the
-Bible read in the public schools, lest they become irreligious. Catholics
-maintain that the version used is garbled, and that, even if it were not,
-no one has a right to teach it, except those who have compiled it, and
-are to-day the only responsible witnesses to its true meaning. The Jews
-maintain that the New Testament part of it is not true. Infidels deny it
-altogether. What right has any school board, or any other purely human
-institution to decide this controversy; and what right has any man under
-the Constitution to enforce his religious views or his denial of religion
-upon others? It is an outrage. It is an inconsistency, which cannot be
-stated in any terms without transparently manifesting its absurdity.
-Under the Constitution, and according to the spirit of our government,
-all men are equal. Under the present system of common schools, and,
-according to the spirit of those who uphold them, men are not equal, and
-there is no such thing as regard for conscience; but every majority has
-a right to enforce upon any minority, no matter how large, its peculiar
-ideas of instruction, involving, as this always does, the question of
-religion itself. We have repeated our protest, until we are almost
-sick and tired of hearing the outrage mentioned; we have never seen our
-position manfully approached within beat of drum; and, yet, we have
-constantly been forced to ask ourselves, “Will the American people never
-see this? Can it be that our enemies are, as some of them hold themselves
-to be, totally depraved?”
-
-Some time ago, after considerable agitation, the Chicago School Board
-prohibited the reading of the Sacred Scriptures in the public schools of
-that city.
-
-Undoubtedly the protest of Catholics had something to do with this. But
-the action of the board was certainly based upon the idea, that the
-reading of the Protestant Bible made the schools Protestant, “sectarian”
-institutions, and therefore unjust towards all other religious bodies.
-Let it be thoroughly understood, that we fully appreciate the desire of
-our Protestant fellow-citizens, to hallow secular instruction. But the
-reading of the Scriptures as a public ceremony is as distinctive to them,
-as the celebration of Mass would be to Catholics. No one can evade the
-argument which forces this conclusion. “Such schemes are glass; the very
-sun shines through them.” And yet it is not a little remarkable, how
-slowly the light breaks in upon the seat of the delusion.
-
-It is a satisfaction, however, to note the few acknowledgments, tardy and
-incomplete as they are, of the principle which we have always maintained.
-Prof. Swing, alluding to the action of the Chicago School Board to which
-we have referred, gives voice to the following observations of common
-sense:
-
-    “The government has no more right to teach the Bible than it
-    has to teach the Koran. My idea is that the government did,
-    in its earlier life, run according to a sort of Christian
-    common law; but now the number of Jews, Catholics, and infidels
-    has become so greatly increased, the government has to base
-    itself squarely upon its constitutional idea that all men
-    are religiously equal. Even if the genius of the country
-    permitted the teaching of the Bible, I should doubt the
-    propriety of continuing the custom, because no valuable moral
-    results can ever come from reading a few verses hurriedly in a
-    school-house, and social strifes will be continually springing
-    up out of the practice.”
-
-The government, then, according to the professor, has no rights in the
-spiritual domain--a proposition which we have been condemned to universal
-derision for maintaining, and yet one that is self-evident to any person
-who will pause for a moment to consider our institutions.
-
-An ardent advocate of what are called liberal principles, commenting
-upon the position of Prof. Swing, very properly styles it the only
-one defensible. The purpose of the Liberal League is, unquestionably,
-to procure the complete secularization of our public schools, which
-would, of course, be as unjust towards Catholic tax-payers as any other
-system. This class is no less hostile to justice and true liberty than
-any other set of meddlers. Nevertheless, it is not a little amusing
-to see the unmistakable fear with which it regards the issue of the
-present anti-Catholic policy. It waves, as its flag of hostility to the
-Catholics, the threadbare pretext, that we are secretly opposed to all
-education. It is not necessary for us to repeat the indignant denial and
-protest, with which we have ever met this gratuitous calumny. We quote
-from the Boston _Index_ of Oct. 28:
-
-    “The public-school system is to-day in the greatest danger,
-    not so much from the fact that it is openly attacked from
-    without by the Catholics, as from the fact that a great
-    inherent injustice to all non-Protestants is made part and
-    parcel of it by its distinctively Protestant character. What is
-    built on wrong is built on the sand; and our school system will
-    certainly fall in ruins by and by, unless it can be grounded on
-    equal justice to all.”
-
-When the avowed heathen, who reap the fullest harvest, fear for the
-destruction of our present unjust system of education, on the ground
-that it is too iniquitous to last, is it not time, for people who call
-themselves Christians, to give a moment’s heed to the petition, which we
-have for years addressed to them, as most advantageous to all of us, and
-as doing injustice to none?
-
-It appears, however, that this idea has infiltrated into other minds.
-_Zion’s Herald_, a Methodist journal, quoted by the liberal paper to
-which we have referred, says:
-
-    “The state deals only with temporal affairs, and does not
-    attempt to usurp spiritual functions. Therefore the objects
-    and methods of public education are wholly secular, but by no
-    means necessarily, or at all, immoral or irreligious. On the
-    contrary, they are decidedly favorable to piety and morality.
-    But composed denominationally as the American people is, the
-    state ought not to impart religious education. The moment such
-    an attempt should be made, the community would be in conflict
-    as to what form it should take. It may be conceded, without
-    danger perhaps, that the state should not teach ethics, except
-    so far as the great fundamental principles of morals and
-    politics, as to which all Americans are agreed, are concerned.
-    _The religious education of children may and should be remitted
-    to the family, the Sabbath-school, and the church_--the natural
-    and divinely-appointed guardians of religion and ethics.”
-
-In the face of this growing acknowledgment of the “sectarian” character
-of our public schools, and knowing that they must give religious
-instruction or else be “pagan and atheistical,” we are pleased to hear
-the demand that “neither the State nor nation, nor both combined,” shall
-support such schools.
-
-The fact is, that a people cannot wholly escape from its national
-traditions, without forgetting its language, or undergoing some violent
-revolution. If our fellow-citizens will study the meaning of the terms
-which they habitually use, they will not lose their traditions of freedom
-and equal rights, nor will they throw themselves into a violent, perilous
-departure from them. But we hasten to comment upon another sentence,
-which is frequently quoted from the President’s oration:
-
-“LEAVE THE MATTER OF RELIGION TO THE FAMILY ALTAR, THE CHURCH, AND THE
-PRIVATE SCHOOL SUPPORTED BY PRIVATE CONTRIBUTIONS.”
-
-Precisely so. If it must come to this; if no arrangement can be made, by
-which religion and morality can be taught in the public schools, then,
-leave the matter to the family altar and the church, and allow it to be
-done by private contributions.
-
-In other words, either furnish the people with that which you pretend to
-tax them for--viz., a fair and equitable system of public schools--or
-allow them to provide for themselves. But, whatever you do, keep your
-hands off the sacredness of the “family altar.” Do not set foot into
-the hallowed precincts of the domestic sanctuary. The family, though
-subordinate, is not to be violated by the state. Parents have rights,
-which no government can usurp. You have no more right to force the
-education of their children out of their hands, than to define the number
-of offspring by law. You have no more right to establish a system, to
-which you will endeavor to secure their conformity by violent measures,
-than you have to establish public wet-nurseries, or, require that voters
-shall be brought up on government pap and be fed out of a government
-spoon.
-
-Keep from meddling with religion; you have no authority to teach it.
-
-What a bitter rebuke these words of the President contain for that party,
-small and contemptible in itself, but powerful by reason of the times,
-which has ever sought to widen the gulf between us and our true-hearted
-countrymen! It is not enough that we should be estranged by the
-traditions of three hundred years. It is not enough to whisper into the
-popular ear every stale and loathed calumny. It is not enough to bring
-our holiest rites and beliefs into the obscene literature now circulating
-amongst the depraved youth of our country. It is not enough to drown with
-a thousand noisy, insolent tongues, every attempt we make at explanation.
-It is not enough for this malignant, persecuting power to drop its poison
-into every crevice of our social and religious system, from the parlor
-to the sewer, from the temple to the lupanar; but the nation must be
-organized against us. Our religion must, in some way or other, be dragged
-into politics. For shame! we cry, with the President. In a country of
-such varied religious beliefs as ours, there is but one way to order and
-peace--“KEEP THE CHURCH AND THE STATE FOR EVER SEPARATE.”
-
-To sum up: We agree with the President:
-
-1st. No “sectarianism” in our common schools; and, therefore, “not one
-dollar” to our present system of schools, because they are sectarian.
-
-2d. “Not one dollar” to “pagan” schools, in which God is ignored.
-
-3d. “Not one dollar” to “atheistical” schools, in which God is denied in
-the name of “science falsely so-called.”
-
-We now turn to consider the prophecy in which the President warns the
-American people of its future dangers:
-
-    “IF WE ARE TO HAVE ANOTHER CONTEST IN THE NEAR FUTURE OF OUR
-    NATIONAL EXISTENCE, I PREDICT THAT THE DIVIDING LINE WILL NOT
-    BE MASON AND DIXON’S, BUT BETWEEN PATRIOTISM AND INTELLIGENCE
-    ON THE ONE SIDE, AND SUPERSTITION, AMBITION, AND IGNORANCE ON
-    THE OTHER.”
-
-What is meant by superstition?
-
-Formerly it meant seeking for power or knowledge, by dealing with the
-impure spirits.
-
-Does the President mean to warn us against the delusions and uncleanness
-of modern spiritism? If so, we are agreed.
-
-But we do not really suppose that the President means any such thing.
-What does he mean?
-
-We find in the dictionary four other meanings of the word which he has
-used. Superstition means “an excessive reverence or fear of that which
-is unknown or mysterious.” But, we observe no such phenomenon among
-our people; if anything, rather the reverse. Or it means “The worship
-of false gods.” We see no signs of this except in the “Joss Houses”
-of San Francisco. Nor do we behold any great belief “in the agency of
-superior powers in certain extraordinary or singular events, or in
-omens, or prognostics.” Nor, further, do we behold any “excessive nicety
-or scrupulous exactness,” as an alarming feature of our present moral
-condition. There remains but one meaning (and this, we are persuaded,
-is the sense which the President intended to convey): “Especially, an
-ignorant or irrational worship of the supreme Deity.”
-
-An ignorant worship of God is one which knows not what to believe
-concerning him, or one which is unable to state what it does believe;
-or, further, one which can give no conclusive reason for believing
-anything. But, outside the Catholic Church, there is no religious body
-which can tell precisely what it ought to believe, or precisely what it
-does believe, or precisely why it ought to believe anything. Again, an
-irrational belief in God is one which recognizes his existence, and, at
-the same time, denies his attributes. For instance, it is an irrational
-belief in God, which denies his wisdom; which asserts, that he has not
-chosen means adequate to accomplish his ends; which represents him, when
-he has made a revelation to man, as leaving his divine truth in scattered
-and mysterious writings in an obscure language, requiring men to find
-them, collect them, and believe their true meaning in order to be saved;
-or which fancies that reading daily a few pages from these writings, to
-little children, will be sufficient to prepare them for the duties of
-life. It is an irrational belief in God which represents him as immoral,
-as creating man simply to damn him, or, which denies his justice, by
-wickedly imagining that he will not punish oppression and calumny and
-those who sow discord in the midst of a free and happy people.
-
-Here again we agree with the President in denouncing such impiety, and
-in predicting that, if the liberties and institutions of this republic
-are soon to be jeopardized, it will be by irreverence towards God and
-the contempt of charity and justice towards men, ever practised by this
-“ignorant and irrational worship of the supreme Deity.”
-
-Another item of danger which the President foresees in the near future
-is “ignorance.” Here, again we find him sounding the note of warning, to
-which we have always given voice. His Excellency says: “In a republic
-like ours, … where no power is exercised except by the will of the
-people, it is important that the sovereign, the people, should foster
-intelligence--that intelligence which is to preserve us as a free
-nation.” The liberties of this republic will not be maintained, we say,
-by an ignorant, debauched, and corrupted generation. Our common people
-must be educated. They must possess “that intelligence which is to
-preserve us as a free nation.” They must know something more than simply
-how to read and write and “cipher.” Nor will it be sufficient, to add
-to this a knowledge of music. They must have a sound and thorough moral
-training. Their conscientious convictions must be grounded on truth daily
-taught and daily enforced. They must be daily taught to control their
-passions; they must be taught honesty, and be required to give back that
-which is unjustly gotten. They must be taught the true purpose of life.
-
-But this training, as the President affirms, belongs not to the state,
-but to the “family altar and the church.” Either assist _all_ families
-and _all_ churches, or else encourage them to help themselves. These are
-our sentiments. But when sectarian bigotry has gotten hold of a system of
-the falsely so-called “common schools,” and with obstinate purpose, and
-clamorous intensity and ever-swelling declamation, manifests its resolve
-to maintain this system, even though it conflicts with the conscientious
-rights of millions of the people of our country; when, further, it is
-determined to force a large minority to accept this state of things,
-or to go without instruction, we, as American citizens, denounce the
-system as tyrannous; in the full sense of the word, as a reckless and
-immoral oppression. We assert that those who uphold it, do not desire
-intelligence, but prefer ignorance; that their aim is not to promote
-knowledge, but to destroy the religious convictions of our children, and
-to keep us from growing in the land. We affirm that such self-delusion
-originates in ignorance, is perpetuated by ignorance, tends to still
-deeper degradation of ignorance; and we predict that it will bring forth
-the fruits of ignorance, not only in morality, but in the lower sciences.
-
-We, for our part, will never relax our efforts to show up the dishonesty
-of this party; we will never withdraw our protest, until justice has been
-done; and knowing to what lengths men can go when they start without
-principle, we fully share in the alarm of our chief magistrate, as to the
-danger of “ignorance.” Have we not, therefore, reason to hope that, in
-the midst of the struggle, which his sagacious mind perceives to be at
-hand, we shall find him on the side of patriotism and intelligence, with
-all true Americans, against that “superstition” and “ignorance,” whose
-aim is to destroy the “security of unfettered religious sentiments and
-equal rights” of his fellow-citizens?
-
-There is another item of the future contest, which, according to our
-President, is
-
-“AMBITION.” WHAT IS AMBITION?
-
-A man has been elected to the highest office in the gift of a free
-people, the limits of which have been fixed by a custom handed down by
-the fathers of the nation, and which, to the minds of true patriots,
-has the force of law. When such a trust does not satisfy the honored
-recipient, and he, yielding to personal motives, strains every nerve,
-and seeks by every means at his command, to break down all barriers to
-continuation of power, thereby abusing the dignity of his post and the
-confidence of the people--that is ambition.
-
-We do not fully share the apprehension with which the President foresees
-this threat to the “near future” of our national welfare. But if it be
-true, we fully agree with him when he says: “Now, the centennial year of
-our national existence, I believe, is a good time to begin the work of
-strengthening the foundations of the structure commenced by our patriotic
-forefathers one hundred years ago at Lexington.”
-
-“Language,” according to a great diplomatist, “was given to man, in order
-that he might conceal his ideas.” But this maxim has never been accepted
-by honorable men. In examining, thus briefly, the “Des Moines speech,”
-we have followed that other canon of criticism, which requires that
-words shall be interpreted in their literal sense, as far as possible.
-Submitted to this just criticism, the language appears to us immortal,
-and worthy of the high place which is even now being prepared for it.
-Some may marvel, and may wonder how the President came to be filled with
-so high a degree of the prophetic spirit. Like Balaam, the son of Beor,
-he was expected to curse us; unlike Balaam, he was not stayed, but rather
-urged on by the faithful servant with whom he previously conversed. But
-there is no mystery about it. He has grown up with the instincts of a
-true American, and he has spoken accordingly. Not only are the words
-on which we have commented true, but they are in accordance with sound
-Catholic principles. We are ready to take him at his word, and his
-words in their true meaning. To those who will join us we say, without
-disguise or reserve: “Gentlemen, you will never regret having trusted
-us, and dealt fairly with us, according to the laws and Constitution of
-this country.” We believe with the President, that, if the only honest
-meaning of his language be as honestly carried out, “the battles which
-created the Army of the Tennessee” (which, by the way, a Catholic general
-once commanded and in whose ranks hundreds of Catholic hearts bled)--we
-believe, we say, that these battles “will not have been fought in vain.”
-The children of the soldiers of the Union will at least be the peers of
-those whom their fathers overcame. The nations’ heroes will not look
-down, to see their heirs defrauded of equal rights in “the Union and the
-free institutions for which they died.” The President will yield to his
-comrades in arms, at least as much as he is so ready to accord to his
-late opponents. And as for our countrymen throughout the Union, we are
-prepared to wait, trusting that when fully enlightened, they will agree
-to our obtaining, independently of all political agitations or party
-organizations, our just and equal rights as American citizens.
-
-
-SONNETS IN MEMORY OF THE LATE SIR AUBREY DE VERE, BART.
-
-BY AUBREY DE VERE.
-
-                          I.
-
-    To-night upon thy roof the snows are lying;
-    The Christmas snows lie heavy on thy trees;
-    A dying dirge that soothes the year in dying
-    Swells from thy woodlands on the midnight breeze.
-    Our loss is ancient; many a heart is sighing
-    This hour a late one, or by slow degrees
-    Heals some old wound, to God’s high grace replying--
-    A time there was when thou wert like to these!
-    Where art thou? In what unimagined sphere
-    Liv’st thou, sojourner, or a transient guest?
-    By whom companioned? Access hath she near,
-    In life thy nearest, and beloved the best?
-    What memory hast thou of thy loved ones here?
-    Hangs the great Vision o’er thy place of rest?
-
-                         II.
-
-    “Sweet-sounding bells, blithe summoners to prayer!”[173]
-    The answer man can yield not ye bestow:
-    Your answer is a little Infant, bare,
-    Wafted to earth on night-winds whispering low.
-    Blow him to Bethlehem, airs angelic, blow!
-    There doth the Mother-Maid his couch prepare:
-    His harbor is her bosom: drop him there
-    Soft as a snow-flake on a bank of snow.
-    Sole Hope of man! Sole Hope for us--for thee!
-    “To us a Prince is given; a Child is born!”--
-    Thou sang’st of Bethlehem, and of Calvary,
-    The Maid immaculate, and the twisted thorn
-    Where’er thou art, not far, not far is He
-    Whose banner whitens in yon Christmas morn!
-
-
-A MESSAGE.
-
-Is there anything more tantalizing than to be caught with a toothache
-and swelled face just at Christmas time, when one’s hands are full of
-work that must be finished, of plans that have been begun in time and
-carried on prosperously to within a few days of their fulfilment? This
-is just what befell Mr. Stephen Walpole on the 20th of December in the
-year of grace 1870. You remember what a terrific winter that was? How the
-bleak north wind blew over ice and snow, and added tenfold horrors to the
-poor soldiers fighting in that terrible Franco-German war--how all our
-hearts shuddered in pity for them, as we sat stitching and knitting in
-their service by the glow of our Christmas fires! This 20th of December
-was, perhaps, the bitterest day of the whole season. The snow was deep
-on the ground, the ice hung in long spikes from rails and roofs, and the
-east wind blew cruelly over all. Stephen Walpole ought to have been out
-breasting it, but, instead of this, he sat at home moaning, in a voice
-that sounded like a fog-bell at sea, through poultices, wadding, and
-miles of flannel that swelled his head out of all human proportions.
-
-“To think of a man being knocked down by a thing no bigger than a pin’s
-point!” he grumbled. “A prick of that miserable atom one calls a nerve
-turns the seat of one’s intellect into a monster calf’s head, and makes
-one a spectacle to gods and men. I could whip myself for being such a
-milksop as to knock under to it. I’d rather have every tooth in my head
-pulled out than play the woman like this.… Och! Whew!”
-
-“Serves you right, sir, for your impertinence!” protested Nelly Walpole,
-bridling up and applying a fresh hot poultice to her brother’s cheek,
-which she bade him hold; but Stephen, in his manly inability to bear the
-toothache with composure, dropped the soft mess under a sudden sting that
-jerked it out of his hand.
-
-“What an unmanageable baby it is!” cried Nelly, catching the poultice in
-time to save her pretty violet cashmere dress. “I told you to hold your
-cheek while I fastened the bandage; make haste now before it cools.”
-
-“O my unfortunate brother! Ill-fated man! Is this how I find you, bound
-and poulticed in the hands of the Philistines?”
-
-This was from Marmaduke, Nelly’s younger brother, who entered while
-the operation was going on, and stood surveying the victim in serene
-compassion.
-
-“Yes,” cried Stephen, “and all the pity a poor devil gets is being
-bullied for not holding his jaw.”
-
-“Oh! come, you’re not so bad, since there’s vice enough in you for a
-pun!” said Marmaduke. “How did you catch the thing?”
-
-“What thing--the pun?”
-
-“The toothache.”
-
-“It caught me,” said Stephen resentfully.
-
-“Then it caught you in some of those villanous cut-throat places where
-you go pottering after beggars and blackguards and the Lord knows what!”
-said Marmaduke with airy contempt, drawing his slim, beringed fingers
-gracefully through a mass of remarkably fine curls that clustered over
-his high, white forehead, and gave a boyish look to his handsome young
-face, and added to its attractions. He was extremely prepossessing,
-this perfumed, patent-leather-booted young gentleman of two-and-twenty.
-You could not look at him without liking him. His eye was as clear as a
-child’s, his smile as frank, his laughter as joyous and catching. Yet,
-as it sometimes happens with the graces of childhood, these things were
-a deceptive promise. The frankness and the joy were genuine; but there
-was a cold gleam of contempt, a cold ring of selfishness, in the bright
-eyes and the merry voice that were very disappointing when you found
-them out. But people were slow to find them out. Even those who lived
-with Marmaduke, and thus had ample opportunities of judging, remained
-under the spell of his attractive manners and personal charms until some
-accident revealed their worthlessness. A false coin will go on passing
-current through many hands, until one day some one drops it to the
-ground, and the glittering sham is betrayed. He had not a bad heart; he
-was kind even, when he could be brought to forget himself for a moment
-and think of others. But it required a shock to do this; and shocks are,
-happily, rare in every-day life. So Marmaduke slept on undisturbed in
-his egotism, hardening unconsciously in self-absorbed enjoyment. He had
-never taken trouble about anything, made a genuine effort of any sort
-except for his amusement. He had just the kind of brains to enable him
-to get through college with a decent amount of success easily--tact,
-ready repartee, a quick, retentive memory that gave the maximum of result
-for the minimum of work. He would pass for clever and well informed where
-an awkward, ugly youth, who had ten times his intellect and studied ten
-times harder, would pass for knowing nothing. Stephen was eight years
-older than he, and had not yet discovered his brother’s real value.
-Perhaps this arose partly from Stephen’s not being of a particularly
-observant or analytical turn of mind. He took people pretty much at their
-own valuation, as the world is rather apt to do. Marmaduke set a very
-high price on his handsome face and limited attainments, and his brother
-had never dreamed of disputing it. He would sometimes naïvely express his
-surprise that people were so fond of Duke when he did so little to please
-them; and wonder how popular he was, considering that he never gave
-himself the smallest trouble to oblige or humor people.
-
-“I suppose it’s his handsome face that mankind, and womankind in
-particular, find so taking,” Stephen would remark to Nelly. “He certainly
-has a wonderful knack for getting on with people without caring twopence
-whether they like him or not. I wish I knew his secret. Perhaps it’s his
-high spirits.”
-
-Nelly would sometimes suggest that Marmaduke’s fine temper might count
-for something in the mystery. And Stephen never contradicted her. His
-temper was not his best point. He had a heart of gold; he had energy,
-patience, and endurance to any extent--except in case of toothache; he
-was unselfish and generous; but he was sensitive and exacting. Like
-most persons who dispense liberally, he was impatient of the selfishness
-and ingratitude of men who take all they can get and return nothing.
-Marmaduke had no such accounts to square with human beings, so he never
-felt aggrieved, never quarrelled with them. Stephen was working hard
-at his profession--he was an engineer--and so far he had achieved but
-moderate success. Marmaduke had been called to the bar, but it was a
-mere formality so far; he spent his time dawdling about town, retailing
-gossip and reading poetry, waiting for briefs that never came--that
-never do come to handsome young gentlemen who take it so easy. His elder
-brother laid no blame on him for this want of success. He was busy all
-day himself, and took for granted that Marmaduke was busy on his side.
-The law was up-hill work, besides; the cleverest and most industrious men
-grew gray in its service before they made a name for themselves; and Duke
-was after all but a boy--he had time enough before him. So Stephen argued
-in his brotherly indulgence, in ignorance of the real state of things.
-
-Nelly was, as yet, the only person who had found out Marmaduke, who knew
-him thoroughly. She knew him egotistical to the core, averse to work,
-to effort of every sort, idle, self-indulgent, extravagant; and the
-knowledge of all this afforded much anxious thought to her little head
-of nineteen years. They lived alone, these three. Nelly was a mother to
-the two young men, watching and caring for them with that instinctive
-child-motherhood that is so touching in young girls sometimes. She was a
-spirited, elfin little creature, very pretty, blessed with the sweetest
-of tempers, the shrewdest of common sense, and an energy of character
-that nothing daunted and few things resisted. Marmaduke described this
-trait of Nelly’s in brother-like fashion as “a will of her own.” He
-knew his was no match for it, and, with a tact which made one of his
-best weapons of defence, he contrived to avoid clashing with it. This
-was not all policy. He loved his pretty sister, and admired her more
-than anything in the world except himself. And yet he knew that this
-admiration was not mutual; that Nelly knew him thoroughly, saw through
-him as if he were glass; but he was not afraid of her. His elder brother
-was duped by him; but he would have staked his life on it that Nelly
-would never undeceive him; that she would let Stephen go on believing
-in him so long as the deceiver himself did not tear off the mask. Yet
-it was a source of bitter anxiety to the wise little mother-maiden to
-watch Marmy drifting on in this life of indolence and vacuity. Where was
-it to end? Where do such lives always end? Nothing but some terrible
-shock could awake him from it. And where was the shock to come from?
-Nelly never preached--she was far too sensible for that--but when the
-opportunity presented itself she would say a few brief words to the
-culprit in an earnest way that never irritated him, if they worked no
-better result. He would admit with exasperating good-humor that he was
-a good-for-nothing dog; that he was unworthy of such a perfection of a
-sister and such an irreproachable elder brother; but that, as nature had
-so blessed him, he meant to take advantage of the privilege of leaving
-the care of his perfection to them.
-
-“If I were alone on my own hook, Nell, I would work like a galley-slave,”
-he protested once to her gentle upbraiding. “But as it is, why need I
-bother myself? You will save my soul, and pray me high and dry into
-heaven; and Stephen--Stephen the admirable, the unimpeachable, the pink
-of respectability--will keep me out of mischief in this.”
-
-“I don’t believe in vicarious salvation for this world or the next, and
-neither do you, Marmy. You are much too intelligent to believe in any
-such absurdity,” replied Nelly, handing him a glove she had been sewing a
-button into.
-
-Marmaduke did not contradict her, but, whistling an air from the
-_Trovatore_, arranged his hat becomingly, a little to one side, and, with
-a farewell look in the glass over the mantel-piece, sauntered out for his
-morning constitutional in the park. Nelly went to the window, and watched
-the lithe young figure, with its elastic step, until it disappeared.
-She was conscious of a stronger solicitude about Marmaduke this morning
-than she had ever felt before. It was like a presentiment. Yet there
-was nothing that she knew of to justify it. He had not taken to more
-irregular hours, nor more extravagant habits, nor done anything to cause
-her fresh anxiety; still, her heart beat as under some new and sudden
-fear. Perhaps it was the ring of false logic in his argument that sounded
-a louder note of alarm and warned her of worse danger than she had
-suspected. One might fear everything for a man starting in life with the
-deliberate purpose of shifting his responsibility on to another, setting
-his conscience to sleep because he had two brave, wakeful ones watching
-at his side.
-
-“If something would but come and wake him up to see the monstrous folly,
-the sinfulness, of it!” sighed Nelly. “But nothing short of a miracle
-could do that, I believe. He might, indeed, fall ill and be brought to
-death’s door; he might break his leg and be a cripple for life, and that
-might serve the purpose; but oh! dear, I’m not brave enough to wish for
-so severe a remedy.”
-
-Two months had passed since this little incident between the brother and
-sister, and nothing had occurred to vindicate Nelly’s gloomy forebodings.
-Marmaduke rose late, read the newspaper, then Tennyson, Lamartine, or
-the last novel, made an elaborate toilet, and sauntered down to the
-courts to keep a lookout for the coming briefs. But it was near Christmas
-now, and this serious and even tenor of life had been of late broken
-in upon by the getting up of private theatricals in company with some
-bachelor friends. What between learning his own part, and hearing his
-fellow-actors and actresses theirs, and overseeing stage arrangements,
-Marmaduke had a hard time of it. His hands were full; he was less at home
-than usual, seldom or never of an evening. He had come in very late some
-nights, and looked worn and out of spirits, Nelly thought, when he came
-down to his late breakfast.
-
-“I wish those theatricals were over, Marmy. They will kill you if they
-last much longer,” she said, with a tender, anxious look on her pretty
-little face. This was the day he came home and found Stephen in the hands
-of the Philistines.
-
-“’Tis hard work enough,” assented the young man, stretching out his long
-limbs wearily; “but the 26th will soon be here. It will be too bad if you
-are laid up and can’t come and applaud me, Steevy,” he added, considering
-his elder brother’s huge head, that looked as if it would take a month to
-regain its natural shape.
-
-“Humph! That’s the least of my troubles!” boomed Stephen through his
-poultice.
-
-“Civil! Eh, Nell? I can tell you it’s as bad as any toothache, the
-labor I’ve had with the business--those lazy dogs, Travers and Milford,
-throwing all the weight of it on me, under pretext of never having done
-that sort of thing before.”
-
-“That’s always the fate of the willing horse,” said Stephen, without
-the faintest idea of being sarcastic. “That’s just what I complain of
-with those idle fellows X---- and W----; they throw the burden of all
-the business on me, because, forsooth, I understand things better! I do
-understand that people can’t get work done unless they bestir themselves
-and attend to it.”
-
-“I wouldn’t be such an ass as to let myself be put on in that way,” said
-Marmaduke resentfully. “I would not be fooled into doing the work of
-three people instead of one.”
-
-“And yet that’s what you are doing at present,” replied Stephen.
-
-“Oh! that’s different; it is only _en passant_,” explained Marmaduke;
-“and then, you see, it.…”
-
-“Amuses you,” Nelly had it on the tip of her tongue to say; but she
-checked herself, and finished the sentence for him with, “It is not the
-same thing; people cannot make terms for a division of labor, except it
-be in the case of real business.”
-
-“Of course not,” assented Stephen. Marmaduke looked at his boots, and
-inwardly voted Nelly “no end of a trump.”
-
-Did she guess this mental vote, and did she take advantage of it to ask
-him a favor?
-
-“Perhaps Marmy would go and see that poor man for you, Stephen?” she said
-in the most natural way possible, without looking up from her work.
-
-“I wish he would; I should be ever so much obliged to him. Would you mind
-it, Duke?”
-
-“Mind what?”
-
-“Taking a message for me to a poor fellow that I wanted badly to go and
-see to-day.”
-
-“Who is he? Where does he hang out?”
-
-“His name is John Baines, and he hangs out in Red Pepper Lane, ten
-minutes from here, at the back of the square.”
-
-“Some abominable slum, no doubt.”
-
-“The locality is not Berkeley Square or Piccadilly, but it would not kill
-you to walk through it once,” rejoined Stephen.
-
-“Do go, there’s a dear boy!” coaxed Nelly, fixing her bright eyes on
-Marmaduke’s face, with a smile that would have fascinated a gorilla.
-
-Marmaduke rose, stretched his arms, as if to brace himself for an effort.
-
-“Who’s your friend John Baines?” he said. “A ticket-of-leave man?”
-
-“Nothing so interesting; he’s only a rag-and-bone man.”
-
-Marmaduke said nothing, but his nose uttered such an unmistakable
-_pshaw!_ that Nelly, in spite of herself, burst out laughing.
-
-“What the deuce can make him cultivate such company?” he exclaimed,
-appealing to Nelly, and joining good-humoredly in her merriment.
-
-“To help them and do them good; what else?” she replied.
-
-“Every man to his taste; I confess I have none for evangelizing
-rag-and-bone men, or indeed men of any station, kind, or degree,”
-observed Marmaduke emphatically.
-
-“Then you won’t go?” said Stephen.
-
-“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I don’t mind devoting myself for once to oblige
-you. What’s your message for John Baines? Not a leg of mutton or a bottle
-of port? I won’t bargain for carrying that sort of article.”
-
-“I don’t want you to carry anything that will encumber you,” replied
-the elder brother. “Tell him I cannot get to see him to-day, and why,
-and that I am very sorry for it. Meantime, you can say I have done his
-commission. See if he wants anything, and, if so I will send it at once.”
-
-“What ails him?” enquired Marmaduke with a sudden look of alarm.
-
-“Poverty: hunger, and cold, and misery.”
-
-“Oh! that’s all! I mean it’s not a case of typhus or small-pox. I should
-not care to imperil my valuable life by running in the way of that sort
-of thing,” observed Marmaduke.
-
-“Have no fear. The complaint is not catching,” replied his brother.
-“Whatever good he may do you, he’ll do you no harm.”
-
-“Dear Marmy! it’s very good of you!” whispered Nelly, as she tripped
-down-stairs after the reluctant messenger, and helped him on with his fur
-coat in the hall.
-
-“It’s not a bit good; it’s an infernal bore, and I’m only doing it to
-please you, Nell,” protested Marmaduke. “What a fool’s errand it is! I
-sha’n’t know from Adam what to say to the man when I get there. _What_ am
-I to say to him?”
-
-“Oh! anything,” suggested Nelly. “Say you have come to see him because
-Stephen is ill, and ask him how he is. You’re never at a loss for
-something to say, you know that right well; and whatever you say is sure
-to be right.”
-
-“When I know who I’m talking to; but I don’t know this interesting party,
-or what topics of conversation he particularly affects. He won’t expect
-me to preach him a sermon, eh?” And Marmaduke faced round with a look of
-such comical terror at the thought that Nelly again burst out laughing.
-
-“Heaven forbid! That’s the last thing you need dream of,” she cried. “He
-is much more likely to preach to you.”
-
-“Oh! indeed; but I didn’t bargain for that. I would very much rather be
-excused,” protested Marmaduke, anything but reassured.
-
-“You foolish boy! I mean that he will preach to you as the poor always
-do--by example; by their patience, and their gratitude for the least
-thing one does for them.”
-
-“I’m not going to do anything for John Baines that I can see; only
-bothering him with a visit which he would very likely rather I spared
-him.”
-
-“You will give him Stephen’s message,” suggested Nelly, “and then let him
-talk. There is nothing poor people enjoy so much as a good listener. They
-are quite happy when they can pour out their grievances into a willing
-ear. The sympathy of the rich is often a greater comfort to the poor than
-their alms.”
-
-“Humph! That’s lucky, anyhow,” grunted Marmaduke. “Well, I’ll let the
-old gentleman have his head; I’ll listen till he pulls up of his own
-accord.” He had his hand on the door-latch, when Stephen’s muffled tones
-were heard calling from the room above. Nelly bounded up the stairs, and
-was back in an instant.
-
-“He says you are to give Baines half a sovereign from him; he had nearly
-forgotten it.”
-
-“Where is it?” said Marmaduke, holding out his hand.
-
-“Stephen has not his purse about him, so he begs you will give it for
-him.”
-
-“Neither have I mine,” said the young man.
-
-“Well, run up for it; or shall I? Where is it?” inquired willing Nelly.
-
-Marmaduke hesitated for a moment, and then said abruptly: “It doesn’t
-matter where it is; there’s nothing in it.”
-
-“What have you done with your money? You had plenty a few days ago!”
-exclaimed Nelly in childlike surprise.
-
-“I have lost it; I haven’t a brass farthing in the world!” He said this
-in a reckless, dogged sort of way, as if he did not care who knew it; and
-yet he spoke in an undertone. For one moment Nelly looked at him in blank
-astonishment.
-
-“Lost it?” she repeated, and then, the truth flashing on her suddenly,
-she cried in a frightened whisper: “O Marmaduke! you have not been
-gambling? Oh! tell me it’s not true.” She caught hold of his arm, and,
-clinging to it, looked into his face, scared and white.
-
-“Nonsense, Nell! I thought you were a girl of sense,” he exclaimed
-pettishly, disengaging himself and pushing back the bolt. “Let me be
-off; tell Stephen I had not change, so his friend must wait till he can
-go and tip him himself.”
-
-“No, no; he may be hungry, poor man. Stay, I think I have ten shillings
-here,” said Nelly; and she pulled out her porte-monnaie, and picked four
-half-crowns from the promiscuous heap of smaller coins. “Take these; I
-will tell Stephen you will give the ten shillings.”
-
-Her hand trembled as she dropped the money into Marmaduke’s pocket. He
-was about to resist; but there was something peremptory, a touch of that
-will of her own, in her manner that deterred him.
-
-“I’m sorry I said anything about it; I should not if I thought you would
-have minded it so much,” he observed.
-
-“Minded it? O Marmaduke! Minded your taking to gambling?”
-
-“Tush! Don’t talk nonsense! A man isn’t a gambler because once in a way
-he loses a twenty-pound note.”
-
-And with this he brushed past her, and closed the hall-door with a loud
-bang.
-
-Nelly did not sit down on one of the hall chairs and cry. She felt
-mightily inclined to do so; but she struggled against the weakness and
-overcame it. Walking quietly up the stairs, she hummed a few bars of a
-favorite air as she passed the door of Stephen’s sitting-room, and went
-on to her own room on the story above. But even here, safe and alone,
-the tears were bravely held back. She would not cry; she would not be
-seen with red eyes that would betray her brother; she would do her very
-utmost to rescue him, to screen him even now. While she is wrestling and
-pleading in the silence of her own room, let us follow the gambler to Red
-Pepper Lane.
-
-Marmaduke had described the place accurately when he called it an
-abominable slum. Red Pepper Lane was one of those dismal, frightful dens
-of darkness and dirt that cower at the back of so many of our wealthy
-squares and streets--poison-pits for breeding typhus and every social
-plague that desolates great cities. The houses were so high and the lane
-so narrow that you could at a stretch have shaken hands across from
-window to window. There was a rope slung half-way down the alley, with
-a lantern hanging from it which looked more like a decoration or a sign
-than a possible luminary; for the glass was too thickly crusted with dirt
-to admit of the strongest light piercing it. In the middle of the lane
-was a gutter, in which a few ragged, begrimed, and hungry-looking little
-mortals were playing in the dirty snow. The east wind whistled through
-the dreary tenements with a sharp, pitiless cry; the sky was bright
-outside, but here in Red Pepper Lane its brightness did not penetrate.
-Nothing but the wind could enter, and that came with all its might,
-through the crannies in the walls, through the rickety doors, through
-the window-frames glazed with brown paper or battered old hats--any
-rag that could be spared to stuff the empty panes. Not a head was seen
-anywhere protruding from windows or doors; the fierce blast kept every
-one within who had a roof to cover them. If it were not for the sooty
-little objects disporting themselves in the gutter, the lane might have
-been the precincts of the jail, so deserted and silent was it. Marmaduke
-might have wandered up and down for an hour without meeting any one whom
-he could ask to direct him to where John Baines lived, but luckily he
-recognized the house at once by Stephen’s signal of an old broom nailed
-over the door. He searched for a knocker or a bell; but seeing neither,
-he sounded a loud rat-ta-ta-tat with the gold knob of his walking-stick,
-and presently a voice called out from somewhere to “lift the latch!”
-He did so, and, again left to his own devices, he followed Stephen’s
-injunctions and went straight up to the second story, where he knocked,
-and in obedience to a sharp “Come in!” entered.
-
-The gloom of the lane had prepared him gradually for the deeper gloom
-of the room, and he at once distinguished a person, whom he rightly
-surmised to be the rag-and-bone man, sitting at the farther end, near
-the fire-place, wrapped up in a brown blanket, with his feet resting
-on the hearth-stone, as if he were toasting them. If he was, it was in
-imagination; for there was no fire--only the ghost of one as visible in
-a mass of gray ashes, and they did not look as if even a glow of the
-late warmth remained in them. He had his back to the door, and, when
-it opened, he turned his head in that direction, but not sufficiently
-to see who came in. Marmaduke, as he stood on the threshold, took in
-the surroundings at a glance. There was a bed on the floor in one
-corner, with no bed-clothes to speak of, the blanket being just now in
-requisition as a cloak; a miserable-looking table and two chairs--an
-unoccupied one and the one Baines sat in; a bag and a basket were flung
-under the window, and some dingy old utensils--a saucepan, kettle,
-etc.--lay about. There was nothing particularly dreadful in the scene;
-it was, compared with many such, rather a cheerful one on the whole; but
-Marmaduke, who had no experience of the dwellings of the poor, thought
-it the most appalling picture of misery and desolation that could be
-conceived. He was roused from the stupor of horror into which the sudden
-spectacle had thrown him by hearing the figure in the blanket ask rather
-sharply a second time “Who’s there?”
-
-“I beg your pardon,” said Marmaduke, advancing within a step of the
-chair. “My name is Walpole; I have come to see if there is anything I can
-do for you--anything that you … that …” he stammered, not knowing how to
-put it.
-
-“Oh! Mr. Walpole, I am obliged to you for calling, sir. I want nothing;
-but I am glad to see you. It is very kind of you. Pray take a chair. You
-must excuse me for not getting up; my leg is still very painful.”
-
-“I am only the brother of the Mr. Walpole whom you know,” said Marmaduke,
-surprised beyond measure at the good address of the man. “My brother is
-laid up with a violent face-ache. He was greatly put out at not being
-able to keep his appointment with you this afternoon, and sent me to see
-how you were getting on, and to tell you he had done something that you
-commissioned him to do.”
-
-“Your brother is extremely kind,” said the man. “I am sorry to hear he is
-ill. This weather is trying to everybody.”
-
-“You seem to be a severe sufferer from it,” remarked Marmaduke. He had
-opened his fur coat, and sat back in the rickety chair, in mortal fear
-all the while that it would go to smash under him. This was the most
-extraordinary specimen of the rag-and-bone tribe--he could not say that
-he had ever known, for he had never known one in his life, but--that
-he could have imagined. He spoke like an educated man, and, even in
-his blanket, he had the bearing of a gentleman. If it were not for his
-swollen nose and the glare of his red eye-balls, which were decidedly not
-refined, there was nothing in his appearance to indicate that he belonged
-to the very dregs of human society. It was impossible to say how old he
-was, but you saw at a glance that he was more broken than aged.
-
-“Yes, I am suffering rather severely just now,” he replied in a quiet,
-conversational way; “I always do when the cold sets in. But, added to my
-chronic complaint of sciatica, I slipped on the ice some time ago, and
-sprained my left foot badly. Your brother made my acquaintance at the
-hospital where I was taken to have it set right.”
-
-“And has it been set right?”
-
-“Yes; I can’t get about easily yet, but it will be all right by and by.”
-And then, dismissing the selfish subject, he said: “I am distressed, sir,
-that you should have had the trouble of coming to such a place as this;
-pray don’t let me detain you longer.”
-
-“I’m in no hurry,” replied Marmaduke, whose interest and curiosity were
-more and more excited. “Is there nothing I can do for you? It’s dismal
-work sitting here all day with a sprained ankle, and having nothing to
-do; would you care to have some books?” It did not occur to him to ask
-if he knew how to read; he would as soon have inquired if he knew how to
-speak.
-
-Baines looked at him with a curious expression.
-
-“I don’t look like a man to lend books to, do I?” he said. “There’s not
-much in common between books and a rag-and-bone man.”
-
-“Quite as much, I should say, as there is between some men and rags and
-bones,” retorted Marmaduke, meeting the man’s eyes with a responsive
-question in his own.
-
-Baines turned away with a short laugh. Perhaps it was mere accident
-or the force of habit that made him look up at the space over the
-mantel-piece; but there was something in the deliberate glance that made
-Marmaduke follow it, and, doing so, he saw a faded but originally good
-engraving of Shakspere hung in a frame against the wall. Repressing the
-low whistle which rose involuntarily to his lips, he said, looking at the
-portrait:
-
-“You have a likeness of Shakspere, I see. Have you read his plays?”
-
-“Ay, and acted them!”
-
-“Acted them! You were originally on the stage, then? I saw at once that
-you were not what you seem to me,” said Marmaduke, with that frankness
-that seemed so full of sympathy and was so misleading, though never less
-so, perhaps, than at this moment. “Would it be disagreeable to you to
-tell me through what chapters of ill-luck or other vicissitudes you came
-to be in the position where I now see you?”
-
-The man was silent for a few minutes; whether he was too deeply offended
-to reply at once, or whether he was glancing over the past which the
-question evoked, it was impossible to say. Marmaduke fancied he was
-offended, and, vexed with himself for having questioned him, he stood up,
-and laying Nelly’s four half-crowns on the chimney-piece, “I beg your
-pardon if I seemed impertinent; I assure you I did not mean it,” he said.
-“I felt interested in you, and curious to know something more of you; but
-I had no right to put questions. Good-morning.” He made a step towards
-the door, but Baines, rousing himself, arrested him by a sign.
-
-“I am not offended,” he said. “I saw quite well what made you ask it. You
-would have every right to catechise me if I had come to you for help; as
-it is, your kindness and your brother’s makes a claim which I am in no
-mind to dispute. If you don’t mind shivering in this cold place for half
-an hour, pray sit down, and I will tell you my story. I have not a cigar
-to offer you,” he added with a laugh, “but perhaps you don’t affect that
-vice?”
-
-“I do indeed very considerably,” said Marmaduke, and, pulling out a
-handsome cigar-case, he handed it to Baines, and invited him to help
-himself; the rag-man hesitated just for a moment, and then, yielding to
-the instinct of his good-breeding, took one.
-
-“It’s not an amusing story,” he began, when they had sent up a few warm
-puffs from their fragrant weeds, “but it may not be uninteresting to you.
-You are very young; would it be rude to ask how young?”
-
-“Two-and-twenty next week, if I live so long,” replied Marmaduke.
-
-“Humph! I was just that age when I took the fatal turn in the road that
-led to the honorable career in which I am now embarked. My father was an
-officer in the line. He had no fortune to speak of; a couple of thousand
-pounds left him by an aunt was all the capital he possessed. When he was
-still young, he married, and got three thousand pounds with his wife. I
-was their only child. My father died when I was ten years old, and left
-me to the sole care of my mother, who made an idol of me and spoiled me
-to my heart’s content. I was not a bad boy, I had no evil propensities,
-and I was not deficient in brains. I picked up things with little or no
-effort, and got on better at school than many who had twice the brains
-and four times the industry. I was passionately fond of poetry, learned
-pages of Byron and Shelley by heart, and declaimed with a good deal of
-power. There could not have been a greater curse than such a gift to
-a boy of my temperament and circumstances. When I left school, I went
-to Oxford. My poor mother strained every nerve to give me a university
-education, with a view to my becoming a barrister; but instead of
-repaying her sacrifices by working hard, I spent the greater part of my
-time acting. I became infatuated about Shakspere, and took to private
-theatricals with a frenzy of enthusiasm. As ill-luck would have it, I
-fell in with a set of fellows who were drama-mad like myself. I had one
-great chum named Hallam, who was stark mad about it, and encouraged me
-in the folly to the utmost. I soon became a leading star in this line.
-I was sought for and asked out by everybody in the place, until my head
-got completely turned, and I fancied I had only to walk on to the stage
-to take Macready’s place and achieve fame and fortune. The first thing
-that roused me from the absurd delusion was seeing Charles Kean in
-Macbeth. I felt utterly annihilated under the superiority of his acting;
-it showed me in an instant the difference there is between ordinary taste
-and talent and the divine afflatus of genius. And yet an old friend who
-happened to meet me in the theatre that night assured me that the younger
-Kean was not a patch upon his father, and that Macready outshone the
-elder Kean. I went back to Oxford a crestfallen man, and for a time took
-refuge from my disappointment in real work. I studied hard, and, when
-the term came for going up for my degree, I was confident of success. It
-was a vain confidence, of course. I had only given myself to study for
-a period of two months or so, and it would have been little short of a
-miracle if I had passed. My mother was terribly disappointed; the sight
-of her tears cut me up more than the failure on my own account, and I
-determined to succeed or die in the effort, if she consented to let me
-make one more. She did consent, and I succeeded. That was the happiest
-day of my life, I think.” He drew a long breath, and repeated in an
-undertone, as if he forgot Marmaduke’s presence, and were speaking aloud
-to himself: “Yes, the happiest day of my life!”
-
-“You worked very hard to pull up for lost time!” observed Marmaduke.
-
-“Lost time! Yes, that was it--lost time!” said Baines, musing; then
-he continued in his former tone: “My poor mother was very happy. She
-declared I had repaid her amply for all her sacrifices. She saw me
-already at the top of my profession, a Q.C., a judge, the chief of all
-the judges, seated in robes on the woolsack. I came home, and was in due
-time called to the bar. I was then just twenty-four. We lived in a pretty
-house on the road to Putney; but my mother thought it now desirable
-to move into London, that I might have an office in some central
-neighborhood, where my clients would flow in and out conveniently. I
-remember that I strongly opposed the plan, not from dislike, but from
-some feeling like a presentiment, a dread, that London would be a
-dangerous place for me, and that I was taking the road to ruin by leaving
-the shelter of our secluded home, with its garden and trees, away from
-a thousand temptations that beset a young man in the great city. But
-my mother’s heart was set on it. She was convinced my character had
-thoroughly changed, that I had broken off for ever from old habits and
-old propensities, and that I was strong enough to encounter any amount
-of temptation without risk. Poor mother! It was no fault of hers if she
-was blinded by love. The fault was all mine. I fed her with false hopes,
-and then I betrayed them. She gave in so far to my wishes as to consent
-only to let the house, instead of selling it, as she first intended; so
-that our removal to London took the appearance more of an essay than a
-permanent arrangement. I was thankful for this, and set about the change
-in high spirits. We were soon comfortably settled in a very small house
-in Wimpole Street. I found it rather like a bird-cage after our airy,
-roomy abode in the suburbs; but it was very snug, and my mother, who had
-wonderful taste, soon made it bright and pretty. She was the brightest
-and prettiest thing in it herself; people used to take her for my elder
-sister when she took me to parties of an evening. I was very proud of
-her, and with better reason than she was of me.”
-
-He paused again, looking up at the Shakspere print, as if he saw his
-mother’s likeness there. The sunken, red eyes moistened as he gazed on it.
-
-“It is a great blessing to have a good mother,” said Marmaduke. “I lost
-mine when I was little more than a child.”
-
-“So much the better for both of you,” retorted Baines bitterly; “she
-did not live for you to break her heart, and then eat out your own with
-remorse. But I am talking wildly. You would no doubt have been a blessing
-to her; you would have worked like a man, and she would have been proud
-of you to the end. It was not so with me. I was never fond of work. I
-was not fond of it then; indeed, what I did was not worthy of being
-called work at all. I moped over a law-book for an hour or so in the
-morning, and then read Shakspere or some other favorite poet, by way of
-refreshing myself after the unpalatable task, and getting it out of my
-head as quickly as possible. I went down regularly to the courts; but
-as I had no legal connection, and nothing in myself to make up for the
-want of patronage, or inspire confidence in my steadiness and abilities,
-the attorneys brought me no business; and as I was too lazy, and perhaps
-too proud, to stoop to court them, I began to feel thoroughly disgusted
-with the profession, and to wish I had never entered it. I ceased to go
-through the farce of my law-reading of a morning, and devoted myself
-entirely to my dilettante tastes, reading poetry, and occasionally
-amusing myself with writing it. My old longing for the stage came back,
-and only wanted an opportunity to break out actively. This opportunity
-was not far off. My mother suspected nothing of the way I was idling my
-time; she knew the bar was up-hill work, and was satisfied to see me kept
-waiting a few years before I became famous; but it was matter of surprise
-to her that I never got a brief of any description. She set it down to
-jealousy on the part of my rivals at the courts, and would now and then
-wax wroth against them, wondering what expedient could be devised for
-showing up the corrupt state of the profession, and forcing my enemies to
-recognize my superiority as it deserved. Don’t laugh at her and think her
-a fool; she was wise on every subject but this, and I fear I must have
-counted for something in leading her to such ridiculous conclusions. I
-held very much to preserving her good opinion, but, instead of striving
-to justify it by working on to the fulfilment of her motherly ambition,
-I took to cheating her, first tacitly, then deliberately and cruelly.
-Things were going on in this way, when one day, one ill-fated day, I
-went out as usual in the afternoon, ostensibly to the courts, but really
-to kill time where I could--at my club, in the Row, or lounging in Pall
-Mall. I was passing the Army and Navy Club, when I heard a voice call out:
-
-“‘Halloo, Hamlet!’ (This was the name I went by at Oxford, on account of
-my success in the part.) ‘How glad I am to see you, old boy! You’re the
-very man I’ve been on the look-out for.’
-
-“‘Hallam!’ I cried, returning his friendly grasp, and declaring how
-delighted I was to see him.
-
-“‘I’ve been beating about for you ever since I came to town, ten days
-ago,’ he said. ‘I wrote to your old address, but the letter was sent back
-to me. Where have you migrated to; and what are you doing?’
-
-“I told him the brief history of my existence since we had parted at
-Oxford, he to enter the army, I to begin my course of dinners-eating at
-the Temple. He was now on leave; he had just come from the north, where
-his regiment was quartered, and he was in high spirits at the prospect
-of his month’s holiday. I asked him what it was he had been wanting me so
-particularly for.
-
-“‘I wanted to see you, first of all, for your own sake, old boy,’ he
-answered heartily; ‘and in the next place I want you badly to help us
-to get up some private theatricals at the Duchess of B----’s after
-Easter. I suppose you are a perfect actor--a Garrick and Charles Mathews
-combined--by this time. You have had plenty of practice, I’ll be bound.’
-
-“I assured him that I had not played since the last time he and I had
-brought down the house together. He was immensely surprised, and loudly
-deplored my mistake in burying such a talent in the earth. He called me a
-conceited idiot to have let myself be crushed by Kean, and vowed a year’s
-training from a professional would bring me out a better actor than ever
-Kean was. Amateur acting was all very well, but the finest untaught
-genius ever born could no more compete successfully with a man who had
-gone through the regular professional drill than a civilian could with a
-trained soldier in executing a military manœuvre.
-
-“‘I told you before, and I tell you again,’ he continued, as arm in arm
-we paced a shady alley of the park--‘I tell you that if you went on the
-stage you would cut out the best actor we have; though that is not saying
-much, for a more miserable, ignorant lot of drivelling idiots no stage
-ever saw caricaturing the drama than our English theatres can boast at
-this moment.’
-
-“My heart rose high, and my vanity swelled out like a peacock’s tail,
-pluming itself in this luxurious air of flattery. I knew Hallam meant
-what he said; but I knew that he was a light-headed young fellow, not at
-all competent to judge dramatic power, and still less to counsel me. Yet
-such is the intoxicating effect of vanity that I swallowed his praise as
-if it had been the purest wisdom. I opened my whole heart to him, told
-him how insufferably bored I was at the bar, that I had no aptitude for
-it, that I was wasting my time waiting for briefs that never came--I did
-not explain what pains I took to prevent their coming--until, kindling
-with my own exaggerated statement as I went on, I ended by cursing the
-day I took to the bar, and declaring that if it were not for my mother I
-would abandon the whole thing and try my luck on the stage to-morrow.
-
-“‘And why should you let your mother stand in your way?’ said Hallam. ‘If
-she is too unreasonable to see the justice of the case, why, then … well,
-I can’t for the life of me see why your happiness and fortune should be
-sacrificed to it.’
-
-“He was not a bad fellow--far from it. He did not mean to play the
-devil’s advocate. I am certain he thought he was giving me excellent
-advice, using his superior knowledge of the world for my benefit. But he
-was a fool--an ignorant, silly, well-meaning fool. Such men, as friends,
-are often worse than knaves. If he had proposed anything obviously
-wicked, dishonest, or unprincipled, I should have scouted it indignantly,
-and walked off in contempt. But he argued with a show of reason, in a
-tone of considerate regard for my mother’s wishes and feelings that
-deceived and disarmed me. He represented to me the folly of sticking to
-a life that I hated and that I had next to no chance of ever succeeding
-in; he had a score of examples at his fingers’ ends of young fellows
-teeming with talent, patient as asses, and hard working as negroes, who
-had gone for the bar and given it up in despair. My mother, like all
-fond mothers, naturally expected me to prove an exception to the general
-rule, and to turn out a lord chancellor of the romantic sort, rising by
-sheer force of merit, without patronage, without money, without any of
-the essential helps, by the power of my unaided genius. ‘This is simply
-bosh, my dear fellow--innocent maternal bosh,’ persisted Hallam, ‘but as
-dangerous as any poison. Cut the bar, as your better genius prompts you
-to do, and take to your true calling--the drama.’
-
-“‘For aught I know, I may have lost any talent I had,’ I replied; ‘it is
-two years, remember, since I acted at all.’
-
-“‘That is very easily ascertained,’ said my friend. ‘You will take a part
-in these theatricals we are going to get up, and we will soon see whether
-your talent has evaporated or not. My own impression is that it will come
-out stronger than ever; you have studied, and you have seen something, if
-not very much, of life since your last attempts.’
-
-“‘My mother has a horror of the theatre,’ I said, unwilling to yield
-without a show of resistance; ‘it would break her heart to see me take to
-the stage.’
-
-“‘Not if you succeed; hearts are never broken by success.’
-
-“‘And how if I fail?’
-
-“‘You are sure not to fail,’ he urged. ‘But look here: do nothing rashly.
-Don’t say anything about this business until you have tried your hand at
-it in private. We have not settled yet what the play is to be; they left
-it to me to select, and I will choose one that will bring out your powers
-best--not tragedy; that never was your line, in my opinion. At any rate,
-you must for the present confine yourself to light parts, such as.…’
-
-“I interrupted him in high dudgeon.
-
-“‘Why, if I’m not tragic, I’m nothing!’ I exclaimed. ‘Every one who ever
-saw me in Hamlet declared they had never seen the part so well rendered!
-And you said many a time that my Macbeth was.…’
-
-“‘First-rate--for an amateur; and I will say it again, if you like,’
-protested Hallam; ‘but since then, I have seen real acting.…’
-
-“‘Then mine was not real? I can’t for the life of me see, then…’ I broke
-in.
-
-“‘Don’t get so infernally huffy,’ said Hallam, shaking my arm with
-good-humored impatience. ‘If you want to know what real, trained,
-professional acting is, you must go abroad, and see how the actors of the
-Théâtre Français, for instance, study and train and drill. If you will
-start with the English notion that a man can take to the stage as he does
-to the saddle, give up the plan at once; you will never rise above an
-amateur. But to come back to our present purpose; we will select a part
-to suit you, and if the rehearsals promise a genuine success--as I have
-not a doubt they will--we will invite your mother to come and see you,
-and she will be so proud of your triumph that the cause will be won.’
-
-“‘My dear Hallam, it was some good fairy sent you in my way assuredly
-this morning!’ I cried, grasping his arm in delight.
-
-“I was highly elated, and took to the scheme with enthusiasm. We spent
-the afternoon discussing it. It was settled that the play should be _The
-Taming of the Shrew_; the part of Benedict would suit me to perfection,
-Hallam declared, and I was so subdued by the amount of worldly wisdom and
-general knowledge of life which he had displayed in his arguments about
-my change of profession that I yielded without difficulty, and consented
-to forego tragedy for the present.
-
-“For the next week I was in a whirl of excitement. He took me to the Army
-and Navy Club, and introduced me to a number of swells, all military men,
-who were very agreeable and treated me with a soldier-like cordiality
-that charmed me. I fancied life must be a delightful thing in such
-pleasant, good-natured, well-bred company; that I was now in my proper
-sphere; and that I had been hitherto out of place amidst rusty lawyers
-and hard-working clerks, etc. In fact, I was a fool, and my head got
-turned. I spent all my time in the day lounging about with Hallam and his
-aristocratic captains and colonels, and the evenings I devoted to the
-business of rehearsal, which was carried on at Lady Arabella Daucer’s,
-the married daughter of the duchess at whose house the theatricals were
-to be performed. I had been very graciously received by her grace, and
-consequently all the lords and ladies who composed her court followed
-suit. I was made as much of as if I had been ‘one of them,’ and my
-acting soon established me as the leading star of the select company.
-I suppose Hallam was right in saying that more mature reading and so
-on had improved my dramatic talent; for certainly it came out with a
-brilliancy that surprised myself. The artistic, high-bred atmosphere
-that surrounded me seemed to infuse fresh vigor into me. I borrowed or
-revealed a power that even my vanity had never suspected. Hallam was
-enchanted, and as proud of my success as if it had been his own.
-
-“‘I can fancy how your mother will enjoy this!’ he exclaimed one evening,
-as I walked home with him to his chambers in Piccadilly. ‘She will be
-beside herself with pride in you, old fellow. Fancy what it will be the
-night of your first public representation! I expect a seat in her box,
-mind!’
-
-“It was just two days before the grand night, and we were having our
-last rehearsal--the final one--in the theatre at B---- House, which was
-lighted up and filled with a select few, in order to judge of the general
-effect for the following night. I was in great spirits, and acted better
-than I had done yet. The audience applauded warmly, the ladies clapping
-their white-kid hands and shaking their handkerchiefs, that filled the
-air with the perfumes of Arabia, while the gentlemen, more audible in
-their demonstrations, cheered loudly.
-
-“When it was over, we sat down to supper, about a hundred, of us. I sat
-next the duchess, and my beautiful Katharina on the other side of me.
-She was a lovely girl of twenty, a cousin of the duchess. I had been
-struck by her beauty at the first, but the more I saw of her the less she
-pleased me; she was a vain, coquettish young lady, and only tolerated
-me because I was useful as a good set-off to her acting, which, to be
-just, was excellent. I never saw anything so good off the stage, and
-very seldom saw it equalled even there. Flushed with her recent triumph,
-which had borrowed additional lustre from mine she was more gracious
-and conversational than I had yet known her. I was flattered, though I
-knew perfectly how much the caprice was worth, and I exerted myself to
-the utmost to be agreeable. We were altogether a very merry party; the
-champagne flowed freely, and with it the spirits of the guests rose to
-sparkling point. As we rose from the table, some one called out for a
-dance before we broke up. The musicians had gone to have refreshments
-after the rehearsal, but they were still in the house. The duchess, a
-good-natured, easy-going person, who always agreed with everybody all
-round, at once ordered them in; people began to engage partners, and all
-was laughing confusion round the supper-table. I turned to my pretty
-neighbor, and asked if she was engaged; she replied, laughing, that being
-neither a sibyl nor a clairvoyant, she could not have known beforehand
-that there was to be dancing. ‘Then may I have the honor of claiming
-you for the first dance, whatever it may be?’ I said; and she replied
-that I might. I offered her my arm, and we took our way back into the
-theatre, which was still brilliantly illuminated. We were to dance on the
-stage. As we were pushing on with the crowd, I felt a strong hand laid
-on my arm, and, before I had time to prevent it, Lady Caroline’s hand
-was withdrawn, and the intruder stood between us. He was a square-built,
-distinguished-looking man, not very young, but handsome and with the
-_beau_ stamped all over him.
-
-“‘Excuse my want of ceremony,’ he said in an easy, supercilious tone to
-me. ‘I claim the first dance with Lady Caroline.’
-
-“‘On what grounds?’ I demanded stiffly. We were still moving on, carried
-with the crowd, so it was impossible to make him stand aside or to regain
-my post next Lady Caroline.
-
-“‘On the grounds of her promise,’ he replied haughtily.
-
-“Lady Caroline uttered a laughing ‘O Lord George!’ but did not draw away
-the hand which he had so unceremoniously transferred from my arm to his.
-
-“‘Lady Caroline made no engagement before she came here to-night,’ I
-said, ‘and she promised this dance to me. I refer you to herself whether
-this be true or not.’
-
-“‘Gentlemen are not in the habit of catechising ladies as to their
-behavior--not, at least, in our set; and while you happen to be in it you
-had better conform to its customs,’ observed Lord George, without looking
-towards me.
-
-“I felt my blood boil so that it was an effort not to strike him. Two
-ladies near me who had heard the passage between us cried, ‘Shame! No
-gentleman would have said that!’ This gave me courage to maintain my
-self-command. We were now in the theatre; the orchestra was playing a
-brilliant prelude to a waltz, and Lord George, as if he had forgotten all
-about me, prepared to start. I laid my hand peremptorily on his arm.
-
-“‘In my set,’ I said, and my voice shook with agitation, ‘gentlemen don’t
-tolerate gratuitous impertinence; you either make me an apology, or I
-shall exact reparation of another kind.’
-
-“‘Oh! indeed. I shall be happy to hear from you at your convenience,’
-sneered Lord George, with a low bow. He turned away, and said in a voice
-loud enough to be heard by me or any one else near, ‘The puppy imagines,
-I suppose, that I would meet him in a duel. The next thing will be we
-shall have our footmen sending us challenges. Capital joke, by Jove!
-Come, we are losing time, Lady Caroline! The waltz is half over.’
-
-“They were starting this time, when a voice behind me called out
-imperiously: ‘A moment, Lord George Halberdyne! The gentleman whom you
-have insulted is a friend of mine and a guest of the Duchess of B----;
-two conditions that qualify him, I think, to be an adversary of yours.’
-
-“‘Oh! he’s a friend of yours, is he?’ repeated Lord George, facing
-around. ‘That’s a natural phenomenon that I shall not stop to investigate
-just now; but it certainly puts this gentleman in a new light.
-Good-evening, sir. I shall have the pleasure, probably, of seeing you
-to-morrow.’
-
-“‘You shall, my lord,’ I replied; and allowing Hallam to link my arm
-in his and draw me away, I turned my back on the brilliant scene, and
-hurried out of the house, feverish, humiliated, desperate.
-
-“‘The idiot! The snob! You shall give him a lesson that he’ll not forget
-in a hurry,’ said Hallam, who seemed nearly as indignant and excited as
-myself. ‘Are you a good shot? Have you ever stood fire?’
-
-“I answered both questions in the negative. He was evidently put out; but
-presently he said in a confident tone:
-
-“‘Well, it does not so much matter; you are the offended party, and
-consequently you have the choice of weapons. It shall be swords instead
-of pistols. I suppose you’re a pretty good swordsman?’
-
-“‘My dear Hallam,’ I said, ‘you forget that these things are not in my
-line at all. I never handled a sword since we flourished them in the
-fencing hall at Oxford. In fact, if the choice be mine, as you say it is,
-I think I would do better to choose pistols. I have a chance with them;
-and if Lord George be a swordsman, I have none with the other.’
-
-“Hallam seemed seriously disconcerted.
-
-“‘It’s not quite such an affair of chance as you appear to imagine,’
-he said. ‘Halberdyne is one of the best shots in the service; he never
-misses his mark; and he is a first-rate swordsman. ’Pon my honor I don’t
-know what to advise you.’
-
-“‘I must stand advised by myself then, and here goes for pistols,’ I
-said, trying to put a bold face on it, though I confess I felt anything
-but cheerful at the prospect. ‘You will stand by me, Hallam, will you
-not?’
-
-“‘Of course I will! I’ve committed myself to as much already,’ he
-answered cordially; but I saw he was uncomfortable. ‘I shall take your
-card to the scoundrel to-morrow morning. I wonder who he’ll have for
-second--that bully Roper, very likely,’ he went on, talking more to
-himself than to me.
-
-“‘Is the meeting to take place to-morrow morning?’ I inquired; and a
-sudden rush of anguish came on me as I put the question. I thought of my
-mother, of all that might be in store for her so soon.
-
-“‘We must try and put it off for a day,’ said Hallam. ‘It is deucedly
-awkward, you see, if it comes off to-morrow, because of the play. You
-may get hit, and it would be a terrible business if you were _hors de
-concours_ for the evening.’ There was something so grimly comical in the
-earnestness with which he said this that, though I was in no merry mood,
-I burst out laughing.
-
-“‘A terrible business indeed!’ I said. ‘How exceedingly unpleasant for
-Lady Caroline particularly to be left in the lurch on such an occasion!
-However, if I go to the wall, and Lord George comes off safe, he might
-get up the part in a hurry and replace me, eh?’ I had hit the mark
-without knowing it. It was jealousy that had provoked Lord George to the
-gratuitous attack. I suppose there was something sardonic in my voice
-that struck Hallam with the inappropriateness of his previous remarks. He
-suddenly stopped, and grasping my arm warmly--
-
-“‘I’m used to this sort of thing, my dear fellow,’ he said; ‘but don’t
-fancy from that that my feelings are turned to stone, or that I forget
-all that is, that may be, unpleasant in the matter. But there is no use
-talking of these things; they unman a fellow, and he wants all his nerves
-in working order at a moment like this. Take my advice and go home now,
-and cool yourself by a quiet night for to-morrow’s work, if it is to be
-to-morrow. You may have some letters to write or other things to attend
-to, and they had better be done at once.’
-
-“I replied that I had no letters to write and no business instructions
-to leave. The idea of facing my home, passing my mother’s door, and then
-going to bed as if the world had not turned right round; as if all life,
-the present and the future, were not revolutionized--this was what I did
-not, at this moment at least, feel equal to, and I said so.
-
-“‘I would rather go for an hour to the club,’ I said, ‘if you don’t mind,
-and we will have a game of billiards. I don’t feel inclined to go home,
-and I should not sleep if I went to bed.’
-
-“‘Just as you like,’ he said; ‘but the night is so fine we may as well
-take a few more turns in the open air. It does one good after those
-heated rooms.’
-
-“It did me no good. I felt the most miserable man in this miserable
-world. I would have given any happiness the world could have offered me
-to undo this night’s work, to be as I was an hour ago, free, guiltless
-of projected murder or suicide. I repeated to myself that it was not
-my fault; that I had been gratuitously provoked beyond endurance; that
-as a gentleman I could not have done otherwise; but these sophistries
-neither calmed nor strengthened me. Truer voices rose up and answered
-them in clear and imperious tones that drowned the foolish comforters.
-Why had I ever entered the society where my position exposed me to such
-results? What business had I there? What good could it do myself or any
-one else to have been tolerated, even courted, as I fancied I was, by
-these fine people, who had nothing of any sort in common with me? I had
-forsaken my legitimate place, the profession that my mother had made
-such heavy sacrifices to open to me. I had deliberately frittered away
-my life, destroyed my prospects of honorable success; and this is what
-it had brought me to! I was going either to shoot a man who had done me
-no graver injury than offend my pride and punish my folly, or to be shot
-down by him--and then? I saw myself brought home to my mother dangerously
-wounded, dead perhaps. I heard her cry of agony, I saw her mortal
-despair. I could have cried out loud for pity of her. I could have cursed
-myself for my folly--for the mad, sinful folly that had rewarded her by
-such an awakening.
-
-“There is an electric current that runs from mind to mind, communicating
-almost like an articulate voice the thoughts that are passing within us
-at certain moments. I had not spoken for several minutes, as we paced up
-and down Pall Mall, puffing our cigars in the starlight; but this current
-I speak of had passed from my brain to Hallam’s, and informed him of what
-my thoughts were busy on.
-
-“‘Don’t let yourself down, old boy,’ he said good-naturedly. ‘No harm
-may come of it after all; I’ve known a score of duels where both sides
-came off with no more than a pin-scratch, sometimes with no scratch at
-all. Not that I suspect you of being faint-hearted--I remember what a
-dare-devil you were at Oxford--but the bravest of us may be a coward for
-others.’
-
-“I felt something rise in my throat as if it would choke me. I could not
-get a word out.
-
-“‘Who knows?’ continued Hallam in his cheeriest tone; ‘you may be
-bringing down the house to-morrow night, and your mother may be the
-proudest woman in London, seeing you the king of the company, cheered and
-complimented by “fair women and brave men!” I feel as sure of it, do you
-know, as if I saw it in a glass.’
-
-“He spoke in kindness, but the levity of his tone, the utter hollowness
-of his consolations, were intolerable. They mocked my misery; every word
-pierced me like a knife. What evil genius had led me across this man’s
-path? Only a few weeks ago I said it was the work of an angel, a good
-fairy, or some absurdity of the sort. It was more likely a demon that
-had done it. If I had never met him, I said to myself, I would never
-have known this hour; I should have been an innocent and a happy man.
-But this would not do either. I was neither innocent nor happy when I
-met him. I was false to my duty, wasting my life, and sick to death of
-both; only longing for the opportunity which Hallam had brought me. If I
-had not met him, I should have met or sought out some other tempter, and
-bitten greedily at the bait when it was offered. Still, I felt embittered
-toward Hallam. I accused him, as if he had been the sole author of my
-misfortune; as if I had been a baby or an idiot without free-will or
-responsibility.
-
-“‘Come into the club,’ I said, dropping his arm and throwing away the end
-of my cigar.
-
-“He did not notice the impatient movement, but readily crossed over, and
-we entered the club. The lofty, spacious rooms were blazing with light
-and filled with groups of men. Some were lounging on luxurious couches,
-reading the evening papers, some were chatting, some were playing cards.
-An air of easy grandeur, prosperity, and surface happiness pervaded the
-place. I felt horribly out of keeping with it all. I had no business
-amongst these wealthy, fashionable men; I was like a skeleton stalking
-into the feast. I believe it was nothing but sheer human respect, the
-fear of making myself ridiculous, that prevented me from turning on my
-heel and rushing straight out of the house. I mechanically took up the
-_Globe_, which a member tossed on to a table near me, and sat down as if
-I were going to read it.
-
-“‘Leave that alone, and come into the billiard-room,’ said Hallam. And he
-whipped the paper out of my hands with brotherly unceremoniousness.
-
-“I rose and followed him like a dog. I would have gone anywhere, done
-anything, he or anybody else suggested. Physically, I was indifferent to
-what I did; my brain on fire, I felt as if I were walking in a dream.
-
-“We were passing into the billiard-room when a gentleman who was seated
-at a card-table cried out to Hallam to come and join them. It was Col.
-Leveson, a brother officer and great friend of his. Hallam replied that
-he was going on to have a pull at the balls; but he strolled over to see
-how the game was going. I mechanically followed him. Some of the players
-knew me, and greeted me with a friendly nod. They were absorbed in the
-game; it was lansquenet. I knew very little about cards; but lansquenet
-was the one game that interested me. I had lost a few sovereigns a night
-or two before at it, and, as the luck seemed set in against the banker,
-it flashed over me I could not do better than to take a hand and win them
-back now. I did not, however, volunteer to join the game. In my present
-state of smarting pride I would not run the risk of being made to feel
-I was an intruder. Unluckily, Hallam’s friend, reading temptation on my
-countenance perhaps, said, holding up his cards to me: “I’m in splendid
-vein, but I must be off. I’ll sell you my hand for half a sovereign, if
-you like.”
-
-“‘Done!’ I said; and paying the half-sovereign, I sat down. I had
-scarcely taken his place when there was a noise in the adjoining room
-announcing fresh arrivals. I recognized one loud, domineering voice above
-the others, and presently Lord George Halberdyne came in.
-
-“‘Going, Leveson?’ he said. ‘Luck against you, I suppose?’
-
-“‘On the contrary, never was in better vein in my life,’ replied the
-colonel. ‘I sold my hand for a song, because I have an appointment that I
-can’t forego.’
-
-“‘Who’s the lucky dog you sold it to?’ asked Lord George.
-
-“‘Mr. Botfield,’ said Col. Leveson. (My real name is Botfield; I only
-took the name of Baines when I fell into disgrace and misery.)
-
-“Lord George muttered an exclamation of some sort--whether of surprise or
-vexation I could not tell--and advanced to the table.
-
-“‘Do you mind my joining you?’ he said, appealing to nobody in
-particular. There was a general assent, and he sat down. Hallam would not
-take a hand. He hated cards; his passion was for billiards, and he played
-nothing else. He came and stood behind me to watch the game. I felt him
-lay his hand on my shoulder, as if to encourage me and remind me that he
-was there to stand by me and take my part against my late bully, if needs
-be. It did not seem as if he was likely to be called upon to do so. My
-late bully was as gracious as man could be--at least he intended to be
-so; but I took his familiar facetiousness for covert impertinence, and it
-made my blood boil quite as fiercely as his recent open insult had done.
-I was not man of the world enough to understand that Lord George was only
-doing his duty to society; that he was in fact behaving beautifully, with
-infinite tact, like an accomplished gentleman. I could not understand
-that the social canons of his ‘set’ made it incumbent on a man to joke
-and laugh and demean himself in this lively, careless fashion towards
-the man whom he was going to shoot in a few hours. I grew inwardly
-exasperated, and it was nothing but pride and an unprecedented effort
-of will that enabled me to keep my temper and remain outwardly cool. For
-a time, for about twenty minutes, the luck continued in the same vein;
-my half-sovereign had been paid back to me more than fifty times. Col.
-Leveson was right when he said he had sold his hand for a song. Hallam
-was all this time standing behind my chair, smoking his cigar, and
-throwing in a word between the puffs. The clock struck two.
-
-“‘Come off now, Botfield,’ he said, tapping me on the shoulder--‘come off
-while your star is shining; it is sure to go down if you stay too long.’
-
-“‘Very likely, most sage and prudent mentor,’ retorted Lord George;
-‘but that cuts both ways. Your friend has been pocketing our money up
-to this; it’s only fair he should give us a chance of winning it back
-and pocketing a little of his. That is a law _universally_ recognized, I
-believe.’ As he said this, he turned to me good-humoredly enough; but I
-saw where the emphasis pointed, and, stung to the quick, I replied that I
-had not the least intention of going counter to the law; I would remain
-as long as the game lasted.
-
-“‘Halloo! That’s committing yourself somewhat rashly,’ interposed Hallam.
-‘You don’t know what nefarious gamblers these fellows are; they’re
-capable of keeping it up till morning!’
-
-“‘If they do, I shall keep it up with them,’ I replied recklessly. I was
-desperate, and my luck was good.
-
-“Hallam said no more, but sauntered to the other side of the table, where
-I _felt_ his eyes fixed on me warningly, entreatingly.
-
-“I looked up at last, and met them fastened on me in a mute, impatient
-appeal. I answered it by a peremptory nod. He saw I would not brook
-farther interference, so he took himself off to the billiard-room, and
-did not reappear for an hour.
-
-“I cannot recall clearly what passed during the interval. The luck had
-turned suddenly against me; but, nothing daunted, I went on playing
-desperately, losing as fast as I had been winning, only in much heavier
-sums; for the stakes had risen enormously on the change of luck. There
-was a large pool, immense it seemed to me--some two hundred pounds. I
-lost again and again. At last terror sobered me. I began to realize the
-madness of my conduct, and wanted to withdraw; but they cried out against
-it, reminded me that I had pledged myself to remain and see the game out.
-Lord George was loudest in protesting that I must remain. ‘One can’t have
-luck always,’ he said, ‘A man must put up with it when the tide turns. It
-is of good omen for you, Mr. Botfield,’ he added pointedly; ‘you will be
-in splendid luck to-morrow.’
-
-“I shuddered. I can remember the horrible, sick sensation that ran
-through me as he said this, lightly, pleasantly, as if he alluded to a
-rowing-match I had in view. I saw my mother’s pale face beckoning me to
-come away--to stop before I ruined her utterly. I almost made a movement
-to rise, but something glued me to the chair. The game went on. I again
-held the bank, and again lost. I had no money about me except the forty
-pounds or so I had won at the outset; but several leaves out of my
-pocketbook were strewn about the table bearing I. O. U.’s for nine times
-that sum. I suppose by this time I had quite lost my senses. I know that
-I went on betting like a maniac, with the feverish, triumphant impulse of
-a man in delirium. I was losing tremendously. I remember nothing except
-the sound of my own voice and Lord George’s calling _banco!_ again and
-again, and how the cry ran through me like a blade every time, and how I
-hastily tore out fresh leaves and wrote down the sums I lost, and tossed
-them to the winner, and went on. All this time we had been drinking
-deeply of brandy and water. I was naturally abstemious, but to-night I
-drank recklessly. The wonder was--and I was going to say the pity--that
-it had not stupefied me long ago, and so made me physically incapable
-of continuing my insane career. But excitement acted, I suppose, as an
-antidote, and prevented the alcohol from taking effect as it otherwise
-must have done. At last Hallam came back. I have a vague recollection
-of hearing him exchange some remarks in an undertone with one of the
-players, who had given up and was now watching the game with a number
-of others who had dropped in from adjoining rooms. I then heard him
-say, ‘Good God! he is ruined twice over!’ I heard nothing more. I had
-fallen back insensible in my chair. Everybody started up; the cards were
-dropped, and all was confusion and terror. It appears that at the first
-moment they thought I was dead. A young guardsman present declared I
-was, and that it was disease of the heart; a young kinsman of his had
-dropped down on parade only a month ago just in the same way. There was
-a cry for a doctor, and two or three ran out to fetch one. Before he
-arrived, however, I had given signs of returning consciousness. Up to
-this moment Lord George had been anxiously looking on, silent and pale,
-they said. He had borne me with Hallam to a couch in the next room, where
-the air was free from cigar-fumes, and had opened the window to admit
-the fresh night-breeze. He had done, in fact, what any humane person
-would have done under the circumstances; but he had done it in a manner
-that betokened more than ordinary interest. He drew an audible breath of
-relief the moment he saw my eyelids quiver and heard me breathe like a
-man awaking to life. Hallam signed to him to leave the room; he did not
-wish his face to be the first I saw on opening my eyes. Lord George no
-doubt understood; for he at once withdrew into the card-room. He drew the
-door after him, but he did not quite close it, so that I heard dreamily,
-yet distinctly, all that was said. Lord George’s second for the morrow’s
-meeting, the Hon. Capt. Roper, inquired eagerly how I was going on. ‘Oh!
-he’ll be all right presently,’ was the reply, spoken in Lord George’s
-off-hand way. ‘There was nothing to make such a fuss about; the poor
-devil was scared to see how much money he had lost, and fainted like a
-girl--that’s all.’
-
-“‘Hallam says he is quite cleared out by to-night’s ill-luck,’ observed
-some one.
-
-“‘Served him right,’ said Lord George; ‘it will teach puppies of his kind
-not to come amongst us and make fools of themselves.’
-
-“‘And do you mean to shoot him to-morrow?’ inquired the same voice.
-
-“‘I mean to give him a chance of shooting me; unless,’ he continued--and
-I saw in imagination, as vividly as if my bodily eyes had seen it,
-the cold sneer that accompanied the remark--‘unless he shows the white
-feather and declines fighting, which is just as likely.’
-
-“While this little dialogue had been going on in subdued tones close by
-the door which opened at the head of the sofa where I lay, Hallam was
-conversing in animated whispers with two gentlemen in the window. He was
-not more than a minute absent, when he returned to my side, and, seeing
-my eyes wide open, exclaimed heartily: ‘Thank God! he’s all right again!’
-
-“I grasped his hand and sat up. They gave me some sal-volatile and water
-to drink, and I was, as he said, all right again. But it was not the
-stimulant that restored me, that gave me such sudden energy, and nerved
-me to act at once, to face my fate and defy it. I took his arm, and led
-him, or let him lead me, to some quieter place near, and then I asked him
-how much he thought I had lost.
-
-“‘Don’t think of that yet, my dear fellow,’ he said; ‘you are too done up
-to discuss it. We will see what can be done to-morrow.’
-
-“‘Five thousand pounds!’ I said. ‘Do you hear that? Five thousand pounds!
-That means that I am a beggar, which an’t of much consequence; and that
-I’ve made a beggar of my mother. She will have to sell the bed from under
-her to pay it, to save my honor. A curse upon me for bringing this blight
-upon her!’
-
-“‘Tut! tut! man, don’t take on like a woman about it!’ said Hallam.
-‘These things can be arranged; no need to make matters out worse than
-they are. I’ll speak to Lord George, and see what terms we can make with
-him.’
-
-“He made me light a cigar, and left me alone, while he went back to
-parley with the man who held my fortune, my life, my all in his hands.
-I never heard exactly all that passed between them. I only know that in
-answer to Lord George’s question, put in a tone of insulting haughtiness,
-‘Has the fellow pledged himself for more than he’s worth? _Can’t_ he
-pay?’ Hallam replied: ‘He can, but it will ruin him’; upon which the
-other retorted with a laugh, ‘What the devil is that to me?’ and turned
-his back on my second, who had nothing left but to take Capt. Roper aside
-and arrange for the morrow’s meeting. He came back, and told me all was
-settled; that Halberdyne was behaving like a brute, and would be tabooed
-in the clubs and every decent drawing-room before twenty-four hours. This
-thought seemed to afford him great satisfaction. It gave me none. Anguish
-had drowned resentment. I could think of nothing except that I was a
-ruined man, that I had beggared my mother, and that I was going to fight
-a duel in a few hours. Richmond Park--6 A.M.--pistols at thirty paces!
-This was how the appointment was notified by our seconds to both of us.
-Suddenly a light burst on me--a ray of hope, of consolation: I might be
-killed in this duel, and, if so, surely my honor would be saved and my
-debt cancelled. Lord George would not pursue my mother for the money.
-She should know nothing of this night’s work until after the meeting. If
-I escaped with a wound, I would tell her; if I died, who would have the
-cruelty to do so? I told Hallam of this sudden thought as he walked home
-with me. He approved of it, and cheered me up by almost assuring me that
-I should be shot. Halberdyne was a dead-shot; it was most likely that I
-should not leave the field alive.
-
-“The night passed--the few hours of it that must elapse before the time
-named for the meeting. 0 God! how did I live through them? And yet this
-was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to what was yet in store for
-me.…
-
-“The duel took place. Lord George wounded me in the hip. He escaped
-unhurt; I fired in the air. I was carried home on a door, insensible.
-Hallam had gone before to prepare my mother. For some weeks it was feared
-I would not live. Then amputation was talked of. I escaped finally with
-being a cripple for life. Before I was out of danger, Hallam’s leave
-expired, and he went to rejoin his regiment. He had been very assiduous
-in calling to inquire for me, had seen my mother, and, judging by her
-passionate grief that I was in a fair way not to recover, he had forborne
-mentioning anything about the five thousand pounds. She promised to write
-and let him know when any change took place. Meantime, she had found out
-my secret. I had talked incessantly of it in my delirium, and with an
-accuracy of iteration that left no doubt on her mind but that there was a
-foundation of truth in the feverish ravings. The doctor was of the same
-mind, and urged her to give me an opportunity of relieving my mind of the
-burden, whatever it was, as soon as this was possible.
-
-“The first day that I was strong enough to bear conversation she
-accordingly broached the subject. I inferred at once that Hallam had told
-her everything, and repeated the miserable story, only to confirm what I
-supposed he had already said.
-
-“My mother was sitting by my bedside. She busied herself with teaseling
-out linen into lint for my wound, and so, purposely no doubt, kept her
-face continually bent or averted from mine.
-
-“Seeing how quietly she took it, I began to think I had overrated the
-misfortune; that we had larger resources in some way than I had imagined.
-‘Then it is possible for us to pay this horrible debt and save my honor,
-and yet not be utterly beggared, mother?’ I said eagerly. She looked at
-me with a smile that must surely have been the reflex of some angel near
-her whom I could not see. ‘Yes, my boy; he shall be paid, and we shall
-not be beggars,’ she said gently, and pressed my hand in both her own.
-‘You should have told me about it at once; it has been preying on your
-mind and retarding your cure all this time. I will see Mr. Kerwin to-day,
-and have it arranged at once. Promise me now, like a good boy, to forget
-it and think no more of it until you are quite well. Will you promise?’
-
-“I did not answer, but signed with my lips for her to kiss me. She rose
-and twined her arms around me, and let me sob out my sorrow and my love
-upon her breast.
-
-“It was about three days after this that she handed me a letter to read;
-it was from Lord George to Mr. Kerwin, and ran thus:
-
-    “SIR: I beg to acknowledge the receipt of the sum of five
-    thousand pounds which you have forwarded to my lawyers in the
-    name of Mr. Botfield. I make this acknowledgment personally in
-    order to express my sincere satisfaction at the happy progress
-    of Mr. Botfield’s recovery, and beg you will convey this
-    sentiment to him.--I remain, etc.,
-
-                                                     “HALBERDYNE.”
-
-“‘Mother! mother!’ I cried out, and opened my arms to her in a passion
-of tears. But she laid her finger smilingly on my lips, and made me be
-silent. In a month hence, when I was well, we should talk it all over,
-but not now.
-
-“Before the month was out, _she was dead_!”…
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Marmaduke started to his feet with a cry of horror, and Botfield, unable
-to control the anguish that his own narrative evoked, dropped his head
-into his hands, and shook the room with his sobs.
-
-“O dear God! that I should have lived to tell it!--to talk over the
-mother that I murdered! Brave, tender, generous mother! I killed you, I
-broke your heart, and then--then I brought shame upon your memory! O God!
-O God! why have I outlived it?” He rocked to and fro, almost shouting in
-his paroxysm of despair. Marmaduke had never beheld such grief; he had
-never in his life been so deeply moved with pity. He did not know what to
-say, what to do. His heart prompted him to do the right thing: he fell on
-his knees, and, putting his arms around the wretched, woe-worn man, he
-burst into tears and sobbed with him.
-
-Botfield suffered his embrace for a moment, and then, pressing his horny
-palm on the young man’s blond head, he muttered: “God bless you! God
-bless you for your pity!”
-
-As soon as they were both calmed, Marmaduke asked him if he would not
-prefer finishing the story to-morrow. But he signed to him to sit down;
-that he would go on with it to the end.
-
-“What is there more to tell?” he said, sadly shaking his head.
-
-“I was lying a cripple on my bed when she was carried to her grave.
-I was seized with a violent brain fever, which turned to typhus, and
-they took me to the hospital. The servants were dismissed; they had
-received notice from my mother. She had foreseen everything, taken every
-necessary step as calmly as if the catastrophe I had brought upon her
-had been a mere change of residence for her own convenience. All we had
-was gone. That brave answer of hers to my question about our resources
-was a subterfuge of her love. If ever a sin was sinless, assuredly that
-half-uttered falsehood was. She had directed the lawyer to raise the
-money immediately, at every sacrifice. She meant to work for her bread,
-and trusted to me to make the task light and short to her. I would have
-done it had she been spared to me. So help me God, I would! But now that
-she was gone, I had nothing to work for. I left the hospital a cripple
-and a beggar. I did not even yet know to what an extent. I went straight
-to our old house, expecting to find it as I had left it--that is, before
-all consciousness had left me. I found it dismantled, empty; painters
-busy on scaffolding outside. I went to Mr. Kerwin, and there learned the
-whole truth. Nothing remained to me but suicide. Nothing kept me from it,
-I believe, but the prayers of my mother.”
-
-“You were a Christian, then?” interrupted Marmaduke in a tone of
-unfeigned surprise.
-
-“I ought to have been. My father was, and my mother was; I was brought up
-as one, until I went to the university and lost what little belief I had.
-For a moment it seemed to come back to me when I found myself alone in
-the world. I remember walking deliberately down to the river’s side when
-I left the lawyer’s office, fully determined to drown myself. But before
-I reached the water, I heard my mother’s voice calling so distinctly to
-me to stop that I felt myself arrested as by some visible presence. I
-heard the voice saying, ‘Do you wish never to see me again even in the
-next world?’ Of course it was the work of imagination, of my over-wrought
-feelings; but the effect was the same. I stopped, and retraced my steps
-to Mr. Kerwin’s.”
-
-“It was your guardian angel, perhaps your mother’s, that saved you,” said
-Marmaduke.
-
-“Oh! I forgot,” said Botfield. “Your brother is a Catholic; I suppose you
-are too?”
-
-Marmaduke nodded assent; he felt that his Catholicity was not much
-to boast of. Like the poor outcast before him, he had lost his faith
-practically, though he adhered to it in name.
-
-“Yes, it was an angel of some sort that rescued me,” said Botfield; “it
-was no doubt my own fault if the rescue was not complete. I went back
-to Mr. Kerwin, and asked him to give me, or get me, something to do.
-My chance on the stage was at an end, even if I could have turned to
-that: I was dead lame. He got me a situation as clerk in an office; but
-the weariness of the life and the pressure of remorse were more than
-I could bear. I took to drink. They forgave me once, twice; the third
-time I was dismissed. But of what use is it to go over that disgusting,
-pitiable story? Step by step I went down, lower and lower, sinking each
-time into fouler depths, drinking more loathsome draughts, wallowing in
-mire whose very existence such as you don’t dream of. I will spare you
-all those details. Enough that I came at last to what you see me. One
-day when hunger was gnawing me, and even the satanic consolation of the
-public-house was shut against me for want of a sixpence to pay for a
-glass of its diabolical elixir, I fell in with a man of the trade; he
-offered me work and bread. Hunger is not a dainty counsellor. I closed
-with the offer, and so sank into the last slough that humanity can take
-refuge in.…
-
-“Now, Mr. Walpole, you have heard my history; it was a pain, and yet,
-somehow, a relief, to me to tell it. It has not been a very pleasant
-one for you to listen to; still, I don’t regret having inflicted it on
-you. You are very young; you are prosperous and happy, and, most likely,
-perfectly free from any of the temptations that have been the bane of my
-life; still, it never hurts a young man starting in life to hear an older
-man’s experience. If ever temptation should come near you, dash it from
-you with all your might; scorn and defy it from the first; hold no parley
-with it; to treat with perdition is to be lost.”
-
-“You have done me a greater service than you know of,” said Marmaduke,
-rising and preparing to take leave of his singular entertainer. “Perhaps
-one day I may tell you.…” He took a turn in the narrow room, and then,
-coming back to Botfield, resumed in an agitated manner: “Why should I not
-own it at once? You have trusted me with all; I will tell you the truth.”
-
-Botfield looked up in surprise, but said nothing.
-
-“I stand on the very brink of the abyss against which you warn me. Like
-you, I am a barrister; like you, I hate my profession, and spend my time
-reading poetry and playing at private theatricals. They are my passion.
-A few nights ago I tried my luck at cards, and won. This tempted me; I
-played last night and lost--precisely the sum of twenty pounds.”
-
-Botfield started and uttered a suppressed exclamation.
-
-“I am in debt--not much--a mere trifle, if it lead to no worse! You see
-now what a service you may have done me; who knows? Perhaps my mother’s
-guardian angel prompted you to tell me your story as a warning, to save
-me before it was too late! I know that I came here to-day at the bidding
-of an angel; and reluctant enough I was to take the message!”
-
-“I never thought to be of use to any one while I lived,” said Botfield
-with emotion. “I bless God, anyhow, if my wretched example proves a
-warning to you. Who sent you to me? I understood it was your brother?”
-
-“So it was; but it was to please my sister that I consented to come. She
-is one of those angels that people talk about, but don’t often see. You
-will let her come and see you, Mr. Botfield, will you not?”
-
-He held out his delicate lavender kid hand, and pressed Botfield’s grimy
-fingers cordially.
-
-When Marmaduke got home, he inquired at once where his sister was, and,
-hearing she was in her room, he crept up quietly to the door and knocked.
-He entered so quietly that Nelly had scarcely time to jump off her knees.
-Marmaduke saw at once that he had taken her by surprise; he saw also that
-her eyes were red.
-
-“What is the matter?” she asked, with a frightened look. “Has anything
-happened? You have been away so long! What kept you, Marmaduke? Where
-have you been?”
-
-“Where you sent me.”
-
-“To Stephen’s poor man? Why, you have been out nearly two hours! It did
-not take all that time to give your message?” said incredulous Nelly, and
-her heart beat with recent apprehension.
-
-“No; but Stephen’s poor man had a message for me. Sit down here, and
-I will tell you what it was. But how cold you are, darling! You are
-positively perished! Where have you been?”
-
-“Here,” said Nelly.
-
-“Ever since I went out?”
-
-“Ever since you went out.”
-
-“What were you doing?” he persisted, fixing a strange look on her.
-
-She blushed, hesitated, and then said simply, “I was praying for you,
-Marmaduke.”
-
-He folded her in his arms, and whispered, “I was right to say it was an
-angel sent me.”
-
-Then, taking a warm shawl that he saw hanging up, he wrapped her in it,
-and sat down beside her, and told the story as it had been told to him.
-When it was over, Nelly’s head was on his breast, and the brother’s tears
-of penitence were mingling with the sister’s tears of joy.
-
-“Let us go down now and tell Stephen,” said Marmaduke, when he had
-finished.
-
-“Will you tell him everything?” asked Nelly.
-
-“Yes, everything.”
-
-“Dear Marmy! I am so happy I could sing for joy,” she said, smiling
-through her tears. “Let us kneel down here and say one little prayer
-together; will you?”
-
-And he did.
-
-“How did you thaw the man and break up the ice he seemed to be buried
-under?” was Stephen’s amazed inquiry when other more precious and
-interesting questions were exhausted.
-
-“I merely did what Nelly told me,” said Marmaduke: “I listened to him.”
-
-On Christmas morning Marmaduke announced his intention of dining out.
-It was a sacrifice to all three, but no one opposed him. Nelly made
-up a store of provisions, including a hot plum-pudding, which was put
-with other steaming hot dishes into the ample basket that the gay young
-man carried off in a cab with him to Red Pepper Lane. There he found a
-clean hearth, a blazing fire, and a table spread with a snowy cloth, and
-all necessaries complete. Some fairy had surely been at work in that
-gloomy place. The host was clean and brushed, looking like an eccentric
-gentleman in his new clothes amidst those incongruous surroundings.
-He and Marmaduke unpacked the basket with many an exclamation at its
-inexhaustible depths. That was the happiest, if not the very merriest,
-Christmas dinner that ever Marmaduke partook of.
-
-When it was over, and they were puffing a quiet cigar over the fire,
-steps were heard on the rickety stairs, and then a knock at the door, and
-a silvery voice saying: “May we come in?” It was Stephen and Nelly.
-
-“I don’t see why you should have all the pleasure to yourself,” said
-Nelly, with her bright laugh; “you would never have been here at all if I
-had not teased you into taking the message!”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-If this were a romance instead of a true episode, the story should end by
-the some-time rag-and-bone man becoming a Catholic, rising to wealth and
-distinction, and marrying Nelly. But the events of real life don’t adjust
-themselves so conveniently to the requirements of the story-teller.
-Stephen Walpole got Mr. Botfield a situation in the post-office, where,
-by good conduct and intelligent diligence, he rose gradually to a
-position of trust, which was highly paid. He never married. Who knows?
-Perhaps he had his little romance, and never dared to tell it.
-
-
-THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH CONGRESS.
-
-The second annual Congress of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the
-United States was held at Philadelphia during the early part of November.
-Church congresses are new things in this country, and the Episcopalians
-are not yet quite at home in them. Their first experiment, made at New
-York in 1874, was not wholly successful. Some of their leading bishops
-and presbyters treated it rather cavalierly, apparently in the fear that
-it was going to weaken the bonds of ecclesiastical discipline, and open
-vexatious questions which the church for years had been expending all its
-learning and ingenuity in trying _not_ to answer. But church congresses
-seemed to be very proper and respectable things for every denomination
-which laid claim to antiquity: they are common in the mother-church of
-England; they are efficient and interesting organizations in what our
-Anglican friends are pleased to call the Roman branch of the church of
-Christ; Dr. Döllinger has them regularly in the Old-Catholic “branch”;
-and so the originators of the movement in the American “branch” have
-persevered in their attempt to establish them here. The meeting in
-Philadelphia appears to have been all that its promoters could have
-reasonably expected. The denominational papers of various shades of
-opinion concur in believing that the permanency of the Congress as an
-annual institution is now nearly secured; and we find one of these
-journals rejoicing that the meeting passed off with “entire cordiality,”
-and that nothing in the proceedings “elicited prejudice or excited
-hostile action.” This indeed was something to boast of. Perhaps it would
-have been still more gratifying had not the same paper explained that
-this unexpected peaceableness of the Congress arose “from the fact that
-no resolutions were adopted, no legislation proposed, no elections held.
-When any of these are distinctly in view, those who participate range
-themselves into parties, and it is almost impossible not to resort to
-measures to ensure victory which generate unkind feelings and provoke
-exaggerated statements.” All which gives us a queer idea of the manner
-in which the Holy Ghost is supposed to operate in the councils of the
-Protestant Episcopal Church. But no matter. Let us be glad, for the
-sake of propriety, that this was merely a meeting for talk, and not
-for action. The strict rules applicable to conventions, synods, and
-other business meetings were not in force. The topics of discussion were
-not so much points of doctrine as minor questions of discipline and
-methods of applying the machinery of the church to the every-day work
-of religion. And with the knowledge that no vote was to be taken upon
-any subject whatever, the Congress unanimously agreed to let every man
-say what he pleased. The great variety of irreconcilable things which it
-accordingly pleased the gentlemen to say seems to have attracted remark,
-and denominational papers point to it with pride as a proof of the large
-toleration allowed within the bosom of the church. If they like it, far
-be it from us to interfere with their enjoyment.
-
-The Episcopal Church is one of the largest and richest of the Protestant
-sects. Its clergy are popularly supposed to boast of more general
-culture and enjoy fuller opportunities for study than those of the other
-religious bodies, and its people are found in large numbers among the
-educated and well-to-do classes. A congress of this church, gathered
-from all parts of the country, representing all shades of opinion, and
-possessing almost unbounded facilities for talk and deliberation, ought
-therefore to have elicited a great deal that was worth remembering. The
-programme of the sessions was stated in an alluring manner by Bishop
-Clarke, of Rhode Island, who made the introductory address. “We come,”
-said he, “to consider how the doctrine and organization of the church can
-be brought most effectually to sanctity”; and then he went on to speak
-briefly of the particular things, in our daily experience, which the
-church ought to purify and bless--our business affairs, our amusements,
-our care of the poor, our family relations, the marriage tie--practical
-points all of them, and points, too, in which the church and the state
-are more or less in contact.
-
-Well, having laid out this plan of work, how did the Congress address
-itself to it? The first session gave a rather curious illustration of
-the practical spirit of the assemblage; for the reverend gentlemen,
-by way of “bringing the doctrine and organization of the church most
-effectually to sanctity,” rushed straightway with hot haste into the
-subject of “ultramontanism and civil authority,” and pounded upon the
-doors of the Vatican the whole afternoon. The Rev. Francis Wharton, D.D.,
-of Cambridge, Mass., was careful in the outset to distinguish between
-ultramontanism and the Roman Catholic Church in the United States. The
-mass of us, he believes, have always been loyal to the territory of whose
-population we form a part, but our loyalty has no connection with our
-religion. If we followed the teachings of our church, Dr. Wharton thinks
-we should be a dangerous set of people. “Ultramontanism teaches that the
-Pope, a foreign prince, deriving his support from a foreign civilization,
-is entitled to set aside governments which he considers disloyal, and to
-annul such institutions as he does not approve.” We confess that we do
-not know what Dr. Wharton means by the Pope deriving his support from a
-foreign civilization. If he means his physical support, then the doctor
-is both wrong and right; for that is derived from the faithful of the
-whole world. If he means that his authority is derived from a foreign
-civilization, then the doctor is apparently irreverent; for the papal
-authority is derived from the institution of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and
-surely a respectable Cambridge divine would not call that a foreign
-civilization.
-
-As for the distinction which is drawn between American and ultramontane
-Catholics, let us repudiate it with all possible warmth before we go
-any further. Ultramontanism is an objectionable word, because it was
-invented to localize a school of religious doctrine which is the only
-_catholic_ school--the school acknowledged all over the world; but if it
-be understood as defining that spirit of faith and piety which yields
-all love and obedience to the Vicar of Christ, accepts all the Vatican
-decrees gladly and without reserve, is not afraid of paying too much
-respect to the Holy See, or showing too much humility before God, or
-believing one little particle more than we are commanded to believe
-under pain of anathema, then the Catholics of America are ultramontane
-Catholics to a man. Probably there are no Catholics in any country of
-the world less disposed to compromise in matters of religious duty,
-and more thoroughly imbued with filial reverence and love for the Head
-of God’s church on earth, than the Catholics of the United States. The
-spirit of the church in Rome is the spirit of the church in America; and
-when Dr. Wharton asserts that “the political tenets of ultramontanism
-are repudiated by the leading Catholic statesmen of our land,” he makes
-an utterly erroneous statement, against which American Catholics will
-be the first to protest. It is very true that with the fictitious
-ultramontanism conceived of his fears and prejudices neither Americans
-nor any other sensible people have the slightest sympathy. But show us
-what Rome teaches, and there you have precisely what the church in the
-United States accepts. If it is true, therefore that the Pope claims
-authority “to set aside governments which he considers disloyal, and
-to annul such institutions as he does not approve,” it must be true
-that America upholds his pretensions. Dr. Wharton may live in the fear
-that His Holiness will some day send the Noble Guard to set aside the
-government of Gen. Grant whenever it becomes “disloyal”; while he may
-well feel an absolute certainty that our common-school system, our
-constitutional prohibition of the establishment of a state church, our
-laws against sectarian appropriations, and various other wicked and
-heretical provisions found on our statute-books, will sooner or later be
-“annulled” by a decree from the Vatican. He need not flatter himself that
-any superior enlightenment among the Catholics of America will save the
-Protestant community from the miserable fate in store for it. We are not
-a bit wiser or better than the Pope.
-
-The possible interference of the Vatican with our Congresses and
-ballot-boxes Dr. Wharton evidently regards as a very remote danger. There
-are points, however, he thinks, where the Vatican clashes every day with
-the civil power, and where it ought to be resisted with all the energy
-at our command. And just at this part of the reverend doctor’s address
-we should like very much to have seen the face of Bishop Clarke. In his
-introductory remarks Bishop Clarke told the Congress that one of the
-most important subjects for churchmen to consider was the influence or
-authority of the church over the family relations. “The Gospel obtained
-hold of the family before it touched the state. How does the condition
-of the marriage bond stand to-day? In some of our States it is as easy
-to solve it as it is to join it. Is this the religion of which we have
-made such boast?” But here, before the echoes of the bishop’s words
-have fairly died away, is the Rev. Dr. Wharton on his feet denouncing
-as a crime the very interference which Bishop Clarke inculcated as a
-duty. It is one of the usurpations of ultramontanism, says the Cambridge
-doctor, to annul civil marriages which the state holds binding, and to
-treat as invalid divorces which the state holds good. This is one of
-the most serious conflicts between the state and the Vatican, and it
-is one, if we understand aright the somewhat imperfect report of his
-remarks, in which Protestant Episcopalians must prepare themselves to
-take an earnest part, remembering that, while their church is free, it
-is “a free church within a free sovereign state, and that this state,
-in its own secular sovereignty, is supreme.” Here, then, we have a
-distinct declaration that the family relation is not a proper subject of
-religious regulation. If the state sees fit to make it as easy to loose
-the marriage bond as to tie it, the church has no right to object; it
-is a secular matter, and the free sovereign state is supreme in its own
-secular sovereignty. If the state sanctions an adulterous connection, the
-Protestant Episcopal Church must revise its Bible and bless the unholy
-tie; it is a secular matter, and the free sovereign state is supreme
-in its own secular sovereignty. The sanctity of the family relation is
-under the protection of the church, says Bishop Clarke. No such thing,
-replies Dr. Wharton--that is an insolent ultramontane pretension; the
-Protestant Episcopal Church knows its place, and does not presume to
-interfere with the legislature. “The Gospel obtained hold of the family
-before it touched the state,” says the bishop. “Oh! well, we have changed
-all that,” rejoins the doctor; the glory of the Protestant Episcopal
-gospel nowadays is that it lets the family alone. In point of fact,
-Episcopalianism is not quite so bad as this hasty advocate would have
-us believe; for it does censure, in a mild way, the laxity of some of
-the divorce laws, and does not always lend itself to the celebration of
-bigamous marriages. But Dr. Wharton is correct in his main position--that
-his church leaves to the state the control of the family relation;
-and if she shrinks from the logical consequences of her desertion of
-duty, that is only because a remnant of Catholic feeling remains to her
-in the midst of her heresies and contradictions. The time must come,
-however, when these illogical fragments of truth will be thrown away,
-and the Protestant Episcopal Church will take its place beside the other
-Protestant bodies in renouncing all right to be heard on one of the most
-important points of contact between the law of God and the concerns of
-every-day life. It is impossible to allow the civil power to bind and
-loose the family tie at pleasure, without admitting that the subject is
-entirely outside the domain of ecclesiastical supervision. The attempt of
-the Episcopal Church to compromise on adultery is an absurdity, and in
-the steady course of Protestant development it will surely be abolished.
-
-Is there any particular in which the Protestant Episcopal Church fairly
-takes hold of the family? We have seen that she abandons to politicians
-the sacred tie between the parents; what has she to do with the next
-domestic concern--the education of the child? Dr. Wharton holds it to
-be one of her distinguishing claims to public favor that she abandons
-this duty also to the secular power. The right to control education,
-according to him, is, like the right to sanction the marriage tie, one of
-the insolent pretensions of the Vatican usurper. The state, he thinks,
-is bound not only to educate all its subjects, but to decide what points
-a secular education shall cover, while the church may only add to this
-irreligious training such pious instruction as the child may have time
-and strength to receive after the more serious lessons are over. “The
-church,” he says, “concedes to the state the right and duty to require
-a secular education from all, while for itself it undertakes, as a free
-church in a free state, the right and duty to give a religious education
-to all within its reach.” Expressed in somewhat plainer English, this
-means that thirty hours a week ought to be given to the dictionary
-and multiplication table, and one hour to the catechism and the ten
-commandments. Send your children to schools all the week where they
-will hear nothing whatever of religion, where that most vital of all
-concerns will be a forbidden subject, where the idea will be practically,
-if not in so many words, impressed upon their tender minds that it is
-of no consequence whether they are Christians, or Jews, or infidels,
-so long as they master the various branches of worldly knowledge which
-promote success in the secular affairs of life; and then get them
-into Sunday-school if you can, for a wild and ineffectual attempt to
-counteract the evil tendencies of the previous six days’ teachings.
-This is trying to give a Christian education without the corner-stone
-of Christian doctrine; building a house upon the sand, and then running
-around it once a week with a hatful of pebbles and a trowel of mud to
-put a foundation under the finished structure. Dr. Wharton seems to
-embody in his own person a surprising variety of the inconsistencies for
-which the Protestant Episcopal Church has such a peculiar celebrity.
-For here, after he has claimed credit for his church as the champion of
-a secular education, he tells the Congress that secularism is one of
-the great dangers of the age, against which the church must fight with
-all her strength. “The battle with secularism has to be fought out.” It
-must be fought “by the church, and eminently by our own church. Our duty
-therefore is to fit ourselves for the encounter, and we must do this
-with the cause of religion, undertaking in its breadth and embracing
-all branches of religious, spiritual, and ethical culture.” Well, but,
-dear sir, you have just said that during the most important period of
-man’s intellectual development, when the mind is receiving impressions
-which are likely to last through life, the church ought to stand aside
-and let the state _teach_ secularism without hindrance. Are you going to
-cultivate secularism in the young until it becomes firmly rooted, and
-then fight against it with sermons and essays which your secularized
-young men will not listen to? How do you expect to impart religious,
-spiritual, and ethical culture when you have formally renounced your
-inestimable privilege and your sacred duty as a guide and teacher of
-children? You propose to wait until your boys have come to man’s estate
-before you attempt to exercise any influence upon them; and then, when
-they have grown up with the idea that religious influence ought to be
-avoided as one avoids pestilence, you wonder and complain that they
-are indifferent to the church and will not hear you. “The battle with
-secularism has to be fought out.” Your way of fighting is to abandon the
-outposts, leave front and rear and flanks unprotected, and throw away
-your arms.
-
-It was one of the peculiarities of the Congress that whatever error
-was promulgated in the essays and debates, somewhere in the course
-of the sessions an antidote was sure to be furnished--this being an
-illustration, we suppose, of the extreme toleration of opinion to
-which Bishop Clarke referred as “somewhat singular” in a church “so
-fixed in its doctrines.” Hence we need not be surprised to find in
-the second day’s proceedings a refutation of the educational theories
-propounded during the first. Dr. Wharton made use of the principle of
-secular schooling as a weapon of offence against the Vatican. But when
-the delegates had relieved their minds and vindicated their Protestant
-orthodoxy by giving the poor Pope about as much as he could stagger away
-with, they turned their attention to their own condition, and one of
-their first subjects of inquiry was what secular education had done for
-them. The topic of consideration on the second morning was “The Best
-Methods of Procuring and Preparing Candidates for the Ministry.” Dr.
-Schenck of Brooklyn began by stating that the supply of candidates for
-holy orders was not only inadequate to the needs of the church, but it
-was falling off--a smaller number offering themselves to-day than six
-or seven years ago. This, said he, should excite the gravest concern of
-the church; and nobody seemed disposed to contradict him. Dr. Edward
-B. Boggs indeed presented some uncomfortable statistics which tell the
-whole story. In 1871, the number of resident presbyters of the Episcopal
-Church in the United States was 2,566; in 1874, it was only 2,530. Here,
-then while the population increases the clergy are diminishing. A great
-many reasons were suggested for the phenomenon. One thought the question
-of salary was at the bottom of the evil. Another blamed mothers for not
-giving their boys a taste for the ministry while they were young. A third
-believed the trouble was too little prayer and too much quarrelling
-over candles and ecclesiastical millinery. And more than one hinted in
-the broadest terms that the ministry was discredited by having too many
-fools in it.[174] The truth, however, which had been vaguely suggested by
-some of the earlier speakers, was plumply told by Dr. Edward Sullivan of
-Chicago. “The church,” said he, “must learn to supply the ranks of the
-ministry from her own material”--that is to say, by giving the children
-of the church a Christian education. He lamented the exclusion of the
-Bible from some of the common schools as a national calamity--not, if we
-understand him, because he has any overweening faith in the efficacy of
-Bible-reading _per se_, but because he knows that when positive religious
-teaching is banished from the school, the children can hardly fail to
-grow up without any religious feeling whatever. “_Until we establish
-parochial church schools_,” he continued, “_we can never solve this
-problem._” And he might have added that if the teaching of secularism
-is to be continued for a generation or two longer, the problem will
-solve itself: there will be no need of preachers when there cease to be
-congregations.
-
-If such an alarming phenomenon as an actual falling off in the numbers
-of the clergy were noticed in our own holy church, it would perhaps
-occur to good Catholics to inquire whether the bishops were doing all
-that they ought to do for the souls of their people. But the Episcopal
-Congress at Philadelphia seems to have been vexed with the idea that the
-bishops were doing entirely too much. Looking at the assemblage from
-the outside, we cannot pretend to see the under-currents of opinion, or
-to comprehend the denominational politics; but it was plain both from
-the tone of the addresses in the session set apart for considering the
-“Nature and Extent of Episcopal Authority” and from the manner in which
-some of the remarks of the speakers were received, that a jealousy of
-episcopal authority prevailed with considerable bitterness. Dr. Vinton
-of Boston drew a parallel between the government of the church and the
-government of the state; both were ruled by executives appointed by
-law and controlled by law, and in each case the chief officer acted by
-the assumed authority of those he governed. The bishops therefore, we
-infer, have just as much power as the people choose to give them, and
-we see no reason why the congregations should not enlarge and restrict
-that power at pleasure--make a new constitution, if they wish, every
-year, and treat their prelates as the savage treats his idol, which he
-sets upon an altar for worship in the morning, and if things go not well
-with him, kicks into the kennel at night. Indeed, since the foundation
-of the Anglican Church the episcopate has always been treated with scant
-ceremony. Dr. Vinton tells us that it is a reflex of the political
-organization, and as that has varied a great deal in England and America,
-and is not unlikely in the course of time to vary a great deal more,
-we must not be surprised to find the system undergoing many strange
-modifications and holding out the promise of further change indefinitely.
-In the primitive church, the episcopacy was a despotism. In the Anglican
-Church, it is “merely an ecclesiastical aristocracy.” In the Protestant
-Episcopal Church of America, where the exigencies of politics have to be
-considered, it is--well, that is just what the Congress tried in vain to
-determine. For one thing, Dr. Vinton and other speakers after him laid
-great stress upon the fact that its authority was carefully circumscribed
-by statute, and that the church was a corporation--though whence it
-derived its charter nobody was good enough to tell us. In truth, we did
-not find the day’s proceedings edifying. Dr. Vinton declared that an
-organic evil of the church constitution, “boding more of mischief and
-sorrow to the body of Christ than any or all of the evils besides that
-our age makes possible,” was the liability of bishops to grow arrogant
-of power, to make their authority troublesome, to put on idle pomp, and
-set themselves “in conspicuous difference from the taste, the traditions,
-the educated and intelligent convictions which the providence of God has
-caused to rule in this land.” Dr. Fulton of Indianapolis inveighed with
-warmth against any bishop who ventured to intrude into another man’s
-diocese, and remarked that “some bishops were never at home unless they
-were abroad.” A bishop, continued the doctor, is subject to civil law.
-He should be tried for violation of the ninth commandment if he wilfully
-slander a clergyman either in or out of his own diocese. Bishops must not
-affect infallibility in doctrinal utterances. They must remember that in
-more than one respect they and their presbyters are equals. A bishop who
-would be respected must respect the rights of other bishops--not being
-an episcopal busybody in other men’s sees. Dr. Goodwin of Philadelphia
-thought that what our Lord meant to have was “a moderate episcopate.”
-Dr. Washburn of New York believed that even the powers granted to the
-apostles were not exclusive, and that ever since the apostolic age these
-powers had been gradually more and more distributed, until now, we
-should think, they must be so finely divided that no fragment of them is
-anywhere visible in the Episcopal Church.
-
-Dr. J. V. Lewis convulsed the house with laughter by a speech in which he
-declared that the bishops had been so “tied hand and foot by conventions
-and canons that it was wonderful they had time to do anything but find
-out what they must not do”; and he called upon the church to “cut those
-bands and let the bishops loose.” We quote from the report of his remarks
-in the _Church Journal_: “What will they do? He would tell them what they
-would do. He had at home in his yard six chickens about half-grown. He
-had placed among them a turkey big enough to eat any of them up. But they
-all flew at him. One little fellow pecked him and spurred him savagely.
-The turkey looked on in perfect astonishment, apparently; but at length
-he spread out his wings and literally _sat down_ upon him. From that day
-to this, whenever that turkey stirs, these chickens cannot be kept from
-following him. And this is just what will happen in the church, if we
-will only let our bishops loose.” All this was the cause of much innocent
-hilarity among the brethren; but we fear that it was to Dr. Lewis that
-the _Churchman_ referred the next week in the following solemn strain:
-“It is a sad circumstance that the ministry has in it, here and there,
-a professional joker and cheap story-teller and anecdote-monger, one
-of the most tedious and least estimable types of foolishness that try
-Christian endurance and vex religious families. It is to be hoped no
-such melancholy-moving buffoon will ever propose himself as clown to the
-Church Congress; and, short of that, will it be wise to confer the award
-of the heartiest and loudest applause on a sort of comic pleasantry and
-‘jesting not convenient’ which, at best, is outdone in its own line in
-whole columns of daily newspapers? We may smile, because it cannot be
-helped, but we can surely reserve our plaudits--if they must be given at
-all--for that species of superiority which manifests a chaste refinement
-and suits tastes that are intellectual rather than jovial.”
-
-Clearly there was a great deal more in these essays on the limitations
-of episcopal authority than met the profane eye. Who are the trespassers
-upon other men’s sheepfolds, and the busybodies, and the slanderers,
-and the pompous bishops, and the infallible bishops, and the bishops
-who think themselves better than their presbyters, it is not for us to
-inquire. Neither perhaps would it be decorous to ask how the ten or
-twelve bishops in the Congress--none of whom opened their mouths during
-the debate--enjoyed the session. But there is excellent reason to believe
-that the presbyters had a very pleasant day, singing the opening hymn
-in the morning, “Come, gracious Spirit, heavenly dove,” with peculiar
-unction, and joyously dismissing their right reverend fathers in the
-afternoon with the verses, “Go forth, ye heralds, in my name.”
-
-If the bishops are in disrepute and the inferior clergy are falling
-away, it can hardly be necessary to tell us that the church has no real
-hold upon the people; that follows as a matter of course. Accordingly,
-the most interesting of the debates were on the best methods of giving
-vitality to the work of the church--on ministrations to the laboring
-classes, on free churches and free preaching, on the abuses of the new
-system, and on the need of something equivalent to the preaching Orders
-and Congregations of our own church. Of all the papers read at the
-Congress the only one which was received with what we may fairly call
-enthusiasm was an essay by Mr. Francis Wells, editor of the Philadelphia
-_Evening Bulletin_, on the “Parochial System and Free Preaching,” at the
-close of which one of the reverend delegates jumped upon a bench and led
-the assembly in three cheers. We have seen no report which gives a fair
-abstract of Mr. Wells’ paper, or even explains what practical suggestions
-he had to offer, so that it is impossible to understand what it was that
-moved the feelings of the Congress. But if he drew a faithful picture
-of the average Episcopal Church of our day he may well have startled
-his audience. “The chief trouble,” he said, “lies in the spirit of
-exclusiveness which eyes the fashion of the dress and warns off strangers
-with a cold stare.” He was quite right in holding that the renting of
-pews and the expenditure of large sums of money for the adornment of the
-house of God are not necessarily obstacles to the influence of the church
-over the masses. Our own experience proves that. What poor and ragged
-sinner was ever repelled from a Catholic Church by imposing architecture,
-or gorgeous windows, or the blazing magnificence of lighted altars, or
-the strains of costly music? The rich have their pews--at least in this
-country, where it is only by pew-rents that we can meet the necessary
-expenses of the parish--but the most wretched beggar feels that he is
-welcome at all times in the splendid temple, and he may kneel there,
-feasting the senses, if he pleases, as well as refreshing the soul,
-without fear that his more comfortable neighbor will stare at his humble
-garments. Whatever the character of our churches, it is always the poor
-who fill them. It never occurs to a Catholic that the people who pay
-pew-rents acquire any proprietorship in the house of God, or have any
-better right there than those who pay nothing. The sermons are never made
-for the rich, and the Holy Sacrifice is offered for all indiscriminately.
-But in the Episcopal Church how different it is!
-
-Imagine the feelings of a mechanic who approaches one of the luxurious
-Fifth-Avenue temples in his patched and stained working trowsers and
-threadbare coat. Carriages are setting down the _haut ton_ at the door,
-every lady dressed in the extreme of fashion, every gentleman carefully
-arrayed by an expensive tailor. A high-priced sexton, with rather more
-dignity than an average bishop, receives the distinguished arrivals just
-inside the lobby, and scrutinizes strangers with the air of an expert who
-has learned by long experience in the highest circles just what kind of
-company every casual visitor has probably been in the habit of keeping.
-The interior of the church somehow suggests a Madison-Avenue parlor,
-furnished in the latest style of imitation antique. The upholstery is
-a marvel of comfort. The pleasantly subdued light suits the eyes and
-softens the complexions of Christians who have been up late dancing. A
-decorous quiet pervades the waiting congregation, broken only by the
-rustle of five-dollar silks sweeping up the aisles. Such a handsome
-display of millinery can be seen nowhere else for so little money. What
-is a working-man to do in such a brilliant gathering as this? He looks
-timidly at the back seats, and he finds there perhaps two or three old
-women, parish pensioners, Sunday-school boys, or young men who keep
-near the door in order to slip out quietly when they are tired of the
-services, but nobody of his class. The prosperous people all around
-him listen to the choir, and the reader, and the preacher, with an
-indescribable air of proprietorship in all of them. The sermon is an
-elaborate essay addressed to cultivated intellects, not to his common
-understanding. He goes away with the uncomfortable consciousness that
-he has been intruding, and feels like a shabby and unkempt person who
-has strolled by mistake into the stockholders’ row at the Italian Opera,
-and been turned out by a high-toned box-keeper. “It is indeed hard to
-imagine,” said _The Nation_ the other day, “anything more likely to
-make religion seem repelling to a poor man than the sight of one of the
-gorgeous edifices in which rich Christians nowadays try to make their
-way to heaven. Working out one’s salvation clothed in the height of
-the fashion, as a member of a wealthy club, in a building in which the
-amplest provision is made for the gratification of all the finer senses,
-must seem to a thoughtful city mechanic, for instance, something in the
-nature of a burlesque. Not that the building is too good for the lofty
-purpose to which it is devoted, for nobody ever gets an impression of
-anything but solemn appropriateness from a great Catholic cathedral, but
-that it is the property of a close corporation, who, as it might be said,
-‘make up a party’ to go to the Throne of Grace, and share the expenses
-equally, and fix the rate so high that only successful businessmen can
-join.”
-
-But we heed not enlarge upon the prevalence of this evil. The speakers
-at the Congress recognized it frankly, and they are undoubtedly aware,
-though they may not have deemed it prudent to confess, that the case is
-growing more and more serious all the time. As wealth concentrates in
-the large cities and habits of luxury increase, the Protestant Episcopal
-Church is continually becoming colder and colder towards the poor. No
-remedy that has been proposed holds out the faintest promise of stopping
-this alarming decline. No remedy proposed even meets the approbation of
-any considerable number of the Episcopal clergy. One speaker proposes a
-greater number of free congregations, and is met by the obvious objection
-that the result would be a still more lamentable separation between
-rich and poor, with a different class of churches for each set. Another
-recommends the bishops to send missionary preachers into every parish
-where there seems to be need of their labor, but does not tell us where
-the missionaries are to be found, and forgets that almost every parish
-in the United States would have to be supplied in this way before the
-evil could be cured. A third advises the rich and poor to meet together,
-and fraternize and help each other; and a fourth calls for more zeal
-all around. All these proposals are merely various ways of stating the
-disease; they do not indicate remedies. Perhaps it may occur to some
-people that if the Catholic Church and the Episcopal Church correspond so
-closely in their outward operations, both striving to celebrate divine
-worship with all possible splendor, both building costly churches and
-supporting them by pew-rents, both employing highly paid choirs, both
-keeping up a system of parishes, and if all the while the one gathers
-people of every rank and condition into her fold, offering health and
-consolation to all alike, while the other is constantly losing the
-affections of the multitude and becoming a lifeless creature of forms and
-fashions, the explanation of the difference after all may be that the
-Holy Ghost lives and works in the one, while the other is only the device
-of man.
-
-
-YULE RAPS.
-
-_A CHRISTMAS STORY._
-
-We once saw a picture of a wide, undulating snow-landscape, overspread
-with a pale rosy tint from the west, and we thought it a fancy picture of
-an Arctic winter. It hung in a pretty room in a Silesian country-house.
-The weather was lovely, warm but temperate; it was mid-June, and the
-woods were full of wild strawberries, and the meadows of forget-me-nots.
-Yet that landscape was simply Silesia in the winter; the same place,
-six months later, becomes a wilderness of snow. What shall we say of
-Mecklenburg, then, so much farther to the north of Silesia? But even
-there winter brings merriment; and as in these snow-bound countries there
-is less work to be got through in the winter, their people associate the
-ideas of pleasure and holiday with the cold rather than the warm weather.
-In Mecklenburg spring, summer, and autumn mean work--ploughing, sowing,
-haying, harvesting; winter means fun and frolic, peasants’ dances,
-farmers’ parties, weddings, christenings, harvest-homes, Christmas, New
-Year’s, and Epiphany presents, gatherings of friends, fireside talk,
-innocent games, and general merriment.
-
-In a little village in this province the house of Emanuel Köhler was
-famous for its jollity. Here were old customs well kept up, yet always
-with decorum and a regard to higher matters. Emanuel was virtually
-master of the estate of Stelhagen, the absentee owner of which was a gay
-young officer who never wrote to his agent, except for a new supply
-of money. Clever and enlightened an agriculturist as old Köhler was,
-it was sometimes difficult for him to send the required sums, and yet
-have enough to farm the estate to his satisfaction. In the language of
-the country, he was called the inspector, and his house, also according
-to the local custom, was a kind of informal agricultural school. At
-the time of our story he had four young men under him--who were in all
-respects like the apprentices of the good old time--and two of his own
-relatives, his son and his nephew. His only daughter was busy helping
-her mother, and learning to be as efficient a housekeeper as the young
-men to be first-rate farmers; and this nucleus of young society, added
-to the good Köhler’s hearty joviality and the known good-cheer always
-provided by Frau Köhler, naturally made the large, cosey, rambling
-house a pleasant rendezvous for the neighborhood. The Köhler household
-was a host in itself, yet it always loved to be reinforced on festive
-occasions by the good people of the village and farms within ten miles
-round. So also the children, whether poor or pretty well off, were all
-welcome at old Emanuel’s, and knew the way to the Frau Inspectorin’s
-pantry as well as they knew the path to the church or the school. All the
-servant-girls in the neighborhood wanted to get a place in this house,
-but there was scarcely ever a vacancy, unless one of the dairy-maids or
-the house-girls married. Frau Köhler and her daughter did all the kitchen
-work themselves, and the latter, a thoughtful girl, though she was only
-fifteen, studied books and maps between-whiles. But her studies never
-interfered with the more necessary knowledge that a girl should have
-when, as Rika,[175] she has to depend upon herself for everything. In
-the country, in the Mecklenburg of even a very few years ago, everything
-was home-made, and a supply of things from the large town twenty or
-thirty miles off was the event of a life-time. Such things came as
-wedding-gifts; and though fancy things came every Christmas, even they
-were carefully and sacredly kept as tokens of that miraculous, strange,
-bewildering world outside, in which people wore their silk dresses every
-day, and bought everything they wanted at large shops a few steps from
-their own houses. Frau Köhler often wondered what other women did who
-had no farm-house to manage, no spinning, or knitting, or cooking, or
-dairy-work to do; and when her daughter Rika suggested that they probably
-read and studied, she shrugged her shoulders and said: “Take care, child;
-women ought to attend to women’s work. Studying is a man’s business.”
-
-The honest soul was a type of many an old-fashioned German house-mother,
-of whose wisdom it were well that some of our contemporaries could avail
-themselves; and when Rika gently reminded her of the story of Martha and
-Mary, she would energetically reply:
-
-“Very well; but take my word for it, child, there was a woman more
-blessed than _that_ Mary, and one who was nearer yet to her Lord; and
-we do not hear of _her_ neglecting her house. I love to think of that
-house at Nazareth as just a model of household cleanliness and comfort.
-You know, otherwise, it could not have been a fitting place for _Him_;
-for though he chose poverty, he must needs have surrounded himself with
-spotless purity.”
-
-And Rika, as humble and docile as she was thoughtful, saw in this
-reverent and practical surmise a proof that it is not learning that comes
-nearest to the heart of truth, but that clearer and directer knowledge
-which God gives to “babes and sucklings.”
-
-This particular Christmas there was much preparation for the family
-festival. The kitchen was in a ferment for a week, and mighty
-bakings took place; gingerbread and cake were made, and various
-confectionery-work was done; for Frau Köhler expected a friend of her
-own early home to come and stay with her this last week of the year.
-This was the good old priest who had baptized her daughter; for neither
-mother nor daughter were natives of Mecklenburg, though the latter had
-grown up there, and had never, since she was six months old, gone beyond
-the limits of the large estate which her father administered. Frau Köhler
-was a Bavarian by birth, and had grieved very much when her Mecklenburg
-husband had taken her to this northern land, where his position and wages
-were so good as to make it his duty to abide and bring up his family. But
-the worthy old creature had done a wonderful deal of good since she had
-been there, and kept up her faith as steadfastly as ever she had at home.
-Frederika had been her treasure and her comfort; and between the mother’s
-intense, mediæval firmness of belief, and the child’s naturally deep and
-thoughtful nature, the little farm-maiden had grown up a rare combination
-of qualities, and a model for the young Catholic womanhood of our stormy
-times. The old priest whom Frau Köhler had looked up to before her
-marriage as her best friend, and whom Rika had been taught to revere from
-her babyhood, had been very sick, and was obliged to leave his parish
-for a long holiday and rest. His former parishioner was anxious that
-he should see Christmas kept in the old-fashioned northern style, more
-characteristic than the Frenchified southern manners would now allow,
-even in her remote native village. Civilization carries with it the
-pick-axe and the rule; and when young girls begin to prefer Manchester
-prints and French bonnets to homespun and straw hats, most of the old
-customs slip away from their homes.
-
-In the sturdy Mecklenburg of twenty years ago, even after the temporary
-stir of 1848, things were pretty much as they had been for centuries, and
-it was Emanuel’s pride that his household should be, if needful, the last
-stronghold of the good old usages. He heartily acquiesced in his wife’s
-invitation to the southern guest, and resolved to have the best Christmas
-that had been known in the country since he had undertaken the care of
-the Stelhagen estate. In truth, he lived like a patriarch among his
-work-people; his laborers and their families were models of prosperity
-and content, and the children of all the neighborhood wished he were
-their grandfather. Indeed, he was godfather to half the village babies
-born during his stay there.
-
-The sleighs of the country were the people’s pride. Some were plain
-and strong, because their owners were not rich enough to adorn them,
-but others were quite a curiosity to the visitor from the south. They
-partook of the same quaintness as the old yellow family coaches that
-took the farmers to harvest-homes and weddings before the early snows
-came on. Lumbering, heavy-wheeled vehicles these were, swinging on high
-like a cradle tied to a couple of saplings in a storm; capacious as
-the house-mother’s apron-pockets on a baking day; seventy years old at
-least, barring the numerous patchings and mendings, new lining or new
-wheel, occasionally vouchsafed to the venerable representative of the
-family dignity. The sleighs were much gayer and a little less antiquated,
-because oftener used, and therefore oftener worn out; besides, there were
-fashions in sleighs even in this remote place--fashions indigenous to
-the population, each individual of which was capable of some invention
-when sleighs were in question. On Christmas Eve, long before it grew
-dark, many of these pretty or curious conveyances clattered up to the
-farm-house door. Some were laden with children two rows deep, all wrapped
-in knitted jackets, blankets, boas, etc., and here and there covered with
-a fur cap or furred hood; for knitting in this neighborhood supplied all
-with warm winter wraps, even better than woven or machine-made stuffs do
-nowadays. There were no single sleighs, no tiny, toy-like things made
-to display the rich toilet of the occupant and the skill of the fast
-driver by her side; here all were honest family vehicles, full of rosy
-faces like Christmas apples; hearty men and women who at three-score
-were almost as young as their grandchildren on their bridal day; and
-young men and maidens who were not afraid to dance and move briskly in
-their plain, loose, home-spun and home-made clothes, nor to fall in
-love with German downrightness and honest, practical intentions. Most
-of these sleighs were red, picked out with black, or black liberally
-sprinkled with red; some were yellow and black, some yellow and blue,
-and in most the robe and cushions were of corresponding colors. Some of
-these robes had eagles embroidered in coarse patterns and thick wool,
-while others were of a pattern something like those used for bed-quilts;
-and some bore unmistakable witness to the thrift of the house-mother,
-and were skilfully pieced together out of carpet, curtain, blanket, and
-dress remnants, the whole bordered with some inexpensive fur. One or two
-sleighs bore a sort of figure-head--the head of a deer, or a fox, or a
-hawk--carved and let into the curling part of the front; while one party,
-who were gazed upon with mingled admiration and disapproval, went so far
-as to trail after them, for three or four feet behind the sleigh, and
-sweeping up the snow in their wake, a thick scarlet cloth of gorgeous
-appearance, but no very valuable texture. This was the doing of a young
-fellow who had lately been reading one or two romances of chivalry, and
-been much pleased with the “velvet housings of the horses, sweeping the
-ground as the knight rode to the king’s tournament.” His indulgent old
-mother and admiring sisters had but faintly remonstrated, and this was
-the consequence. The horses were not less bedecked than the vehicles.
-Silver bells hung from their harness and belted their bodies in various
-places; shining plates of metal and knobs driven into the leather made
-them as gay as circus-horses; while horse-cloths of variegated pattern
-were rolled up under the feet of their masters, ready for use whenever
-they stopped on the road.
-
-Emanuel himself had gone to the nearest town at which a stage-coach
-stopped, to welcome his wife’s friend and special guest, and entertained
-him with a flow of agricultural information and warm eulogy of the
-country through which they were speeding on their way home. He arrived
-at Stelhagen before the rush of country visitors, and was triumphantly
-taken through every part of the well-kept farm, while his meal was
-being prepared by Rika and the maids. But more than all, Frau Köhler,
-in her delight, actually made him “free” of the sacred, secret chamber
-where stood the _Christbaum_, already laden but unlighted, among its
-attendant tables and dishes. The old man was as innocently charmed as a
-seven-year-old child; it reminded him so of his own Christmas-tree in
-days when the simple customs of Germany were still unimpaired, and when
-it was the fashion to give only really useful things, with due regard to
-the condition and needs of the recipients.
-
-“But at the feasts to which my people ask me now,” said he, “I see
-children regaled with a multitude of unwholesome, colored _bonbons_ in
-boxes that cost quite as much as the contents, and servants given cheap
-silks or paste jewelry, and the friends or the master and mistress
-themselves loaded with pretty but useless knick-knacks, gilded toys that
-cost a great deal and make more show than their use warrants. Times are
-sadly changed, Thekla, even since you were married.”
-
-“Well, Herr Pfarrer, I have had little chance, and less wish, to see
-the change; and up here I think we still live as Noah’s sons after they
-came out of the ark,” said good Frau Köhler, with a broad smile at her
-own wit. As the day wore on, she and Rika left the _Pfarrer_ (_curé_)
-to Emanuel’s care, and again busied themselves about the serious
-coming festivity. She flew around, as active as a fat sparrow, with
-a dusting-cloth under her arm, whisking off with nervous hand every
-speck of dust on the mantel-piece or among the few books which lay
-conspicuously on the table in the best room; giving her orders to the
-nimble maids, welcoming the families of guests, and specially petting
-the children. Emanuel took the men under his protection, and gave them
-tobacco and pipes, and talked farming to them, while his own young
-home-squad whispered in corners of the coming tree and supper.
-
-At last Rika came out from the room where the mystery was going on, and,
-opening the door wide, let a flood of light into the dark apartment
-beyond. There was a regular blaze. The large tree stood on a low table,
-and reached nearly up to the ceiling. There were only lights, colored
-ribbons, and gilded walnuts hung upon it, but it quite satisfied the
-expectation of the good folk around it. Round the room were tables and
-stands of all kinds, crowded together, and barely holding all the dishes
-apportioned to each member of the party. The guests had secretly brought
-or sent their mutual presents; one family generally taking charge of its
-neighbor’s gifts, and _vice-versa_, that none might suspect the nature
-of their own. The tree, too, was a joint contribution of the several
-families; all had sent in tapers and nuts, and this it was that made it
-so full of bright things and necessitated its being so tall.
-
-On the middle table, under the tree itself, were dishes for the Köhler
-household, each one having a liberal allowance of apples, nuts, and
-gingerbread. Besides these, there were parcels, securely tied, laid by
-the dishes, and labelled with the names of their unconscious owners.
-Köhler was seized upon by his wife and daughter before anyone else was
-allowed to go forward--for in this old-fashioned neighborhood the head of
-the house is still considered in the light of an Abraham--and a compact
-parcel was put into his hands by Rika, while Thekla kissed him with
-hearty loudness. Next came the guest, whom Rika led to the prettiest
-china dish, and presented with a small, tempting-looking packet. Leaving
-him to open it at his leisure, she joined her young friends, and a
-good-natured scramble now began, each looking for his own name in some
-familiar handwriting, finding it, and opening the treasure with the
-eagerness of a child. It would be impossible to describe every present
-that thus came to view; but though many were pretty and elaborate, none
-were for mere show. Presently Frau Köhler was seen to take possession of
-her husband, and, pulling off his coat, made him try on the dressing-gown
-he had just drawn from his parcel. She turned him round like a doll, and
-clapped her hands in admiration at the perfect fit; then danced around to
-the other end of the room, and called out to the maids:
-
-“Lina! Bettchen! it is your turn now; you have not been forgotten. Those
-are your dishes where the silver dollars are sticking in the apples.”
-The maids opened their parcels, and each found a bright, soft, warm
-dress, crimson and black. Then came George, the man who did most of the
-immediate work round the house, and found a bright red vest with steel
-buttons in his parcel. Frau Köhler was busy looking at other people’s
-things, when her husband slipped a neat, long packet on her dish, and,
-as she turned and saw the addition, she uttered an exclamation of joy.
-Rika helped her to unfold the stiff, rustling thing, when it turned out
-to be a black silk dress. Not every housewife in those days had one, and
-her last was nearly worn out. Then the old priest came forward to show
-the company his Christmas box; and what do you think it was? There was no
-doubt as to where it came from. It was a set of missal-markers, and in
-such taste as was scarcely to be expected in that time and neighborhood.
-Rika had designed it, and her mother had worked it; but many an anxious
-debate had there been over it, as the Frau Inspectorin had been at first
-quite vexed at what she called its plainness. It was composed of five
-thick _gros-grain_ ribbons, two inches wide and fifteen long. There was
-a red, a green, a white, a purple, and a black ribbon; and on each was
-embroidered a motto--on the red and green, in gold; on the white, in red;
-and on the black and purple, in silver. The letters were German, though
-the mottoes were in Latin, and each of the five referred to one of these
-events: our Lord’s birth, death, Resurrection, and Ascension, and the
-Coming of the Holy Ghost. At the end of each ribbon, instead of fringe
-or tassels, hung a cross of pure silver, into the ring of which the
-ribbon was loosely gathered. Every one crowded round this novel Christmas
-gift, and examined it with an admiration equally gratifying to the giver
-and the receiver. But Emanuel’s jolly voice soon broke the spell by
-saying:
-
-“These fine presents are very delightful to receive, no doubt, and the
-women-folk would not have been happy without some such thing; but we are
-all mortal, and I have not forgotten that my guest has feet and hands,
-and needs warmth and comfort as much as we of grosser clay.”
-
-And with this he thrust a large parcel into the _Pfarrer’s_ arms. Every
-one laughed and helped him to open it; every one was curious to see its
-contents. They were, indeed, of a most substantial and useful kind: a
-foot-muff of scarlet cloth, lined and bordered with fur, and a pair of
-huge sealskin gloves.
-
-Scarcely had the parcel been opened when a hum of measured sound was
-heard outside, and presently a Christmas carol was distinctly audible.
-Everyone knew the words, and many joined in the song before the singers
-became visible. Then the door opened, and a troop of children came in,
-dressed in warm white furs and woollen wrappings, and carrying tapers and
-fir-branches in their hands. They sang a second carol, quaint and rustic
-in its words, but skilfully set to anything but archaic music, and then,
-in honor of their southern guest, they began _the_ song of the evening,
-a few stanzas from the “Great Hymn” to the Blessed Virgin, by the
-Minnesinger, Gottfried of Strasburg, the translation of which, according
-to Kroeger, runs thus:
-
-                     XXV.
-
-    “God thee hath clothed with raiments seven;
-    On thy pure body, drawn from heaven,
-            Hath put them even
-      When thou wast first created.
-    The first one Chastity is named;
-    The second is as Virtue famed;
-            The third is claimed
-      As Courtesy, well mated;
-    The fourth dress is Humility;
-      The fifth is known as Pity;
-    The sixth one, Faith, clings close to thee;
-    The seventh, noble Modesty,
-            Leads gratefully
-      Thee in the path of duty.
-
-                   XXVII.
-
-    “Thou sun, thou moon, thou star so fair,
-    God took thee from his own side there,
-            Here to prepare
-    The birth of Christ within thee.
-    For that his loved Child and thine,
-    Which is our life and life’s sunshine,
-            Our bread and wine,
-    To stay chaste, he did win thee;
-    So that sin’s thorns could never touch
-      Thy fruitful virtue’s branches.
-    His burning love for thee did vouch,
-    He kept thee from all sins that crouch:
-            A golden couch,
-    Secured by his love’s trenches.
-
-                   XLVII.
-
-    …
-    “Rejoice now, thou salvation’s throne,
-    That thou gavest birth to Him who won
-            Our cause, thy Son,
-    Our Saviour and our blessing.
-    …
-
-                  XLVIII.
-
-    “Rejoice now, O thou sunshine mild,
-    That on thy blessed breasts there smiled
-            God’s little Child--
-      Its earthly destination.
-    Rejoice that then drew near to thee
-    From foreign lands the wise kings three,
-            Noble and free,
-      To bring their adoration
-    To thee and to that blessed Child,
-      With many a graceful off’ring.
-    Rejoice now, that the star beguiled
-    And to that place their pathway smiled
-            Where, with thy Child,
-    They worshipped thy sweet suff’ring.”
-
-“You are not so utterly unknowing of all gentle and learned pursuits as
-you would have had me believe,” said the _Pfarrer_ to Frau Köhler. “It
-is not every child in Bavaria that could sing so well this Old-World
-poem, so graceful in its rhyming and so devout in its allusions. Our
-old XIIth-century poetry, the most national--_i.e._, peculiar to our
-country--is too much superseded by noisy modern rhymes or sentimental
-ballads copied from foreign models. Have you any unknown scholar among
-your farmers and agents, who, you told me, made up a hearty but not a
-learned society here?”
-
-“Well,” said Frau Köhler, “there is the school-master, Heldmann, who is
-always poring over old useless books, but never can have a good dinner
-unless his friends send it to him, poor man! He is a bachelor, and
-cannot afford to have a housekeeper. And then there is one of our young
-gentlemen, who Köhler says is always in the clouds, and who spends all
-his spare time with Heldmann, while the other boys spend theirs with
-their pretty, rosy neighbors. By the way, Heldmann is coming to-night;
-but he said he could not come till late, as he had some important
-business which would detain him for an hour or two.”
-
-“You forget our Rika, mother,” said Emanuel, not heeding the last part
-of his wife’s sentence; “she is as wise as any of them, though she says
-so little. She knows all the old legends and poetry, and more besides, I
-warrant.”
-
-“Rika designed that missal-marker,” said the Frau Inspectorin proudly
-(she had found out, since it had been so admired, that her daughter’s
-instinct had guided her aright in the design).
-
-But Rika, hearing her name mentioned, had slipped away among the
-white-wrapped children, and was laying their tapers and fir-branches
-away, preparatory to giving them cakes and fruit. This was quite a
-ceremony, and when they were ready Frau Köhler, handing the large dish
-of nuts to the _Pfarrer_, begged him to distribute them, while she took
-charge of the gingerbread and Rika of the apples.
-
-It was funny to see the solemn expectancy with which the children
-brought out dishes, mugs, pitchers, etc., in which to receive these
-Christmas gifts. Some of the girls held out their aprons, as more
-convenient and capacious receptacles than anything else they could lay
-hands on. One boy brought a large birthday cup, and another a wooden
-milk-bowl; another a small churn, while a fourth had carried off his
-father’s peck-measure, and a fifth calmly handed up a corn-sack, which he
-evidently expected to get filled to the brim. As Frau Köhler came to one
-of the children, she said:
-
-“Fritz, I saw you in the orchard last autumn stealing our apples. Now,
-naughty boys must not expect to get apples at Christmas if they take them
-at other times; so, Rika, don’t give him any. He shall have one piece of
-gingerbread, though.” A piteous disclaimer met this sentence; but the
-_Pfarrer_ thrust a double quantity of nuts into the culprit’s basket, and
-passed on. Then once again Frau Köhler stopped and said; “Johann, didn’t
-I see you fighting with another boy in the churchyard two weeks ago,
-and told you that Santa Claus would forget you when he came to fill the
-stockings on Christmas night? I shall not give you any gingerbread.”
-
-“Franz knows we made it up again,” whined the boy, and Franz, with a
-roguish look, peeped out from his place in the row and said: “Yes, we
-did, Frau Inspectorin”; so both got their gingerbread. At last, this
-distribution being over, the children, laden with their gifts, went home
-to their own various firesides, not without many thanks to the “stranger
-within the gates” and his parting reminder, as he showed them the stars:
-
-“Look up at God’s own Christmas-tree, lighted up with thousands of
-tapers, children, and at the smooth, white snow spread over the fields.
-That is the white table-cloth which he has spread for the beautiful gifts
-which spring, and summer, and autumn are going to bring you, all in his
-own good time.”[176]
-
-Then came another batch of visitors--the old, sick, and infirm people of
-the village; the spinning-women, the broom-tyers, the wooden bowl and
-spoon carvers, and the makers of wooden shoes; and some who could no
-longer work, but had been faithful and industrious in their time. They
-had something of the old costume on: the men wore blue yarn stockings and
-stout gray knee-breeches (they had left their top-boots outside; for the
-snow was deep and soft, and they needed them all the winter and through
-most of the spring); and the women had large nodding caps and black silk
-handkerchiefs folded across their bosoms. Each of these old people got a
-large loaf of plain cake and some good stout flannel; and these things,
-according to the local etiquette, the inspector himself delivered to
-them as the representative of his young master. This distribution was
-an old custom on the Stelhagen estate, and, though the present owner
-was careless enough in many things, he wished this usage to be always
-kept up. Even if he had not, it is not likely that as long as Köhler
-was inspector the old people would not have been able to rely on the
-customary Christmas gift. After this some bustle occurred, and two or
-three people went and stationed themselves outside the door. Presently
-the expectant company within were startled by a loud rap, and the door
-flew open, a parcel was flung in, and a voice cried out:
-
-“Yule rap!”
-
-This was a pair of slippers for the inspector. No one knew where they
-came from; no one had sent them. Yule raps are supposed to be magical,
-impersonal causes of tangible effects; so every one looked innocent and
-astonished, as became good Mecklenburgers under Christmas circumstances.
-
-“Yule rap!” again, and the door opened a second time; a smoking-cap,
-embroidered with his initials, was evolved out of a cumbrous packet by
-one of the young apprentices, and scarcely had he put it on than another
-thundering knock sounded on the door.
-
-“Yule rap!” was shouted again, and in flew a heavy package. It was a
-book, with illustrations of travel scenes in the East, and was directed
-to Rika.
-
-“Yule rap!”
-
-This time it was only a little square envelope, with a ticket referring
-Frau Köhler to another ticket up in the bureau drawer in her bedroom; but
-when one of the boys found it, that referred again to another ticket in
-the cellar; and when another boy brought this to light, it mysteriously
-referred her to her husband’s pocket. Here, at last, the hidden thing was
-revealed--an embroidered collar, and a pair of larger cuffs to match.
-Köhler had no idea what sprite had put it there, so he said.
-
-“Yule rap!” and this time it was for the guest--a black velvet skull-cap,
-warm and clinging. Then came various things, all heralded by the same
-warning cry of “Yule rap!” and a knock at the door, generally in George’s
-strong voice. The two maids got the packages ready, and peeped in at
-the keyhole to see when it was time to vary the sensation by throwing in
-another present. Again, a breakfast-bell came rolling in, ringing as it
-bounded on, with just a few bands of soft stuff and silver paper muffling
-its sound. Once a large meerschaum pipe was laid gently at the threshold
-of the door, and one of the apprentices fetched it as carefully. Then
-a violin was pushed through the half-open door, and the eager face of
-the one for whom it was intended peeped anxiously over his neighbor’s
-shoulder, wondering if any one else were the happy destined one, and as
-much surprised as delighted when he found it was himself. That violin has
-since been heard in many a large and populous town, and, though its owner
-did not become as world-known as Paganini or Sivori, he did not love his
-art less faithfully and exclusively. We cannot enumerate all the gifts
-which Yule brought round this year; but before the evening was over, a
-different voice cried out the magic words, “Yule rap!” and the door being
-slightly opened and quickly closed again, a tiny, white, silky dog stood
-trembling on the carpet. Rika jumped up and ran to take it in her arms;
-then pulling open the door, “Herr Heldmann! Herr Heldmann!” she cried. “I
-know it is you!”
-
-The schoolmaster came forward, his rough face glowing with the cold
-through which he had just come.
-
-“I promised you a dog, Rika,” he said rather awkwardly, “but they would
-not let me have it till this very day, and I had no time to go for it but
-this evening. I kept it under my coat all the time; so it is quite warm.
-It is only two months old.”
-
-Rika was in ecstasies. She declared this was worth all her Christmas
-presents, and then rewarded Herr Heldmann by telling him how well
-the children had done their part, and how delightfully surprised the
-_Pfarrer_ had been. The two men were soon in a deep conversation on
-subjects dear and familiar to both, and the company gradually dissolved
-again into little knots and groups. Many took their leave, as their
-homes were distant and they did not wish to be too late; but for all an
-informal supper was laid in the vast kitchen, and by degrees most of
-the good things on the table were sensibly diminished. The host’s wife
-and daughter, and the Herr Pfarrer, with half a dozen others and a few
-children, did not leave the Christmas-tree, whose tapers were constantly
-attended to and replaced when necessary. Other “Christmas candles” were
-also lighted--tall columns of yellow wax, made on purpose for this
-occasion. As the household and its inmates were left to themselves,
-the children began asking for their accustomed treat--the stories that
-all children have been fond of since the world began. No land is so
-rich in the romance of childhood as Germany, both north and south.
-There everything is personified, and as an English writer lately said,
-wonderful histories are connected with the fir-trees in the forests,
-the beloved and venerated _Christbaum_. “Though it be yet summer,
-the child sees in fancy the beautiful _Weihnachtsbaum_, adorned with
-sparkling things as the Gospel, is adorned with promises and hopes; rich
-in gifts as the three kings were rich; pointing to heaven as the angel
-pointed; bright as those very heavens were bright with silver-winged
-messengers; crowned with gold as the Word was crowned; odorous like the
-frankincense: sparkling like the star; spreading forth its arms, full of
-peace and good-will on every side, holding out gifts and promises for
-all.”
-
-_Weihnacht_, the blessed, the hallowed, the consecrated night, is the
-child-paradise of Germany. That land of beautiful family festivals has
-given Christmas a double significance, and merged into its memories all
-the graceful, shadowy legends of the dead mythology of the Fatherland.
-The German child is reared in the midst of fairy-tales, which are only
-truths translated into child-language. Besides the old standard ones,
-every neighborhood has its own local tales, every family its own new-born
-additions or inventions. Every young mother, herself but a step removed
-from childhood, with all her tender imaginations still stirring, and her
-child-days lifted into greater beauty because they are but just left
-behind, makes new stories for her little ones, and finds in every flower
-a new fairy, in every brook a new voice.
-
-And yet the old tales still charm the little ones, and the yearly coming
-of King Winter brings the old, worn stories round again. So Emanuel
-Köhler told the fairy-tale which the children had listened to every
-Christmas with ever-new delight, about the journey of King Winter from
-his kingdom at the North Pole, and how he put on his crown with tall
-spikes of icicles, and wrapped himself in his wide snow-mantle, which to
-him is as precious and as warm as ermine.
-
-“And now,” said the host, “there is some one here who can tell you a far
-more beautiful story than mine. Some One, greater than the Winter-King,
-comes too every year--a snow-Child, the white Christ whom our ancestors,
-the old Norse and Teutonic warriors, learned to see and adore, where
-they had only seen and worshipped the God of War and the God of Thunder
-before. Ask him to tell you a story.”
-
-And the old, white-haired _Pfarrer_ stroked the head of the child nearest
-to him, as the little one looked shyly up into his face, mutely endorsing
-Emanuel’s appeal. He told them that they must already know the story of
-the first Christmas night, and so he would only tell them how the news
-that the angels told the shepherds on the hills came long centuries
-after to others as pure-minded as the shepherds, and by means almost
-as wonderful. He repeated to them from memory the words of an English
-prose-poet, which he said he had loved ever since he came across them,
-and which made the picture he best loved to talk on at Christmas-time:
-“That little infant frame, white as a snow-drop on the lap of winter,
-light almost as a snow-flake on the chill night air, smooth as the
-cushioned drift of snow which the wind has lightly strewn outside the
-walls of Bethlehem, is at this moment holding within itself, as if it
-were of adamantine rock, the fires of the beatific light.… The little
-white lily is blooming below the greater one; an offshoot of its stem,
-and a faithful copy, leaf for leaf, petal for petal, white for white,
-powdered with the same golden dust, meeting the morning with the same
-fragrance, which is like no other than their own!”[177]
-
-There was a more marvellous tale than any they had heard about
-talking-flowers. The _Christkind_ was a flower, and his blessed Mother
-was a flower--holy lilies in the garden of God, blossoming rods like
-Aaron’s, fruitful roots, stately cedars, and fruit-giving palm-trees.
-It was a very happy thing to know and feel all this, as we do; but
-many millions of men know nothing of it, and centuries ago even our
-forefathers in these forests knew nothing of it. “But,” he continued,
-“there was a distant island, where men of our race lived, which did
-not receive the faith till long after Germany and France and Britain
-were Christian, and even had cathedrals and cloisters and schools
-in abundance. It was two hundred years after Charlemagne, who was a
-Frankish, and therefore a German, sovereign, founded the Palatine schools
-and conferred with the learned English monk, Alcuin. This distant, pagan
-island was Iceland. The Norsemen there were a wild, fierce, warlike
-people, free from any foreign government, and just the kind of heroes
-that their old mythology represented them as becoming in their future,
-disembodied life. They had their scalds, or saga-men, their bards, who
-were both poets and historians, who kept up their spirit by singing wild
-songs about their ancestors and the battles they had won. They were all
-pagans, and thought the forgiveness of injuries very mean. Well, one day,
-the eve of Yule-tide, when it was terribly cold and cheerless, an old
-scald sat in his rough hut, with a flickering light before him, chanting
-one of his wild, heathen songs, and his daughter, a beautiful girl, sat
-at the plank table near him, busy with some woman’s work. During an
-interval of his song she raised her eyes and said to him:
-
-“‘Father, there must be something beyond all that--something greater and
-nobler.’
-
-“‘Why, child,’ said the old man, with a kind of impatient wonder, ‘why
-should you think so? Many things different there may be, just as there
-are different kinds of men, and different kinds of beasts, and different
-kinds of plants; some for mastery and some for thraldom; some for the
-chase, and some for the kitchen or the plough; some for incantations
-and sacrifices, and some for common food. But anything nobler than our
-history there could not be; and as for our religion, if there were
-anything different, or even better, it would not suit our people, and so
-would be no concern of ours.’
-
-“‘But if it were true, father, and ours not true, what then?’
-
-“‘Why ask the question, child? What was good enough for the wise and
-brave Northmen who fled here that they might be free to fight and worship
-according to their fancy, is good enough for their descendants.’
-
-“‘But you know yourself, father,’ persisted the maiden, ‘that those
-whom our poetical traditions call gods were men, heroes and patriots
-who taught our forefathers various arts, and guided them safely across
-deserts and through forests in their long, long migration--but still
-only men. Our chieftains of to-day might as well become gods to our
-great-grandchildren, if the old leaders have become so to us. Wise as
-they were, they could not command the frozen seas to open a way for their
-ships, nor make the sun rise earlier in the long winter, nor compel the
-cutting ice-wind to cease. If they could not do such things, they must
-have been very far from gods.’
-
-“‘It is true,’ said the old man, ‘that those great chieftains were, in
-the dim ages we can scarcely count back to, men like us; but the gods
-who taught them those very arts took them up to live with them as long as
-their own heaven might last, and made them equal to themselves. You know
-even Paradise itself is to come to an end some day.’
-
-“‘So our legends say, father; but that, too, makes it seem as if these
-gods were only another order of mortal beings, stronger but not better
-than we are, and hiding from us the true, changeless heaven far above
-them. For surely that which changes cannot be divine. And then our
-legends say that evil is to triumph when heaven and earth come to an end.
-True, they say there will be a renewal of all things after that, and
-that, no doubt, means that good will be uppermost; very likely all the
-things spoken of in our Eddas are only signs of other things which we
-could not understand.’
-
-“The daughter continued these questionings and speculations, the scald
-answering them as best he could.
-
-“He had listened with evident admiration and approval to her impassioned
-speech, but he was willing to test her faith in her own womanhood to the
-utmost. She now seemed wrapt in her own thoughts, but after a short pause
-said:
-
-“‘It would not be another’s inspiration in which I should believe; it
-would be a message from Him who has put this belief already into my
-heart. Some One greater than all has spoken to my inmost heart, and I am
-ready to believe; but the messenger that is to put it into words and tell
-me what to do has not come.’
-
-“There was a silence, and the wind and the sea roared without. The
-old man shaded the flickering light with his hand, and gazed at his
-daughter, who was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap. He thought
-that she herself must have received some divine illumination; for the
-Norsemen believed in the prophetic gifts of some of their women. His
-own mind, more cultivated than that of the warrior’s, saw through the
-symbolic character of many of the very myths he sang, and tended vaguely
-to belief in a higher and hidden circle of things infinite, true, and
-eternal. But then the northern mind was naturally simple, not prone to
-metaphysical distinctions, not analytical and subtle, dividing as with
-the sword that pierceth between soul and spirit; and the old man saw no
-use in raising theological problems for which he could offer no rational
-solution, save through the dreams of a young girl. Presently the old man
-rose, shaking off his meditations, and said:
-
-“‘It is time for me to go to the Yule-night festival, and I shall have
-a stormy trudge of it to the castle. I must leave you alone here till
-to-morrow night. But, my child, I know that there is safety for the
-scald’s daughter wherever she may be; the very sea would not hurt her,
-and the wildest men would kneel before her; so farewell, and a father’s
-blessing be upon you.’
-
-“His daughter rose and fetched his cloak and staff, wrapped the former
-around him, and fastened it over the rude musical instrument that
-answered the purpose of lyre and harp; but I am not very learned in such
-things, and cannot tell you exactly what it was. The young girl stood
-long on the threshold of the hut, shading the light, and looking out
-after her father into the darkness. The wind was sharp and icy, and
-blew from the frozen sea. As she held the light, she thought she heard
-a cry come from the direction of the sea. She lingered before closing
-the door, although the wind was very chill; for the cry seemed repeated,
-and she thought it was a human voice calling. A moment’s reflection told
-her it could not be so; for the whole sea was frozen for miles outward,
-and no boat or wreck could come so near land. She sat down again to her
-work, and mused on the conversation she had held with her father. He had
-studied their national books all his life, and she was not yet twenty. He
-must know best. Was she likely to be right? She had little experience of
-the way in which the old system worked; only her own dreams and fancies
-showed her any other possibility; and yet--she could not shake off the
-thought: she thirsted for another revelation. The far-off, unknown
-Godhead must have some means of communicating with men; why should he not
-speak to her, who so passionately and blindly longed for a message, a
-command, from him?
-
-“The cry from the sea sounded again. Surely, this time there could be
-no mistake; the voice was human, and it had come nearer since she had
-left the door. She took up the light again, and went outside, shouting
-as loud as she could in return. She was answered, and a strange awe came
-upon her as she heard this cry. Was it that of a man or a spirit? The
-latter supposition seemed to her unsophisticated mind quite as likely
-as the former, but it did not frighten her, as it would most of her
-countrywomen. She went in again, wrapped a thick fur cloak around her,
-and, taking another on her arm, sallied out once more with another
-stronger light. It was barely possible to keep the resinous torch
-alight, and she looked anxiously out towards the sea, to try and catch
-some glimpse of a human figure. The cries came again at intervals; but
-she knew that in the clear air a seemingly near sound might yet be far
-distant. She had to walk briskly up and down the shore, in the beaten
-path between walls of snow, to keep herself warm, and occasionally she
-lifted the flaring torch and waved it as a signal. She could do no more,
-but she longed to see her unknown visitor, and to go out to meet him on
-the frozen waters. Was it some wrecked sailor, who had clambered from
-ice-floe to ice-floe, in the desperate hope of reaching land before he
-died of cold and hunger, or some unearthly messenger from an invisible
-world? If he were a mere man, from what coast could he have drifted.
-No Icelander would be out at this time and place; it was Yule-tide,
-and there were no wandering boats out among the ice-cliffs and floes.
-At last she thought she could discern a shadowy form, blacker than the
-surrounding darkness, but surely no human form; it was like a moving
-cross, one upright shape, and one laid across near the top, and both
-dark and compact. But the cry was repeated, though in a more assured
-and joyful tone, and the maiden waited with bated breath, wondering
-what this marvel could mean. A field of unbroken ice stretched between
-her and the advancing figure, which now hastened its steps, and came on
-like a swift-sailing bird, cleaving the darkness. She thought she could
-distinguish a human face above the junction of the two arms of the cross,
-and she held up the light, still uncertain what kind of visitant this
-approaching form might be. At last it flashed upon her that it was a
-man bearing a child. But why so rigid? Why did he not hug him close to
-his bosom to keep him warm, to keep him alive? Was the child dead? And
-a shuddering awe came upon her, as she thought of its dead white face
-upturned to heaven, and of the faithful man who had not forsaken it, or
-left it to the seals and wolves on the ice, or buried it in the chill
-waters beneath the ice-floes. What a cold it must have struck to the
-heart of the man carrying it; how his hands must be well-nigh frozen in
-supporting this strange burden!
-
-“She hardly knew whether she was still imagining what might be, or
-witnessing real movements, when the figure came straight up to her, and,
-stooping, laid the child at her feet. She lowered the torch, and, as the
-glare fell on the little face, she saw that it was no breathing one;
-the man had sunk down beside it, hardly able to stir, now the supreme
-effort was over and his end was accomplished. She dropped the cloak she
-held over the little body, and caught up a handful of snow, wherewith
-she energetically rubbed the face and hands of the stranger, then half
-dragged, half supported him to the door of the hut. He had only spoken
-once, just as he dropped at her feet, but she did not understand him:
-he spoke in a foreign tongue. Once more she went out and brought in the
-stiffened, frozen body of the child, which she laid on a fur robe just
-outside the hut; for it was warm within the small, confined dwelling. It
-was an hour before the stranger’s eye told her that her simple, quick
-remedies had succeeded. He was not very tall, but immensely strong and
-powerful, and there was a fire in his dark gray eye that gave the clew
-to his strange, weird pilgrimage over the ice-floes. His hair was dark
-brown, with a reddish tinge, but already mixed with a few gray streaks;
-it had been shorn close to his head some time since, as appeared from its
-irregular growth at present. Beneath his cloak he wore a long black robe,
-with a leathern girdle round the waist. The child was very beautiful,
-even in death; his eyes were closed, but his black, curling hair hung
-round his neck, and the lips had a sweet though somewhat proud outline.
-The scald’s daughter set some simple food before her silent guest, and
-made him a sign to eat. He was evidently very hungry, but before he
-began he moved his lips and made the sign of the cross on his forehead,
-lips, and breast. She asked him in her own language what that ceremony
-meant, not hoping to make him understand her speech, but trusting to her
-inquiring looks for some explanatory sign that she might interpret as
-best she could to herself. To her surprise, he answered in a few, slow,
-labored words, not in Icelandic to be sure, but in some dialect akin
-to it; for she could make out the meaning. It was, in fact, the Norse
-dialect that was spoken in the Orkney Islands, but she did not know that.
-As he spoke, her guest pointed upwards, and she knew that he referred
-to God. A great longing came into her heart, and she asked again if his
-God were the same the Icelanders worshipped. He shook his head, and she
-eagerly questioned farther, but grew so voluble that he could not follow
-her, and the conversation ceased. Then the stranger rose and went out
-to the little corpse, which he addressed in impassioned terms in his
-own language, making over it the same sign that had drawn the maiden’s
-attention before. He then described to her--mostly in pantomime, and with
-a few Norse words to help him on, and a few slowly-pronounced questions
-on her part--how the boy and he had been in a boat that was wrecked many
-days’ journey from their own country, and how he had carried him and fed
-him for three or four days, and then seen him die in his arms. The boy
-was the only son of a great chief, and he was taking him to his uncle in
-the North of Scotland. His own country was south of Scotland, a large
-island like Iceland, but green and beautiful, and there was no ice there.
-
-“The girl made him understand that she was alone for a day or two, but
-when her father came back he would help him. He evidently understood her
-better than she did him.
-
-“The next morning, when she again set food before him, she imitated his
-sign of the cross, and said she wished to believe in the true God; and
-if his God were the true one, she would believe in him. She looked so
-earnest and anxious that he again began to try to explain; but the few
-words he could command, though they sufficed to hint at his worldly
-adventures, and made clear to her that he had been wrecked, were scarcely
-adequate to tell her of the new religion she longed to understand.
-
-“But at noon that day another guest and traveller passed by the scald’s
-dwelling. He was hurrying to the same castle where the girl’s father had
-gone in his capacity of minstrel, but a violent snow-storm had come on
-that morning, and he had lost his way. He stopped a moment to refresh
-himself, and noticed the stranger. He was himself known as a great
-traveller, and the figure in the coarse black robe seemed not unfamiliar
-to him. He addressed the stranger in the latter’s language, guessing him
-at once to be an Irish monk. He said he had seen such men in the Scottish
-islands, where he had been storm-driven with his ship two years ago, and
-he had picked up a little of their speech. When the maiden discovered
-that in this stray guest she had found an interpreter, she pressed him,
-implored him, almost commanded him, to stay.
-
-“‘I must ask him the questions my father could not solve yesterday,’ she
-said; ‘and my father’s friend will not refuse to speak in my name, for I
-believe that the unknown God has answered my prayer in sending this holy
-man over the sea to my very feet.’ And she told him how the stranger had
-come to her, out of the darkness, in the shape of a cross--the same sign
-he made to propitiate his God.
-
-“‘Ask him to tell us what he believes,’ she said impetuously; and the
-interpreter, compelled by some instinct that he could not resist, began
-his office willingly.
-
-“‘Tell him,’ she said, ‘that yesterday, before he came, I was all day
-thinking that the high, true, unknown God had a message for me, and a
-truer faith to teach me, because he had put into my heart a longing for
-something higher than what our books and songs have taught us. And tell
-him that I believe God sent him in answer to my doubts and prayers.’
-
-“‘The traveller faithfully translated all this. The monk’s face glowed
-as he replied, in his own language, which he used with the grace and
-skill of a poet:
-
-“‘Tell the maiden that she is right; the true God _did_ send me, and now
-I know why such things happened to me; why I was wrecked with my lord’s
-only son, a precious freight, a sacred deposit, which the Lord of lords
-has now taken upon himself to account for to the earthly father, bereaved
-of his one hope. But God sent me here because to this pure-hearted virgin
-I was to explain the faith he had already put into her heart. It is not
-I who bring her the true faith, but God himself who has spoken to her
-and inclined her to believe; me he has sent to put this message into
-practical form. Tell her that this is the birthday of the Lord, and that
-a thousand years ago, almost at the same hour when I set my dead burden
-at her feet, a living Child, God’s own Child, lay at the feet of a pure
-Virgin in a little village far away in the land of the rising sun. And as
-this maiden’s torch which I saw over the wild, frozen sea, and followed,
-was an emblem of the faith that dwelt already in her heart, so, too, a
-marvellous star led three wise men, the scalds of the East, to where this
-Child lay, and the star was the emblem of their firm faith, which led
-them to cross rivers and deserts to reach the Child. And tell her that
-the way in which this wonderful birth was celebrated was by a song which
-held all the essence of truth in it: “Glory to God on high, and on earth
-peace to men of good-will.”’
-
-“All this the interpreter told the maiden, and both marvelled at it. The
-stranger told them more and more of that wonderful tale, so familiar
-to us, but which once sounded to our warlike forefathers like the
-foolishness of babes and sucklings, or at most like some Eastern myth
-good enough for philosophers to wrangle over, but unfit for sturdy men
-of the forest. To the Icelandic maiden it seemed but the fulfilment of
-her own dreams; and as she listened to the story of the Child, grown to
-be a wise but obedient Boy, and then a wandering, suffering Man, her
-soul seemed to drink in the hidden grandeur of the relation, to pierce
-beyond the human stumbling-blocks which confronted the wise and learned
-of other lands, and go at once to the heart of the great mystery of love,
-personified in the Man-God. All the rest seemed to her to be the fitting
-garment of the central mystery, the crown of leaves growing from the
-fruitful trunk of this one doctrine. All day long the three sat together,
-the two Icelanders hanging on the words of the stranger; and so the
-scald found them on his return. He, too, wanted to know the news which
-the monk had brought; for he said he had always believed that behind
-their national songs and hymns lay something greater, but perhaps not
-expedient for Norsemen to know. He shook his head sadly when he learned
-the monk’s precepts of love, peace, mercy, and forgiveness, and said he
-feared his countrymen would not understand that, but for his part it was
-not uncongenial to him. As the weather was such that no vessel could put
-to sea before the ice broke up, he constrained the monk to stay the rest
-of the winter with him, and in the spring promised to go over with him to
-the nearest Scottish coast, and carry the body of his little charge to
-the uncle to whom he had been on his way when he was wrecked.
-
-“Before the New Year began, the monk baptized the first Icelandic
-convert, the daughter of the scald, and gave her the name of the Mother
-of the Babe of Bethlehem, Mary. Many others heard of the new religion
-before he left, but that does not belong to my story. The new convert
-and her father accompanied him to Scotland, and were present at the
-burial of the Irish chieftain’s son at the castle of his Scottish
-uncle. The latter’s son married the Norse maiden, but she never ceased
-to lament that it had not been given to her to convert many of her own
-countrymen, or at least shed her blood for her new faith. All her life
-long she helped to send missionaries to Iceland; and when her son grew
-up to manhood, the palm she coveted was awarded to him, for he went to
-his mother’s native country, founded a monastery there, labored among
-the people, converted many, and taught reading and the arts of peace as
-well as the faith to his pupils; became abbot of the monastery, and was
-finally martyred on the steps of the altar by a horde of savage heathen
-Norsemen.
-
-“This is the best Christmas story I know, children,” concluded the Herr
-Pfarrer; “and you, Rika, I can wish you no better model than the fair
-maiden of Iceland.”
-
-It was nearly midnight when the old priest finished his tale, and Frau
-Köhler, rising, and thanking him cordially for this unwonted addition to
-ordinary Christmas stories, led him to a door which had been locked till
-now. It opened into a room decked as a chapel, with an altar at the end,
-which was now decorated with evergreens. A few chairs and benches were
-ranged before it, and on a table at the side was everything in readiness
-for saying Mass.
-
-“It is long since I have heard a midnight Mass,” said the good hostess,
-growing suddenly grave and reverential in her manner, “and my Rika never
-has; and you know, Herr Pfarrer, I told you I had a greater surprise in
-store for you yet, after all the local customs in which you were so much
-interested.”
-
-So the beautiful Midnight Mass was said in the Mecklenburg inspector’s
-farm-house, and a more impressive one Frau Köhler had never heard in any
-southern cathedral; for though there was no music and no pomp, there
-brooded over the little congregation a spirit of reverence and peace,
-which comes in full perfection only through a deep silence. The hostess
-and her daughter received Communion together, and the attentive household
-could not help thinking of the beautiful Icelandic convert when she came
-back from the altar, her hands folded over her breast, and her long, fair
-hair plaited in two plain, thick tresses.
-
-Herr Heldmann had stayed too, and from that day he never ceased his
-study of theological problems and his correspondence with the Herr
-Pfarrer, till he became a Catholic, and was married to Rika in this same
-little chapel-room a year later by the same kind old priest. One of
-the young apprentices of Emanuel Köhler had been his secret rival; but
-notwithstanding that Heldmann was ungainly, shy, and twice her age, Rika
-decidedly thought that she had the best of the bargain.
-
-And it was true; he had a heart of gold, and she made him a model wife.
-
-
-CHRISTMAS CHIMES.
-
-    The clear starlight, of a southern night,
-      Shone in Judæa’s sky,
-    The angels sang, and their harp-strings rang
-      With “Glory to God on high.”
-    Through the pearl gates streamed, ere the morning beamed,
-      The radiance of Heaven’s day;
-    And the shepherds led to the lonely bed
-      Where the holy Child-God lay.
-
-    The Yule-log’s light gleams warm to-night
-      In many an English home,
-    And no spirits dare--so the wise declare--
-      In the light of its beams to come;
-    The weird mistletoe and the holly glow
-      On castle and cottage wall;
-    While the jest and song ring all night long,
-      Through the merry banquet-hall.
-
-    And in other climes at the ringing chimes
-      There are scenes of joy and mirth:
-    E’en round the dead is its beauty shed
-      Who at Christmas pass from earth.
-    On this holy day, so the old tomes say,
-      Heaven’s portals open wide,
-    And the soul glides in, freed from all its sin
-      By the birth of the Crucified.
-
-    In our own fair land there is many a band
-      Whose home is filled with glee,
-    Whose hearts beat high, as the fleet hours fly,
-      With thoughts of the Christmas-tree.
-    May the Christ-Child weave, on this Christmas eve,
-      New hopes as the years go by,
-    And around His throne may at last each one
-      Sing “Glory to God on high.”
-
-
-ANGLICANS, OLD CATHOLICS, AND THE CONFERENCE AT BONN.
-
-Under the title of _Anglicanism, Old Catholicism, and the Union of the
-Christian Episcopal Churches_, an essay has recently been published by
-the Rev. Father Tondini,[178] Barnabite, whose intimate acquaintance with
-the respective languages of England, Germany, and Russia, as well as the
-religious history and literature of those countries, peculiarly qualifies
-him for dealing with the questions just now exciting so much attention in
-Western Europe. We shall, therefore, not only make his treatise, which
-merits more than ordinary notice, the basis of the present article, but
-shall reproduce such portions of it as are particularly suggestive at the
-present time, and conclude with some account of the Conference at Bonn
-and the considerations it suggests.
-
-In the Introduction to his treatise the reverend author gives the reasons
-which called it forth, the last being the promise made on the tomb of a
-friend[179] to leave nothing untried which might promote the return of
-the Greco-Russian Church to Catholic unity; an unexpected opportunity
-being given for fulfilling this promise by the reference made more than
-once by Mr. Gladstone, in his recent publications, to the organization
-of the Eastern as contrasted with that of the Catholic Church. Moreover,
-the sympathy displayed by Mr. Gladstone for the Old Catholics and their
-Conference at Bonn serves to complete the argument.
-
-There are two passages in Mr. Gladstone’s _Vaticanism_ with which Father
-Tondini has more especially dealt. One is the following:
-
-“Of these early provisions for a balance of church power, and for
-securing the laity against sacerdotal domination, the rigid conservatism
-of the Eastern Church presents us, even down to the present day, with an
-authentic and living record.”[180]
-
-These valuable “provisions” are set forth at length in the second edition
-of a former work by Father Tondini, _The Pope of Rome and the Popes of
-the Oriental Church_.[181] In a special preface he there says: “There is
-much to be learned from them, especially if we take into consideration
-their recent date, and the ecclesiastical canons of which the Eastern
-Church has not been indeed a rigid conservator.”
-
-In the quotations there given at length from the original documents, we
-find abundant evidence of the manner in which the ancient canons have
-been set aside, wherever convenient to the czar, for his own regulations.
-
-The second passage requiring comment is the following:
-
-“The ancient principles of popular election and control, for which room
-was found in the Apostolic Church under its inspired teachers, and which
-still subsist in the Christian East.”[182]
-
-This, as we shall see, is disposed of in the third chapter of the present
-essay, into which has been collected trustworthy information as to the
-non-popular mode of election of bishops resorted to in the Oriental
-Orthodox Church.[183]
-
-Towards the close of the Introduction the writer remarks that if the
-statements made by Mr. Gladstone respecting the Catholic Church were
-true, she could not be the true church of our Lord, and, if not, he
-asks, where then is the true church to be found? The Oriental Church
-could not solve the question, because she is in contradiction to the
-doctrine contained in her own liturgy,[184] and also for other reasons,
-to which for some years past he has been directing public attention.[185]
-There remain to be considered the Anglican Establishment--this being the
-church to which belongs the writer who accuses the Catholic Church of
-having changed in faith, and deprived her children of their moral and
-mental freedom--and the newest sect of all, namely, the so-called Old
-Catholics, owing to the same writer’s admiration of those who figure in
-its ranks.
-
-Reason, so loudly appealed to by Mr. Gladstone, has been strictly adhered
-to by Father Tondini in his careful examination of the credentials of
-the two latter bodies, and we will give, in as concise a form as may
-be consistent with clearness, the result of his inquiry. He especially
-addresses those who admit the existence of a visible Church of Christ,
-and still more particularly those who, rather than reconcile themselves
-to the Catholic Church, say that neither the Roman Catholic Church,
-nor the Anglican Establishment, nor the Old-Catholic Society, but the
-Oriental Orthodox Church, is the true visible church of Christ.
-
-
-I.
-
-The claims of the Anglican Church are first examined, her vitality being
-an argument that we are in presence of an institution adhered to, at
-least by a large portion of her members, with conviction and devotedness,
-as a valuable medium between unbelief and superstition, worldliness and
-sanctity; and of a state church as solidly framed as human genius could
-devise.
-
-“Bodies,” says Mr. Gladstone, “are usually held to be bound by the
-evidence of their own selected and typical witnesses.”[186] Now,
-the selected and typical witnesses of the Church of England are the
-sovereign, who is “Defender of the Faith and Supreme Governor of the
-Church in her Dominions,” and the episcopate. If the whole clergy is
-consulted, the evidence becomes as undeniable as it can possibly be.
-
-This perfect evidence is found in the Thirty-nine Articles, which are
-thus headed: “Articles agreed upon by the archbishops and bishops of
-both provinces, and the whole clergy, assembled in convocation holden at
-London in the year 1562, for the avoiding of diversities of opinions,”
-etc., etc.
-
-The Ratification is to the same effect, with the addition of the assent
-and consent of the queen (Elizabeth), after their final rehearsal in the
-General Convocation of bishops and clergy in 1571. They are, moreover,
-reprinted in the _Book of Common Prayer_, with the Declaration of King
-James I. affixed, and which runs as follows:
-
-“Being by God’s ordinance, according to our just title, Defender of
-the Faith and supreme governor of the church in these our dominions,
-… we will that all curious search be laid aside, and these disputes
-shut up in God’s promises as they be generally set forth in the Holy
-Scriptures, and the general meaning of the Articles of the Church of
-England according to them; and that no man hereafter shall either print
-or preach to draw the article aside any way, but shall submit to it in
-the plain and full meaning thereof, and … shall take it in the literal
-and grammatical sense.”
-
-“Following this last admonition, and bearing in mind that the Church
-of England considers herself to be a branch of the universal church of
-Christ, we open the _Book of Common Prayer_, and turn to those among
-the Articles which treat of the universal church, that we may see how,
-without renouncing our Italian nationality--which to us is very dear--we
-could belong to the universal church of Christ. We see an article headed
-‘Of the Authority of General Councils,’ and, on reading it, find to our
-astonishment the definition, not indeed of the infallibility of the Pope,
-but of the fallibility, without any exception, of the universal church of
-Christ! It is: Article XXI.--‘General Councils may not be called together
-without the commandment and will of princes. And when they be gathered
-together (forasmuch as they be an assembly of men, whereof all be not
-governed with the spirit and word of God), they may err, and sometimes
-have erred, even in things pertaining unto God. Wherefore things ordained
-by them as necessary to salvation have neither strength nor authority,
-unless it may be declared that they be taken out of Holy Scripture.’”
-
-“Thus” (we give Father Tondini’s words) “the Church of England has
-defined, in two plenary national councils, that the universal church of
-Christ, even when assembled in a general council, may err, and ordain, as
-necessary to salvation, things which have neither strength nor authority;
-and a king, ‘Defender of the Faith,’ has declared that this is the true
-doctrine of the Church of England, agreeable to God’s word, and required
-all his loving subjects to submit to this article ‘in the plain and full
-meaning thereof,’ and to take it ‘in the literal and grammatical sense’!
-
-“We can hardly trust our own eyes. Again: What does the word ‘declare’
-mean in the concluding words of the article? This word may convey two
-senses--that of proving and of making a declaration.
-
-“In the first case, _who_ is to offer the proofs that ‘the thing ordained
-as necessary to salvation’ is taken out of Holy Scripture? This the
-Church of England has forgotten to tell us!… Moreover, an authority
-whose decrees, in order to have a binding power, must be proved to be
-taken out of Holy Scripture, is by that very fact subordinate to those
-who are called to examine the proofs.[187] The chief authorities of the
-church assembled in a general council are thus rendered as inferior to
-the faithful as the claimant is inferior to the judge who is about to
-pronounce sentence upon his claims. The teaching and governing body
-of the church is consequently no more than an assembly commissioned
-to frame, ‘as necessary to salvation,’ laws to be submitted to the
-approbation of the faithful!
-
-“Is this serious? Is it even respectful to human intelligence?”
-
-Again, if the word “declare” must be taken in the sense of a declaration,
-Father Tondini asks: “But by whom is such a declaration to be made?
-Assuredly not by the council itself--‘judice in causâ propriâ.’ An
-authority liable to err, ‘even in things pertaining unto God,’ and to
-ordain ‘as necessary to salvation’ things which have ‘neither strength
-nor authority,’ is liable also to mistake the sense of Holy Scripture.
-To seek such a declaration from this fallible authority would be like
-begging the question.
-
-“The declaration must, then, be made by some authority external to the
-general council. But the ‘archbishops, bishops, and the whole clergy of
-England’ have omitted to inform the faithful _where_ such an authority is
-to be found. Moreover, since a general council--that is, the ‘selected
-and typical witnesses’ of the whole Church of Christ--may err (according
-to Article XXI.), it necessarily follows that portions of the whole
-church of Christ may err also. In fact, this natural consequence is
-explicitly stated in Article XIX. The zeal displayed by the Church of
-England in asserting the fallibility, both of the whole church of Christ
-and of portions of that church, may be said to rival that of the most
-fervent advocates of the infallibility of the Pope.”
-
-This XIXth Article modestly asserts that, “as the Churches of Jerusalem,
-Alexandria, and Antioch have erred, so also the Church of Rome hath
-erred, not only in their living and manner of ceremonies, but also in
-matters of faith.”
-
-Whereupon “a legitimate doubt arises whether the Church of England, too,
-might not have erred in issuing the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion.
-This doubt is very material. These Articles ordain several things as
-‘necessary to salvation.’ Are they, or are they not, ‘taken out of Holy
-Scripture’? Have they, or have they not, ‘strength and authority’?”
-
-Shortly after their promulgation, we have it upon the authority of
-King James I. himself that this doubt gave rise to “disputations,
-altercations, and questions such as may nourish faction both in the
-church and commonwealth,” and his majesty adds that “therefore, upon
-mature deliberation,” etc., he “thought fit” to make the declaration
-following:
-
-“That the Articles of the Church of England … do contain the true
-doctrine of the Church of England, agreeable to God’s Word, which WE do
-therefore ratify and confirm.”
-
-“May we” (with Father Tondini) “be allowed respectfully to ask whether
-King James I. was infallible?”
-
-And if so, why should Catholics be charged with having forfeited
-their mental and moral freedom, etc., etc., because they admit the
-infallibility of the Pope, which results, by the law of development, from
-several passages of Holy Scripture; whereas, on the contrary, no “brain
-power” will ever be able to discover a single word in Holy Scripture
-which can, by the most vigorous process of development, bud forth into
-the infallibility of a King of England?
-
-On the other hand, if King James were _not_ infallible, by what right
-could he then prohibit and _will_ in matters of faith for his subjects?
-
-His only right was this: that the Church of England had been made a
-powerful _instrumentum regni_ in the hands of her sovereigns,[188] just
-as the Church of Russia is in the hands of her czars.
-
-After this, observes the writer, no inconsistency ought to astonish us.
-
-In Article XVIII. it is declared that “the body of Christ is given,
-taken, and eaten in the [Lord’s] Supper _only after an heavenly
-and spiritual manner_”; and again, at the end of the “Order of the
-Ministration of the Holy Communion,” that “the natural body and blood
-of our Saviour Christ are in heaven, _and not here_.” How can these
-declarations be made to agree with the following, which is taught in the
-Little Catechism?--“The body and blood of Christ are _verily and indeed
-taken_ and received by the faithful in the Lord’s Supper.”
-
-Again, in Article XI. we find: “That we are justified by faith _only_
-is a most wholesome doctrine, and very full of comfort”; whereas in the
-order for the visitation of the sick we read as follows:
-
-“Here shall the sick person be moved to make _a special confession of his
-sins_, if he feel his conscience troubled with any weighty matter. After
-which confession the priest shall absolve him (if he humbly and heartily
-desire it) after this sort,” etc., etc.
-
-“But,” asks Father Tondini, “by what strange metamorphosis can the
-above-quoted doctrine of justification _by faith only_, declared to be
-‘most wholesome and very full of comfort’ while we are in good health,
-cease to possess the power of comforting the conscience of a sick
-person? And how can confession, which through life is to be considered
-by Anglicans as ‘_grown of the corrupt following of the apostles_’ (see
-Article XXV.), become suddenly so transfigured by the approach of death
-as to obtain the power of relieving a conscience ‘troubled with any
-weighty matter’?”
-
-Although it may not be matter of much surprise that a church which has
-so carefully defined her own fallibility should have one doctrine for
-her children in their days of health and vigor, and another for the
-time of their sickness and death, still it does surprise us that a man
-of education like Mr. Gladstone should be so unconscious of his own
-extraordinary inconsistency in appealing--as he does throughout his
-attacks against Catholics and the Catholic Church--to “mental and moral
-freedom,” “logic,” “consistency of mind,” “manliness of thought,” etc.,
-etc.
-
-Already arise from all sides echoes of the question singularly enough
-asked by Mr. Gladstone himself: “Is the Church of England worth
-preserving?”[189]
-
-“The Church of England,” said Laud, “is Protestant.” And Mr. Gladstone,
-true to “the church of his birth and his country,” protests, like her,
-against the church which made his country a Christian nation. The
-Ritualists, the latest sect within her, still boast that they “help
-to keep people from the Church of Rome,” and reject the imputation of
-sympathy with her as an insupportable calumny.[190] “They will give
-communion in Westminster Abbey to an Unitarian, flatter Jansenists and
-Monophysites, remain in communion with bishops whom they themselves
-proclaim to be heretics; but one thing they will not do--tolerate the
-creed of the church to which they owe every fragment and crumb of
-truth that remains to them.” “Take the great Anglian divines,” writes
-Mr. Marshall: “Bull scorned and preached against the Catholic Church;
-Barrow wrote a book against it; Sandys called the Vicar of Christ ‘that
-triple-crowned thief and murderer’; Hooker sent for a dissenter on his
-death-bed; Morton, Bramhall, Andrews, and the rest avowed the opinion
-that the Protestant sects of the Continent were as true churches as their
-own. Episcopal ordination, as the late Mr. J. Keble confessed, was not
-made a condition for holding Anglican preferment until the latter half
-of the XVIIth century; and it was _then_ adopted as a weapon against the
-growing power of the dissenters. _Then_ Anglicans who had always argued
-as Protestants against the church began to argue as Catholics against
-dissent.”
-
-At the present time, however, the English episcopate seems veering round
-again to the Protestant quarter, against the pseudo-Catholic innovations
-of a portion of the clergy. The _Church Herald_, which, up to the time
-when it ceased to exist, a few weeks ago, had been protesting for many
-months previously, with good reason, against the implacable opposition
-offered by the Anglican bishops to the so-called “Catholic revival,”
-gravely told its readers, while asserting once more that “no one trusts
-the bishops,” and that “of influence they have and can have next to
-none,” nevertheless that “their claims as Catholic bishops were never
-so firmly established.” (!) Certainly Anglican logic is peculiar. Their
-bishops were never more vehemently opposed to the Catholic faith; but no
-matter, “never were they more truly Catholic.” (!)
-
-“I have very reluctantly,” says Dr. Lee (as reported in the _John Bull_),
-“come to a conclusion which makes me melancholy--that the passing of
-the Public Worship Bill has to all intents and purposes sealed the fate
-of the Church of England.” Its end, he thinks, is very near, because
-no church can last unless it be a true portion of the one family of
-God--not a mere human sect, taking its variable opinion from the civil
-government, and its practice from a parliamentary officer without the
-faintest shadow of spiritual authority. “The point that gravely perplexes
-me,” he writes, “with regard to the new law, is that our bishops, one
-and all, have, with their eyes open and deliberately, renounced their
-spiritual jurisdiction, which, for both provinces and every diocese, is
-placed in the hands of Lord Penzance, ex-judge of the Divorce Court.” For
-which reason certain Ritualist papers lament it as “strange and sad” that
-Dr. Lee should say of the bishops and their bill exactly the same _after_
-their victory as they themselves had said _before_ it. These papers,
-after the example of some learned Anglican professors, etc., are ready
-enough beforehand to threaten, in the event of such and such a decision,
-to “reconsider their position.” The decision is made; they then discover
-that, after all, it is not so very serious, and compose themselves, for
-the third, or fourth, or fifth time, just where they were before.
-
-It is stated that the first case under the Public Worship Regulations
-Act is now being brought before Lord Penzance. It is a suit against the
-Rev. J. C. Ridsdale, incumbent of S. Peter’s, Folkestone. According to
-the new law, three inhabitants made a representation to the Archbishop
-of Canterbury as to the manner in which the services were conducted at
-S. Peter’s. A copy of the representation was forwarded to Mr. Ridsdale,
-and, no agreement to abide by the decision of the archbishop having been
-made, the proceedings will be determined by the judge, from whom there
-is an ultimate appeal to her Majesty in council. There are, it is said,
-three cases pending under the new law; and fresh proceedings are about
-to be commenced against the clergy of S. Alban’s, Holborn. The bill bids
-fair to be as one-sided in its application as it avowedly was in its
-intention. “The Puritan triumph in the XVIIth century,” said the Bishop
-of London, “would not be more disastrous than a pseudo-Catholic triumph
-now,” and the rest of the episcopal bench are evidently of the same mind.
-
-Nor can it be matter of much surprise that such repression should be
-exercised against men, many of them truly earnest and self-denying, who
-are the means of reviving a certain amount of Catholic doctrine as well
-as practice (however illegal) in their communion, when Dr. Lee is able
-to write as follows to an episcopal correspondent: “The Catholic faith,
-Archbishop Tait, in the presence of his suffragans, frankly declared
-that _neither he nor they believed_, and his grace--to give him all
-credit--has done his worst to get rid of it.”
-
-Here again can we wonder at the result, even to her highest dignitaries,
-of the uncertain teaching of a church which, from its very beginning, was
-intended to be a compromise?
-
-And, again, how can a church which is essentially a compromise be
-expected to sympathize with that unchanging church which is “the pillar
-and ground of the truth”?
-
-
-II.
-
-To return to Father Tondini’s essay. We come now to consider the newest
-among the sects, the so-called Old Catholics, who, after the manner of
-many other schismatics, appropriate the name of “Catholic” with an affix
-of their own, which is a proof that theirs is a base metal, unworthy of
-the “image and superscription of the King” or his appointed vicegerent.
-
-Mr. Gladstone’s judgment of these people is thus expressed: “When the
-cup of endurance,” he says, “which had so long been filling, began, with
-the Council of the Vatican in 1870, to overflow, the most famous and
-learned living theologian of the Roman communion, Dr. von Döllinger, long
-the foremost champion of his church, refused compliance, and submitted,
-with his temper undisturbed and his freedom unimpaired, to the extreme
-and most painful penalty of excommunication. With him many of the most
-learned and respected theologians of the Roman communion in Germany
-underwent the same sentence. The very few who elsewhere (I do not speak
-of Switzerland) suffered in like manner deserve an admiration rising in
-proportion to their fewness.
-
-“It seems as though Germany, from which Luther blew the mighty trumpet
-that even now echoes through the land, still retained her primacy in the
-domain of conscience, still supplied the _centuria prærogativa_ of the
-great _comitia_ of the world.”[191]
-
-After giving this quotation, Father Tondini, in the exercise of his
-“mental freedom,” proceeds to examine whether Old Catholics really
-deserve this highly laudatory and enthusiastic passage, and in what their
-merit consists.
-
-Their merit consists “in having rebelled against the church to which they
-previously belonged, on the ground that, in their conviction, she had
-changed her faith.
-
-“Not one single bishop, not one out of the teaching body of the
-church, has expressed the same conviction. Old Catholics are, then, a
-mere handful … protesting against the Pope and the whole episcopate,
-preferring their own private judgment to that of the whole teaching body
-of the Catholic Church, and fully decided to do everything in their
-power to bring about the triumph of their private personal judgment.
-Their first act was to raise a schism in the church. They had openly
-and freely separated themselves from her long before the sentence of
-excommunication was notified to them. They then became the occasion of a
-severe persecution against their former fellow-Catholics; and now, whilst
-the persecution is raging, and Old Catholics, supported by governments
-and the press, have suffered neither in person nor property, nor in
-their individual liberty, we are called upon to bestow upon those who
-suffered ‘in like manner’ an admiration rising in proportion to their
-fewness!”[192]
-
-But why is this? and what is the _Expostulation_ itself but a cry of
-alarm to prevent British Catholics from rebelling against the queen?
-Why, then, is the rebellion of some private individuals to be extolled
-in terms like these? Or if, indeed, strong private religious convictions
-(taking it for granted that the Old Catholics have such) make it
-praiseworthy to rebel against the church, why should not strong private
-political convictions make it equally praiseworthy to rebel against the
-state? The field of similar applications is fearfully wide, and many a
-parental admonition to an indolent or disobedient child might be met by
-the young rebel in Mr. Gladstone’s words, that “with temper undisturbed,
-with freedom unimpaired,” he had no intention to do as he was bid.
-
-The first official document of the Old Catholics is the “Declaration” of
-Dr. von Döllinger and his adherents, dated Munich, June, 1871,[193] and
-which bears the signatures of Dr. von Döllinger, sixteen professors or
-doctors, seven magistrates, three private gentlemen, two manufacturers,
-one “Maître royal des cérémonies,” and one “Intendant royal de musique au
-théâtre de cour”--thirty-one signatures in all, to which was added later
-that of the unhappy Loyson.
-
-The second document is a French manifesto or appeal, “Aux fidèles de
-l’Ancienne Eglise Catholique,” signed “E. Michaud, Docteur en Théologie,”
-dated 1872, and widely circulated in France, with a request that every
-reader will help to make it known and gain as many additional adherents
-as possible.
-
-The style of both documents is peculiar. They alike belong to those
-literary productions which betray an almost feverish excitement of mind.
-A small number of persons, till lately belonging to the Catholic Church,
-declare themselves “determined” to do their utmost towards bringing about
-“the reform of ecclesiastical affairs, so long desired and henceforth so
-inevitable, in the organization as well as in the life of the church.”
-In fact, the authors of both these documents show a faith in their
-own infallibility, both doctrinal and practical, at least as strong as
-their conviction of the fallibility of the Pope. They are peculiarly
-unfortunate in their choice of the fathers they quote, as well as in
-their appeal to the authority of S. Paul. Their style is certainly
-wholly unlike that of this great apostle, who, with so much earnestness
-and humility, begs the prayers of the faithful, while the necessity of
-prayer for such an undertaking as that which the Old Catholics call
-the “regeneration of the church” is not even once alluded to in their
-manifestoes.
-
-There is another consideration which presents itself. Every practical
-man is careful to ascertain the competency, in any particular subject,
-of those who give him their advice upon it. A sick man would not consult
-a lawyer for his cure, nor an aggrieved man seek legal advice of his
-baker or shoemaker. The distinguished magistrates who signed the German
-Declaration must be supposed to have done so, not in consequence of
-a clear and detailed knowledge of the grounds of the assertions it
-contained, but in consequence of their confidence in Dr. von Döllinger,
-which led them to adopt his views. In the same way must be explained
-the adhesions given by the respectable manufacturers, “Maître royal
-des cérémonies,” and “Intendant royal de musique au théâtre de cour”;
-for though these pursuits need not be in themselves an obstacle to a
-man being well acquainted with religious matters, still they are an
-undeniable argument against his having made it the chief object of his
-studies.
-
-“Now,” continues Father Tondini, “the charges brought in the present
-case against the Catholic Church are so heavy, and the mere probability
-of their being founded on truth of such vital importance to the whole
-Christian world, … that to require something more than the ordinary
-amount of theological science which is in general to be found in men
-involved in worldly affairs of the most distracting kind, is only acting
-in accordance with the most ordinary laws of prudence. All this will
-become evident if we only suppose that the ‘Declaration’ had appeared
-without the signatures of Dr. von Döllinger and the above-mentioned
-professors.” In looking over the latter we find that none of them can lay
-any claim to the same scientific authority and repute as that which he
-enjoys; and the same remark applies to all who have subsequently joined
-the Old Catholics.
-
-With regard to Dr. von Döllinger himself, he has till now, if we
-are rightly informed, abstained from joining his fellow-subscribers
-to the German “Declaration” in their submission to Mgr. Reinkens,
-the Old-Catholic Bishop of Germany. “Thus the chief promoter of the
-opposition to the Vatican Council stands apart, and we should be grateful
-to any one who might tell us to what church he belongs and whom he
-recognizes as his legitimate bishop. We cannot suppose that he whom Mr.
-Gladstone calls ‘the most famous and learned theologian of the Roman
-communion’ has the pretension of forming a church in his own person.”
-
-Father Tondini next notices the remarkable phenomenon presented by Old
-Catholicism during the first three years of its existence as body without
-a head, and calls the reader’s attention to the following passage in the
-French manifesto:
-
-“If it be the will of God,” thus it runs, “that some Roman bishops have
-the courage to return publicly to the profession of the ancient faith,
-we will place them with joy at our head. And if none break publicly
-with heresy, our church, though essentially episcopal, will not for
-that reason be condemned to die; for as soon as it shall be possible to
-regularize its situation in this respect, we shall choose priests who
-will receive either in the West or in the East an episcopal consecration
-of unquestionable validity.”
-
-“These,” he remarks, “are plain words. It evidently results from
-them that there was a time when the church, ‘unstained by any Roman
-innovation,’ was still looking for a bishop--in other words, for a head,
-which she did not possess as yet. How, in spite of this deficiency,
-the Old-Catholic Church could be termed essentially episcopal we are
-at a loss to understand. That which is essential to a thing is that
-without which it cannot possibly exist for a single moment; but here
-we are asked to believe in a miracle which at once destroys all our
-physical and metaphysical notions of things. A new-born warrior fighting
-without a head, and a being existing without one of its essential
-constituents--such are the wonders which accompanied the genesis of the
-so-called regenerated church of the Old Catholics.”
-
-The German Declaration in like manner states the then headless condition
-of the Old-Catholic body. Its subscribers, and among them Prof. Reinkens,
-say they look forward to a time when “all Catholicity shall be placed
-under the direction of a primate and an episcopacy, which by means of
-science,” etc., etc., “and not by the decrees of the Vatican, … shall
-approach the crowning object assigned to Christian development--we mean
-that of the union of the other Christian confessions now separated from
-us,” etc.
-
-Such was their language in June, 1871, when they were already nearly a
-year old. Their first bishop, Joseph Hubert Reinkens, was consecrated
-in August, 1873. These dates are very important. No power on earth will
-ever be able to annul them as historical facts, which prove that a body
-calling itself the true church of Christ has existed some time without a
-single bishop, although bishops are essential to the church of Christ, as
-Scripture, tradition, history, all antiquity agree. S. Cyprian says:
-
-“The church is the people in union with the bishop--a flock adhering to
-its shepherd. The bishop is in the church and the church in the bishop.
-He who is not with the bishop is not in the church.”[194] And again:
-“He cannot be accounted a bishop who, in despite of the evangelic and
-apostolic tradition, has, of himself, become one (_a se ipso ortus est,
-nemini succedens_), and succeeds to none.”
-
-Now, “to what bishop” (asks Father Tondini) “did Dr. Reinkens succeed?
-His first pastoral letter, dated August 11, 1873, is addressed ‘to the
-priests and faithful of Germany who persevere in the ancient Catholic
-faith.’ Who ever heard of the bishop and diocese of Germany before
-this letter?” Again: “That same Dr. Reinkens who in June, 1871, signed
-the ‘Declaration’ in which the Christian confessions outside the Roman
-Church were called ‘Christian confessions now separated from us,’ in
-August, 1873, saluted with the title of ‘Old Catholics,’ the Jansenists
-of Holland, and Mgr. Heykamp, the bishop by whom he was consecrated, with
-that of ‘bishop of the Old Catholics’!”[195]
-
-
-III.
-
-We now come to the consideration of Old Catholicism as an instrument of
-union between the Christian Episcopal churches. In accordance with their
-“Declaration,” the Old Catholics insist upon its being one of their main
-objects to reunite the Christian churches separated from Rome during
-the VIIIth and IXth centuries, and complacently boast of the marks of
-sympathy bestowed upon them by these churches.
-
-From one of their manifestoes Father Tondini quotes the following
-important statements:
-
-“The bishops of the Oriental Orthodox Church”--thus runs the
-manifesto--“and those of the Episcopal Church of England and the United
-States of America (!) encourage Old Catholicism with their most profound
-sympathy. Representatives of the Orthodox Church of Russia assist every
-year at its congress.… The interest displayed for it by governments is
-not inferior to that of the churches.… The governments of Russia and of
-England are disposed to recognize its rights when it shall be opportune
-to do so.”[196]
-
-Upon which he points out the exceeding inexpediency, for their own sakes,
-of these governments or their bishops having any participation in the
-doings of Old Catholics; and this for the following reasons, which are
-worthy of careful consideration by the two governments in question, and
-which we give in his own words:
-
-“In order, it would seem, to escape the stringent conclusion of S.
-Cyprian’s words, ‘He who does not succeed to other bishops, but is
-self-originated, cannot be reckoned among bishops,’ Mgr. Reinkens, in his
-above-quoted pastoral letter, … authoritatively declared not only that
-the ‘apostolic see of Rome was vacant,’ but that not one of the actually
-existing Roman Catholic bishops was legitimate.
-
-“In support of this assumption the Old-Catholic bishop invokes some
-fathers of the church--not, indeed, what they said or did while living,
-but what they would say or do if they were to return to life: ‘If the
-great bishops of the ancient church were to return to life in the midst
-of us,’ says Mgr. Reinkens, ‘a Cyprian, (!) a Hilary, an Ambrose, … they
-would acknowledge none of the existing bishops of the Roman Catholic
-Church as validly elected.’[197]
-
-“So much for the fact. As it can only be ascertained when those great
-bishops are restored to life, all we can do is to defer this verification
-until the great day of judgment.
-
-“Now comes the general principle on which the assumed fact is founded.
-Let us listen again to Mgr. Reinkens: ‘They [the resuscitated bishops of
-the ancient church] would not acknowledge any of the existing bishops of
-the Roman Catholic Church as validly elected, because none of them were
-appointed in conformity with the immutable rule of the fathers of the
-church. Never! no, never! would they have received into their company,
-in the quality of a Catholic bishop, one who had not been chosen by the
-people and the clergy. This mode of election was considered by them as of
-divine precept, and consequently as immutable.’”
-
-“How many bishops are there in existence at the present day,” asks Father
-Tondini, “either in the Anglican Church or in the Christian East, who
-have been chosen by the people and the clergy?”
-
-In answer to this question we have, respecting the non-popular mode of
-election in the Oriental Orthodox Church, the following trustworthy
-information: In the Orthodox Church of the Turkish Empire the election
-of a patriarch is made by the members of its synod, which is composed of
-metropolitans, of one of their own number, and this election “is then
-made known to the people assembled in the atrium of the synodicon, who
-give, by acclamation and the cry of ἄξιος (worthy), their assent to the
-election.… This, however, is in fact an empty formality; the more so
-as the election itself is the result of previous secret understandings
-between the more influential members of the synod and the leading men
-among the people.”[198]
-
-“The three patriarchs of Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem are elected
-by their respective synods, composed of metropolitans.
-
-“The metropolitans and bishops of each patriarchate are elected by the
-respective patriarchs, together with their synods.”
-
-Did the Patriarch of Constantinople, in agreeing, on the invitation of
-Dr. von Döllinger, to send representatives of the Greek Orthodox Church
-to the Old Catholic Church Congress at Bonn, forget that, according to
-Mgr. Reinkens, all bishops who have not been elected by the clergy and
-the people are illegitimate bishops, that their sees are all vacant, that
-this mode of election is of divine precept, and consequently immutable?
-
-“We know not,” says Father Tondini, “which of the two is more to be
-wondered at: the boldness of the Old Catholics in inviting the patriarch
-to be represented at the congress, or the logical inconsistency of the
-patriarch in accepting the invitation.”
-
-Next, with regard to the Orthodox Church of the Russian Empire.
-
-No one who may have read “The Future of the Russian Church,” which
-recently appeared in the pages of THE CATHOLIC WORLD,[199] will need to
-be told how little voice either the inferior clergy or people of Russia
-have in the election of their bishops. The Most Holy Governing Synod
-proposes to his majesty two persons (on an eparchy becoming vacant), and
-that one of the two selected by the czar is chosen and consecrated.[200]
-(See Consett, _Spiritual Regulation of Peter the Great_.)
-
-In the formula of the oath taken by the Russian bishops before being
-consecrated, they engage themselves to yield true obedience to the Holy
-Synod, “the legitimate authority instituted by the pious Emperor Peter
-the Great of immortal memory, and confirmed by command of his (or her)
-present imperial majesty,” and to obey all the rules and statutes made by
-the authority of the synod agreeably to the will of his (or her) imperial
-majesty, adding the following words: “Furthermore, I do testify that I
-have not received this province in consideration of gold or silver given
-by me, … but I have received it by the free will of our most serene and
-most puissant sovereign (by name), and by the _election_ of the Holy
-Legislative Synod.[201] Moreover, at the beginning of the ceremony the
-bishop-consecrator thus addresses the newly-elected bishop: “Reverend
-Father N., the Most Serene and Most Puissant Czar N. N. _hath commanded,
-by his own singular and proper edict_, and the Holy Legislative Synod of
-all the Russias gives its benediction thereto, that you, holy sir, be
-bishop of the city of N.”; to which the future bishop is made to answer:
-“Since the Most Serene, etc., Czar has _commanded_, and the … synod … has
-judged me worthy to undertake this province, I give thanks therefor, and
-do undertake it and in nowise gainsay.”[202]
-
-After similarly disposing (with regard to the remaining Oriental
-churches) of Mr. Gladstone’s extraordinary assertion that “the ancient
-principles of popular election and control exist in the Christian
-East”--an assertion of which also he makes use as a weapon against the
-Catholic Church[203]--Father Tondini passes on to the election of bishops
-in the Anglican Church. With regard to this, the following abstract from
-Stephen is amply sufficient to show how far “the principles of popular
-election” prevail in the nomination of the bishops of the Establishment:
-
-“By statute 25 Henry VIII. c. 20 the law was altered and the right of
-nomination secured to the crown, it being enacted that, at every future
-avoidance of a bishopric, the king may send the dean and chapter his
-usual license to proceed to election, or _congé d’elire_, which is always
-to be accompanied with a letter missive from the king, containing the
-name of the person whom he would have them elect; and if the dean and
-chapter delay their election above twelve days, the nomination shall
-devolve to the king, who may by letters-patent appoint such person as
-he pleases. This election or nomination, if it be of a bishop, must be
-signified by the king’s letters-patent to the archbishop of the province;
-if it be of an archbishop, to the other archbishop and two bishops, or
-to four bishops, requiring them to confirm, invest, and consecrate the
-person so elected; which they are bound to perform immediately, without
-any application to the See of Rome. After which the bishop-elect shall
-sue to the king for his temporalities, shall take oath to the king and to
-none other, and shall take restitution of his secular possessions out of
-the king’s hand only. And if such dean and chapter do not elect in this
-manner by this act appointed, or if such archbishop or bishop do refuse
-to confirm, invest, and consecrate such bishop-elect, they shall incur
-all the penalties of a præmunire--that is, the loss of all civil rights,
-the forfeiture of lands, goods, and chattels, and imprisonment during
-the royal pleasure. It is to be observed, however, that the mode here
-described of appointing bishops applies only to such sees as are of old
-foundation. The five new bishoprics created by Henry VIII. … have always
-been donatives, and conferred by letters-patent from the crown; and the
-case is the same as to the bishopric of Ripon, now recently created”
-(Stephen’s _Commentaries on the Laws of England_, vol. iii. p. 61).
-
-In concluding his essay, Father Tondini repeats Mgr. Reinkens’ words:
-“If the great bishops of the ancient church were to return to life in
-the midst of us, … never! no, never! would they have received into their
-company, in the quality of a Christian bishop, one who had not been
-chosen by the people and the clergy; this mode of election was considered
-by them as of divine precept, and consequently as immutable”; and then
-asks: “How can the support given by the state churches and governments of
-England and Russia to Old Catholicism be explained? Is it for the purpose
-of declaring that all the episcopal sees, both of England and Russia, are
-vacant and awaiting the choice of the people?”
-
-The reader, being now acquainted with much of the contents as well as
-with the general tenor of Father Tondini’s essay, may find some interest
-(possibly amusement also) in comparing the following remarks of the
-London _Tablet_ (Sept. 18) with the confirmation of their accurate
-appreciation of the “British Philistine’s” pride in his own obtuseness so
-ingenuously furnished (Sept. 25) by a writer in the _Church Review_:
-
-LONDON TABLET.
-
-“We are a little afraid that the Anglican sympathizers with the Old
-Catholics will not be sharp enough to understand the keen logic of Father
-Tondini’s concise reasoning. The British Philistine rather glories in
-being impervious to logic or wit, and chuckles over his own obtuseness
-as a proof of the strength of the religion which he patronizes. It is
-provoking to a zealous controversialist to have to do battle with such a
-heavy antagonist, but we trust the good father will not cease to labor at
-the conversion of our illogical but worthy fellow-countrymen. We thank
-him for a well-timed and well-written pamphlet.”
-
-(The _Universe_ calls it “another fatal blow for the theology of our
-ex-prime minister; closely reasoned and perfectly terrible in its manner
-of grasping its luckless opponent.”--_Universe_, September 25, 1875.)
-
-CHURCH REVIEW.
-
-“The Rev. Cæsar Tondini, who is fond of linking Russian Orthodoxy and
-Anglican Catholicism in one sweeping condemnation, is by no means one
-of the Pope’s greatest controversialists. But this pamphlet is hardly
-worthy of even his reputation. Every point in it might be answered by
-a _tu quoque_. Fact might be set against fact, defect against defect,
-innovation against innovation, inconsistency against inconsistency,
-and error against error. But picking holes in our neighbor’s coat will
-never mend the rents in our own. So we forbear, content for the present
-to congratulate ourselves on the fact that, while Romanists are still
-utterly blind to their own nakedness, we have at least plucked a fig-leaf
-by the efforts already made to bring about reunion.” [Who could help
-thinking, “We would not give a fig for such a leaf as this”?]
-
-
-IV.
-
-We will conclude the present notice by some account of the recent
-Conference at Bonn, in which the Old Catholics have given abundant
-proof that they are no freer from variation than are any other of the
-Protestant sects.
-
-Desirous of strengthening their position by alliance with other forms
-of schism, Dr. von Döllinger invited to a congress representatives
-of the schismatic Greek and Russian Church, the English and American
-Episcopalians, and the Old Catholics. The assembly was called the
-“International Conference of the Union of the Christian Churches,” and
-proposed as its object an agreement on the fundamental points of doctrine
-professed by Christendom before its divisions, with a view “to restore
-by a reform as broad as possible the ancient Catholic Church of the
-West.”[204]
-
-In this International Conference, which began on the 12th of August and
-ended on the 16th, the principal Orientals, who numbered about twenty
-in all, were two bishops from Roumania; an archimandrite from Belgrade;
-two archimandrites, Anastasiades and Bryennios, from Constantinople,
-sent by the patriarch as being well versed in all the questions which
-have divided and which still divide the Greek and Latin Churches; there
-were also present the Archbishop of Syra and Tino, Mgr. Licourgos, well
-known in England, and six professors, among whom were Profs. Osinnin and
-Janischef, the latter being the gentleman who at the last Conference
-was so severe on Anglican orders. The Protestant Episcopalians were the
-most numerous, being about a hundred in number; but they had only one
-bishop among them--namely, the Bishop of Gibraltar. Those of Winchester
-and Lincoln, who had also given their adherence to the movement, found
-themselves at the last moment unable to attend. The most notable person
-in the Anglican group was Dr. Liddon, Canon of S. Paul’s. Dean Howson, of
-Chester, was also one of its members; his “views” on nearly every point
-of church teaching being diametrically opposed to those of Canon Liddon.
-The same group contained an Unitarian minister from Chesterfield (Mr.
-Smith), and a “Primitive Methodist” (Mr. Booth, a chemist and druggist
-of the same town), who on a late occasion was voted for and returned at
-the head of the poll as an advocate of secular education. The Americans
-sent only three delegates, and the “Reformed Church” one--the Rev.
-Th. de Félice. The Old Catholics, all of whom were Germans, numbered
-eighteen or twenty, with Dr. von Döllinger and Bishop Reinkens at their
-head, supported by Herr Langen, “Altkatholik”; Herr Lange, Protestant,
-and Herr Lang, the least orthodox of all. Close to this little group
-figured seven or eight more German Protestants. In all, the Conference
-was composed of about one hundred and fifty persons, of whom the _Times_
-observes that, “slender as the gathering was, it was forced to display an
-almost ludicrous caution in drawing up such articles of faith as would
-command the assent of the whole assembly”--articles “so vague that they
-might be made to mean anything or nothing”; and, further, that the few
-English divines who went to Bonn to play at a council no more represent
-the Church of England than Dr. von Döllinger represents the Church of
-Rome, but spoke in the name of nothing but themselves. It suggests to
-them, with scornful irony, that “charity begins at home,” and that in the
-present distracted state of the Church of England, “when nothing keeps
-the various and conflicting ‘schools’ of clergy in the same communion
-but the secular forces of the Establishment, there is surely there a
-magnificent field for the exercise of even a genius of conciliation.”
-
-A Bavarian Protestant clergyman informed the assembly that, as there
-was no chance of their coming to an agreement by means of discussion
-about dogma, they had far better throw over dogma altogether, and trust
-to brotherly love to bring about union. Dr. von Döllinger, however,
-said that if they all shared this opinion, they had better have stayed
-at home. One reverend gentleman proposed to settle the difference by
-examining where the fathers all harmonize, and abiding by the result
-(a task which, as a looker-on observed, would give all the theological
-acuteness and learning in the world abundant work for about half a
-dozen centuries); whereupon Bishop Reinkens nervously tried to draw the
-debaters into the cloud-land of love and unity of purpose, etc., etc.
-But here Canon Liddon hastened to the rescue with a carefully-prepared
-scheme for effecting the reconciliation of the East and West, which
-was apparently received by the Orientals with a tranquil indifference,
-and was chiefly remarkable for its adroit semblance of effecting much,
-while it in fact does nothing. Yielding here and there a phrase of no
-special meaning, it declared in the next clause that it would retain its
-own form of the Creed until the dispute should be settled by “a truly
-œcumenical council.” This announcement was the signal for an outburst of
-disapproval, questions, and objections. “What did Canon Liddon mean by
-an œcumenical council?” “An assent of the whole episcopate.” This was
-too much for Lord Plunkett, who exclaimed that he would never have come
-to the Conference if he had known that it meant to confine the Christian
-Church within the bounds of episcopacy. What, he should like to know,
-was to hinder Presbyterian ministers from being admitted equally with
-bishops to take part in an œcumenical council?
-
-On this the canon obligingly agreed to substitute “the whole church”
-for the obnoxious term; but while the assembly hesitated, some paragon
-of caution suggested the phrase “sufficient authority.” However, this
-masterpiece of conciliation--for nobody could say what it meant--was
-rejected for “the whole church,” this latter being equally ambiguous
-to those who were adopting it. On this they agreed. As the _Times’_
-correspondent observes, “Everybody will agree with everybody else when
-all deliberately use words for the purpose of concealing what they mean.
-When men differ from each other essentially, it is childish folly to try
-to unite them by an unmeaning phrase.”
-
-The great question was that of the procession of the Holy Spirit. On this
-M. Osinnin was the chief speaker on behalf of the Greeks, and he seems
-to have challenged every interpretation of the Westerns, maintaining
-even that _procedit_ was not an exact rendering of ἐκπορεύεται. However,
-a committee was appointed, composed of the Germans, two Orientals, an
-Englishman, and an American; and Dr. von Döllinger announced to the
-Conference on its last sitting that an agreement had been arrived at on
-all essential points. The Greeks were to retain their version of the
-Nicene Creed, and the Westerns theirs; the latter were to admit that
-the _Filioque_ had been improperly introduced, and that both were to
-agree that, whichever version they used, their meaning was that the Holy
-Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son. With regard to the last
-point, however, the Orientals said that although they had personally no
-objection to the expression, yet they must decline to give any official
-assent to the article until it had been submitted to their synods or
-other competent authorities at home.
-
-Judging from every account we have seen (all of them Protestant) of the
-Bonn Conference, it is evident that its members, in order to give an
-appearance of mutual agreement, subscribed to propositions which may be
-taken in various senses. The six articles agreed to by the committee were
-couched in the following terms:
-
-“We believe with S. John Damascene, 1, that the Holy Spirit proceeds
-from the Father as the beginning, the cause, and the fountain of Deity.
-2. That the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the Son ἐκ τοῦ υίοῦ, and
-that for this reason there is in the Godhead only one beginning, one
-cause, through which all that is in the Godhead is produced. 3. That the
-Holy Spirit is the image of the Son, who is the image of the Father,
-proceeding from the Father and resting in the Son, as the outbeaming
-power of the latter. 4. The Holy Spirit is the personal bringing forth
-of the Father, but belonging to the Son, yet not of the Son, since he
-is the Spirit of the Godhead which speaks forth the Word. 5. The Holy
-Spirit forms the connecting link between the Father and the Son, and is
-united to the Father through the Son. 6. The Holy Spirit proceeds [or, as
-amended by Mr. Meyrick, ‘issues’] from the Father through the Son.”
-
-It is the supposed denial of that unity of the αρχή, or originating
-principle in the Most Holy Trinity, which has always been the ground of
-the Greek objections to the Latin form of the Creed.[205] “The double
-_Procession_[206] of the Holy Ghost has always been believed in the
-church, only to a certain number of minds it remained for a time obscure,
-and thus there are to be found in the writings of the fathers passages in
-which mention is made rather of the procession from the Father than of
-the double procession from the Father and the Son, but yet none which,
-although not formally indicating, exclude or contradict it.
-
-“In recurring to the expressions employed by the fathers, the members of
-the Bonn Conference have made choice of some of those which are vague
-and least explicit, instead of others which convey to the mind a clear
-idea. We are fully aware that, from a historical point of view, the
-question of the _Filioque_ presents some difficulties. At Nicæa, in 325,
-the question of _procession_ was not even mentioned, from the fact of
-its not having up to that time been raised. At Constantinople, in 381,
-in order to cut short discussions which were tending to result in a
-denial of the Trinity, the addition had been made to the Creed that the
-Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father, without mention of the Son. At the
-Third Council of Toledo, in 589, the faith of the church in the double
-procession was clearly indicated by the addition of the _Filioque_--an
-addition, which was adopted by several particular councils, and which
-became general in France. The popes, however, foreseeing that the
-Orientals--always inclined to be ill-disposed towards the West--would
-make this addition an excuse for breaking off into schism, appeared at
-first but little in favor of a modification which, although expressing
-with greater accuracy the faith of the church, would furnish fresh fuel
-to theological disputes. It was a question of prudence. But when the
-truth was once placed in peril, they hesitated no longer. All the West
-chanted the _Filioque_; and the Greeks themselves, on repeated occasions,
-and notably at the Council of Florence in 1438, confessed the double
-procession to be an article of the Catholic faith.”
-
-The Old Catholics of Bonn have thus made, as it seems to us, a
-retrogression on this question. Will this help to secure “the union
-of the Christian churches” which was the object of the Conference? In
-outward appearance possibly it may, because all the separated communities
-willingly join hand in hand against the true church of Christ; but in
-reality, no, for the Greeks will continue to reject the procession
-through the Son, as the Anglicans will continue to accept it; and we have
-no need to say that the Catholic Church will never cease to confess the
-double procession, and to sing: _Qui ex Patre Filioque procedit_.
-
-With regard to other subjects discussed by the meeting at Bonn, we will
-briefly mention that Canon Liddon spoke against the invocation of saints,
-and Dr. von Döllinger talked of “making a clear sweep” of the doctrine
-of purgatory and indulgences; although, in stating the belief of his
-co-religionists, he was obliged to reaffirm the doctrine of purgatory in
-terms nearly equivalent to those of the Creed of Pope Pius IV. On this
-matter, whatever the Greeks might do, how many of the Anglicans would
-agree with the Old Catholics? Not only are the people who go to these
-conferences from England in no sense representatives of the body to which
-they belong, but even they themselves do not always abide by what they
-have agreed to.[207] Dean Howson, in a statement he read at the last
-Conference, put a Low-Church interpretation on the resolution of last
-year’s Conference about the Eucharist, which interpretation Canon Liddon
-immediately repudiated. Before Greek or German schismatics can unite with
-the Church of England, they will have to make up their minds as to which
-of at least four theological systems _is_ Anglicanism, and then to get
-_that_ admitted by the other three.
-
-As to the validity of Anglican orders, Dr. von Döllinger appears to have
-considered it as resting on the certainty of Parker’s consecration,
-without going into the really more important questions of Barlow’s
-orders, or the sufficiency of form or intention, all of which are matters
-of such grave doubt as to be practically worthless to any one insisting
-upon the necessity of _certainty_ that the communion to which he belongs
-possesses the apostolic succession.
-
-We cannot conclude this sketch of the Bonn Conference without presenting
-our readers with a portrait of its chief, Dr. von Döllinger, drawn by a
-friendly hand--that of a French apostate priest, and one of the members
-of the Conference--which we reproduce from the pages of the _Indépendance
-Belge_.
-
-“M. Döllinger,” he writes, “pronounced three long and eloquent
-discourses, marked by that seriousness and depth which so especially
-characterize his manner of speaking; but notwithstanding their merit,
-they have not resulted in any new conclusion. May not the blame be in
-some measure due to M. Overbeck, who … introduced into the discussion
-authorities posterior to the epoch of the separation of East and West,
-and mingled the question of the seven œcumenical councils with that of
-the _Filioque_?… At all events, both obscurity and coldness found their
-way into the debates.…
-
-“Truly, this excellent M. Döllinger seems fated to go on from one
-contradiction to another, and to accept one year that which he refused
-in the preceding. For instance, in 1871, at the congress at Munich,
-he energetically opposed the organization of Old-Catholic parishes;
-afterwards he resigned himself to consent to this. In 1871 he desired the
-Old Catholics to confine themselves, after his example, to protesting
-against the excommunication they had incurred; but later on he is willing
-that their priests should take upon themselves the full exercise of their
-ministry. In 1871 and 1872 he wished to maintain the decisions of the
-Council of Trent; in 1873 he decided to abandon them, as well as the
-alleged œcumenicity of this council. In 1872 … he considered the attempts
-made to establish union between the Old Catholics and the Oriental
-churches as at any rate imprudent, if not even compromising. In 1874
-he adopted the idea of which he had been so much afraid, and has since
-that time used every endeavor to promote the union of the churches. Last
-year a proposal [for a committee to examine on what points the earliest
-fathers harmonized] was rejected by M. Döllinger with a certain disdain,
-as impracticable and even childish. _Now_, however, we find him obliged
-to come back to it, at least in part.”[208] “It is by no means in
-reproach but in praise that we say this,” continues the writer, adding:
-“He accepted with the best grace possible, in one of the sittings of the
-Conference this year, the observations of Prof. Osinnin on the manner of
-studying texts; and when an erudite and venerable man like M. Döllinger
-knows how to correct himself with such humility, he does but raise
-himself in the esteem of sincere men.”
-
-We would here venture to observe that when “so erudite” a man as Dr. von
-Döllinger, and one who is acknowledged by an entire sect as its most
-distinguished doctor and its leader, is so little sure of his doctrine
-that he is continually altering it, he and his followers are surely among
-the last people who ought to refuse to the Pope the infallibility which
-he in fact arrogates to himself in setting himself above an œcumenical
-council, as was that of the Vatican.
-
-If the head is represented by one of the members as being in a chronic
-state of uncertainty, so are the members themselves represented by
-another. In the _Church Review_ (Anglican) for Sept. 18, 1875, is an
-article entitled “Old-Catholic Prospects,” the greater part of which
-consists of one of the most abusive and malignant attacks against the
-Catholic Church, and in an especial manner against the Jesuits, that
-it has ever been our lot to come upon, even in the journal in which it
-appears. After informing his readers that “Jesuitism has led the Pope
-into the egregious heresy of proclaiming his own infallibility,” and
-that “the Spirit of Christ, who would not rest in the Vatican Council,
-where all was confusion, restraint, and secrecy, (!) has brooded over
-the humble (?) Conference of trusting hearts” at Bonn, etc., etc., this
-person, with a sudden sobriety, ventures on a closer inspection of the
-favored sect for which he had just profanely claimed the guidance of the
-Eternal Spirit, while denying it to the œcumenical council where the
-whole episcopate of the Catholic Church was assembled with its head, the
-Vicar of Christ.
-
-This writer perceives that, “on the other hand, there are dangers in
-the future. At present,” he says, “the Old-Catholic body is kept in
-order by two master minds--Dr. Döllinger and Prof. Schulte. There are
-innumerable elements of discord” (he adds) “manifest enough, but they
-are as yet subdued by reverence for Dr. Döllinger, and beat down by the
-sledge-hammer will of the lay professor. If either of these pilots were
-removed, it is impossible to say into how many fragments Old Catholicism
-might split. Its bishop has no means of control over minds, as have
-Schulte and Döllinger. Michaelis is simply abusive and violent, ready
-to tear down with hands and teeth, but incompetent to build. Repulsive
-in personal appearance, his work is that of detraction, denunciation,
-and destruction. To human eyes the movement is no movement at all; _it
-contains in itself no authority_ to hold its members personally in check;
-and yet, in spite of every disadvantage, the Old-Catholic society is the
-expression of true feeling,” etc., etc.
-
-But we have dwelt long enough on this picture; let us in conclusion turn
-to a very different one. “Rome accepts no compromise; she dictates laws,”
-says M. Henri Vignaud,[209] contrasting her in no friendly spirit with
-the sect we have been contemplating, but yet in a spirit of calmness and
-candor.
-
-And this, which he intends as a reproach, is in reality a commendation.
-It is the true church _only_ which _can_ accept no compromise when the
-truth is in question, of which she is the faithful depository; and
-whatever laws she dictates are to guard the truth, dogmatic or moral,
-issued in God’s name and with his authority.
-
-M. Vignaud acknowledges this in the following remarkable manner: “That
-cannot be conciliated which is by nature irreconcilable. There can be no
-compromise with faith.… Either man forges to himself the truths which
-must illuminate his path, or he receives them from the Deity, in which
-case he must submit to accept the dogma of infallibility; for without
-this the whole theory falls. It is for this reason that the apostolic
-Roman Catholicity is so strong. Subordinating reason to faith, it
-does not carry within it the germ of any scepticism. There can be no
-transacting with it, and whoever goes out of it enters, whether he is
-aware of the fact or not, into rationalism, of which the logical outcome
-is the elimination of the divine action in human affairs.”[210]
-
-It would be scarcely possible to show more clearly that there are but
-two logical positions in the world of intelligences--namely, Catholicity
-and scepticism, or, as it is called in the present day, positivism. The
-next step after refusing God all action in human affairs is to refuse him
-existence.
-
-The Conference at Bonn, however little it may have done in other
-respects, has already produced one result which was far from the
-intention of its promoters. It has furnished an additional proof that
-there is one church only which is capable of resisting the invasion of
-scepticism and unbelief, and that this church is the Catholic and Roman.
-
-“_Either Jesus Christ never organized a church, or the Catholic is the
-church which he organized._”[211]
-
-
-MIDNIGHT MASS IN A CONVENT.
-
-I have lately been reading some remarks on the curious association
-existing between certain tastes and odors and an involuntary exertion of
-the memory by which the recurrence of those tastes or odors recalls, with
-a vividness not otherwise to be obtained, a whole series of incidents
-of past life--incidents which, with their surrounding scenes, would
-otherwise be quite forgotten and buried out of sight by the successive
-overlaying of other events of greater interest or importance. Montaigne
-has some singular illustrations of this peculiar fact of consciousness,
-and there is a brief reference to the subject made in some recently
-republished recollections of William Hazlitt. Connected with this is the
-powerful influence known to be exercised in many well-authenticated cases
-upon the nervous sensibilities by the exhalation of particular perfumes
-or the scent of certain kinds of flowers harmless or agreeable to all
-other persons. There is a reciprocal motion of the mind which has also
-been noted, by which a particular train of thought recalls a certain
-taste or smell almost as if one received the impression from the existing
-action of the senses. An illustration is given in the discussion just
-noted, where a special association of ideas is stated to have brought
-back to the writer, with great vividness, the “smell of a baker’s shop
-in Bassorah.” Individual experiences could doubtless be accumulated to
-show that this mysterious short-hand mind-writing, so to term it, by
-means of which the memory records on its tablets, by the aid of a single
-sign imprinted upon a particular sense, the history of a long series of
-associated recollections, is not confined to the senses of taste and
-smell alone, but makes use of all.
-
-The recollection of one of the happiest days of my life--a day of
-strong excitement and vivid pleasure, but not carried to the pitch of
-satiety--is inseparably associated with the warm, aromatic smell of a
-cigar which I lighted and puffed, walking alone down a country road.
-In this case the train of thought is followed by the impression on the
-sense. But in another instance within my experience the reciprocal action
-of thought and sense is reversed; the sight of a particular object in
-this latter case invariably bringing back to my mind, with amazing
-distinctness, a scene of altogether dissimilar import, lying far back in
-the memory. The circumstances are these:
-
-’Tis now some years since I visited the seaport town of Shippington. It
-is, or was, one of those sleepy provincial cities which still retain
-an ante-Revolutionary odor about its dock-yard and ordnance wharves. A
-group of ragged urchins or a ruby-nosed man in greasy and much-frayed
-velveteen jacket might be seen any sunny morning diligently fishing for
-hours off the end of one of its deserted piers for a stray bite from a
-perch or a flounder. The arrival of the spring clipper-ship from Glasgow,
-bringing a renewal of stock for the iron merchants, or of a brig with
-fruit from the Mediterranean, used to set the whole wharf population
-astir. Great changes have taken place of late years. Railroads have been
-built. Instead of a single line of ocean steamships, whose fortnightly
-arrival was the event of the day, half a dozen foreign and domestic lines
-keep the port busy. Fashion, which was once very exclusive and confined
-to a few old families, has now asserted its sway over wider ranks,
-and the officers of her majesty’s gallant Onety-Oneth, and the heavy
-swells of Shippington society whose figures adorn the broad steps of the
-Shippington Club-House, have now the pleasure of criticising any fine
-morning a (thin) galaxy of female beauty and fashion sweeping by them,
-whose _modes_ rival those of Beacon Street or Murray Hill.
-
-But at the time of which I write--when I was a school-boy, a quarter of
-a century ago--it had not been much stirred by the march of these modern
-improvements. Her Britannic majesty was then young to the throne, and a
-great fervor of loyalty prevailed; and when the Royal Welsh Fusileers
-used to march down to the parade-ground for morning drill, with the
-martial drum-major and its great bearded Billy-Goat, presented by the
-queen, dividing the honors of the head of the regiment, it would be
-hard to exaggerate the enthusiasm that swelled the bosoms of the small
-boys and African damsels who stepped proudly along with the band. Those
-were grand days, _quorum pars magna fui_, when I too marched down the
-hill from the citadel, with a mind divided between awe and admiration
-of the drum-major--curling his mustache fiercely and twirling his staff
-with an air of majesty--and a latent terror of the bearded pet of the
-regiment, whom report declared to have destroyed three or four boys in
-Malta. But rare indeed were those holidays, for I was impounded most
-of the time in a college, where the study of the Latin _Delectus_ gave
-little opportunity for the pursuit of those more attractive branches
-of a liberal education. About half a dozen of the boys, of whom I was
-one, were proficients at serving Mass. It was therefore with great joy
-at the distinction that we found ourselves named, one frosty Christmas
-Eve, to accompany Father W---- to the Convent of the Sacred Heart, about
-a mile distant, where he was to celebrate midnight Mass. Oh! how the
-snow crisped and rattled under our feet as we marched along, full of
-importance, after Father W----, each boy with his green bag, containing
-his surplice and _soutane_, swung over his arm! What a jolly night it
-was; and how the stars twinkled! We slapped our hands together, protected
-by our thick blue mitts, and stamped our feet like soldiers on the march
-to Moscow. It was after ten o’clock, and the streets were dark and
-nearly deserted. To us, long used to be sound asleep at that hour in
-our warm dormitory, each boy in his own little four-poster, with the
-moonlight streaming in through the windows on its white counterpane--and
-not daring, if we were awake, so much as to whisper to the boy next to
-us, under pain of condign punishment in the morning--there was something
-mysterious and almost ghostly in this midnight adventure. As we passed
-the guard-house near the general’s residence, the officer of the night,
-muffled in his cloak, came along on the “grand rounds.” The sentry, in
-his tall bear-skin hat, stops suddenly short in his walk.
-
-“Who goes there?” he calls out in a loud, fierce voice, bringing down his
-bayonet to the charge.
-
-We clung closer to Father W----’s skirts. “Rounds,” replies the officer
-in a voice of command, his sword rattling on the ground, iron-hard with
-the frost. “What rounds?” “Grand rounds!” “Advance, grand rounds, and
-give the countersign!” Then the sergeant of the guard, the alarm being
-given, rushes out into the street with his men, all with bayonets drawn
-and looking terrible in the moonlight. They form in line, and the officer
-advances. A whispered conversation takes place; the soldiers present arms
-and march back into the warm guard-house; and the officer passes silently
-on to the next guard.
-
-While this scene was going on we stood half terrified and fascinated,
-hardly knowing whether to take to our heels or not. But the calm voice
-of Father W----, as he answered “A friend” to the sentry’s challenge,
-reassured us. Soon we reached the convent gate, and, entering the
-grounds, which were open for the occasion, found the convent all ablaze
-with lights. The parents and friends of the young lady pupils were
-permitted to attend the midnight Christmas Mass. The convent, and convent
-chapel which communicated with it, stood in the midst of winding walks
-and lawns very pretty in the summer; but the tall trees, now stripped of
-their leaves, swung their bare branches in the wind with a melancholy
-recollection of their faded beauty. Groups, in twos and threes, walked
-silently up the paths, muffled in cloaks and shawls, and disappeared
-within the chapel. We were received by the lady-superior, Mme. P----,
-whose kind voice and refined and gentle manners were sadly maligned
-by a formidable Roman nose, that struck our youthful minds with awe.
-What unprincipled whims does Nature sometimes take thus to impress
-upon the countenance the appearance of a character so alien to our
-true disposition! Nor is it less true that a beautiful face and a form
-that Heaven has endowed with all the charms of grace and fascinating
-beauty may hide a soul rank with vice and malice. The Becky Sharpes of
-the world are not all as ferret-featured as Thackeray’s heroine, whom,
-nevertheless, with much truth to art, he represents as attractive and
-alluring in her prime. But dear Mme. P----’s Roman nose was not, I have
-reason to believe, without its advantages; the fortuitous severity of
-its cast helping to maintain a degree of discipline among her young lady
-boarders, which a tendency to what Mr. Tennyson calls “the least little
-delicate curve” (_vulgo_, a pug), or even a purely classical Grecian,
-might have failed to inspire. Forgive me the treason if I venture even
-to hint that those young ladies in white and blue who floated in and out
-of Mme. P----’s parlors on reception-days, like angels cut out from the
-canvas on the walls, were ever less demure than their prototypes!
-
-We altar-boys were marshalled into a long, narrow hall running parallel
-with the chapel. There we busied ourselves in putting on our red
-_soutanes_ and white surplices, and preparing the altar for Mass. But
-we had a long time to wait, and while we stood there in whispering
-silence, and the chapel slowly filled, suddenly appeared Mme. P----
-with a lay sister, carrying six little china plates full of red and
-white sugar-plums, and some cakes not bigger than a mouthful, to beguile
-our tedium. To this day the sight of one of those small plates, filled
-with that kind of sugar-plums, brings back to my mind with wonderful
-minuteness all the scenes I have described and those that followed. The
-long walk through the snow, the guard-house, the convent grounds, the
-figures of Mme. P---- and her lay sister advancing towards us, rise
-before me undimmed by time; and even now as I write the flavor of the
-sugared cassia-buds seems to be in my mouth, though it is over twenty
-years ago since I cracked them between my teeth with a school-boy’s
-relish for sweetmeats.
-
-The feeling of distant respect engendered by the sight of Mme. P----’s
-nose gave way all at once to a profound sympathy and admiration for that
-estimable lady, as she handed us those dainties. Yet, as they disappeared
-before our juvenile appetites, sharpened by the frost, we could not help
-feeling all a boy’s contempt for the girls that could be satisfied with
-such stuff, instead of a good, solid piece of gingerbread that a fellow
-could get two or three bites at! We had no doubt that the convent girls
-had a _congé_ that day, and that this was a part of the feast that had
-been provided for them.
-
-We marched gravely into the sanctuary before Father W----, and took our
-places around the altar-steps while he ascended the altar. A deeper hush
-seemed to fall on the congregation kneeling with heads bowed down before
-the Saviour born on that blessed morning. The lights on the altar burned
-with a mystical halo at the midnight hour. The roses around the Crib of
-the infant Redeemer bloomed brighter than June. We heaped the incense
-into the burning censer, and the smoke rushed up in a cloud, and the
-odorous sweetness filled the air. Then along the vaulted roof of the
-chapel stole the first notes of the organ, now rising, now falling; and
-the murmuring voice of the priest was heard reading the Missal. Did my
-heart stand still when a boy--or is it touched by a memory later?--as,
-birdlike, the pure tones of the soprano rose, filling the church, and
-thrilling the whole congregation? Marvellous magic of music! Can we
-wonder to see an Arion borne by dolphins over the waves, and stilling
-the winds with his lyre? Poor Mme. L----! She had a voice of astonishing
-brilliancy and power. Her upper notes I have never heard excelled in
-flute-like clearness and sustained roundness of tone. When I heard her
-years later, with a more experienced ear, her voice, though a good deal
-worn, was still one to be singled out wherever it might be heard. She is
-since dead. She was a French lady of good family. Her voice had the tone
-of an exile. She sang the _Adeste fideles_ on that Christmas morning with
-a soul-stirring pathos that impressed me so much as a boy that the same
-hymn, sung by celebrated singers and more pretentious choirs, has always
-appeared to me tame.
-
-It would not serve my present purpose to pursue these recollections
-farther. Enough has been said to show how quickly the mind grasps at some
-one prominent point affected by sense, to group around it a tableau of
-associated recollections. That little china tea-plate with its blue and
-gilt edge, heaped over with sugar-plums, brings back to me scenes that
-seem to belong to another age, so radical is the change which time makes
-in the fortunes and even emotions of men.
-
-When the lights were all out in the chapel, except those that burned
-around the Crib, and the congregation had silently departed, we wended
-our way back to the college with Father W---- in the chill morning air
-more slowly than when we started; sleepy, but our courage still unabated
-by reason of the great things we had shared in, and the still greater
-things separated from us by only one more, fast-coming dawn. We slept
-like tops all the morning, being excused from six o’clock Mass on account
-of our midnight excursion. When we joined the home circle on Christmas
-morning, you may be assured we had plenty to talk about. Nor was it until
-after dinner, and all the walnuts had been cracked, and our new pair of
-skates--our most prized Christmas gift--tried on and admired, that the
-recollection of our first Christmas Mass began to fade from our minds.
-Pure hearts and innocent joys of youth! How smooth the stream--_nescius
-auræ fallacis_--on which it sails its tiny craft! How rough the sea it
-drifts into!
-
-
-S. LOUIS’ BELL.[212]
-
-          S. Louis’ bell!
-          How grandly swell
-          Its matin chime,
-          Its noonday peal,
-          Its vesper rhyme!
-    How deeply in my heart I feel
-    Their solemn cadence; they to me
-    Waft hymns of precious melody.
-
-          S. Louis’ bell!
-          What memories dwell
-          Enshrined among
-          Each lingering note
-          And tuneful tongue!
-
-    As on the quivering air they float,
-    Those sweet vibrations o’er and o’er
-    Bear tidings from a far-off shore.
-          S. Louis’ bell!
-          What clouds dispel,
-          What doubts and fears
-          Dissolve away,
-          What sorrowing tears,
-    Like mists before the rising day!
-    While on the waiting, listening air
-    Rings out S. Louis’ call to prayer.
-
-          S. Louis’ bell!
-          Ring on and tell
-          In matin chime,
-          And noonday peal,
-          And vesper rhyme,
-    And let thy joyful notes reveal
-    The story loved of mortals best--
-    Of Holy Child on Virgin’s breast,
-    While herald angels from above
-    Sang anthems of eternal love!
-
-          S. Louis’ bell!
-          When earth’s farewell
-    Upon my parting lips shall dwell,
-          And when I rise
-          On angel wing
-    To seek the gates of Paradise,
-    And stand before the Heavenly King,
-    Though in that realm of perfect peace
-    All other earthly sounds should cease,
-          Methinks ’twould be
-          A joy to me
-          Once more to hear,
-          With bended ear,
-    The music loved on earth so well--
-    The echoes of S. Louis’ bell!
-
-
-FROM CAIRO TO JERUSALEM.
-
-Seated in the spacious hall of the new hotel in Cairo, we discussed a
-tour through the Holy Land. We had quitted our comfortable and home-like
-_dahabéeah_, wherein we had lived for nearly four months upon the waters
-of the historical Nile. A sad farewell had been said to our trusty
-sailors, and even those of them who had lingered around the hotel for
-days after our arrival, to kiss our hands as we came out, had now taken
-their departure. Old Abiad, our funny man, had for once worn a sober look
-as he bade us God-speed on our homeward voyage. Said--the indefatigable,
-hard-working, muscular Said, ever ready for the hardest work, and ever
-foremost in action--had left us with tearful eyes, and had started on his
-upward voyage to Keneh, to marry the young Moslem maiden to whom he had
-pledged his troth some few months before.
-
-Yes, the Nile trip was really over, but on the tablets of memory was
-painted a most bright and beautiful picture, which time alone could
-efface. Still another separation: one of our party, having been in the
-Holy Land the previous year, was about to remain in Egypt, while the rest
-of us visited Syria. Father H----, Mme. D----, and the writer made the
-travelling party. The plans were soon settled, and a day was appointed
-upon which we should depart from Cairo to meet the Russian steamer which
-was advertised to leave Alexandria on Monday, April the 13th, A.D. 1874.
-One of the greatest difficulties in travelling in the East is to obtain
-accurate information concerning the arrival and departure of steamers
-and trains. When inquiring what time the train would leave Cairo for
-Rhoda, the terminus of the railway along the Nile, I was informed that
-it would leave somewhere about seven o’clock in the morning, and would
-reach Rhoda between six and eight in the evening; this was the most
-accurate information I could possibly obtain. In point of fact, the
-train left Cairo at nine A.M., and reached Rhoda at half-past ten at
-night. On Monday morning, April 13, there was a general clearing out of
-travellers from the hotel. At nine A.M.--and, for a wonder, punctual to
-the minute--we left the station at Cairo on the train going to Ismailïa.
-We passed through some of the richest country of the Delta, teeming with
-life and activity. The _Sagéars_, or Persian water-wheels, were sending
-their streams of life-giving water through the numberless little canals
-on every hand. Here a line of laden camels march along with stately step.
-There a family--father, mother, and son--accompanied by the omnipresent
-donkey, called to mind the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt. And well
-they may; for here we are in the land of Goshen, at Rameses, the home of
-the Israelites, the starting-point of their long, dreary wanderings. Now
-the railroad marks the line between the cultivated land and the sandy
-plains of the desert; on one side rich vegetation, nurtured by the
-fresh-water canal, on the other, sandy hillocks stretching away to the
-line of the horizon; and in a few moments we see the deep, rich blue of
-the water of Lake Timsah, contrasting most strikingly with the golden
-sand of its desert bank. Ismailïa! Ere the train has stopped we are
-surrounded by a crowd of Arabs thirsting for their spoil. A score of them
-pounce upon our baggage. After considerable shouting and threatening, we
-compromise, and a truce is proclaimed. We engaged two of them to carry
-our baggage to the steamer on the lake. O porters of the United States!
-how you would blush and hang your heads in shame to see these Arabs
-handle baggage. In my childish and untravelled simplicity I thought it
-most wonderful to see you lift those heavy boarding-houses, miscalled
-trunks, and carry them to the fourth story of a hotel. But hereafter,
-for porters, commend me to the Arabs. We had four or five heavy valises,
-one of them weighing nearly one hundred pounds, and numberless small
-parcels. One of the men hung these valises from his neck, and tying the
-smaller parcels in among them, as though by way of ornament, started
-off, followed by his brother porter, with our only trunk, a large and
-very heavy one, strapped on his back. They walked at a brisk pace to the
-boat, about one mile distant, and did not seem in the least fatigued when
-they arrived there. As we started to walk down the long avenue leading
-to the lake, we were beset as usual by the importunities of three or
-four donkey-boys, each one recounting the praises of his own animal,
-and speaking disparagingly of the others, yet all in the best possible
-humor. Running here and there, dragging after them the patient donkey,
-they cried out: “Him good donkey, sah; look him. Oder donkey no good; him
-back break. Him exquisite donkey, sah! Him Yankee Doodle!” Suddenly, in a
-fit of indignation, I turned upon them and howled at the top of my voice:
-
-“Empshy Ya Kelb” (“Get out, O dog!”), when, with a roar of laughter,
-one little imp jumped in front of me, and exclaimed: “Oh! Howadji can
-speak Arabic. Him good Arab donkey. Take him, sah; him speak Arabic.”
-Notwithstanding this great inducement, I did not take him.
-
-Like Aladdin’s palace, Ismailïa has sprung up almost in a single night.
-In 1860 the site of the present town was a barren waste of sand; but
-when the fresh-water canal was completed to this place, and the magic
-waters of the Nile were let loose upon it, the golden sands of the desert
-gave place to the rich verdure of vegetation; gardens, filled with the
-choicest fruits and flowers, sprang up on every hand. Indeed, it seems
-but necessary to pour the waters of the Nile on the desert to produce
-a soil which will grow anything to perfection. Here we see the pretty
-little Swiss _châlet_ of M. de Lesseps, and a short distance beyond
-the palace of the viceroy, built in a few months, for the purpose of
-entertaining his illustrious guest at the opening of the Suez Canal.
-
-What singular fellows these Arabs are! Our two porters demand three
-rupees (a rupee is worth about fifty cents) for their services. I quietly
-take one rupee from my pocket and offer it to them. Indignantly they
-reject it; and if I will not give them what they ask, they will accept
-nothing at all; and with loud words and angry gestures they shout and
-gesticulate most vehemently, complaining of the insignificant pittance
-I offer them for the hard work they have just gone through. I repocket
-the rupee, and proceed very leisurely to arrange our places on the
-little postal boat, which is to leave in about an hour. Having purchased
-tickets, and seen that everything was properly arranged, I again return
-to the attack, as I am now upon the offensive, and offer them the
-rupee. No, they will not have it; but now they will accept two rupees.
-Well, it being the rule of Eastern negotiations that as one party comes
-down the other should go up, like a balance, I increase the rupee by a
-franc, and after much talking they agree to accept it. But now what a
-change comes over them! Finding that they have extracted from me all
-that they possibly can, their whole manner changes, and they become as
-polite and affable as you please. They thank me, proffer their services
-to do anything for me that I may wish, kiss their hands in respectful
-salutation, and are off.
-
-Our steamer is somewhat larger than a man-of-war’s boat, and our little
-company is soon assembled in the cabin. Besides ourselves, there are,
-first, a voluble young Russian who came with us from Cairo, and who
-precipitates himself most desperately into the strongest friendships
-that the time will allow with every one he meets, telling you all about
-himself and his family, and then finding out as much as he can about
-you and yours; next, a stolid Saxon, Prussian vice-consul at Cairo, a
-very pleasant and intelligent young man; and, lastly, a quiet, retiring
-young Italian lady, who, unable to speak any language besides her own,
-cannot join in the general conversation, which is carried on principally
-in French. At six o’clock we left the landing-place at Ismailïa, and,
-passing out the northeast corner of Lake Timsah, we entered the narrow
-cutting of El Guisr. The surface of these heights is the highest point in
-the Isthmus of Suez, being from sixty to sixty-five feet above the level
-of the sea. In cutting the canal through this part they were obliged to
-dig down some ninety feet, in order to give the canal its proper depth
-below the sea level. Just after we entered this cutting, the strong north
-wind which was blowing at the time caught madame’s parasol, whirled it
-out of her hand, blew it overboard, and the last we saw of it it was
-floating placidly along toward Suez. One sees here how perceptibly the
-sand is filling up the hard-won trench, and the dredging-machines are
-kept in constant operation to keep the channel clear. At dusk we passed a
-large English steamer tied up for the night--as large steamers are never
-allowed to travel in the canal after dark.
-
-We soon entered Lake Menzaleh, and continued through it some twenty-seven
-miles to Port Said. Fifteen years ago a belt of sand, from six to nine
-hundred feet in width, occupied the place where Port Said now stands.
-Here in April, 1859, M. de Lesseps, surrounded by a handful of Europeans
-and a score of native workmen, gave the first blow of the spade to that
-great channel of communication between the East and the West. Soon the
-ground for the future town was made, houses erected, gardens laid out,
-and to-day Port Said is a town of nearly ten thousand inhabitants, with
-streets, squares, gardens, docks, quays, mosques, churches, and a very
-safe and easily-approached harbor. The name Port Said was given to it in
-honor of the then viceroy, Said Pasha. The next morning, when I went to
-the office to purchase tickets, I was informed, by the not over-polite
-clerk in the Russian Steamship Co.’s office, that notwithstanding it was
-advertised that the steamer would leave Alexandria on Monday, it would
-not leave until Tuesday, and consequently would not leave Port Said
-until Wednesday afternoon--another illustration of the uncertainty of
-travelling information in the East. In the afternoon I determined to go
-down to the lake and endeavor to shoot some flamingoes or pelicans, both
-of which abound here in great numbers. Leaving the town, I started to
-cross the wide, level plain which separated it, as I supposed, from the
-lake. Some distance ahead I saw numerous birds disporting themselves amid
-the glistening and sparkling waters of the lake. After walking for nearly
-an hour, I reached the spot, but no lake was there, and turning around, I
-saw it at the point from which I had started. Somewhat confused, I turned
-towards the sea, and there I saw, high up in the air, a sand-bank with
-women walking upon it, and a little further on two gigantic figures like
-light-houses moving toward me in the air. In a moment the truth flashed
-upon me--it was a mirage; and retracing my steps to the town, I found
-that the lake was in a different direction from the one I had taken. The
-next day we went on board the steamer, which arrived from Alexandria
-about ten in the morning. There is considerable excitement on board, and
-a number of smart-looking boats with trim crews rapidly approaching
-us announce the arrival of M. de Lesseps with his wife and her two
-nieces, _en route_ for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. M. de Lesseps is
-a man of medium height, rather stout, and with a very good-natured and
-jovial-looking countenance. He wears a heavy gray mustache, and his
-hair is silvery white. His appearance is that of a man of great energy
-and determination, and one to project and carry through the colossal
-work he has so successfully executed. The ship was very much crowded,
-or perhaps it would be more correct to say that the accommodations were
-very limited, as we did not have more than fifty first-class passengers
-on board, and yet there were not sufficient accommodations for them in
-the first cabin. Father H---- and I, together with a young Austrian with
-whom we had become acquainted at Port Said, were obliged to sleep in
-a second-class cabin. We were told that they would so arrange it that
-we could eat in the first saloon, and at dinner-time we found a small
-work-table set for four of us to eat from. However, it was quite large
-enough for me; for I had not been seated many minutes before I felt an
-unaccountable desire to go on deck and inhale the fresh air.
-
-Having done so, I retired for the night. Bright and early the next
-morning I was upon deck, but I found Father H---- there before me.
-Madame, having a very comfortable room in the first cabin, had not
-yet risen. The sea was still and calm as a pond, and, turning my face
-toward the east, I beheld for the first time the mountain ranges of
-Judæa. Yea, there before me was Judæa, the land promised and given to
-the seed of Abraham. There, among those hills, Samson had performed his
-exploits of power. There the royal David and the wise Solomon had lived
-and reigned. Ay, and there One greater than them all, the Man-God, was
-born, lived, and laid down his life for the salvation of mankind. And
-was it really true that I, an inquisitive Yankee of the XIXth century,
-was soon to tread those sacred spots, hallowed with reminiscences so
-dear to the heart of every Christian? I could scarce believe it. Was I
-not in a dream, and would I not soon awake to find it all a beautiful
-but fleeting vision? No, it was true, and it was made most painfully
-apparent by the harsh clangor of the Arab boatmen, and their frantic
-endeavors to take possession of us, as our ship dropped anchor off the
-town of Jaffa. There is no harbor of any kind here, and when the sea is
-calm the steamers anchor about one mile from the shore, and passengers
-and their baggage are landed in small boats. Immediately in front of the
-town, and but a short distance from it, a series of partially-covered
-rocks forms a wall, broken only by two channels or gateways, one about
-ten feet in width, and the other a little wider. Through these the sea
-dashes with tremendous fury, and as the little boat approaches it is
-caught upon the summit of some breaker, and dashed through the opening
-into the quiet haven behind. When it is stormy, the steamers do not stop
-here at all, but land their passengers a short distance farther up the
-coast. The bright, genial face of Father Guido (president of the Casa
-Nuova) soon welcomed us to Palestine. He had come down from Jerusalem to
-meet M. de Lesseps, and to offer him the hospitality of their convent,
-which was thankfully accepted. We soon disembarked and entered a small
-boat, accompanied by our trusty dragoman, Ali Aboo Suleyman, who had
-travelled with one of our party the previous year, and whom I believe
-to be one of the best dragomans in the East. Our boat, propelled by the
-strong arms of a half-score of powerful Arabs, soon brought us alongside
-of the town. Passing through a narrow gateway, and giving a substantial
-and material wink to the revenue official, we, with our baggage, were
-soon deposited at the door of the Latin convent. After greeting the kind
-and hospitable fathers, and arranging terms with Ali, we started out
-for a short walk. Traversing the narrow, tortuous streets and filthy
-alleys, jostled by camels, horses, donkeys, and preceded by Achmud,
-Ali’s youngest son--a lad of fourteen years, who, with a pompous and
-authoritative air, pushed aside old men and young, women and children,
-and would have done the same with the camels had he been able, to make
-room for the Howadji--we reached the spot where stood in former days the
-house of Simon the tanner. Here the Apostle Peter resided many days,
-and here he saw the vision of the clean and unclean beasts, wherein
-the voice commanded him saying: “Arise, Peter, kill and eat.” A small
-mosque now occupies the site of the house. The streets were thronged
-with Russian pilgrims returning from their Easter pilgrimage to the Holy
-City. Many of them will leave in the afternoon on the steamer which
-has brought us from Egypt, and in a few short days will be at Odessa,
-whence the railway will carry them to St. Petersburg. About three in the
-afternoon, accompanied by an Irish priest who had lived in Malta for
-several years, we mounted our horses and started for Jerusalem. We had
-been most hospitably entertained by the kind fathers at the convent; a
-large room and an excellent breakfast had been provided for us, but no
-remuneration asked. We, of course, made a donation, which was thankfully
-received. We rode through the narrow streets, passed out the gate, and
-in a few moments were among the world-famous orange-groves of Jaffa. The
-sky was cloudless, the weather like a beautiful May day at home, and
-the air heavy with the delicious fragrance of the oranges. We rode for
-nearly a mile through these beautiful groves. Meanwhile, Ali provided
-himself with numbers of these large oranges, and soon for the first time
-I tasted an orange that I really enjoyed. Just plucked from the tree,
-with skin half an inch in thickness, and without seeds, this luscious
-fruit seems almost to dissolve in the mouth like ice-cream. Ali owns a
-large grove, from which he gathers about one hundred and fifty thousand
-oranges per annum. These he sells in large quantities at the rate of two
-pounds sterling per thousand, yielding him a very nice income, as the
-expense of taking care of them is very small. Now we are riding along
-the level plain which separates the Judæan hills from the bright blue
-waters of the Mediterranean, and a little after six o’clock we drew rein
-at the Latin convent in Ramleh. It is almost useless for me to speak of
-the kindness and hospitality of these good Franciscan fathers of the Holy
-Land, as it is known throughout the world, and abler pens than mine have
-endeavored, but in vain, to praise them as they deserve. Unselfish,
-kind, burying self completely in the great work they have undertaken,
-they have given up their homes, families, and all that was dear to them,
-to live a monastic life among these sacred spots, to guard these holy
-places, and, like ministering angels, to assist pilgrims from every
-clime and of every Christian race and nationality. Clad in the humble
-garb of their order, they go quietly and unostentatiously through life,
-sacrificing themselves at every turn for the benefit and comfort of
-others. They have stood through centuries, a devoted band of chivalrous
-knights guarding the spots rendered sacred by the presence of their God.
-May he in his goodness reward them by permitting them to stand as a noble
-guard of honor around his celestial throne in the heavenly hereafter!
-After a comfortable night’s rest and a good breakfast, we started at six
-o’clock, in order to avoid the intense heat of midday. M. de Lesseps and
-party had preceded us by nearly two hours. As we rode out the convent
-gate, numbers of lepers, with shrunken limbs and distorted countenances,
-clamored piteously for alms. We dropped some small coins into their tin
-boxes, which they carry so that there may be no possibility of contact
-with the compassionate passer-by who may bestow alms upon them. We
-rode for some time across a level plain, and near ten o’clock reached
-Bab-el-Wady (Gate of the Valley), at the foot of the mountain range. Here
-we found a very comfortable house, which has been erected for the sake of
-affording accommodation to pilgrims. We lunched here, took a short nap,
-and started on our way about two in the afternoon. The whole distance
-from Jaffa to Jerusalem is not over thirty-six miles; but fast riding is
-not practicable on account of the baggage, which is transported on mules
-at a very slow pace; consequently, it generally requires two days to
-make the trip, whereas a moderately fast horse could easily accomplish
-the journey in seven or eight hours. We now enter Wady Ali. One could
-scarcely imagine a more suitable place for lurking bandits to conceal
-themselves in than among the thick undergrowth here. Their musket-barrels
-might almost touch their unconscious victim’s breast, without being
-visible, and many a tale has been told and retold around the Howadji’s
-camp-fire of their exploits of robbery and murder in this place. But now,
-thanks to the strict though tardy vigilance of the sultan, the pass is
-free from danger.
-
-What feelings of emotion now fill my breast! The dreams of my childhood
-are being realized--I am in the Holy Land! Reaching the summit of one of
-the ridges, a beautiful panorama is spread out before us. At our feet
-lies the valley of Sharon, dressed in the richest green, and ornamented
-with the bright, beautiful wild flowers of early spring; beyond lies the
-plain of Ramleh, and in the distance, like a silver frame, sparkles and
-glistens the bright waters of the Mediterranean. Anon we see beneath
-us the beautiful valley of Beit Hanina, and Ali, laying one hand on my
-shoulder, points to a little village nestled amid the olive-groves in
-the valley. Yes, that is Ain-Karim, the place of the Visitation of the
-Blessed Virgin--the spot where was born the “greatest of men.” We check
-our horses but for a moment; we have no eyes for that now. Every gaze is
-fixed upon that small yellow house upon the top of the opposite hill;
-for has not Ali told us that from that point we shall see the Eternal
-City? Riding rapidly down the mountain-side, we do not even stop as we
-cross the brook--where David gathered the pebbles with which he slew his
-gigantic adversary--and push rapidly up the opposite mountain. Father
-H---- and I are in advance, while madame rides behind with the Irish
-priest. The shades of evening are now falling, and I fear lest night
-may come on before we reach the city. Scarce a word is spoken; my heart
-beats with excitement, such as it has never known before, and seems as
-though it would break through its prison-house, so eager, so anxious, is
-it to move quickly on. Unable to restrain my impatience, I give my horse
-a blow with my riding-whip, and he starts on a full run. Father H----
-calls me back. We have travelled so long and shared so many pleasures
-together, let us together share the great pleasure of the first sight of
-Jerusalem. I rein in my horse, and ride by his side. Now the top of the
-hill is reached, and it is yet light; but we have mistaken the house--it
-is another one still farther on. It is now twilight. We speak not a word,
-but, bent forward, we scan the horizon with piercing eyes, as though we
-would penetrate the mountains themselves, so eager are we to see the
-city. I hail a passing boy: “Fin el Kuds?” (“Where is Jerusalem?”),
-but with a stupid stare he passes on. A few moments more the house is
-reached, and Sion, royal city of David, lies before us! Waiting until the
-rest of the party ride up, we dismount, kneel, kiss the ground, and then
-recite aloud the psalm _Lætatus Sum_, a Pater Noster, and an Ave Maria,
-remount, enter the city by the Jaffa gate, ride to our comfortable
-quarters at the Latin Hospice, and _are in Jerusalem_.
-
-At the convent we were entertained in the most hospitable manner, and
-provided with the neatest and tidiest of rooms. Early the next morning
-Father H---- and I sallied forth to call on Père Ratisbonne. Following
-the Via Sacra, we stopped before an iron gate a short distance below the
-arch Ecce Homo, and little Achmud, picking up a large stone, pounded
-upon it as though he were repaying a grudge which he had cherished
-against it for centuries. I ventured to remonstrate, suggesting that they
-might be displeased at so much noise being made. But he answered very
-coolly--meanwhile continuing the pounding as if his future happiness
-depended upon making a hole in the door--that he wanted to inform those
-inside that some visitors wished to call upon them. I said nothing, but
-doubted seriously whether that would be the impression produced on their
-minds. Had it been in America, and had I been inside, I should have
-imagined that it was an election row, or a fire during the reign of the
-volunteer fire department. But notwithstanding all this, no one appeared,
-and we moved away disgusted, only to find that we had been at the wrong
-place, and to be farther informed that Père Ratisbonne was in Paris.
-
-What shall I say of the sacred spots of Jerusalem, which so many abler
-pens than mine have attempted to describe?--vainly endeavoring to portray
-the inexpressible emotions that crowd the breast of every Christian as he
-kneels before them for the first time! Perhaps I can convey to my readers
-some idea of the feeling which continually pervaded my whole being. It
-was as if the curtain of the past had been rolled back, placing me face
-to face with the living actors in that great tragedy of our Redemption
-eighteen hundred years ago. What contributed in a great measure to this
-was that we had lived during the winter in an atmosphere of three or
-four thousand years ago. We had scarcely esteemed it worth while to look
-at the ruins of the Ptolemys, they seemed so recent after the massive
-temples of the Rameses and the Ositarsens, and now the beginning of
-the Christian era appeared but an affair of yesterday. The Adamic and
-Mosaic dispensations seemed a little old, ’tis true, but the Christian
-dispensation was yet to us in all the glory of its early morn. I felt,
-as I crossed the Kedron and read the Holy Gospels seated beneath the
-olive-trees in the garden of Gethsemane, as if even I had been a personal
-follower of the Man-God, and in imagination could hear the hosannas of
-praise as he rode past me on the ass on the way from Bethany. Before this
-religion had seemed to me more like an intellectual idea. Now I felt that
-I knew Him as a friend, and my heart beat earnest acquiescence to Father
-H----’s remark: “Coming from Egypt, Christ appears a modern personage;
-and the visit to the sacred places of Palestine adds to the intellectual
-and moral conviction of the truth of Christianity, the feeling and
-strength of personal friendship with its Author.”
-
-On Sunday Father H---- celebrated Mass at the altar erected on the spot
-where the Blessed Virgin stood during the Crucifixion. The hole in the
-rock wherein the sacred cross was planted belongs to the Greeks, and
-over it they have erected an altar, loaded down, like all their other
-altars, with tawdry finery. On another occasion I had the happiness to
-serve Father H----’s Mass on the spot where our Lord was nailed to the
-cross. But the greatest happiness of all was reserved for the morning
-we left the Holy City, when madame and I received Holy Communion from
-the hands of Father H----, who celebrated Mass, which I served, in the
-Holy Sepulchre itself. _Hic Jesus Christus sepultus est._ In that little
-tomb the three of us, who had shared together the pleasures and dangers
-of a long voyage in Egypt and Nubia--here on the very spot where He was
-entombed, we alone, in early morn, received his sacred body and blood,
-giving fresh life and courage to our souls for our future struggles with
-the world. How much better, instead of incrusting the sepulchre with
-marble and gems, to have left it as it was, rude and simple as when the
-Man-God was laid in it! But one sacred spot is left in its primitive
-state--the grotto of the Agony. A simple altar has been erected in it,
-and a marble tablet let into the wall with this inscription upon it: “Hic
-factus est sudor ejus sicut guttæ sanguinis decurrentis in terram.” The
-walls and roof of the grotto are to-day as they were that terrible night
-when they witnessed the sweat as drops of blood rolling down his sacred
-face.
-
-The limits of this article will not permit me to tell how we wandered
-reverentially along the Via Sacra, or gazed in admiration from Olivet’s
-summit on Jerusalem the Golden lying at our feet; of our interesting
-visit to the residence of the Princesse de La Tour d’Auvergne, on the
-spot where the apostles were taught the Lord’s Prayer, which she has
-inscribed on the court-yard walls in every written language. I could
-tell of our visit to the _Cœnaculum_ to the Temple, the tomb of the
-Blessed Virgin, our walks through the Valley of Jehoshaphat; but these
-descriptions are so familiar to every Christian that I will content
-myself with relating more of the personal incidents which befell us than
-general descriptions of what we saw.
-
-Father H---- and I left Jerusalem on Tuesday morning, and, after riding
-several hours, camped for the night near the Greek convent of Mars
-Saba. No woman is allowed to enter this convent, and men only with
-permission of the Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem. We visited the tomb of
-S. Saba, model of anchorites, and saw in one room the skulls of fourteen
-thousand of his brethren, most of them massacred by the Bedouins. Rev.
-Mr. Chambers, of New York, with two young friends, was encamped near
-us, and we spent a very pleasant evening in their tent. At five o’clock
-the next morning we were in the saddle, _en route_ for the Dead Sea.
-We had a Bedouin escort, who was attired in a dilapidated, soiled
-night-shirt, and was scarcely ever with us, either taking short cuts down
-the mountain-side--as he was on foot--and getting far in advance of us,
-or lagging equally as far in the rear. Nevertheless, it was a powerful
-escort--had we not paid the sheik of the tribe five dollars for it? and
-did it not represent the force and power of a mighty tribe of Bedouins?
-In sober earnest, this hatless, shoeless escort was a real protection;
-for if we had been attacked while he was with us, his tribe, or the
-sheik of it, would have been forced by the authorities to make good our
-loss, and, moreover, the attacking tribe would have incurred the enmity
-of our escort’s tribe--a very serious thing in this part of the world,
-and among men whose belief is: Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall
-his blood be shed. The Bedouins find this way of robbing travellers more
-profitable than the old-time system of taking their victim’s property
-_vi et armis_, for in the latter instance they are liable to be pursued,
-caught, and punished; while in the former, by exacting a fee from the
-traveller and furnishing an escort in return, they make considerable
-money without fear of punishment. While riding along toward the Dead Sea,
-I frequently dismounted to shoot partridges, and on remounting I took
-out the cartridges which had not been used, before handing my gun to the
-escort, who carried it for me. On one occasion, when near the Dead Sea,
-I had pursued several partridges, but did not get a shot at them, and
-returning to my horse, held by the escort, I was about to draw out the
-cartridges when he requested me to let them remain, so that I should not
-have the trouble of reloading for the next shot. I shook my head with a
-negative motion, when he replied in an humble tone: “Very well. I am a
-Bedouin, and of course you cannot trust me.” And then flashed across my
-mind that terrible curse pronounced upon Ishmael and his descendants:
-“His hand shall be against every man, and every man’s against him.”
-Feeling sorry for the poor fellow, I looked him straight in the eye, as
-though expressing my confidence in him, and handed him the loaded gun.
-I was alone with him now, as the rest of the party had ridden on a mile
-or two in advance. But I felt perfectly safe, because he was walking
-ahead of me, and, had he meditated treachery, I had my revolver in my
-belt, and could have killed him before he could raise the gun to shoot.
-However, I presume that he simply wanted to play sportsman himself; for
-when he returned me the gun, some hours afterwards, both barrels were
-empty. About ten o’clock we reached the barren shores of the Dead Sea,
-passing, very close to it, numberless heaps of cinders, indicating a
-recent Bedouin encampment. We took a long bath in these buoyant waters.
-I sank as far as my neck, and then walked through the water as though on
-land. I remained nearly an hour in the water without touching the bottom.
-It is very difficult to swim, as, when one assumes the swimming position,
-the legs are thrown half out of the water. These waters, covering the
-site of Sodom and Gomorrha, are clear as crystal, yet to the taste are
-bitter as gall. Riding along the plain for a short hour, we entered the
-luxurious vegetation on the banks of the Jordan, and dismounted near the
-place where S. John baptized our Lord. Swift-flowing, muddy, turbulent
-Jordan! shall I ever forget thee or the pleasant swim I had in thy sweet
-waters? Father H---- and I dozed for about an hour, took a lunch, and
-then, remounting, rode across the level plain of Jericho, and about five
-o’clock reached our tent, pitched on the site of ancient Jericho, at the
-foot of the Mount of Temptation, where Satan would tempt our Lord with
-the vain, fruitless riches of this world. After dinner we walked a short
-distance, and sat down on the limb of a tree overhanging the sweet waters
-of the heaven-healed fountain of Elisha. Surrounded by armed Bedouins,
-who watched our every motion with eager curiosity, and occasionally in
-plaintive tones requested _backsheesh_, we passed a delightful hour
-recalling the sacred reminiscences connected with the spots around us.
-Behind us a crumbling ruin marks the site of once proud Jericho--the
-city to which the warlike Joshua sent the spies from the Moabitish hills
-beyond the Jordan; the city destroyed by the Israelitish trumpet-blast,
-and against which the terrible curse was pronounced: “Cursed be the
-man before the Lord that riseth up, and buildeth this city Jericho: he
-shall lay the foundation thereof in his first-born, and in his youngest
-son he shall set up the gates of it”--a curse which was most fearfully
-fulfilled. Yonder Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. Far away in
-the distance the Dead Sea, hemmed in by its mountain banks, lies calm and
-placid in the dying sunset. At our feet is the broad plain of Jericho,
-and at our back the mountains of Judæa. How singular it must have seemed
-to the Israelites when they first saw mountains covered with trees and
-verdure! In their old Egyptian home they had seen but sand-mountains, the
-vegetation in no place extending beyond the level ground; and now for the
-first time after their dreary desert wanderings they saw the vegetation
-creeping up the mountain-side even to its summit, and thousands of sheep
-browsing upon it on every hand. Early the next morning we were in the
-saddle, _en route_ for Jerusalem, and, passing the spot where the good
-Samaritan ministered to the poor man who had fallen among thieves, we
-reached Bethany about noon. Procuring some tapers from an old woman, we
-descended into the tomb from which the voice of his God had called forth
-the dead Lazarus. A flight of steps leads down some distance into a small
-chamber, which is to-day in the same condition as when Martha’s brother,
-arising from the dead, testified to the assembled crowd the power of
-Jesus of Nazareth. From here we ascended Olivet, and from its summit
-looked with admiration upon the beautiful panorama spread out beneath us,
-and lunched under the venerable olive-trees, which perhaps had cast their
-shade upon the weary form of our Saviour, and had witnessed the glorious
-miracle of his Ascension. Soon after we reached our convent home.
-
-The Jews in the Holy City are much fairer than their brethren in America.
-They wear the old-time gabardine, belted at the waist and extending to
-the ankles; on the head a high black felt hat with broad brim, while two
-curls hang down the cheek on either side. They are a sorrowful-looking
-race, fascinating to gaze upon as connected with the great Drama, yet
-inspiring me at the same time with a feeling of disgust which I could
-not control. How striking a picture of their degradation and fall from
-their once proud estate as the chosen ones of God, is shown as they
-gather on Fridays to their wailing-place; five courses of large bevelled
-stones being all that remain of Solomon’s grand Temple! Here are Jews
-of all ages and of both sexes, crying bitterly over fallen Jerusalem.
-Old men, tottering up, bury their faces in the joints and cavities, and
-weep aloud as though their hearts were breaking, while in chorus comes
-the low, plaintive wail of the women. In and among, and around and about
-them, with shouts of mirth and laughter, play the children of the Arab
-conquerors. The Jews are permitted to weep here unmolested.
-
-On Sunday afternoon, accompanied by Father Guido, we went to Bethlehem.
-We passed the night in the Latin convent, and the next morning madame
-and I received Holy Communion from the hands of Father H----, who
-celebrated Mass in the Crib of the Nativity, on the spot where the Wise
-Men stood when adoring the new-born Babe. The very spot where Christ
-was born is marked by a silver star, with this inscription upon it:
-“Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus Natus est.” The star belongs to
-the Latins, but the altar over it to the Greeks, who have several times
-attempted to carry off the star, but unsuccessfully. They, of course,
-will not permit the Latins to celebrate Mass upon the altar. The Greeks,
-being more powerful, are continually harassing and heaping all sorts of
-indignities upon the Latins, who are obliged to submit to them. Shame
-upon the Catholic nations of Europe--nations which in bygone times sent
-forth those noble bands of Crusaders, sacrificing their lives to rescue
-the holy places from infidel hands! But Easter a year ago they destroyed
-the valuable hangings in the Holy Crib, presented to the Latins by the
-French government, and stole two pictures from their altars valued at
-six thousand dollars apiece. Nay, more than this: they even severely
-wounded with a sword the Franciscan brother who endeavored to prevent
-the execution of their nefarious designs. And again the past Easter, but
-a few days before we were there, witnessed another of these terrible
-scenes of barbarism and inhumanity. A number of unoffending pilgrims,
-just returned from their annual Easter visit to the Jordan, were denied
-entrance by the Greeks to the basilica over the Holy Crib. And when they
-insisted upon entering the church--which is common property, and in
-which they had a perfect right to go--and attempted to force their way
-in, they were arrested by the Turkish governor of Bethlehem--who is in
-league with the Greeks--under the pretext that they were inciting to
-riot, and cast into a loathsome dungeon in Jerusalem. But, thanks to the
-exertions of M. de Lesseps, they were subsequently released.
-
-I rode over to the hill where the shepherds watched their flocks that
-eventful night when the angels announced to them the “glad tidings of
-great joy.” In the afternoon we rode across the mountains to Ain-Karim,
-the birth-place of S. John the Baptist.
-
-The women in this part of the country, but particularly in Bethlehem and
-its vicinity, carry all their fortunes on their heads. Dressed in the
-picturesque garb of the Moabitish women, their coins are hung in great
-numbers from their caps. One young mother, with her babe in her arms,
-and with her cap almost covered with rows of gold coins, approached me
-at Ain-Karim, and begged me in a piteous tone for a copper, and appeared
-delighted when I gave it to her. They would almost sooner starve than
-part with these coins, in which they take great pride; but I imagine that
-after they are married their husbands find means of obtaining possession
-of them, and then they get into general circulation again. We went to see
-the scene of the Visitation, over which an altar had been erected in the
-early ages of Christianity, but which had been concealed for centuries,
-and only accidentally discovered of late by the Latins in renovating
-their church. Alongside the altar is the impression of a baby in the
-rock. It is said that when Herod’s soldiers came to the house of S.
-Elizabeth to execute their master’s murderous commands to massacre the
-little innocents, the saintly mother pressed her infant against the wall,
-which opened, received him, and then, closing again, hid him from view;
-and thus was he saved to grow up a voice crying in the wilderness, “Make
-straight the way of the Lord.” We spent the night in the convent built
-on the site of the house where was born this “greatest of men.” The next
-day we returned to Jerusalem, visiting _en route_ the Greek church on the
-spot where grew the tree from which the sacred cross was made.
-
-Shortly after this we left the Holy City, soon bade farewell to our
-trusty dragoman, and embarked on the _Tibre_ at Jaffa, bound for
-Marseilles. Oh! what impressions were made upon me by my short sojourn
-among those sacred places. How my faith was strengthened, and my love and
-devotion increased, and how earnestly and often I wished, and still wish,
-that each and every one I know could see what I have seen and feel as I
-now feel!
-
-
-A CHRISTMAS VIGIL.
-
-    “One aim there is of endless worth,
-      One sole-sufficient love--
-    To do thy will, O God! on earth,
-      And reign with thee above.
-    From joys that failed my soul to fill,
-      From hopes that all beguiled,
-    To changeless rest in thy dear will,
-      O Jesus! call thy child.”
-
-Exeter Beach was divided into two distinct parts by a line of cliff
-jutting far out into Exeter Bay. Below the eastern face of the cliff
-lay the Moore estate, and then came the town; but on the west side was
-an inlet, backed by dense woods, and bounded on the farther extremity
-by another wall of rock. This was known as Lonely Cove, and deserved
-its title. From it one looked straight out to the open sea; no island
-intervened, nor was anything visible on shore save the two long arms of
-frowning rock, the circuit of pine coming close to the edge of drift-wood
-that marked the limit of the tide, and, at the far distance, a solitary
-house. This had once been occupied by a man who made himself a home apart
-from every one, and died as lonely as he lived; since then it had been
-deserted, and was crumbling to decay, and many believed it to be haunted.
-
-Along this beach, about three o’clock one Christmas Eve, Jane Moore was
-walking. It was a dull afternoon, with a lowering sky, and a chill in the
-air which foreboded rain rather than snow; but, wrapped in her velvet
-cloak and furs of costly sable, Jane did not heed the weather.
-
-Her heart was full to overflowing. From the first Christmas that she
-could remember to the one previous to his death, she had taken that
-walk with her father every Christmas eve, while he talked with her of
-the joy of the coming day, sang to her old Christmas carols, and sought
-to prepare her for a holy as well as a merry feast. He had tried to be
-father and mother both to his motherless girl, but his heart ached as he
-watched her self-willed, imperious nature, often only to be curbed by her
-extreme love for him.
-
-“Be patient, my friend,” the old priest who knew his solicitude used to
-say. “It is a very noble nature. Through much suffering and failure, it
-may be, but _surely_, nevertheless, our Jane will live a grand life yet
-for the love of God.” And so James Moore strove to believe and hope, till
-death closed his eyes when his daughter was only thirteen years old.
-
-Heiress of enormous wealth, and of a beauty which had been famous in that
-county for six generations, loving keenly all that was fair, luxurious,
-and intellectual, Jane Moore was one of the most brilliant women of her
-day. Dancing and riding, conversation and music--she threw herself into
-each pursuit by turn with the same whole-hearted _abandon_ which had ever
-characterized her. Yet the priest who had baptized her, and who gave her
-special, prayerful care and direction, laid seemingly little check upon
-her. Such religious duties as were given her she performed faithfully;
-she never missed the daily Mass or monthly confession; not a poor cottage
-in the village in which she was not known and loved, though as yet she
-only came with smiles and money and cheery words, instead of personal
-tendance and real self-denial. No ball shortened her prayers, no sport
-hindered her brief daily meditation. The priest knew that beyond all
-other desires that soul sought the Lord; beyond all other loves, loved
-him; and that she strove, though poorly and imperfectly and with daily
-failure, to subject her will to the higher will of God. To have drawn
-the curb too tightly then might have been to ruin all; the wise priest
-waited, and, while he waited, he prayed.
-
-This Christmas Eve on which Jane Moore was speeding along the beach
-was the last she would ever spend as a merry girl in her old home. As
-a wife, as a mother, she might come there again, but with Epiphany her
-girlhood’s days must end. Her heart, once given, had been given wholly,
-and Henry Everett was worthy of the gift; but the breaking of old ties
-told sorely upon Jane, who always made her burdens heavier than need be
-by her constant endeavor to gain her own will and way. Her handsome face
-looked dark and sallow that afternoon; the thin, quivering nostrils and
-compressed lips told of a storm in her heart.
-
-“I cannot understand it,” she said aloud. “_Why_ must I go away? Surely
-it was right to wish to live always in my old home among my father’s
-people. _Why_ should God let Henry’s father live and live and live to be
-ninety years old, and he be mean and troublesome? and _why_ should my
-dear father die young, when I needed him? I cannot bear to go away.”
-
-And then came to her mind words said to her that very day--few words, but
-strong, out of a wise and loving heart--“God asks something from you this
-Christmas, in the midst of your joy, which I believe he will ask from
-you, in joy or sorrow, all your life long until he gets it. He wants the
-entire surrender of your will. I do not know how he will do it, but I
-am sure he will never let you alone till he has gained his end. Make it
-your Christmas prayer that he will teach you that his will is better and
-sweeter than anything our wills may crave.”
-
-She flew faster along the beach, striving by the very motion to find
-relief for the swelling of her heart.
-
-“I cannot bear it,” she cried--“to have always to do something I do not
-want to do! I cannot bear it. Yes, I can, and I will. God help me! But I
-cannot understand.”
-
-On, on, faster still, sobs choking her, tears blinding her. “I wanted so
-much to live and die here. God must have known it, and what difference
-could it make to him?”
-
-“Don’t ye! Don’t ye, Tom! Ye’ve no right. Ye mustn’t, for God’s sake.”
-The words, in a woman’s shrill voice, as of one weak with fasting or
-illness, yet strong for the instant with the strength of a great fear or
-pain, broke in upon Jane’s passion, and, coming to herself, she found
-that she was close to the Haunted House. Fear was unknown to her; in an
-instant she stood within the room.
-
-Evidently some tramp, poorer than the poorest, had sought shelter--little
-better than none, alas!--in the wretched place. A haggard woman was
-crouching on a pile of sea-weed and drift-wood, holding tightly to
-something hidden in the ragged clothing huddled about her, striving
-to keep it--whatever it might be--from the grasp of a desperate,
-half-starved man who bent over her.
-
-“Gie it to me,” he cried. “I tell ye, Poll, I’ll have it, that I wull,
-for all ye. And I’ll trample it, and I’ll burn it, that I wull. No more
-carrying o’ crucifixes for we, and I knows on’t. Gie us bread and
-butter, say I, and milk for the babby there.”
-
-“Nay, nay, Tom,” the woman pleaded. “It’s Christmas Eve. He’ll send us
-summat the night, sure. Wait one night, Tom.”
-
-“Christmas! What’s him to we? Wait! Wait till ye starve and freeze
-to death, lass; but I’ll not do’t. There’s no God nowhere, and no
-Christmas--it’s all a sham--and there sha’n’t be no crucifixes neither
-where I bes. Ha! I’s got him now, and I’ll have my own way, lass.”
-
-“Stop, man!” Jane stood close beside him, with flashing eyes and her
-proud and fearless face. “Give me the crucifix,” she said.
-
-But she met eyes as fearless as her own, which scanned her from head to
-foot. “And who be you?” he asked.
-
-“Jane Moore,” she answered, with the ring that was always in her voice
-when she named her father’s honored name.
-
-“And what’s that to me?” the man exclaimed. “Take’s more’n names to save
-this.” And he shook the crucifix defiantly.
-
-“Stop, stop!” Jane cried. “I will pay you well to stop.”
-
-“Why then, miss?”
-
-“Your God died on a cross,” Jane answered. “You shall not harm his
-crucifix.”
-
-“Speak for yourself, miss! Shall not? My wull’s as strong as yours, I’ll
-warrant. God! There’s no God; else why be ye in velvets and her in rags?
-That’s why I trample this ’un.”
-
-In another moment the crucifix would have lain beneath his heel; but Jane
-flung herself on her knees. All pride was gone; tears rained from her
-eyes; she, who had been used to command and to be obeyed, pleaded like a
-beggar, with humble yet passionate pleading, at the feet of this beggar
-and outcast.
-
-“Wait, wait,” she cried. “Oh! hear me. Truly your God was born in a
-stable and died upon a cross. He loves you, and he was as poor as you.”
-
-“There be no God,” the man reiterated hoarsely. “It’s easy for the likes
-o’ ye to talk, all warm and full and comfortable.”
-
-Jane wrung her hands. “I cannot explain,” she said, “I cannot understand.
-But it must be that God knows best. He sent me. Come home with me, and I
-will give you food and clothes and money.”
-
-“Not I,” cried the man defiantly. “I knows that trick too well, miss.
-Food and clothes belike, but a jail too. I’ll trust none. Pay me here.”
-
-Jane turned her pocket out. “I have nothing with me,” she said. “Will you
-not trust me?” But in his hard-set face she read her answer while she
-spoke.
-
-“Very well,” she continued. “Take a note from me to my steward. He will
-pay you.”
-
-“Let’s see’t,” was the brief reply. Hastily she wrote a few words in
-pencil, and he read them aloud.
-
-“Now, miss,” he said, “it’s not safe for me to be about town much ’fore
-dark, and, what’s more, I won’t trust ye there neither. Here ye’ll bide
-the night through, if ye means what ye says.”
-
-“O Tom!” the woman exclaimed, breaking silence for the first time since
-Jane spoke, “’twull be a fearful night for the like o’ she.”
-
-“Let her feel it, then,” he retorted. “Wasn’t her Lord she talks on born
-in the cold and the gloom to-night, ’cording to you and she, lass? Let
-her try’t, say I, and see what she’ll believe come morn.”
-
-Like a flash it passed through Jane’s mind that her last midnight Mass
-among her own people was taken from her; that, knowing her uncertain
-ways, no one would think of seeking her till it was too late, any more
-than her steward, well used to her impulses, would dream of questioning
-a note of hers, no matter who brought it. Yet with the keen pang of
-disappointment a thrill of sweetness mingled. Was not her Lord indeed
-born in the cold and the gloom that night? “I am quite willing to wait,”
-she said quietly.
-
-The man went to the door. “Tide’s nigh full,” he said, “and night’s nigh
-here. I’ll go my ways. But mark ye, miss, I’ll be waiting t’other side,
-to see ye don’t follow. Trust me to wait patient, till it’s too dark for
-ye to come.”
-
-Jane watched him till he had reached the further line of the cliff; then
-she buried her face in her hands. Space and time seemed as nothing;
-again, as for years she had been used to do, she strove to place herself
-in the stable at Bethlehem, and the child-longing rose within her to
-clasp the Holy Infant in her arms, and warm him at her heart, and clothe
-him like a prince. And then she remembered what the man had said: “It’s
-easy for the likes o’ ye to talk, all warm and full and comfortable.”
-
-There are natures still among us that cannot be content unless they
-lavish the whole box of ointment on the Master’s feet. Jane turned to the
-heap of sea-weed where the half-frozen woman lay. “Can you rise for a
-minute?” she asked gently. “I am going to change clothes with you. Yes, I
-am strong, and can walk about and bear it all; but you will freeze if you
-lie here.” And putting down the woman’s feeble resistance with a bright,
-sweet will, Jane had her way.
-
-Half exhausted, her companion sank back upon her poor couch, and soon
-fell asleep; and when the baby woke, Jane took it from her, lest its
-pitiful wailing should rouse the mother, to whom had come blessed
-forgetfulness of her utter inability to feed or soothe it. She wrapped
-the child in her rags, and walked the room with it for hours that night.
-It seemed to her that they must freeze to death if she stopped. For a
-time the wind raged furiously and the rain fell in torrents; no blessed
-vision came to dispel the darkness of her vigil; no ecstasy to keep the
-cold from biting her; she felt its sting sharply and painfully the whole
-night through. The first few hours were the hardest she had ever spent,
-yet she would not have exchanged them for the sweetest joy this world had
-ever given her. “My Lord was cold,” she kept saying. “My Lord was cold
-to-night.”
-
-By and by--it seemed to her that it must be very late--the storm passed
-over. She went to the door. The clouds were lifting, and far away the sea
-was glimmering faintly in the last rays of a hidden and setting moon.
-Below a mass of dark clouds, and just above the softly-lighted sea, shone
-out a large white star. Across the water, heaving heavily like one who
-has fallen asleep after violent weeping, and still sobs in slumber, came
-to her the sound of the clock striking midnight; and then all the chimes
-rang sweetly, and she knew that the Mass she had longed for had begun.
-
-“I cannot bear it!” she cried; then felt the child stir on her breast,
-and, gathering it closer to her, she said slowly: “God understands. His
-way must be best.” And she tried to join in spirit with those in church
-who greeted the coming of the Lord.
-
-Surely there was some reason for her great disappointment and for her
-suffering that night. Reason? Was it not enough to be permitted thus to
-share His first night of deprivation? And presently she began to plan for
-herself God’s plan--how the man would return, and find her there wet and
-cold and hungry, and would learn why she had done it, and would never
-doubt God again. She fancied them all at home with her, employed by her,
-brought back to a happy, holy life; and she prayed long and earnestly for
-each.
-
-He did come, as soon as the gray morning twilight broke--came with haste,
-bade his wife rise, and take her child and follow him. He gave no time
-for the words Jane wished to speak; but when the woman said that she must
-return the garments which had kept her warm, and perhaps alive, that
-night, Jane cried “No, no! It is as if I had kept our Lady warm for once,
-and carried her Child, not yours.” And she clasped the baby passionately,
-kissing it again and again.
-
-The man stood doubtful, then tore the rich cloak from his wife’s
-shoulders, seized the mean one which it had replaced, wrapped her in it,
-hiding thus the costly attire, that might have caused suspicion, then
-looked about the room.
-
-“The crucifix?” he said.
-
-“Is it not mine?” Jane asked.
-
-He pointed to the woman. “It’s her bit o’ comfort,” he said. “Gie it to
-her, miss. Plenty ye’s got, I wot. I’ll ne’er harm ’un again.”
-
-There was no more farewell than that; no more promise of better things.
-In a few minutes they had disappeared among the pines; and cold,
-suffering, disheartened, Jane made her way homeward. To her truest home
-first; for bells were ringing for first Mass, and Jane stole into church,
-and, clad in beggar’s rags beneath her velvet cloak, knelt in real
-humility to receive her Lord. “I do not understand,” she said to him,
-sobbing softly. “Nothing that I do succeeds as I like. But, my Jesus, I
-am sure thy will is best, only I wanted so much to help them for thee.
-Why was it, my Jesus?”
-
-But the years went by, and though Christmas after Christmas Jane
-remembered with a pang that great disappointment, her longings and her
-questions remained unanswered.
-
-And so it was in almost everything. Her life after that strange Christmas
-Eve was one of constant, heroic, personal service for others, in the love
-of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The brilliant woman was never seen again at
-ball or hunt, but beside the beds of the sick and suffering she was daily
-to be found, making the most painful, repulsive cases her special care.
-And she, who had delighted in daintiest apparel, never wore again after
-that Christmas morning jewels or costly clothing. “I have tasted once the
-sweetness of faring like my Lord,” she said impetuously to her husband.
-“Do not break my heart by making me all warm and full and comfortable
-again.” And he, whose high soul answered nobly to her own, never tried to
-hold her back, but followed her eagerly in her earnest following of her
-Lord.
-
-Yet the self-willed nature cost its owner many sufferings before it
-learned submission to the divine Master. It pleased God that Jane Everett
-should live to an advanced and very strong old age, and it also pleased
-him through all those years to conform her will to his by constant and
-peculiar trials. The husband whom she loved with an almost idolatrous
-love was taken from her, without an instant’s warning, by a fearful
-accident. Her sons, whom she dedicated to God’s holy priesthood, died in
-their cradles; her daughters grew into the fairest bloom of womanhood,
-only to become the brides of death. Yet nothing quenched the fire in her
-eye, and the cry of her heart for years was still its old cry: “O God! I
-cannot bear it. Yes, I can. God’s will is best. But I cannot understand.”
-
-One Advent the last remaining friend of her youth sent to her, begging
-her to come with haste to pass with her the last Christmas they could
-expect to be together on earth; and the brave old woman, though craving
-to spend the holy season near her darlings’ graves, went forth to face
-the inclement weather with as stout a heart as in her youth she had sped
-along Exeter Beach under the threatening sky. In a little village, with
-no one near who knew her except her servants, Death laid his hand upon
-her who had desired him for many days.
-
-“This is a serious illness,” the physician said to her. Then, reading
-rightly the spirit with which he had to deal, he added: “A sickness unto
-death, madam.”
-
-“Harness the horses, then,” she said, lifting herself, “and let me get to
-Ewemouth and die there.”
-
-“Send for a priest,” the doctor answered her. “You have no time to lose.”
-
-“It has been always so, father,” Jane said, looking up pitifully into
-the face of the priest when at last he came. “From the time that I
-first earnestly gave myself to God, up to this time, he has thwarted me
-in every way. Sixty years ago this very Christmas Eve he did it. It all
-comes back to me as hard to bear as then; and all my life has been like
-that.” And slowly and with pauses Jane told the story of her night at
-Lonely Cove.
-
-“It has always been so, father. Whenever I have loved any one or tried to
-help any one, I have failed or they have left me.”
-
-“My daughter,” the priest replied, “God’s work in a life like yours is
-far more the subjection of the will than the number of holy actions for
-others. Be sure that what we think failure is often success in God’s
-eyes and through his power. He asks one last sacrifice from you. Madam,
-God has brought you here to add the crowning blessing to your life--the
-opportunity of a last and entire surrender of your will to his most
-blessed will. Will you offer to him your whole life, that to you seems so
-incomplete and marred, judged by your own plans and wishes, saying to him
-without reserve that you believe, certainly, that his way is far better
-than yours?”
-
-He held the crucifix before her, and suddenly the long years seemed
-to vanish like a dream, and she felt once more the biting cold in the
-haunted house at Lonely Cove, and again a child nestled upon her heart,
-bringing with it the thought of the manger-bed, and the question, _Why_
-should so much suffering be? And from that manger her thoughts returned
-to the hard couch of the cross; and to all that mystery of suffering came
-the mysterious answer, “Not my will, but thine, be done.”
-
-She took and kissed the offered crucifix. “Yes, father,” she said
-meekly. “May the most just, most high, and most amiable will of God be
-done, praised, and eternally exalted in all things. I had rather die
-here, O my God! since it is thy blessed will, than in any other place on
-earth.”
-
-“Amen,” said the priest.
-
-But when the last sacraments had been administered, and Jane lay calm and
-patient now, waiting her release, the priest drew near to her, and looked
-with a great reverence upon her face.
-
-“My daughter,” he said “it is at times the will of God to show us even
-here the use of some part at least of what he has let us do for him.
-Be sure his Sacred Heart remembers all the rest as well. Sixty years
-ago this Christmas Eve my father was saved from a great sin, my mother
-and I from death, by a Christian woman’s love for her Lord. The first
-confession I ever heard was my own father’s last. He told me that from
-the time he saw that rich young girl in rags endure the biting cold for
-God, faith lived in his heart, and _would not die_. I saw him pass away
-from earth in penitence and hope. For more than thirty years I have
-labored among God’s poor as your thank-offering. Madam, my mother by the
-love of God, God sends you this token that he has worked his own work by
-means of you all your life long. He sends you this token, because you
-have given him the thing he most desired of you--your will.”
-
-Jane folded her aged hands humbly. “Not unto us, O Lord!” she said, low
-and faint, and then a voice as of a son and priest at once spoke clearly,
-seeing her time had come: “Depart, O Christian soul! in peace.”
-
-
-THE APOSTOLIC MISSION TO CHILI.
-
-_A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF PIUS IX._
-
-Before entertaining ourselves with an account of the voyage and journeys,
-from Genoa to Buenos Ayres and across the continent to Valparaiso,
-of the first pope who has ever been to America, we shall enter into
-a few details to show the occasion of the apostolic mission which he
-accompanied in an official capacity.
-
-The great reverses of Spain at the beginning of the present century, and
-the consequent weakening of the bonds that united her American colonies
-to their mother-country, besides some other causes silently working
-since the emancipation of the thirteen British provinces from England,
-finally led to a Declaration of Independence, which was established after
-several years of war. But the king to whose government these New-World
-possessions had been subject for nearly three hundred years refused to
-recognize the accomplished fact or to enter into diplomatic relations
-with rebels against his authority.[213]
-
-The Congress of Verona, in 1822, took some notice of these revolted
-countries; but the European powers did not all agree to receive them
-into the family of nations by a formal recognition, and it is well
-known that the views expressed in that assembly gave rise on the part
-of the President of the United States to a declaration of policy which
-has been called the Monroe Doctrine.[214] The Holy See, having sublimer
-interests to deal with, could not act as indifferently in this matter as
-other governments, which looked only to temporal advantage, and wrangled
-over old systems of public policy regardless of recent events. By the
-quixotic obstinacy of Spain the South American republics suffered much
-inconvenience, particularly in point of religion, because Rome could not
-provide for their spiritual wants without risking an open rupture with
-his Catholic Majesty--such were royal pretensions of restricting the
-exercise of papal rights, even in merely nominal dominions.[215]
-
-During the latter part of Pius VII.’s pontificate the government of
-Chili sent one of its distinguished citizens, the Archdeacon Don
-José Cienfuegos, envoy to Rome, with instructions to try to establish
-direct ecclesiastical relations between the Holy See and Santiago, the
-capital of his country. He arrived there on August 22, 1822, and was
-well received, but only in his spiritual capacity. The pope would not
-recognize him as a political agent. On the 7th of September following
-the Holy Father addressed a brief to the Bishop of Merida de Maracaybo,
-in which he expressed himself solicitous for the spiritual necessities
-of his children in those far-distant parts of America, and intimated
-his ardent desire to relieve them. A little later he formed a special
-congregation of six cardinals, presided over by Della Genga, who became
-his successor as Leo XII.; and after mature deliberation on the religious
-affairs in the ex-viceroyalties of Spain, it was determined to send a
-mission to Chili, that country being chosen for the honor as having made
-the first advances. This measure so displeased the Spanish government
-that the nuncio Monsignor--afterwards Cardinal--Giustiniani was
-dismissed; and although he was soon after permitted to return, the wound
-inflicted upon him left its sting behind, for, coming very near to the
-number of votes requisite to election in the conclave after Pius VIII.’s
-death, the court of Madrid barred his fortune by the exercise of that
-odious privilege called the _Esclusiva_; the ground of his exclusion from
-the Papacy being supposed at Rome to have been his participation in the
-appointment of bishops to South America. The right (?) of veto expires
-with its exercise once in each conclave; and Cardinal Cappellari (Gregory
-XVI.), who, as we shall see, had the most to do with these episcopal
-nominations, was elected pope.
-
-The choice of a vicar-apostolic for the Chilian mission fell upon Prof.
-Ostini (later nuncio to Brazil and a cardinal), who, after having
-accepted the position, saw fit suddenly to decline it for reasons best
-known to himself. In his stead Don Giovanni Muzi, then attached to the
-nunciature at Vienna, was selected, and, having been recalled to Rome,
-was consecrated Archbishop of Philippi in _partibus infidelium_,[216]
-with orders to proceed immediately to Santiago. The mission, of which we
-shall speak more particularly hereafter, embarked on October 4, 1823, and
-reached Rome on its return the 7th of July, 1825.
-
-Leo XII. succeeded Pius VII. In 1824 the republic of Colombia sent Don
-Ignacio Texada to Rome with an application for bishops and apostolic
-vicars in that immense region; but the Spanish ambassador, Chevalier
-Vargas, a haughty diplomate, brimful of _Españolismo_, went to the pope
-and demanded his dismissal. This was refused. The envoy had come for
-spiritual interests, not on political grounds; and the Spaniard could
-not convince Leo that the rebel’s argument--by which he asked no more
-than that species of indirect recognition granted by the Holy See,
-under Innocent X. and Alexander VII., to the house of Braganza when it
-forced Portugal from under Spanish rule--was not a good one and founded
-on precedent. Nevertheless, Texada returned to Bologna, and finally
-withdrew altogether from the Papal States. He had some fine qualities,
-but lacked discretion in speech, which was a fault very injurious
-to his position. Harpocrates is still the great god of diplomacy the
-world over. This state of things was embarrassing. Spain had refused
-to recognize the independence of her many provinces in the New World,
-although she had ceased practically even to disturb them. The king, who
-was somewhat of a _Marquis de Carabas_, claimed all his old rights over
-them, and, among them, that of episcopal presentation. Cardinal Wiseman,
-who was an attentive observer of these times, remarks--very properly, we
-think--that even if such a power could be still called legal, “it would
-have been quite unreasonable to expect that the free republics would
-acknowledge the jurisdiction of the country which declared itself at
-war with them.” This was a clear case in which allegiance should follow
-protection. After a prudent delay, Leo thought it his duty to represent
-energetically to the Spanish government the inconvenience he suffered
-from the existing state of affairs, and the impossibility of his viewing
-with indifference a condition in which the faithful, long deprived of
-pastors, were urgently asking for bishops for the vacant sees. Yet His
-Holiness had taken no decisive step, but called upon his majesty either
-to reduce his transatlantic subjects to obedience or to leave him free
-to provide as best he could for the necessities of the church. In the
-consistory of May 21, 1827, the pope, after protesting that he could not
-any longer in conscience delay his duty to Spanish America, proceeded to
-nominate bishops for more than six dioceses in those parts. Madrid was,
-of course, displeased, although it was twelve years since the government
-had lost even the shadow of authority there, and at first refused
-to receive the new nuncio, Tiberi.[217] At this juncture Pedro Gomez
-de Labrador was sent from Spain expressly to defeat the measure; but
-although “acknowledged by all parties, and especially by the diplomatic
-body in Rome, to be one of the most able and accomplished statesmen in
-Europe, yet he could not carry his point” against the quiet and monk-like
-Cardinal Cappellari, who was deputed by the pope to meet him. In the
-allocution pronounced by Labbrador before the Sacred College, assembled
-in conclave to elect a successor to Leo, he made an allusion to the
-ever-recurring subject of the revolted Americans; but although done with
-tact, it grated on the ears of many as too persistently and, under the
-circumstances, unreasonably put forward.
-
-The discussion between the courts of Rome and Madrid was not renewed
-during the brief pontificate of Pius VIII.; but in the encyclical letter
-announcing his election there is a delicate reference to the affair
-which, although not expressly named, will be perceived by those who
-are acquainted with the questions of that day. Comte de Maistre says
-somewhere that if a parish be left without a priest for thirty years,
-the people will worship--the pigs; and although the absence of a bishop
-from his diocese for such a length of time might not induce a similar
-result, yet the faithful would drop, perhaps, into a Presbyterian form of
-church government and be lost. The veteran statesman Cardinal Consalvi
-evidently thought so, as we see by the fourth point, which treats of
-Spanish America, in the conference that he was invited to hold with
-Leo XII. on the most important interests of the Holy See.[218] When,
-therefore, Gregory XVI.--who, as Cardinal Cappellari; had not been a
-stranger to the long dispute--became pope, he ended the matter promptly
-and for ever. In his first consistory, held in February, 1831, he filled
-a number of vacant sees and erected new ones where required in South
-America. On the 31st of August following he published the apostolic
-constitution “Solicitudo Ecclesiarum,” in which he explained the reasons
-why the Holy See, in order to be able to govern the universal church,
-whose interests are paramount to all local disputes, recognizes _de
-facto_ governments, without intending by this to confer a new right,
-detract from any legitimate claim, or decide upon _de jure_ questions.
-The republics of New Granada[219] (1835), Ecuador (1838), and Chili
-(1840) were subsequently recognized with all the solemnities of
-international law.
-
-In the last-named country there were two episcopal sees during the
-Spanish dominion. These were Santiago and Concepcion, both subject to
-the Metropolitan of Lima; but Gregory rearranged the Chilian episcopate,
-making the first see an archbishopric, with Concepcion, La Serena, and
-San Carlos de Ancud (in the island of Chiloe) for suffragan sees.
-
-At the time that the apostolic mission to South America was determined
-upon, there was living in Rome a young ecclesiastic as yet “to fortune
-and to fame unknown,” but who was destined to become the first pope who
-has ever been across the Atlantic, and the foremost man of the XIXth
-century. This was Don Giovanni Mastai-Ferretti, one of the fourteen
-canons of the collegiate church of Santa Maria _in Via Lata_. He was
-selected by Pius VII. to accompany Mgr. Muzi as adjunct. The secretary
-of the apostolic delegation was a priest named Giuseppe Sallusti, who
-wrote a full narrative of the expedition, in which, as Cardinal Wiseman
-says, “The minutest details are related with the good-humored garrulity
-of a new traveller, who to habits of business and practical acquaintance
-with graver matters unites, as is common in the South, a dash of
-comic humor and a keen sense of the ridiculous, and withal a charming
-simplicity and freshness of mind, which render the book amusing as well
-as instructive, in spite of its heavy quotations from that lightest of
-poets, Metastasio.”[220] It is in 4 vols. 8vo, with a map. Comparatively
-only a small portion of the work is taken up with the actual voyages and
-travels of the party, the rest being devoted to the preliminaries or
-causes of the mission, to a description of Chili, and an account of the
-many missionary establishments which had once flourished, as well as of
-those that were still maintained, there. A fifth volume was promised by
-the author to contain the documents, official acts, and results of the
-mission; but we believe that it was never published. The vicar-apostolic
-having received, at the earnest solicitation of a learned ecclesiastic
-from the Argentine Confederation, Rev. Dr. Pacheco, very ample faculties
-not only for the country to which he was more immediately accredited,
-but also for Buenos Ayres, Peru, Colombia, Mexico, and all other parts
-of the ex-Spanish dominions, and accompanied by the envoy Cienfuegos and
-Father Raymond Arce, a young Dominican belonging to Santiago, the party
-left Rome for Bologna, where it rested awhile to get a foretaste of the
-magnificent scenes in the New World from Father T. de Molina, who had
-long resided in Chili. The next stage in the journey was to Genoa, the
-port of embarkation, which was reached only on the 17th of July; but, “by
-a series of almost ludicrous delays,” the expedition was detained until
-after the death of Pius VII. and the election of his successor, Leo XII.,
-who confirmed the mission and addressed a brief to the president[221] of
-the Chilian Republic, recommending its objects and the welfare of its
-members.
-
-All matters being now satisfactorily arranged, the party got on board the
-fine French-built brig _Eloysa_ on the 11th of October, 1823. The vessel
-sailed under Sardinian colors, and was manned by a crew of thirty-four
-men, and officered by experienced sailors, the captain, Anthony Copello,
-having several times navigated the South Atlantic. The weather was very
-rough, as usual, in the Gulf of Lyons; “and gurly grew the sea,” to the
-dismay and discomfiture of the terrified landsmen, “Mastai,” as Sallusti
-familiarly calls his companion, suffering horribly from sickness. This
-was but the beginning of many trials, and even some serious dangers,
-amidst which we can well imagine that the captain would have been glad
-beyond measure if any one had hinted at the very special Providence that
-guarded his ship, by quoting the famous words, “_Quid times? Cæsarem
-vehis et fortunam ejus!_” Soon the _Eloysa_ approached the coast of
-Catalonia, down which she sailed at the rate of ten knots an hour, until
-struck by a furious southwest hurricane, the _libeccio_ so much dreaded
-in the Mediterranean, which threatened destruction to all and everything
-in its course. To a landsman like Sallusti the storms encountered on
-this voyage would naturally appear worse than they really were, and his
-frequent account of “waves mountain-high” and “imminent shipwreck” would
-perhaps sound like “yarns” to an old tar. He delights in describing the
-_Eloysa_ as
-
-    “Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she flies,
-    Her shattered top half buried in the skies”
-
-                                               --(_Falconer_),
-
-and everywhere shows himself, like a good inland _abbate_, dreadfully
-afraid of salt water. Capt. Copello would fain have put into Valencia for
-shelter; but it was feared that the Spanish authorities might detain his
-ship, or at least disembark the passengers, and it was determined rather
-to brave the elements than to trust themselves within gunshot of a
-Spanish harbor. These bold resolutions, however, did not appease the fury
-of the wind, and it finally came to deciding between a watery grave and a
-stony prison; the decision was quickly taken, and Palma, in the island of
-Majorca, was fetched in safety. The mission party was very inhospitably
-treated here; and Mgr. Muzi and Canon Mastai were ordered to come on
-shore at once and give an account of themselves. As soon as they had put
-foot on land, the two distinguished ecclesiastics were thrust into a cold
-and filthy Lazaretto, on plea of sanitary regulations, but really out of
-spite for their character and destination. Their papers were seized, and
-measures instantly taken to bring them to trial; and there was even talk
-of sending them to an African fortress where political prisoners were
-confined. When Sallusti heard of this Balearic treatment, he summoned all
-his Italian courage, and, going on shore, declared to the cocked-hatted
-officials that he would share the fate of his companions; but instead
-of admiring this prodigality of a great soul (Hor. _Od._ i. 12, 38),
-those unclassical islanders simply swore round oaths and turned him in
-with the rest. This was fortunate in one sense; for we would otherwise
-have missed a good description of the examination of the three Italians
-before the magistrates, who behaved rudely; the alcade, in his quality
-of judge, putting on more airs than a Roman proconsul.[222] Further
-outrages were threatened, but the intervention of the _Sardinian consul_
-and of the Bishop of Palma finally convinced those proud men of the
-exclusively religious mission of their victims. In view of subsequent
-events in Italy, it seems strange that the future pope should have been
-saved from further indignities, and perhaps from a dungeon, by an agent
-of the Piedmontese government; yet so it was. The Italians were permitted
-to return to the ship, but a demand was made to deliver up the two
-Chilians as rebellious Spanish subjects. This was promptly refused; but
-notwithstanding a great deal of blustering and many threats, the case
-was allowed to drop, and the _Eloysa_ sailed away after several days’
-detention. Gibraltar was passed on the 28th of October, and a severe
-storm having tossed the brig about unmercifully on her entry into the
-Atlantic, the peak of Teneriffe loomed up on November 4.
-
-After leaving the Canary Islands, the _Eloysa_ was hailed one dark
-night by a shot across her bows, which came from a Colombian privateer,
-and quickly brought her to. She was quickly boarded, and a gruff voice
-demanded her papers and to have the crew and passengers mustered on
-deck. Sallusti was in mortal dread, and, to judge from his description
-of the scene, he must have been quaking with fear; but Don Giovanni
-Mastai behaved with that calmness and dignity which even then began to
-be remarked in him, in whatever circumstances he found himself. After
-some delay, the brig was allowed to proceed; nothing being taken off but
-a bottle of good Malaga wine--which, however, was rather _accepted_ than
-stolen by the rover of the seas.
-
-After a time the Cape Verd Islands appeared in all their richness; and
-on the 27th of the month the line was crossed amidst the usual riot of
-sailors, and with the payment of a generous ransom by the clergy. On
-December 8 the _Eloysa_ lay becalmed alongside of a slaver crowded with
-poor Africans on their way to Brazil. Sallusti complains about this time
-of bad water and short rations, and mentions with particular disgust that
-the fare generally consisted of potatoes and lean chickens. On the 22d a
-man fell overboard in a dreadful gale, and was rescued with difficulty.
-Christmas was celebrated as well as circumstances permitted; and a neat
-little oratory having been fitted up in the main cabin, midnight Mass
-was said by the archbishop, the second Mass by Canon Mastai, and the
-third by Friar Arce. On the 27th of December, S. John’s Day, and the
-patronal feast of the canon, the welcome cry of “Land ho!” was heard
-from the look-out at the mast-head about three P.M., and the crew and
-passengers united upon deck to return fervent thanks to Almighty God.
-The land sighted was a small desert island, a little north of Cape Santa
-Maria, off the coast of Uruguay. A fearful storm was encountered the next
-evening at the mouth of the La Plata. This was one of those southwestern
-gales, called _Pamperos_, which frequently blow with inconceivable fury,
-causing singular fluctuations in the depth of the wide mouth of the
-river. It raged so that the captain was obliged to cut his cable and
-abandon the shelter of Flores Island, which he had sought when it began,
-and to take to the open sea again. With better weather he returned and
-dropped anchor opposite Montevideo on the evening of January 1, 1824.
-Sallusti goes into raptures over the beautiful aspect of the city, as
-seen from the bay; its broad and regular streets, its stately houses
-built on a gentle elevation, its fine cathedral, the strains of music
-borne over the water--everything enchanted the travellers, weary of a
-three months’ voyage.
-
-    “The sails were furl’d; with many a melting close
-    Solemn and slow the evening anthem rose--
-    Rose to the Virgin. ’Twas the hour of day
-    When setting suns o’er summer[223] seas display
-    A path of glory, opening in the west
-    To golden climes and islands of the blest;
-    And human voices on the balmy air
-    Went o’er the waves in songs of gladness there!”
-
-                                                    --(_Rogers._)
-
-As soon as the news got abroad of a delegation from the pope, the
-whole city was in a joyful commotion, and a deputation, consisting of
-the cathedral chapter, four other secular priests, and two Dominican
-fathers, came to the ship to pay their respects to Mgr. Muzi, who was
-also invited on shore and pressed with every offer of assistance by the
-most honorable representatives of the laity. These kind attentions could
-not induce the party to land; and as soon as damages were repaired and
-a pilot received, sail was made for Buenos Ayres, which was sighted at
-two P.M. of January 5; but just while the passengers were all on deck
-watching the approaches to the city, they were assailed and driven below
-by myriads of mosquitoes. Sallusti is very vehement against these sharp
-little insects, and bewails the lot of those who must live among them;
-but he carefully avoids a comparison with the _fleas_ of his native
-Italy. Although the passengers remained on board that night, crowds of
-people lined the shore, and, after salutes of artillery, greeted them
-with cries of “Long live the vicar apostolic!” “Cheers for America!”
-“Success to Chili!” On the following day the captain of the port and his
-suite came off to the brig, bringing a courteous note from the governor,
-offering a public reception (for which preparations had already been
-made) and the hospitalities of the city to the members of the mission.
-This was declined, for reasons that are not very clear; but although the
-archbishop gave his bad health as the principal excuse, we suspect that
-Cienfuegos impressed upon the Italians that, the mission being directed
-to _his_ country, it were uncourtly to parade it before reaching its
-destination. By their minds such a view would be accepted as _assai
-diplomatico_. When the party did land, they put up at a hotel called
-“The Three Kings,” kept by a jolly Englishman, who treated them right
-royally--and made them pay in proportion. During their twelve days’ stay
-in Buenos Ayres, the archbishop and his suite received every mark of
-reverence from the people; yet the officials maintained a cold reserve
-since the refusal to accept their invitation. Even the ecclesiastical
-authority--such as it was--put on very bad airs; Zavaletta, a simple
-priest, but administrator of the diocese, having the audacity to withdraw
-from Mgr. Muzi permission, which had been previously granted to give
-confirmation. At the time of the arrival of the apostolic mission the
-provinces of the Rio de la Plata, which had formed part of the Spanish
-viceroyalty of Buenos Ayres, had been united from 1816 to 1820, but were
-now in a state of political isolation, somewhat like that of the States
-of the American Union before the federal Constitution was adopted. Soon
-after the arrival of the mission, another General Congress was called.
-Still, the Italians were not impressed--as it was important that they
-should be to obtain proper consideration at Rome,--with the idea of a
-strong government holding sway over a vast and wealthy territory. On the
-16th of January, at nine o’clock in the forenoon, the party began the
-journey across the continent. Three great covered wagons, each drawn
-by four horses and guided by twelve postilions, composed the train;
-while a courier went ahead to hunt up quarters, and a mounted orderly,
-with a very long sword and a fierce-looking beard, brought up the
-rear or pranced about the flanks of the line. The drivers kept around
-in no particular order, sonorously cracking their whips and uttering
-loud sounds which probably were not oaths to the unaccustomed ears of
-Sallusti. Besides the three Italians, there was Cienfuegos with four
-young Chilians in his company and two servants, so that the whole party
-was pretty numerous, and the more so when, a little further on, six
-gallant guachos were added as an escort. Only fifteen miles were made
-the first day, which brought the party to Moron, where confirmation was
-given. At a miserable rancho called Lujan the archbishop said his first
-Mass on the pampas at a rich altar improvised for him by the _padre_
-of the place, and surmounted by four massive silver candlesticks. The
-room was hung round with rich damask hangings. It was like a jewel in a
-dung-heap. The Arecife stream was crossed in boats by the travellers, but
-forded by the wagons and horsemen. The superb Parana River was reached
-at San Pedro; and thence the route lay through a rich and beautiful
-country to the important town of Rosario, on the high, precipitous banks
-of the great river. At the outskirts of this place the party was met by
-the parish priest; and confirmation was administered the next day to an
-immense number of the faithful, long deprived of this sacrament. From
-Rosario, which they left on the morning of the 23d, the journey was long,
-weary, and dangerous, on account of the roving bands of Indians which at
-that period scoured the plains in all directions to cut off herdsmen and
-small parties of travellers or traders, making a booty of their baggage,
-killing the men, and carrying women and children into captivity. At a
-little station called Orqueta the party caught sight for the first time
-of a wild Indian, who was lurking about the place in a very suspicious
-manner, but kept at a respectful distance from the guachos. When Sallusti
-saw this man apparently spying out the route and strength of the party,
-the marrow nearly froze in his bones; and he certainly had good cause
-for alarm. It happened that leaving Buenos Ayres a few days earlier
-than had been given out was lucky; for a large band of these mounted
-savages, armed with lances and lassos, had got wind of the arrival of
-great personages from Europe, carrying (it was reported) an immense
-amount of treasure to the Pacific coast, and had formed a plan to attack
-them, which was defeated only by mistaking the day of their departure,
-whereby their arrival at the lonely and ill-famed post of Desmochados
-was miscalculated. Three days after the mission party had passed, the
-Indians, to the number of about three hundred, swooped down upon the
-place, but, instead of finding the rich foreigners, they surrounded only
-a miserable set of twenty peons escorting a lot of goods across the
-plains. These were all massacred except one, who, although badly wounded
-and left for dead, survived to tell the story and describe the fiendish
-disappointment of the savages at not capturing the prey they expected.
-At Frayle Muerto Mgr. Muzi received, through the agency of Cienfuegos,
-a polite message from the clergy of Cordova;[224] but having sent his
-return compliments directly instead of through the channel of original
-communication, the Chilian thought himself slighted, and separated from
-the mission party, preceding it a good distance, and taking with him,
-besides his own attendants, the orderly in brilliant uniform, who, the
-Europeans had the mortification of seeing, was meant to distinguish the
-_native_, although a subordinate in clerical rank. Such is human nature,
-whether at courts or on a dusty plain.
-
-After passing through several small settlements and the more important
-town of San Luis--being everywhere well received--the fine old city of
-Mendoza was reached on the 15th of February. It seemed as if the entire
-population had turned out to honor the distinguished arrivals. Triumphal
-arches were erected, troops were drawn up under arms, processions of
-citizens and clergy marshalled; from every house richly-colored tapestry
-was suspended, while the balconies were filled with ladies, who threw
-down flowers in the path of the apostolic vicar as he entered the town
-and proceeded to the house of a noble and wealthy lady, Doña Emmanuela
-Corbalan, in which everything had been prepared on the grandest scale
-of provincial magnificence, and where Cienfuegos, in all his glory
-and recovered temper, was waiting to receive him and Canon (Count)
-Mastai, who were to be lodged there during their stay; the secretary,
-Sallusti, being handed over to a less worshipful host. Religious and
-civic festivals, excursions in the environs to the vineyards, gardens,
-farms, and silver-mines, with other congenial occupations, detained
-the party very agreeably during nine days in this neat and pleasant
-town, the climate of which is noted for its salubrity. On the 24th
-they left Mendoza, and had a delightful trip on horseback over good
-roads and through a civilized country for seventy-five miles to the
-foot of the mighty Andes. They were now on the eastern range of the
-Cordilleras, at the Paramilla Mountains, which are about ten thousand
-feet high and partly covered with wood. Between these and the western
-range they traversed, near thirty-two degrees south latitude, a wide
-valley, sterile and impregnated with salt, for over forty miles, called
-the Uspallata. For fifteen miles the road was level, and the remainder
-winding up and down the hills which skirt both ranges. After crossing
-this valley, they struck the great range of the Andes, which is between
-fifty and sixty miles in width, consisting of four or five parallel
-masses of rock, divided from one another by deep and dangerous ravines
-and sombre glens. The road which leads over them is called the _Cumbre_
-(summit) Pass, and attains an elevation of twelve thousand four hundred
-and fifty-four feet above the level of the sea. Our travellers crossed
-on mules by this road, getting to the north of them, amidst piles of
-perpetual snow, a magnificent view of the grand volcano of Aconcagua,
-which is nearly twenty-four thousand feet high. The passage of the
-mountains was grand and impressive, but was not made without danger to
-the lives of some of the party, particularly on the 29th of February.
-From La Cumbre there is a gradual descent to the city of Santiago. On the
-1st of March the travellers cast their admiring gaze upon the Pacific
-slope, which, from that day until they entered the capital of Chili, on
-the 6th of the month--passing through Villa-de-Santa-Rosa and over the
-magnificent plains of Chacabuco--was a continually shifting panorama of
-natural beauty, enhanced by villages, convents, and churches perched on
-the side of verdant hills or nestling in the fruitful valleys. At every
-halting-place their hearts were filled with a holy joy to witness the
-demonstrations of faith among the people, and of loyalty to their great
-spiritual chief on earth, represented by Mgr. Muzi. The party entered
-Santiago, as was said, on the 6th, and, going to the cathedral, the
-archbishop intoned pontifically the _Te Deum_, with the assistance of a
-future pope and of the historian of the apostolic mission. The members of
-the legation were lodged in a house near the _Cappucinas_; and although
-we know little of the occupations of Canon Mastai in Chili, it is certain
-that he made himself personally very agreeable. How could it be otherwise?
-
-    “A man of letters, and of manners too:
-    Of manners sweet as virtue always wears,
-    When gay good nature dresses her in smiles.”
-
-                                                --(_Cowper._)
-
-We have been told by a distinguished Chilian that Canonico Mastai was
-a frequent guest in Santiago at the house of his uncle, Don Francisco
-Ruiz Tagle, and used to go out with him quite often to his country-seat.
-Although the mission was received with an almost universal outburst of
-enthusiasm, and notwithstanding the majority of the clergy and people
-was well disposed, it met with considerable opposition from a fierce
-and fanatical party of Freemasons, which threw every obstacle in the
-way of close relations with Rome. Cardinal Wiseman says, in the article
-in the _Dublin Review_ from which we have already quoted, that “there
-was jealousy and bad faith on the part of the Chilian government, and
-want of tact and bad management, we fear on the part of the head of the
-mission.” Unfortunately, the government was in a transition state between
-the presidency of O’Higgins and the election of his successor, Freire,
-and administered by a _Junta_. Where there were so many voices there was
-much confusion. Cienfuegos, however, seems to have done his duty, and
-he was rewarded in 1832 by the bishopric of Concepcion, which had been
-vacant for fourteen years. He died in 1839. With regard to the causes of
-the failure of the mission, we will not conceal what we have heard from
-an excellent senator of Chili, although we mention it reservedly--that
-one, at least, of the reasons was a suspicion that Muzi intended to put
-Italians in the sees vacant or to be erected in Chili.
-
-From Santiago Mgr. Muzi and his party went to Valparaiso, and embarked
-for their return voyage on the 30th of October, 1824. The remarks of the
-celebrated Spaniard Balmes upon the visit of the future pope to the New
-World find their place here: “There is certainly in nature’s grand scenes
-an influence which expands and nerves the soul; and when these are
-united to the contemplation of different races, varied in civilization
-and manners, the mind acquires a largeness of sentiment most favorable to
-the development of the understanding and the heart, widening the sphere
-of thought and ennobling the affections. On this account it is pleasing,
-above all things, to see the youthful missionary, destined to occupy the
-chair of S. Peter, traverse the vast ocean; admire the magnificent rivers
-and superb chains of mountains in America; travel through those forests
-and plains where a rich and fertile soil, left to itself, displays with
-ostentatious luxury its inborn treasures by the abundance, variety,
-and beauty of its productions, animate and inanimate; run risks among
-savages, sleep in wretched hovels or on the open plain, and pass the
-night beneath that brilliant canopy which astonishes the traveller in the
-southern hemisphere. Providence, which destined the young Mastai-Ferretti
-to reign over a people and to govern the universal church, led him by
-the hand to visit various nations, and to contemplate the marvels of
-nature.”[225]
-
-A remote but very providential consequence of the visit of Pius IX. to
-America, during his early career, was the establishment of the South
-American College at Rome, called officially in Italian the Pio-Latino
-Americano,[226] which educates aspirants to the priesthood from Brazil
-and all parts of the American continent where the Spanish language is
-spoken. A wealthy, intelligent, and influential Chilian priest, Don
-Ignacio Eyzaguirre,[227] who had been vice-president of the House of
-Representatives in 1848, and was an author of repute, was charged by
-Pius IX. in 1856 to visit the dioceses of South and Central America and
-Mexico, to obtain the views of the several bishops upon the necessity of
-founding an ecclesiastical seminary at Rome. The project was universally
-acceptable, and funds having been provided--the Holy Father giving
-liberally from his private purse--a beginning was made in 1858, when a
-part of the Theatine Convent of San Andrea _della Valle_ was given up
-to the students, who were put under the direction of Jesuit Fathers.
-This location was only temporary; and the college was soon transferred
-to the large house of the general of the Dominicans, attached to the
-convent of Santa Maria _sopra Minerva_, and facing the piazza. However,
-it has been moved again, and in 1869 occupied the right wing of the
-novitiate at San Andrea on the Quirinal, with fifty-five inmates. As
-if this worthy establishment had to figure in its shifting fortune the
-unsettled state of so many of the Spanish American countries, it has
-again been disturbed; yet to suffer at the hands of Victor Emanuel and
-his sacrilegious band is the indication of a good cause, and will prepare
-to meet other, although hardly worse, enemies in the New World.
-
-
-FREE WILL.
-
-                     I.
-
-    The river glideth not at its sweet will:
-      The fountain sends it forth;
-    And answering to earth’s finger doth it still
-      Go east, west, south, or north.
-
-                     II.
-
-    The soul alone hath perfect liberty
-      To flow its own free way;
-    And only as it wills to follow thee,
-      O Lord! it findeth day.
-
-
-NELLIE’S DREAM ON CHRISTMAS EVE.
-
-They had quarrelled, these two--it matters not about what trifle--till
-the hot, bitter words seemed to have formed an impassable barrier and a
-silence fell between them that the lowering brow and compressed lip told
-would not be easily broken. Both had loving hearts, and treasured each
-other above all earthly things. They had real sorrows enough to make
-imaginary ones glance off lightly; for the second Christmas had not yet
-cast its snows on their mother’s grave. The thought of each was, “Had
-_she_ been here, this would not have happened”; but pride was strong, and
-the relenting thoughts were hidden behind a cold exterior.
-
-It was the week before Christmas, and Laura, the eldest, was assisting to
-trim the village church, and in the Holy Presence the dark thought faded
-and tender memories seemed to reassert their olden sway; and on returning
-from her occupation she formed the resolution to stop this folly, and
-make advances towards assuming the old, happy life.
-
-“Father Black asked after you, Nell,” she said, as she laid aside her
-wrappings, and turned cheerily to the fire. “He wants you to play during
-the rehearsal of the new Benediction to-morrow; for Prof. C---- will be
-away.” But she was met by a stony look and closed lips. “Come, Nell,”
-she said half impatiently, “don’t be so dignified; why do you love that
-temper of yours so dearly?”
-
-“You said let there be silence between us, and I am content,” was the
-rejoinder. “I shall take care not to trouble you in future.”
-
-Pride and love struggled for mastery in the heart of the eldest, and it
-was a mingling of both that brought the answer, in tones cold enough to
-freeze the tenderness of the words: “There will come a silence between us
-one day, Nell, you will be glad to break.” And she passed from the room.
-
-“Let it come,” was the almost insolent reply; but there was a mist in the
-flashing black eyes that contradicted the words.
-
-They passed the day apart from each other, and at night, although
-kneeling for prayer in the same little oratory, and occupying the same
-little white-draped chamber, the chilling silence remained. So passed the
-next day, and it was now Christmas Eve. The evergreens were all hung in
-the village church; the altar was radiant with flowers and tapers; the
-confessionals were thronged; but both sisters kept aloof, and both hearts
-were aching over the pride and anger that was strangling even religion in
-their souls. Alas! alas! how the angels must have mourned to see days of
-such especial grace passing in sin. Christmas gifts had been prepared,
-but neither would present them. How different other Christmas Eves had
-been!--the gentle mother overseeing every preparation for the next day,
-that was always celebrated as a feast of joy. Those busy hands were idle
-now, and the white snow was coldly drifting over the mound that loving
-hearts would fain have kept in perpetual summer. A mother’s grave! Except
-to those who have knelt beside that mound--that seems such a slight
-barrier between the aching heart and its treasure, and yet is such a
-hopeless, inexorable one--these words have little meaning.
-
-They retired early, and, as Nell knelt for prayer, the hot tears rolled
-through her fingers as she thought of other Christmas mornings, when they
-had been awakened for early Mass by the “Merry Christmas! girls,” that
-earth would never, never hear again. But the icy bands of pride that had
-frozen around her heart would not melt, and sleep came again in that
-stony stillness.
-
-Morning came to Nellie’s perturbed visions, and in the gray dawn “Merry
-Christmas” broke forth from her lips; but the memory of the past few
-days checked the words, and they died in whispers. But as she glanced at
-Laura, she saw that her eyes were open, but that their expression was
-fixed and rigid. She sprang up with a vague alarm, and laid her hand upon
-the low, broad forehead. It was icy cold. Shriek after shriek rang from
-her lips, but they reached not the death-dulled ear.
-
-“I never meant it, Laura--I never meant it! Only come back that I may
-speak one word!” she moaned. “O my God! give her back to me for one hour,
-and I will submit to thy will.” But her voice only broke the silence,
-and the white, smiling lips on the bed seemed a mockery of the passionate
-anguish wailing above them. She threw herself before the little altar in
-her room. “Blessed Mother!” she prayed, “I promise, solemnly promise,
-that never, never again will I give way to the passionate temper that has
-been my bane, if she may only come back for one hour to grant forgiveness
-for the awful words I have spoken.” And for the first time since she had
-realized her sorrow tears fell from her eyes.
-
-“Why, Nellie, Nellie, what ails you?” said a familiar voice. “You are
-crying in your sleep on this merry Christmas morning; _do_ waken.” And,
-oh! the heaven that met those unclosing eyes--Laura bending over her,
-smiling, yet with a look of doubt in her face as if the icy barrier had
-not yet broken down.
-
-“O my darling, my darling!” sobbed the excited girl, winding her arms
-around her sister. “Thank God it is only a dream; but never, never again
-will I give way to my awful temper. I have promised it, Laura, and I will
-keep my vow.”
-
-And she did. For though she lived long enough for the dark hair to lie
-like snowy floss under the matron’s cap, never did those lips utter
-stinging sarcasm or close in sullen anger. And often, when her gentle
-voice seemed unable to stem some furious tide of passion among her
-grandchildren, would she tell the story of her dream on Christmas Eve.
-
-
-ALLEGRI’S MISERERE.
-
-AT the base of a cliff flowed a tiny rivulet; the rock caught the
-rain-drops in his broad hand, and poured them down in little streams to
-meet their brothers at his feet, while the brook murmured a constant song
-of welcome. But a stone broke from the cliff, and, falling across the
-rivulet, threatened to cut its tender thread of life.
-
-“My little strength is useless,” moaned the streamlet. “Vainly I struggle
-to move onward; and below the pebbles are waiting for their cool bath,
-the budding flowers are longing for my moisture, the little fish are
-panting for their breath. A thousand lives depend on mine. Who will aid
-me? Who will pity me?”
-
-“Wait until Allegri passes; he will pity you,” said the breeze. “Once the
-cruel malaria seized me, and bound messages of death upon me. ‘Pity!’ I
-cried. ‘Free me from this burden, from which I cannot flee.’ ‘Hear the
-wind moan,’ said some; but no one listened to my prayer till I met a
-dreamy musician with God’s own tenderness in his deep eyes. ‘Have mercy!’
-I sobbed; and the gentle master plucked branches of roses, and cast them
-to me. I was covered with roses, pierced with roses, filled with roses;
-their redness entered my veins, and their fragrance filled my breath;
-roses fell upon my forehead with the sweetness of a benediction. The
-death I bore fled from me; for nothing evil can exist in the presence of
-heaven’s fragrance. Cry to the good Allegri, little brooklet; he will
-pity you.”
-
-So the rivulet waited till the master came, then sighed for mercy. The
-rock was lifted, and the stream flowed forward with a cry of joy to share
-its happiness with pebble and flower and fish.
-
-A little bird had become entangled in the meshes of a net. “Trust to the
-good Allegri,” whispered the breeze; “it is he who gave me liberty.”
-“Trust to the good Allegri,” rippled the brook; “it is he who gave me
-liberty.” So the bird waited till the master passed, then begged a share
-of his universal mercy. The meshes were parted, and the bird flew to the
-morning sky to tell its joy to the fading stars and rising sun.
-
-“Oh! yes, we all know Allegri,” twinkled the stars. “Many a night we have
-seen him at the bed of sickness.”
-
-“Many a day I have seen him in the prison,” shouted the sun with the
-splendor of a Gloria. “Wherever are those that doubt, that mourn, that
-suffer; wherever are those that cry for help and mercy--there have I
-found Allegri.”
-
-The people of the earth wondered what made the sun so glorious, not
-knowing that he borrowed light from the utterance of a good man’s name.
-
-A multitude of Rome’s children had gathered in S. Peter’s. The Pope was
-kneeling in the sanctuary; princes and merchants were kneeling together
-under the vast cupola, the poor were kneeling at the threshold; even a
-leper dared to kneel on the steps without, and was allowed the presence
-of his Lord. All souls were filled with longing, all hearts were striving
-for expression.
-
-Then strains of music arose: O soul! cease your longing; O heart! cease
-your strife; now utterance is found.
-
-Sadder grew the tones, till, like the dashing of waves, came the sigh:
-“Vainly I struggle to move onward. Have mercy, Father!” The lights
-flickered and died, a shadow passed over the worshippers, and the Tiber
-without stopped in its course to listen.
-
-Sadder grew the tones, till the moan was heard: “Vainly I strive to
-escape these meshes. Have mercy, Father!” The shadow grew deeper, and a
-little bird without stopped in its flight to listen.
-
-Still was the music sadder with the weight of the sob: “Vainly I flee
-from this loathsome burden. Have mercy, Father!” Vaster and darker grew
-the shadow, and the very breeze stopped in its course to listen.
-
-And now the music mingled sigh and moan and sob in one vast despairing
-cry: “Vainly I struggle against this rock of doubt. Have mercy, Father!
-Vainly I strive to escape these meshes of sin. Have mercy, Father! Vainly
-I flee from this evil self. Have mercy, O Father! have mercy.” Darker
-and deeper and vaster grew the shadow, and all sin in those human hearts
-stopped in its triumph to listen.
-
-All light was dead, all sound was dead. Was all hope dead? “No!” wept
-a thousand eyes. “No!” sobbed a thousand voices; for now high above
-the altar shone forth the promise of light in darkness, of help in
-tribulation--in sight of Pope and prince, in sight of rich and poor, and
-even in sight of the leper kneeling without, gleamed the starry figure of
-the cross.
-
-“How was this Mass of Allegri so completely formed,” cry the three
-centuries that have passed since then, “that we have been able to add
-nothing to its perfection?”
-
-The calm voice of nature answers: It is because his own love and mercy
-were universal; because he had learned that all creation needs the
-protecting watchfulness of the Maker; because he gave even the weakest
-creatures voice in his all embracing cry of Miserere.
-
-
-TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY.
-
-                        I.
-
-    “That city knoweth nor sign nor trace
-      Of mutable land or sea;
-    Thou who art changeless, grant me a place
-      In that far city with Thee.”
-
-    So spake she, gazing on the distant sea,
-        That lay, one sheet of gold, in morning light;
-        And then she cried, “God, make my blindness sight!”
-    Heart-sore, heart-hungry, sick at heart, was she,
-    And did mistrust no other hope could be,
-        This side the grave, than shifting sea and land;
-        Yet dreamed she not her house was built on sand,
-    But fearless thought of dread eternity.
-    And men admired the house she builded fair,
-        Until a tempest, risen with sudden shock,
-    Rent it. Then God made answer to her prayer:
-    Showed her _on earth_ a city, calm, and old,
-        And strong, and changeless; set her on a rock;
-    Gave her, with him, a place in his true fold.
-
-                        II.
-
-    “For, oh! the Master is so fair,
-      His smile so sweet to banished men,
-    That they who meet it unaware
-      Can never rest on earth again.”
-
-    Such were the words that charmed my ear and heart,
-        In days when still I dwelt outside the fold;
-        But now they seem to me too slight and cold,
-    For I have been with thee, dear Lord, apart,
-    And seen love’s barbed and o’ermastering dart
-        Pierce thee beneath the olives dark and old,
-        Until thy anguish could not be controlled,
-    But from thy veins the Blood of life did start.
-    O Word made flesh, made sin, for sinful man!
-        I seek not now thy smile, so fair, so sweet;
-    Another vision, haggard, pale, and wan,
-    Of one who bore earth’s sin and shame and smart,
-        Hath drawn me, weeping, to thy sacred feet,
-    To share the unrest of thy bleeding Heart.
-
-
-THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1875.
-
-The year 1875 has not been a specially remarkable one as distinct from
-the years immediately preceding it. Great questions, which affect
-humanity at large beyond the line of nationality, and which were rife
-three or four years ago, are undecided still. No wars, or revolutions,
-or discoveries, or mighty changes have occurred during the year to
-alter sensibly the current of human affairs. What the world at large
-quarrelled and wrangled over a year, two years, three, four years ago,
-it wrangles over still, and may for years yet to come. Much as science
-and culture have done to break down the barriers that separate men and
-bring the human family nearer together, nations, nationally considered,
-stand as far apart as ever they did, and the imaginary line that divides
-neighboring peoples finds them wide apart as the antipodes.
-
-To begin a rapid and necessarily incomplete review at home, the past
-year can scarcely be regarded as either a happy or successful one,
-commercially speaking, in the United States. Preliminary echoes of the
-Centennial year of the great republic have been heard, but amid them the
-crash of falling banks that had no legitimate excuse for falling, and
-of business firms that followed in due order. This, however, is only a
-repetition of the two preceding years, which it is as painful as it would
-be useless to dwell upon here. In a word, business at large--instead of
-recovering, as it was hoped it would, during the past year--if anything,
-fell behind, and so continues. The election did not tend to enliven it.
-There are hopes, however, of a real revival during the coming Centennial
-year, or at least of a beginning on the road of improvement. There is the
-more reason to hope for this that large branches of our industries, such
-as cereals, iron, and cotton goods, are beginning to find a good foreign
-market.
-
-Looked at largely, there are some things on which Americans may
-congratulate themselves during the year. Chief among these are their
-very misfortunes. Extravagance in living, foolish and vulgar display
-in dress and equipage, have disappeared to a satisfactory extent. Of
-course where wealth abounds and fortunes are rolled up easily, there
-will be shoddy; but then let it be marked off, and the world will not
-be the loser. Again, there was a good sign on the part of the people to
-form opinions of their own regarding the questions up before them and
-the respective merits and qualifications of the various candidates for
-election. To be sure, many, too many, persons were elected who were a
-disgrace to their constituencies; and while such men are set in high
-and responsible positions it is vain to look for reform in the thousand
-abuses that afflict the conduct of public affairs. Still, there was a
-hopeful indication of the right feeling among the people.
-
-Perhaps the most memorable, certainly the most significant, event to
-Catholics in the history of this country took place during the year.
-The venerable Archbishop of New York was raised by the Holy Father to
-the dignity of the cardinalate, and thereby set in the senate of the
-church of which Christ is the invisible, and the Pope, the successor of
-Peter, the visible, head. To speak of the fitness of the Holy Father’s
-choice in selecting Archbishop McCloskey for this high office and
-proud privilege of being the first American cardinal is not for us. It
-is sufficient to say that not Catholics alone, but their Protestant
-fellow-countrymen also, all the land over, received the news and hailed
-the choice with acclaim. But what moves us most is the significance of
-the act. In the appointment of an American cardinal in the United States
-the wish expressed by the Council of Trent has in this instance been
-realized. That great council ordained, respecting the subjects of the
-cardinalate, that “the Most Holy Roman Pontiff shall, as far as it can be
-conveniently done, select (them) out of all the nations of Christendom,
-as he shall find persons suitable” (Sess. 24, _De Ref._, c. i.) Were this
-recommendation completely carried out, it would probably be one of the
-greatest movements that have taken place in the Catholic Church for the
-last three centuries.
-
-Suppose, for example, that the great Catholic interests throughout the
-world were represented in that body by men of intelligence, of known
-virtue, and large experience; suppose every nationality had there its
-proportionate expression--a senate thus composed would be the most august
-assembly that ever was brought together upon earth. It would be the only
-world’s senate that the world has ever witnessed. This would be giving
-its proper expression to the note of the universality of the church.
-The decisions of the Holy Father on the world-interests of the church,
-assisted by the deliberations of such a body, would have more power to
-sway the opinions and actions of the world than armies of bayonets. For,
-whatever may be said to the contrary in favor of needle-guns and rifled
-cannon, the force of public opinion through such agents as electricity
-and types moves the world, above all when supported by the intelligence,
-virtue, and experience of men who have no other interests at heart than
-those of God and the good of mankind.
-
-Who knows but the time has come to give this universality of the church
-a fuller expression? Is not divine Providence acting through modern
-discoveries, rendering it possible for the human race to be not only one
-family in blood, but even in friendship and unity of purpose? Perhaps the
-present persecutions of the church in Italy are only relieving her from
-past geographical and national limitations, to place her more completely
-in relations with the faithful throughout the world. Who knows but the
-time is near when the Holy Father will be surrounded by representatives
-of all nations, tribes, and peoples, from the South as well as from the
-North, from the East as well as from the West; by Italians, Germans,
-Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, Belgians, Portuguese, Austrians,
-Irishmen, Americans, Canadians, South Americans, Australians, as well as
-by representatives of the faithful from the empire of China? Would this
-new departure be anything more than the realization of the wish expressed
-by that great and holy council held at Trent three centuries ago?
-
-In passing from our own to other lands, we cannot do so, at the opening
-of the second century of our country’s life, without a glance at
-something larger and wider than the mere local interests of every-day
-life which touch us most nearly. Beyond doubt there is much to criticise,
-much, perhaps, to be ashamed of, much to deplore, in the conduct of our
-government, local and national, and in the social state generally of
-our people. Still, we see nothing at present existing or threatening
-that is beyond the remedy of the people itself. It is a fashion among
-our pessimists to contrast the America of to-day with the America of a
-hundred years ago. Well, we believe that we can stand the contrast. The
-country has expanded and developed, and promises so to continue beyond
-all precedent in the history of this world. When the experiment of a
-century ago is contrasted with the established fact--the nation--of a
-free and prosperous people of to-day, we can only bless God. And allowing
-the widest margin for the evils and shortcomings in our midst, when we
-glance across the ocean at nations armed to the teeth, looking upon one
-another as foes, and either rending with internal throes or threatening
-to be rent, pride in this country deepens, and the heart swells with
-gratitude that in these days God has raised up a nation where all men may
-possess their souls in peace.
-
-We have some alarmists among us who look in the near future to the
-occurrence of scenes in this country similar to those now being
-transacted in Europe, where men are persecuted for conscience’ sake.
-We cannot share in these alarms. As we see no evils in our midst which
-are beyond the remedy of the people, so we see no religious or other
-questions that may arise which cannot be civilly adjusted. This is not
-a country where the raw head and bloody bones thrive. The question of
-religion is decided once for all in the Constitution. Catholics, of
-course, have a large heritage of misrepresentation to contend against,
-but that is rapidly diminishing. A Bismarck may strive to introduce into
-our free country, through a band of fanatics and weak-minded politicians,
-the persecuting spirit which he has attempted to introduce into England
-by a Gladstone, which he has succeeded in introducing into Italy by a
-Minghetti, and into Switzerland by a Carteret; but before they reach the
-hundredth part of the influence of the disgraceful Know-Nothing party,
-the good sense and true spirit of our countrymen will, as it did in the
-case of that party, brand all who have had any prominent connection with
-the movement with the note of infamy. The fanatical cry of “No Popery”
-is evidently played out at its fountain-source in old England, while the
-attempt to revive its echoes will meet with still less success in _new_
-England. We see no clouds on the American horizon that should cause
-Catholics any grave apprehension.
-
-The end of such attempts always is that those who strike the sparks only
-succeed in burning their fingers. All we have to do is to walk straight
-along in the path we have been following of common citizenship with those
-around us, in order to secure for ourselves all the rights which we are
-ready to concede to others.
-
-The European situation during the past year may be summed up under two
-headings--the struggle between church and state, and the prospects of
-war. To enter at any length into the question between church and state
-in Germany and in other countries in Europe would be going over old
-ground which has been covered time and again in THE CATHOLIC WORLD. Only
-such features of the contest will be touched upon as may set the present
-situation clearly before the mind of the reader.
-
-The official _Provincial Correspondence_, at the opening of the past
-year, said in a retrospective article on the events of 1874: “The
-conviction has been forced upon the German government that the German
-ultramontane party are a revolutionary party, directed by foreigners
-and relying mainly upon the assistance of foreign powers. The German
-government, therefore, are under the necessity of deprecating any
-encouragement of the ultramontane party by foreign powers. It was for
-this reason that the German government last year thought it incumbent
-on them to use plain language in addressing the French government
-upon the sayings and doings of some of the French bishops. France had
-taken the hint, and had prevented her ultramontanes setting the world
-on fire merely to vent their spite against Germany.… It was, perhaps,
-to be expected under these circumstances that, abandoning at last all
-hope of foreign assistance, the German ultramontanes would make their
-peace with the government in Prussia, and no longer object to laws they
-willingly obey in Baden, Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Oldenburg, not to speak
-of Austria and other states. At all events, it was very desirable that
-the ultramontanes should yield before the church was thrown into worse
-confusion by their malicious but impotent resistance.”
-
-Such was the pleasant prospect held out for the Catholics by the official
-organ at the opening of the year. The programme sketched in it has been
-faithfully carried out, and Germany has taken another step in the path of
-freedom, internal peace, and consolidation by planting its foot nearer
-the throat of the church. It is useless to enter into a refutation of
-the falsehoods contained in the extract from the official journal.
-They have been refuted in the German Reichstag and all the world over.
-It is needless, also, to call attention to the tone of the official
-journal, and the manner, become a fashion of late with German statesmen
-and writers at large, of warning foreign powers to keep a civil tongue
-in their heads respecting German matters, or it may be the worse for
-them. How far the Catholics have yielded to the kindly invitation held
-out to them the world has seen. We have before this remarked on the
-strange anxiety manifested by a government, convinced of the justice of
-its cause and the means it was pursuing towards its end, to stifle the
-expression of public opinion, not only at home, but abroad. Moreover, the
-very fact of its being compelled to deprecate “any encouragement of the
-ultramontane party by foreign powers” says as plainly as words can say it
-that those powers see something in the party to encourage.
-
-Here is a sample--one out of hundreds such--of the manner in which the
-members of the “revolutionary party” have been treated during the year,
-and of the crimes, sympathy with which on the part of foreign powers is
-so earnestly deprecated by the German government. That extremely active
-agent of Prince Bismarck, the Prussian correspondent of the London
-_Times_, tells the story of the deposition of the Bishop of Paderborn
-by the “Ecclesiastical” Court thus: “He has been sentenced to-day (Jan.
-6) to innumerable fines, chiefly for appointing clergymen without the
-consent of the secular authorities. [Is this a crime, reverend and right
-reverend gentlemen of the Protestant churches?] Never paying any of
-these forfeits, he has been repeatedly imprisoned and forcibly prevented
-from exercising his functions. [And now for the perversity of the man,
-the “malicious but impotent resistance.”] Notwithstanding the measures
-taken against him, he has continued his opposition to the state. He would
-not allow his clerical training-schools to be visited by government
-inspectors; he has declined to reappoint a chaplain he had excommunicated
-without the consent of the government [What criminals SS. Peter and Paul
-would be were they living in Germany to-day!]; and he has continually
-issued pastorals and made speeches to deputations breathing the most
-hostile sentiments against crown and parliament [sentiments not quoted].
-He has received addresses covered with more than one hundred thousand
-signatures, and on a single day admitted twelve thousand persons to his
-presence, who had come to condole with him on the martyr’s fate he was
-undergoing.” Let it be borne in mind that this is not our description,
-but that of an agent of the Prussian government. Could words establish
-more clearly the side on which the criminality lies?
-
-Only passing mention can be made of events which have been already
-anticipated and commented on. The extension of the civil registration
-of births, deaths, and marriages from Prussia to the whole German
-Empire passed in January. Perhaps no measure yet has so aroused the
-indignation, not only of Catholics, but of believing Protestants also.
-As the correspondent already quoted tersely puts the matter: “In all
-Germany this law does away with the services of the clergy in celebrating
-the three great domestic events of life.” That is to say, there is no
-longer need to baptize Christian children in the name of God; there is no
-longer need of God in the marriage service; finally, as man comes into
-the world, so he may go out of it, without the name or the invocation of
-God, without God’s blessing over his grave or the ceremonies of religion
-attending the last act. Like a dog he may come, like a dog he may live,
-like a dog he may go. And yet this is an evangelical power! Verily,
-but of a strange evangel. The result of it is shown already. Since the
-Prussian Civil Registration Law was passed, only twenty-five per cent.
-of all Berlin marriages have been celebrated in churches, while only
-thirty per cent. of the children born in the capital have been baptized
-by clergymen.
-
-The passing of the Landsturm Bill converts the whole German Empire into
-an armed camp. “Henceforth every German sound in wind and limb must be a
-soldier. From the age of seventeen to forty-two, every man not belonging
-to the army or the reserve is to be liable to be called out in the case
-of an actual or even a threatened invasion,” says the London _Times_. “At
-the word of command Germany is arming _en masse_, and the surrounding
-nations--that is, the best part of the world--cannot but do as she does.”
-They are doing as she does, and all the European powers to-day sleep
-beside their arms. In face of this fact, what comfort can men take from
-the meeting and hobnobbing of the crowned heads of Europe here, there,
-and everywhere, or of their assurances of peace? Who is strong enough to
-keep the peace, who too weak to enkindle war? No man and no people. It
-is this arming and incertitude of one another that alone prevented what
-locally was so insignificant an affair as the outbreak within the year
-of the Bosnian insurrection against Turkey from lighting a universal
-conflagration. The eagles of the great powers gather around the Turkish
-carcase. England seizes beforehand on the control of the Suez Canal by
-way of preparing for eventualities, and the Eastern question begins at
-last to resolve itself into this simple form: not, How shall we uphold
-the empire? but, How shall we divide the spoils?
-
-The present rulers of Germany profess to look upon their Catholic
-subjects as the great foes of the German Empire. The mistake is a fatal
-one; for in binding the church they bind the only power that can stop
-the dry-rot which is slowly eating into the heart, not alone of Germany,
-but of all nations to-day. That dry-rot is socialism, the first-born of
-infidelity. That socialism prevails in Germany the rulers of that empire
-know, and its utterances are as dreaded as an encyclical of the Pope.
-Here are the elements of socialism as pictured by the Cologne _Gazette_
-at the opening of the year: “In 1874, although the great bubble schemes
-burst in the summer of 1873, and although last year a plentiful harvest
-of corn and wine came to our relief, the consequences of the crisis
-are still felt. Numerous undertakings are depreciated, and even more
-lamentable than the losses of the promoters are the mischievous results
-of the sudden excessive rise in wages, which could not possibly last, the
-luxurious habits, the strikes, and all that these involve on the laboring
-classes and the whole industrial life of the German nation. Habits of
-indolence and gluttony have been established which it will be hard to
-eradicate,” and much more in the same strain.
-
-This is only a straw showing which way the wind blows. Persecution of the
-church has not yet exhausted itself, though, beyond the actual taking of
-life, it is hard to see what remains to be done. The final measure has
-been resorted to of abrogating the articles of the Prussian constitution
-of 1850, which were specially drawn up to provide freedom of religion and
-worship in their fullest sense. Of the attitude of the German Catholics,
-the prelates, the clergy, and the laity, it is needless to speak. The
-world has witnessed it; and the very fierceness of the persecution simply
-serves to show forth more gloriously the divinity of the church; for no
-human institution could live under it. One result of the persecution has
-been the return of a Catholic majority to the Bavarian Parliament. We
-hope for the unity of the German Empire, and its true consolidation; but
-it is not in our hearts to support tyranny, under whatever name, least
-of all when it attacks all that we hold most sacred. The German policy
-must be totally altered before it can command the sympathy of freemen.
-It must be totally altered before it can command the respect and full
-allegiance of its subjects, so large and important a section of whom are
-Catholics. The Catholic majority in Bavaria is but one sign of many of
-opposition to the one-sided policy of which Prince Bismarck is the author
-and expounder. Who knows but that the threatened dissolution of an empire
-erected on so false and narrow a basis has not already begun in Bavaria?
-All the sacrifices made to establish the empire--not the least of which
-were made by Bavaria--the German chancellor, by his determined and
-senseless religious persecution, would now seem foolishly to ignore. And
-these Bavarians, of all the Germans, once aroused, and their religious
-rights infringed upon, are not the men quietly and meekly to subside
-under opposition.
-
-We have dwelt more at length upon Germany because it is the centre of the
-strife that convulses, and threatens to convulse, the world. Other topics
-must consequently be hastily dismissed.
-
-Of France there is nothing but good to report. After a series of fiery
-debates in the Assembly, the constitution of a conservative republic
-was definitively formed and agreed upon towards the end of February.
-The nomination of councillors of state was given to the President, who
-resigned the nomination of the senators. Of course France is still open
-to surprises, and the various parties seem as unable to coalesce as
-ever. But there is no question that the government of Marshal MacMahon
-has deserved well of the country, and, could only a true republic
-be established in France, it would serve as a safe counter-check to
-the absolutisms that threaten the east of Europe. The commerce and
-industries of the country have advanced even on the preceding year,
-though the imports of 1874 amounted to 3,748,011,000 francs, and the
-exports to 3,877,753,000 francs, these figures being in excess of those
-of any former years. The returns for the Paris savings-banks in 1874
-indicate how the poorer and lower middle classes, who chiefly patronize
-these establishments, are recovering from the effects of the war and
-the Commune. The deposits amounted to 14,500,000 francs, while in 1873
-they were 13,500,000 francs, and in 1872 12,629,000 francs. There is
-every reason to believe that the ratio of the past year will show a
-corresponding increase.
-
-While the tokens of reviving prosperity are thus encouraging, those of a
-revival of religious feeling and coming back to the old ways and the old
-faith among the people at large are not less so. A noble and patriotic
-work is being accomplished in the rapid formation and spread of Catholic
-Working-men’s Clubs--a direct offset to the socialism fostered by the
-spirit of irreligion in other places. The part taken by Catholic laymen
-of standing and ability in this work, so full of happy promise, is in
-itself a significant feature, and one that may well be recommended to the
-attention of Catholic laymen all the world over. The pilgrimages to holy
-shrines and to Rome have continued, spite of the laugh of the infidel
-and the scorn of the unbeliever. The solemn consecration of the church
-in Montmartre to the Sacred Heart was one in which the whole world was
-interested. But the most encouraging measure of all was the obtaining,
-after a fierce battle between religion and infidelity, of permission to
-found free universities in France, where students who believe in God
-might, if they chose, apply themselves to the study of their faith, or
-at least carry on their studies under the divine protection and under
-professors who, lacking nothing in intellect, recognize a higher than
-themselves, whose law they have the courage to recognize and the sense
-and piety to obey.
-
-Surely, France was never so worthy of the esteem and profound respect of
-all the world as it is to-day. What a wonderful vitality is displayed by
-this Latin-Celtic race! What people could so suddenly recover from what
-seemed so fatal a blow? What other nation would have shown so much wisdom
-and self-control as these Frenchmen, whom the outside world stamped as
-“unstable as water”? Is France to be the leader of the Latin-Celtic
-races, to conform itself, consistently with its past history and
-traditions, after a century of throes, into a political form of society
-fitted to its present needs, its future prosperity, and the renewal of
-religion? God grant that it be so!
-
-England, true to its peace policy, still keeps aloof from the troubled
-current of European affairs, beyond its recent move Eastward, which has
-already been noticed. It steadily refused to accept the invitation of
-Russia to join the International Conference on the Usages of War, which
-in reality resembled a consultation among surgeons before beginning
-to operate on an interesting subject. Mr. Disraeli’s premiership has
-been marked by some irritating mistakes, though the securing control of
-the Suez Canal was undoubtedly a move in the present critical state of
-Eastern affairs that compensates for many a blunder--if he can only hold
-the control. Mr. Gladstone finally retired from the leadership of the
-liberal party, and was nominally succeeded by the Marquis of Hartington.
-The ex-leader, abandoning a position which, take him all in all, he
-undoubtedly adorned, went paddling in theology and got shipwrecked. The
-Gladstone fulminations on “Vaticanism” are now a thing of the past, and
-only afforded another melancholy instance of the facility with which
-even great men can go beyond their depth. The portentous charges against
-the Pope, the _Curia Romana_, the rusty arsenals, and the rest of the
-papal “properties” were received by the English people themselves with
-honest laughter or with passive scorn, until finally Mr. Gladstone lost
-his temper, and then the world became tired both of him and his “rusty
-tools.”
-
-Materialism is taking deep root in the English mind. The leading organ of
-English opinion, itself highly respectable, but by no means religious,
-complained more than once during the year of the general apathy with
-which the public regarded the doings of the various convocations and
-general assemblies of the Protestant churches in England. And the success
-with which the onslaught by such a man as Mr. Gladstone against the
-Catholic Church met with at the hands of Englishmen reveals anew the fact
-that religious feeling has fallen to so low an ebb in England that even
-the most eloquent of bigots could not arouse an anti-Popery cry. And
-this, for England, is the last stage of religious apathy.
-
-Is this again the immediate precursor of a reaction in favor of the true
-church in that land for which so many prayers have been offered up, and
-the blood of so many martyrs has been shed?
-
-Ireland has been quiet, calm, and peaceable, and though, in common with
-England, suffering from the commercial depression which spread from
-this country to them, it has shown a strong tendency to advance in
-prosperity. For its peace the Catholic clergy, according to the testimony
-of the London _Times_, and, as we believe, the Home-Rule party, are
-jointly answerable. Men who believe in God and obey the laws of the
-church will, with honest and able representatives, seek for no heroic
-measures of reform, while the legislature is fairly open to complaints.
-The London _Times_ says that the peaceful record of the year reads like
-a fairy tale. Yet the Peace Preservation Acts were renewed, for which
-the same journal could find no better reason than that “you cannot
-break off abruptly from the past,” and goes on to say: “It is possible
-that, if there never had been a resolution to impose upon a conquered
-people a church which they rejected, and to endow it with the spoils
-to which they remained attached; if there never had been a neglect so
-little creditable to our statesmanship as the conditions under which
-agricultural land was held in Ireland; if laws had never been passed to
-deprive Roman Catholics of political privileges and the right to possess
-property; if the attempt had never been made to rule the inhabitants of
-the sister-island by a hostile garrison, that state of feeling would
-never have been created which imposes upon the legislature of to-day the
-sad necessity of maintaining an exceptional coercive legislation.” The
-bitterest foe of England could scarcely add one iota to the force of this
-terrible indictment of English legislation in Ireland.
-
-But we look with all hope to the speedy dispersing of the clouds which
-so long have hovered over this real “island of saints,” which has done
-so much in the past and promises so much in the future for the spread of
-faith among the peoples of the earth. More pleasing topics to touch upon
-are the celebration of the centennial of Daniel O’Connell, the fiftieth
-anniversary of the consecration of the venerable Archbishop McHale, and,
-though last, far from least, the visit to Ireland of Cardinal McCloskey,
-and his reception by Cardinal Cullen and the Irish people. The scene was
-indeed a memorable one; the meeting on a soil consecrated with the blood
-of saints and martyrs--a soil every inch of which could tell a tale of
-a struggle of centuries for the faith--of two cardinals of the church
-that guards the representatives, in their own persons, of the newest and
-one of the oldest heritages of the church, and the one Irish by birth,
-the other Irish by blood. A meeting no less significant was that in
-England between the Cardinal of New York and Cardinal Manning, the first
-convert probably who ever wore the title: a man of indomitable activity,
-a fearless asserter of the rights of the church, and always foremost in
-every movement which aims at the amelioration of the condition of the
-working classes.
-
-Russia continues her strides in the East, nearing Hindostan, and with
-Hindostan the sea, at every step. Despite occasional reverses, her march
-against the conflicting tribes and peoples that lie in her path can
-only be regarded as irresistible. Meanwhile, at home she is eaten up by
-sects and the socialistic spirit that pervades other nations, and which
-tyranny may stifle for a time, but cannot destroy. Again the mistake
-occurs of regarding the Catholic Church as her enemy, and dragooning her
-Catholic subjects with a creed which their consciences reject. Austria
-is engaged in the attempt to set her internal affairs in order, and to
-recover from the defeat at Sadowa. She finds time, notwithstanding, to
-attack the church, though without the persistent brutality of her German
-neighbor, whose offer to procure a joint interference among the nations
-in the election of the next pope was politely but firmly rejected by
-Austria. In this path Italy also walks. Rejecting the rough hempen cord
-with which Germany binds and strives to strangle the church, Italy, true
-to her national character, chooses one of silk, which shall do the work
-softly and noiselessly, but none the less securely. _Sensim sine sensu._
-Thus the Law of Guarantees of 1871, which was founded on Cavour’s maxim
-of “a free church in a free state,” provided for the absolute freedom of
-the Pope in spirituals. This Germany resents, and early in the year made
-strong remonstrance with Italy, to see, in plain English, if some plan
-could not be devised by which the Pope might be muzzled and prevented
-from issuing encyclicals and bulls and so forth, save only such as might
-please the mind of present German statesmen. Italy refused to alter the
-law. But now in November we find Minghetti, the president of the Council,
-stating to his electors at Cologna-Veneta that there are defects in the
-law of papal guarantees. The church--says that excellent authority, M.
-Minghetti--is the congregation of all the faithful, including, of course,
-M. Minghetti himself. But the state, on whom with the _jus protegendi_
-devolves also the _jus inspiciendi_, is bound to see that the right of
-the laity and the interest of the lower clergy be not sacrificed to the
-abuse of papal and episcopal authority. Wherefore, M. Minghetti, urged
-solely by the desire of seeing that no injustice is done, pledges his
-electors that he will bring in a bill empowering the laity to reclaim the
-rights to which they are entitled in the government of the church. How
-far those rights extend, of course, remains to be seen.
-
-The Holy Father is still spared to us in the full enjoyment of his
-health and powers of mind. Pilgrims flock to him in thousands, and the
-eyes of the world, friends and foes alike, look with sympathy upon him.
-Surely now is the real triumph of his reign, and in his weakness shines
-forth his true strength. No earthly motives, if ever they affected the
-allegiance of Catholics to him, could affect it now. Yet what does the
-world witness? As men regard things, a weak and powerless old man,
-ruling, from the palace that is his prison, the hearts of two hundred
-millions of people in the name and by the power of Jesus Christ, whose
-saintly vicar he is. The Pope, lifted above all entanglements by recent
-events with the political policy of so-called Catholic countries--his
-voice, as the head of the church, is heard and respected by all nations
-as perhaps it never was at any other period of time.
-
-Spain opened with a new revolution--the re-entering of Alfonso, the son
-of the exiled queen, to the kingdom and the throne from which she was
-driven. This being said, the situation remains in much the same condition
-that it has done for the past two years; if anything, notwithstanding
-some defections and reverses, Don Carlos has gained in strength and
-boldness. The move that brought in Don Alfonso was a good one, but it
-came too late.
-
-The customary chronic revolutions prevail in South America. The
-assassination of Garcia Moreno, the able and good President of Ecuador,
-by members of a secret society, added a unique chapter of horrors and
-dastardly cowardice to the records of these societies, showing that to
-accomplish their purpose they are ready to stab a nation. Garcia Mareno
-died a martyr to his faith. From a far different cause, though by the
-same means, died Sonzogno, the editor of the _Capitale_, the trial of
-whose assassins furnished food for thought as to the force at work in
-regenerated Italy. An event that might have been of great importance was
-the death of the youthful Emperor of China, which was followed by that of
-his wife. He was succeeded by a child five years old, and the government
-seems to have passed into the hands of the same men who held it before,
-so that a change for the better towards Christians is scarcely to be
-hoped for, while Christian residents are still exposed at any moment to a
-repetition of the Tien-Tsin massacre.
-
-With the year closes the third quarter of the most eventful century,
-perhaps, which the world has yet known, the first century of the
-Christian era alone being excepted. It opened on what Lacordaire has well
-called “a wild and stormy morning,” and he would be a bold prophet who
-should predict a clear sky at the close. A writer of the day describes
-nations within the past year as engaged in “a wild war-dance.” The
-same is true of the century. Nations seem to have learned nothing, but
-forgotten much. In forgetting the faith that made them whole they have
-forgotten the secret of the elixir of national life. Hence, bitter as the
-struggle is, a Catholic cannot but hope much in the near future from the
-present trials of the church. The blows of Germany have crushed shams to
-the earth, and caused the truth to shine forth resplendent and beautiful.
-Whatever may be this faith that the nations have forgotten, that has been
-a mockery among men of the world, it is manifest, at least, that there
-is a profound reality in it, and a vitality that no power on earth can
-hope to destroy. This testimony of strength in weakness, of the purest
-devotion and loftiest sacrifices that this world can show, if it do
-nothing else, at least brings men to ponder and look back, and compare
-and inquire, and arrive at some conclusions. For the world cannot remain
-an indifferent spectator to a question that is wide as the world. The
-vagaries of belief, the churches with fronts of brass and feet of clay,
-the parasites and the flatterers who, professing to worship and believe
-in God alone, bow down in secret before the prince of this world, now
-slink away in shame or stand abashed before the unbeliever.
-
-Again, considering the intensity of the activity of the age, induced
-in a great measure by the facilities of expressing and communicating
-our thoughts, of reaching the uttermost parts of the earth in a
-flash of time--all of which enhances the responsibility of our free
-will--religion, in view of these facts, will have to keep pace with
-this activity in order to perform the office for which God established
-it upon earth. That she will do so is as much a matter of certitude
-as her existence; for that same “Spirit which fills the whole earth”
-finds in her bosom his dwelling-place. The general tendency to material
-science, and the material interests of nations, which have so wonderfully
-increased within the century, tend all to obscure the supernatural. But
-there is nothing to be feared from the advocates of material science.
-There is no escaping from God in his creation. And these men, in their
-way, in common with the more open persecutors, are preparing for the
-triumph of the church, and in the providence of God are co-workers in the
-more complete demonstration of his divine truth.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    LIFE OF THE APOSTLE S. JOHN. By M. L. Baunard. Translated from
-    the first French edition. New York: The Catholic Publication
-    Society. 1875.
-
-The life and character of S. John are so beautiful and so closely
-connected with our Saviour that true believers have always craved to know
-more about him.
-
-On the other hand, his testimony is so positive and his language so
-clear that all who blaspheme the divinity of our Lord have sought to
-thrust him and his gospel out of sight. The distinguished French author
-has a warm personal devotion to S. John, and has devoted himself with
-great enthusiasm to the task of collecting all the historical facts
-which remain to us as connected with the virgin apostle. His style is
-manifestly infused with his spirit, and hence the work is one rather of
-devotion than of cold, scientific dissertation.
-
-“It is,” says the author in his preface, “a book of doctrine. I address
-it to all those who desire to instruct themselves in the truth of God.
-Truth has no school above that of the Gospel, and nowhere does it appear
-fairer or more profound than in the gospel of S. John.
-
-“It is a book of piety. I dedicate it to Christians: to priests--the
-priesthood has no higher personification than S. John; to virgins--John
-was a virgin; to mothers--he merited to be given as a son to the Mother
-of God; to youth--he was the youngest of the apostles; to old men--it
-is the name he gives himself in his epistles. I offer it to suffering
-souls--he stood beside the cross; to contemplative souls--he was on Mt.
-Thabor; to all souls who wish to devote themselves to their brethren, and
-to love them in God--charity can have no purer ideal than the friend of
-Jesus.”
-
-It goes to fill up a most important gap in our English hagiography, and
-will be greeted with much satisfaction by those desirous of having a
-complete series of lives of the saints.
-
-    THE SHIP IN THE DESERT. By Joaquin Miller. Boston: Roberts
-    Brothers. 1875.
-
-The _ad captandum_ title of this work leads one to look for an Arabian
-romance; whereas the story has scarcely anything to do with it, and is
-a very slender story at that. It is difficult to say whether the book
-is worth reading or not; for while, no doubt, it contains passages of
-considerable force and beauty, we are quite sure the poet himself does
-not know half the time what he means. Now, this kind of thing is “played
-out.” Far be it from us to accuse the divine Tennyson of straining and
-affectation; but we do say there are peculiarities in his style which
-it is dangerous to imitate. Taken as a model for classic and scholarly
-verse, he has no equal in the English language. But the subjectivism of
-his “enchanted reverie” may be easily “run into the ground.” Hence he has
-given rise (we suspect he is full sore over it) to what may be called the
-“Obscurantist” school of poetry. We think this school has had its day.
-We hope the coming poets will happily combine the faultless diction of
-Tennyson with the clear, strong thought of such masters as Milton, Byron,
-and Longfellow.
-
-    THE THREE PEARLS; OR, VIRGINITY AND MARTYRDOM. By a Daughter of
-    Charity. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1875.
-
-We presume this book is meant for a Christmas present. It is admirably
-fitted for that purpose--beautifully printed and tastefully bound. But
-the contents are still better worth having.
-
-These “Three Pearls” were indeed “of great price”; three
-virgin-martyrs--S. Cæcilia, S. Agnes, and S. Catharine of Alexandria.
-No three saints, perhaps, could have been more happily chosen by the
-gifted author as models for the young Catholic women of the day, and
-particularly here in America. If it be objected that such heroines are
-not imitable, the answer is obvious--that the virtues which led them to
-become heroines are imitable by all. And, again, the “modern paganism”
-with which we are familiar has many features in common with that amid
-which they lived.
-
-There is a prose sketch of each saint, followed by a tribute in verse.
-The “Editor’s Preface” is from the pen of a learned priest in the Diocese
-of Boston.
-
-    MEDULLA THEOLOGIÆ MORALIS. Auctore Augustino Rohling, S.
-    Theologiæ et Philosophiæ Doctore, Monasterii Guestfaliæ in
-    Academia Regia quondam, nunc in Seminario Salesiano prope
-    Milwaukee S. Theologiæ Professore. Cum permissu Superiorum. St.
-    Ludovici: Excudebat B. Herder, 19 South Fifth Street; et B.
-    Herder, Friburgi, Brisgoviæ. 1875.
-
-The plan of the author in this work, as is implied in its title, has not
-been to write a complete treatise on moral theology, but to furnish a
-compendium containing the points necessary for confessors in the ordinary
-discharge of their duties. Desirable as such a book is, there is of
-course a difficulty in compiling it, arising from the variety of sound
-opinions on many questions, which cannot all be given without extending
-it beyond the limits which give it its special convenience, and which
-opinions, nevertheless, it is at least expedient that every priest should
-know. This difficulty is one, therefore, which cannot be overcome, and a
-manual of this kind can never entirely supply the place of a larger work.
-But it nevertheless has its use, and, when it is well done, cannot fail
-to be a welcome addition to any theological library.
-
-And this book is extremely welcome for it is extremely well done. It is
-very well arranged; every point of importance is, we believe, given; it
-is clearly written; it is adapted to the times and to this country, and
-(which is a great merit) it is by no means dry. There is a little danger
-in it on this last account, and that is that its superior attractiveness
-may tend to induce neglect of larger works, and too great confidence in
-statements which space will not allow the author to modify, as we have
-said above.
-
-One excellent feature of it is the sound and practical advice which it
-contains, which is almost as important as the statement of theological
-conclusions or of matters of law. It would be worth far more than its
-price on this account alone.
-
-    THE HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANT REFORMATION IN GERMANY,
-    SWITZERLAND, ENGLAND, IRELAND, SCOTLAND, THE NETHERLANDS,
-    FRANCE, AND NORTHERN EUROPE. Seventh Edition. By the Most Rev.
-    M. J. Spalding, D.D. Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co. 1875.
-
-    THE EVIDENCES OF CATHOLICITY. Sixth Edition. By the Most Rev.
-    M. J. Spalding, D.D. Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co. 1875.
-
-In the present editions an article on “Rome and Geneva” has been added
-to _The History of the Reformation_, and a “Pastoral Letter on the
-Infallibility of the Pope” to _The Evidences of Catholicity_--both having
-been prepared by the late archbishop with a view to publication in his
-collective works.
-
-The same general criticism which we passed in our December number on
-the revised edition of the _Miscellanea_ will apply to these volumes.
-Archbishop Spalding’s works constitute a very complete armory from which
-to select weapons to meet the opponents of the church in this country;
-though the writings of European Catholics may be more to the purpose as
-answers to the misrepresentations urged against her in their respective
-localities. And there is no one writer to whom we would with greater
-confidence refer Protestants who are willing to learn the truth (and we
-would fain hope there are very many such), as his works relate to so many
-supposed stumbling-blocks. Whether conscious of it or not, our separated
-brethren are very blind followers of tradition--accepting unhesitatingly
-the representations of writers of the last three centuries, while
-faulting us for adhering to the unbroken traditions of all the Christian
-centuries. Hence they are accustomed, when unable to reply to our
-doctrinal arguments drawn from their translation of the Holy Scriptures,
-to fall back on their own version of the religious revolution of the
-XVIth century, and other historical events, the comparative condition of
-Catholic and Protestant countries, etc., etc., all of which are treated
-of at length in these volumes.
-
-At a time when it is sought to revive the fell spirit of the defunct
-Know-Nothing party, it is well to refresh our memories by a re-perusal of
-the writings which were prompted by the previous manifestation.
-
-The first-named work is at once a history of the Reformation and a review
-of the most prominent books on the same subject, including D’Aubigné’s
-popular romance. This treatment very much augments the interest with
-which we pursue historical inquiries.
-
-    MR. GLADSTONE AND MARYLAND TOLERATION. By Richard H. Clarke,
-    LL.D. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1875.
-
-This able pamphlet will wear a familiar look to our readers, its
-principal contents having appeared as an article in our December number.
-The writer has added biographical sketches of the first and second
-Lords Baltimore, the Lawgivers of 1649, and of Father Andrew White, the
-historiographer of the expedition which founded Maryland, and who was
-intimately associated with the early fortunes of the colony.
-
-It was really too bad in Dr. Clarke to deny asylum to the ex-premier on
-our (reputed) hospitable shores, after the relentless logic to which he
-was subjected at home, when proving so clearly to his own satisfaction
-the disloyalty of Catholics--to spoil, in fact, his nice little story
-that it was the Protestants, and not those hateful Catholics, who made
-Maryland a refuge for fugitives from English persecution for conscience’
-sake. And what makes the matter all the more aggravating is that our
-author is in league with ever so many Protestants in this design. For
-shame, gentlemen!
-
-    HISTORICAL SCENES FROM THE OLD JESUIT MISSIONS. By the Right
-    Rev. William Ingraham Kip, D.D., LL.D., member of the New
-    York Historical Society [and Protestant Episcopal Bishop of
-    California]. New York: A. D. F. Randolph & Co. 1875.
-
-The author of this work had the good fortune while in England some years
-since to secure a copy of _Lettres Edifiantes et Curieuses écrites des
-Missions Etrangéres_, in forty-seven volumes, “containing the letters
-of the Jesuit missionaries from about 1650 to 1750.… He selected those
-letters which relate to the labors of the Jesuits within the bounds of
-our own land, and published a translation, with notes, under the title
-of _The Early Jesuit Missions in North America_.” In the present work
-he takes a wider range, and makes selections, from the same source, of
-letters from parts of the world widely remote from each other--from
-China and California; from Cape Horn and the far north; from the shores
-of South America and the Mediterranean; from the monasteries of Mount
-Lebanon and the Thebaid Desert.
-
-Bishop Kip and his publishers have laid both Protestants and Catholics
-under great obligations by the publication of this valuable and beautiful
-volume. We can scarcely commend too highly the evident fairness of the
-translation and of the accompanying remarks and notes. It could not well
-be otherwise than that a Protestant should have some qualifications to
-offer respecting statements of fact and doctrine such as would naturally
-occur in these letters; but the Catholic reader will be gratified to
-find much that is laudatory, and scarcely anything to which he would
-object; the notes being for the most part historical and philological in
-character. The naïve simplicity of these relations constitutes one of
-their chief charms and the best answer to any suggestion of guile on the
-part of the writers.
-
-The principles and operations of the Jesuits have been, and to a
-great extent are still, believed by our Protestant fellow-citizens to
-constitute a vulnerable point in Catholicity, so that we rejoice at the
-facilities offered by such writers as Parkman, Shea, and Kip for a better
-understanding of the matter. Nothing can give Catholics greater pleasure
-than that their Protestant friends should have full opportunities for
-studying our doctrines and history.
-
-    LIFE OF S. BENEDICT, surnamed “The Moor,” the Son of a Slave.
-    Canonized by Pope Pius VII., May 24, 1807. From the French
-    of M. Allibert, Canon of the Primatial Church of Lyons.
-    Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham & Son. 1875.
-
-This volume is a concise and well-written account of a holy life,
-showing what abundant graces are often bestowed upon the meek and lowly,
-and how those who humble themselves are exalted by Almighty God.
-
-S. Benedict, the child of an enslaved negro parent, was born at
-Sanfratello in Sicily, A.D. 1524. Early instructed in religion by his
-parents, he offered himself to God, and became eminent for sanctity as a
-religious. Seeking always the lowest and most humiliating employments, he
-served for twenty-seven years as a cook in a convent. Already, during his
-lifetime, regarded as a saint, he was venerated by all classes. “At the
-door of his humble kitchen,” says his biographer, “were to be seen the
-nobles of Palermo, who sought to honor the saint and recommend themselves
-to his prayers, the learned who came for advice, the afflicted who
-desired consolation, the sick who hoped for the recovery of their health,
-and the indigent who desired assistance.”
-
-Winning by his wisdom and virtues the confidence of his brethren, he
-was chosen guardian of the convent, and afterwards vicar, and master of
-novices--positions which he accepted with extreme reluctance, and in
-which he proved his great charity and humility.
-
-But the more he sought to abase and hide himself, the greater the graces
-bestowed upon him. Though blessed with the spirit of prophecy, the
-power of performing miracles, and the gift of ecstasy, so great was his
-humility that he again turned to his simple occupation, and retained it
-till his death, which occurred in 1589.
-
-    THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF PAUL SEIGNERET, Seminarist of S.
-    Sulpice (shot at Belleville, Paris, May 26, 1871). From the
-    French. New York: P. O’Shea. 1875.
-
-The title of this work can scarcely fail to awaken an interest in the
-youthful hero who gave his life for his faith--an interest which is
-enhanced by the knowledge that this youth, frail as a girl and possessed
-of a highly-cultivated mind and rare sensibility, was so filled with
-the spirit of self-sacrifice that he may well be classed with those
-“courtiers of martyrdom” whose lives are the glory of the church and the
-wonder of the world.
-
-Paul Seigneret’s is a name that must be dear to all Catholics at all
-familiar with his saintly life and death. To a heart overflowing with
-love for all who had claims upon his affection and charity for all
-mankind, and to those quick and delicate perceptions which retain all
-that is good and instinctively reject all that is evil, was added a
-fervent piety and ardent zeal for the glory of God. Animated by these
-sentiments, he sought the priesthood, and soon turned his thoughts to
-the cloister--“‘that pure and shining height’ whither he would go to fix
-his dwelling nearer heaven.” While yet a student in the Seminary of S.
-Sulpice, he fell a victim to the Commune, and was permitted to win the
-crown of martyrdom, which had been the object of his most ardent desires.
-
-The volume before us is one which we would especially recommend to our
-youthful readers, who will find in it much that is edifying and worthy of
-imitation. In an age in which respect for authority and filial obedience
-are so much ignored, we cannot place too high a value on the example of
-Paul Seigneret, whose devotion and submission to his parents were second
-only to his love of God.
-
-If a work so admirable in most respects may be criticised, we would
-say that it would be quite as interesting if the author had condensed
-the valuable materials of which it is composed. We are aware of the
-difficulties under which many translations from the French are made.
-Innumerable things in that versatile, flexible language will bear many
-repetitions and much minutiæ in description, which will not admit of more
-than the simple statement in our unyielding vernacular. Readers should
-therefore hesitate in pronouncing a book dull because some of the aroma
-escapes in the transition from one medium of thought to another.
-
-    PASTORAL LETTER OF THE RIGHT REV. P. N. LYNCH, D.D., BISHOP
-    OF CHARLESTON, ON THE JUBILEE OF 1875. New York: The Catholic
-    Publication Society. 1875. 8vo, pp. 299.
-
-The reader will rightly infer from the size of this pastoral that it
-differs in many respects from other documents of the kind. The learned
-author has taken occasion to enter very fully into the doctrinal and
-historical aspects of his subject, thereby making the publication a
-valuable reference to all who would understand the history and nature of
-this observance.
-
-
-
-
-THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-VOL. XXII., No. 131.--FEBRUARY, 1876.
-
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. I. T.
-HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
-
-
-A SEQUEL OF THE GLADSTONE CONTROVERSY.[228]
-
-“It is wonderful,” wrote Proudhon, “how in all our political questions we
-always stumble on theology.” Mr. Gladstone will doubtless concur in this
-sentiment; for he cannot take a step without stumbling on the Catholic
-Church. She is everywhere, and everywhere she is to him a cause of alarm.
-So potent is her influence growing to be, so cunningly laid are the
-plans by which her policy is directed, so perfect is the organization
-and discipline of her forces, so insidious are her methods of procedure,
-as he would have us believe, that it is full time all Christendom should
-be warned of the approaching danger. She is in his eyes an ever-present
-menace to the civilization of the world.
-
-He at least bears testimony to her power and vitality. She is not a
-relic of a past age; she lives, and, what is more, it does not seem
-that she is willing to die. If we consider the various efforts by which
-men are seeking to weaken and destroy the church, we shall find in them
-no mean evidence of her divine strength. And first of all, in an age
-intellectually most active, she is the subject of universal criticism,
-and is cited before every tribunal of human knowledge to be tried on
-an hundred different and often contradictory counts. Her historical
-relations with the world, extending over eighteen hundred years and
-co-extensive with Christendom, are minutely examined into by men who,
-shutting their eyes to the benefits which she has conferred upon the
-human race, are eager to discover charges against her. She is made
-responsible for the crimes of those who called themselves Catholics,
-though she was the first to condemn their evil deeds. The barbarism, the
-ignorance, and the cruelty of the middle ages are set to her count, when,
-in fact, she was the chief source of civilization, of enlightenment, and
-of mercy during that period. When she opposes the tyranny of kings,
-she is called the enemy of the state; when she seeks to restrain the
-lawlessness of the people, she is proclaimed the friend of tyrants.
-Against her dogmas and institutions all the sciences are brought to
-bear--astronomy, geology, ethnology, and the others. Not in politics
-alone, but in all the physical sciences, men in our day stumble on the
-Catholic Church.
-
-We are told that she is the one great spiritual organization which is
-able to resist, and must as a matter of life and death resist, the
-progress of science and modern civilization. These men profess to find
-innumerable points of collision between her dogmas and the conclusions
-of science, and are surprised when she claims to understand her own
-teachings better than they, and is not prepared to abandon all belief in
-God, the soul, and future life because physical research has given men
-a wider knowledge of the phenomena of matter. Now we hear objections to
-her moral teaching--that it is too severe, that she imposes burdens upon
-men’s shoulders too heavy for human nature to bear, that she encourages
-asceticism, celibacy, and all manner of self-denial opposed to the spirit
-of the age and of progress; then, on the contrary, that her morality is
-lax, that she flatters the passions of men, panders to their sensual
-appetites, and grants, for gain, permission to commit every excess.
-
-At one time we are told that her priests are indolent, immoral,
-ignorant, without faith; at another, that they are ceaselessly active,
-astute, learned, and wholly intent upon bringing all men to their own
-way of thinking. Now we are informed that her children cannot be loyal
-subjects of any government; and immediately after we hear that they
-are so subservient, so passively obedient, that they willingly submit
-to any master. And here we come more immediately upon our subject; for
-whereas Mr. Gladstone has declared that the loyalty of Catholics is not
-to be trusted, M. de Laveleye asserts that “despotic government is the
-congenial government of Catholic populations.”
-
-The pamphlet from which we quote these words, and which we propose now
-to examine, has been presented to the English-reading public by the
-special request of Mr. Gladstone, and has been farther honored by him
-with a prefatory letter. The author, it is true, takes a fling at the
-Church of England, and plainly intimates that in his opinion it is little
-better than the Catholic Church; but the ex-premier could not forego the
-opportunity of striking his enemy, though he should pierce his dearest
-friend in giving the blow. He takes the precaution, indeed, to disclaim
-any concurrence in M. de Laveleye’s “rather unfavorable estimate of the
-Church of England in comparison with the other reformed communions.” The
-question discussed in the pamphlet before us, as its title implies, is
-the relative influence of Catholicism and Protestantism on the liberty
-and prosperity of nations; and the conclusion which is drawn is that the
-Reformation is favorable to freedom and progress, and that the Catholic
-Church is a hindrance to both.
-
-This has long been a favorite theme with Protestants--the weapon with
-which they think themselves best able to do good battle in their cause;
-and doubtless it is employed, in most favorable circumstances, in an
-age like ours, in which material progress is so marked a feature that
-its influence may be traced in everything, and in nothing more than in
-the thoughts and philosophies of the men of our day. It is worthy of
-remark that Protestantism, professing to be a purer and more spiritual
-worship, should have tended to turn men’s thoughts almost exclusively
-to the worldly and temporal view of religion; so that it has become the
-fashion to praise Christianity, not because it makes men humble, pure,
-self-denying, content with little, but rather because its influence is
-supposed to be of almost an opposite nature. Much stress is laid upon the
-physical, social, and mental superiority of Christian nations to those
-that are still pagan, and the inference implied, if not always expressly
-stated, is that these temporal advantages are due to the influence of
-Christianity, and prove its truth and divine origin. Without stopping
-to consider the question whether the material and social superiority of
-Christian nations is to be attributed to their religious faith, we may
-ask whether, admitting that this is the case, it may with propriety be
-adduced in proof of the truth of the religion of Christ?
-
-In the case of individuals no one, certainly, would think of arguing
-that prosperity proves a right faith, or even consistent practice. To
-hold that wealth and success are evidences of religious life, whatever
-it may be, is certainly not Christianity. Does the teaching of Christ
-permit the rich to lay the unction to their souls that they are God’s
-favored children? Were they his friends? Did they flock around him? Did
-they drink in his words gladly? If men who claim to be his disciples
-have deified worldly success, and made temporal prosperity a sufficient
-test of the truth of his religion, they cannot plead any word of his in
-excuse.
-
-He certainly never paid court to the great, or stooped to flatter the
-rich. Was it not he who said, “Woe be to you rich: ye have received your
-reward”? and again, “It is harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of
-heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle”? Did he not
-take Lazarus to his bosom when Dives was in hell?
-
-“Blessed are ye,” he said, “when men shall revile you, and persecute
-you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake.
-Rejoice and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven: for so
-persecuted they the prophets which were before you.”
-
-The preaching of Christ was wholly unworldly. He sternly repressed the
-earthly ambitions of his disciples, and declared that, as the world
-hated him, it would also hate those who believed in him. They would be
-outcasts for his name’s sake; if this life were all, they of all men
-would be most miserable. Indeed, he rarely speaks of human happiness in
-the customary sense; he passes over what might be said in favor of this
-life, and brings out in bold relief its vanity and unsatisfactoriness. He
-draws no pictures of domestic bliss, and says but little of even innocent
-pleasures or those temporal blessings which are so sweet to all; and as
-he taught that worldly prosperity is no evidence of God’s favor, he was
-careful to correct the error of those who looked upon misfortune as a
-proof of guilt, as in the case of the man born blind and of those upon
-whom a tower had fallen.
-
-Christ was poor, his apostles were poor, his disciples were poor,
-nearly all the Christians of the first ages were poor; and yet every
-day we hear men talk as though they considered poverty and Christianity
-incompatible. This is manifestly the opinion of M. de Laveleye. His
-argument may be stated in this way: England and Scotland are rich,
-Ireland is poor. The Protestant cantons of Switzerland are rich,
-the Catholic are poor. “In the United States,” says De Tocqueville,
-“the greater part of the Catholics are poor.” In fact, wherever the
-two religions exist together, the Protestants are more active, more
-industrious, and consequently richer than the Catholics.
-
-This is the substance of what is spread over a dozen pages of the
-pamphlet. The conclusion is not difficult to draw: Protestants are richer
-than Catholics, and therefore better Christians.
-
-“No man can serve two masters,” said Christ: “you cannot serve God and
-Mammon.” On the contrary, says M. de Laveleye, the success with which you
-worship Mammon is the best proof that you serve God truly. Of course it
-would be foreign to M. de Laveleye’s purpose to stop to inquire whether
-the poverty of Ireland be due to the Catholic faith of her people or to
-the rapacity and misgovernment of England; whether that of the Catholic
-cantons of Switzerland might not be accounted for by the fact that they
-are mountainous, with an inhospitable climate and a barren soil; and
-whether even M. de Tocqueville’s assertion that the greater part of the
-Catholics of the United States are poor might not be satisfactorily
-explained by stating that the greater part of them are emigrants who
-have recently landed upon these shores without a superabundance of this
-world’s goods.
-
-He had also good reasons, while treating this part of his subject, for
-not looking nearer home. He had in Belgium, under his very eye, one of
-the most thrifty, industrious, and prosperous peoples of Europe, and
-at the same time one of the most Catholic. Why did he not compare the
-wealth of Belgium with that of Sweden or Denmark? Why did he not say a
-word about Catholic France, whose wealth and thrift cannot be denied. He
-does, indeed, make mention of two French manufacturing towns, in which,
-he states, on the authority of M. Audiganne, the capitalists are for
-the most part Protestants, whilst the operatives are Catholics; though
-what this has to do with any debatable question between Catholicism and
-Protestantism is not easily seen.
-
-The assertion (p. 14) that “wherever the two religions co-exist in the
-same country the Protestants are more active, more industrious, more
-economical, and consequently richer than the Catholics,” is not borne
-out by facts. A single example will suffice to show how rash M. de
-Laveleye has been in making so wide an affirmation. The Catholics of the
-Rhine Province are universally acknowledged to be among the most thrifty
-and enterprising populations of Prussia, and are far richer than, for
-instance, the Protestants of Pomerania.
-
-It would not be difficult, by adopting M. de Laveleye’s mode of
-reasoning, to turn his whole argument on this point against his own
-position. Whether or not national wealth, we might say, is evidence of
-orthodox Christian faith, there can be no doubt but that the Christian
-religion is favorable to even the temporal interests of the lowest and
-most degraded classes of society. Its doctrines on the brotherhood of the
-race and the equality of all before God first inspired worthy notions
-of the dignity of man. Then the sympathy which it created for the poor,
-the suffering, and the oppressed naturally set men to work to devise
-means for the relief of human misery. It is to its influence that we
-must ascribe the abolition of slavery, the elevation of woman, and the
-thousand ministries which in Christian lands attend on the wretched and
-the weak.
-
-We must infer that those nations in which this influence is most
-powerful--which, in other words, are most truly Christian--will have, in
-proportion to their population, the smallest class of human beings cursed
-by the worst plague known to modern civilization, bearing with it, as it
-does, a threefold degradation, moral, physical, and social. We of course
-refer to pauperism.
-
-Now, in England, from whose wealth M. de Laveleye would infer the
-superiority of her religion, we find that this pauper class, compared
-with the whole population, is as 1 to 23; whereas in Ireland, which is
-poor--and, according to this theory, for that reason under the ban of
-a false religion--there is but 1 pauper to 90 inhabitants; in other
-words, pauperism is four times more common in England than in Ireland.
-Now, whether we refer this fact to England’s wealth or to England’s
-religion--and in M. de Laveleye’s opinion they are correlative--our
-conclusion must be either that the influence of the Christian religion,
-which necessarily tends to promote the temporal well-being of the most
-degraded classes of society, is less felt in England than in Ireland,
-or else that national wealth is hurtful to the interests of these same
-classes, and consequently opposed to the true Christian spirit; and
-in either case we have Catholic Ireland more fairly Christian than
-Protestant England. We would not have our readers think for a moment that
-we are seriously of the opinion that our argument proves anything at all.
-We give it merely as a specimen of the way in which the reasoning of this
-pamphlet may be turned against its own conclusions, though, in fact, we
-have done the work too respectably.
-
-We cannot forget, if M. de Laveleye does, that, of all sciences, the
-social--if, indeed, it may be said as yet to exist at all--is the
-most complex and the most difficult to master. The phenomena which it
-presents for observation are so various, so manifold, and so vast, our
-means of observation are so limited, our methods so unsatisfactory, and
-our prejudices so fatal, that only the thoughtless or the rash will
-tread without suspicion or doubt upon ground so uncertain and so little
-explored.
-
-M. de Laveleye himself furnishes us an example of how easily we may go
-astray, even when the way seems plain.
-
-“Sectarian passions,” he writes (p. 11), “or anti religious prejudice
-have been too often imported into the study of these questions. It
-is time that we should apply to it the method of observation and the
-scientific impartiality of the physiologist and the naturalist. When
-the facts are once established irrefragable conclusions will follow.
-It is admitted that the Scotch and Irish are of the same origin. Both
-have become subject to the English yoke. Until the XVIth century Ireland
-was much more civilized than Scotland. During the first part of the
-middle ages the Emerald Isle was a focus of civilization, while Scotland
-was still a den of barbarians. Since the Scotch have embraced the
-Reformation, they have outrun even the English.… Ireland, on the other
-hand, devoted to ultramontanism, is poor, miserable, agitated by the
-spirit of rebellion, and seems incapable of raising herself by her own
-strength.” The conclusion which is drawn from all this, joined with such
-other facts as the late victories of Prussia over Austria and France, is
-that “Protestantism is more favorable than Catholicism to the development
-of nations.”
-
-We may as well pause to examine this passage, which, both with regard to
-the statement of facts and to the interpretation put upon them, fairly
-represents the style and method of the pamphlet before us.
-
-“It is admitted that the Scotch and Irish are of the same origin.” This
-is true, as here stated, only in the sense that both are descended of
-Adam; and hence it would have been as much to the point to affirm that
-all the nations of the earth are of the same origin. The Scots were,
-indeed, an Irish tribe; but when they invaded Caledonia, they found it
-in the possession of the Picts, of whom whether they were of Celtic or
-Teutonic race is still undecided. The power of the Scots themselves
-declined in the XIIth century, when Scotland fell under the influence
-of the Anglo-Norman Conquest, and the Celtic population either withdrew
-towards the north, or, by intermarriage with the conquerors, formed a new
-type; so that the people of that country are even yet divided into two
-great and distinct stocks differing from each other in language, manners,
-and dress.
-
-“Until the XVIth century,” continues M. de Laveleye, “Ireland was much
-more civilized than Scotland. During the first part of the middle ages
-the Emerald Isle was a focus of civilization, while Scotland was still a
-den of barbarians.” Now, it was precisely in those ages in which Ireland
-was “a focus of civilization” that the Catholic faith of her people
-shone brightest. It was then that convents sprang up over the whole
-island; that the sweet songs of sacred psalmody, which so touched the
-soul of Columba, were heard in her groves and vales; that the sword was
-sheathed, and all her people were smitten with the high love of holy life
-and were eager to drink at the fountains of knowledge. It was then that
-she sent her apostles to Scotland, to England, to France, to Germany,
-to Switzerland, and to far-off Sicily; nor did she remit her efforts in
-behalf of civilization until the invading Danes forced her children to
-defend at once their country and their faith.
-
-But let us follow M. de Laveleye: “Since the Scotch have embraced the
-reformed religion, they have outrun even the English.… Ireland, on the
-other hand, devoted to ultramontanism, is poor, miserable, agitated by
-the spirit of rebellion, and seems incapable of raising herself by her
-own strength.”
-
-We cannot think that Mr. Gladstone had read this passage when he
-requested the author to have his pamphlet translated into English; for
-we cannot believe that he is prepared to lay the misfortunes of Ireland
-to the influence of the Catholic faith upon her people, and not to the
-cruelty and misgovernment of England.
-
-The Irish Catholics are reproached with their poverty, when for two
-hundred years the English government made it a crime for them to own
-anything. They are taunted with their misery, when for two centuries
-they lived under a code which placed them outside the pale of humanity;
-of which Lord Brougham said that it was so ingeniously contrived that
-an Irish Catholic could not lift up his hand without breaking it; which
-Edmund Burke denounced as the most proper machine ever invented by
-the wit of man to disgrace a realm and degrade a people; and of which
-Montesquieu wrote that it must have been contrived by devils, ought to
-have been written in blood and registered in hell!
-
-Ireland is found fault with because she is agitated with the spirit of
-rebellion, when even to think of the wrongs she has suffered makes the
-blood to boil. Is it astonishing that she should be poor when England,
-with set purpose, destroyed her commerce and ruined her manufacturing
-interests, fostering at the same time a policy fatal to agriculture, the
-aim of which, it would seem, was to force the Irish to emigrate, that the
-whole island might be turned into a grazing ground for the supply of the
-English markets?
-
-“What a contrast,” further remarks M. de Laveleye (p. 12), “even in
-Ireland, between the exclusively Catholic Connaught and Ulster, where
-Protestantism prevails!”
-
-Mr. Gladstone certainly cannot be surprised at this contrast, nor will he
-seek its explanation in the baneful influence of the Catholic Church. He
-at least knows the history of Cromwell’s invasion of Ireland; he has read
-of the massacres of Drogheda and Wexford; he knows the fate of the eighty
-thousand Catholic Irishmen whom Cromwell drove into the ports of Munster,
-and shipped like cattle to the sugar plantations of the Barbadoes, there
-to be sold as slaves; nor is he ignorant of what was in store for those
-Irish Catholics who were still left; of how they were driven out of
-Ulster, Munster, and Leinster across the Shannon into Connaught--that is,
-into the bogs and wild wastes of the most desolate part of Ireland--there
-to die of hunger or cold, or to survive as best they might. Five-sixths
-of the Catholics had perished; the remainder were driven into barren
-Connaught; the Protestants settled on the rich lands of Ulster, Munster,
-and Leinster; and now here comes good M. de Laveleye to find that
-Connaught is poor because it is Catholic, and Ulster is rich because it
-is Protestant. But we must not forget Scotland.
-
-“Since the Scotch,” says M. de Laveleye, “have embraced the reformed
-religion, they have outrun even the English.”
-
-We shall take no pains to discover whether or in what respect, or how
-far the Scotch surpass the English. The meaning of the words which we
-have just quoted is evidently this: The progress which the Scotch have
-made during the last three centuries, in wealth and the other elements of
-material greatness, must be ascribed to the influence of the Protestant
-religion.
-
-To avoid even the suspicion of unfairness in discussing this part of the
-subject, we shall quote the words of an author who devoted much time
-and research to the study of the character and tendencies of Scotch
-Presbyterianism, and whose deeply-rooted dislike of the Catholic Church
-is well known:
-
-    “To be poor,” says Buckle (_History of Civilization_, vol. ii.
-    p. 314), describing the doctrines of the Scotch divines of
-    the XVIIth century--“to be poor, dirty, and hungry; to pass
-    through life in misery and to leave it with fear; to be plagued
-    with boils and sores and diseases of every kind; to be always
-    sighing and groaning; to have the face streaming with tears
-    and the chest heaving with sobs; in a word, to suffer constant
-    affliction and to be tormented in all possible ways--to undergo
-    these things was a proof of goodness just as the contrary was
-    a proof of evil. It mattered not what a man liked, the mere
-    fact of his liking it made it sinful. Whatever was natural was
-    wrong. The clergy deprived the people of their holidays, their
-    amusements, their shows, their games, and their sports; they
-    repressed every appearance of joy, they forbade all merriment,
-    they stopped all festivities, they choked up every avenue by
-    which pleasure could enter, and they spread over the country
-    an universal gloom. Then truly did darkness sit on the land.
-    Men in their daily actions and in their every looks became
-    troubled, melancholy, and ascetic. Their countenance soured and
-    was downcast. Not only their opinions, but their gait, their
-    demeanor, their voice, their general aspect, were influenced
-    by that deadly blight which nipped all that was genial and
-    warm. The way of life fell into the sere and yellow leaf; its
-    tints gradually deepened; its bloom faded and passed off;
-    its spring, its freshness, and its beauty were gone; joy and
-    love either disappeared or were forced to hide themselves in
-    obscure corners, until at length the fairest and most endearing
-    parts of our nature, being constantly repressed, ceased to
-    bear fruit and seemed to be withered into perpetual sterility.
-    Thus it was that the national character of the Scotch was in
-    the XVIIth century dwarfed and mutilated.… They [the Scotch
-    divines] sought to destroy not only human pleasures, but human
-    affections. They held that our affections are necessarily
-    connected with our lusts, and that we must therefore wean
-    ourselves from them as earthly vanities. A Christian had no
-    business with love or sympathy. He had his own soul to attend
-    to, and that was enough for him. Let him look to himself.
-    On Sunday, in particular, he must never think of benefiting
-    others; and the Scotch clergy did not hesitate to teach the
-    people that on that day it was sinful to save a vessel in
-    distress, and that it was a proof of religion to leave ship
-    and crew to perish. They might go; none but their wives and
-    children would suffer, and that was nothing in comparison with
-    breaking the Sabbath. So, too did the clergy teach that on
-    no occasion must food or shelter be given to a starving man,
-    unless his opinions were orthodox. What need for him to live?
-    Indeed, they taught that it was a sin to tolerate his notions
-    at all, and that the proper course was to visit him with sharp
-    and immediate punishment. Going yet farther, they broke the
-    domestic ties and set parents against their offspring. They
-    taught the father to smite the unbelieving child, and to slay
-    his own boy sooner than to allow him to propagate error. As
-    if this were not enough, they tried to extirpate another
-    affection, even more sacred and more devoted still. They laid
-    their rude and merciless hands on the holiest passion of which
-    our nature is capable--the love of a mother for her son.… To
-    hear of such things is enough to make one’s blood surge again,
-    and raise a tempest in our inmost nature. But to have seen
-    them, to have lived in the midst of them, and yet not to have
-    rebelled against them, is to us utterly inconceivable, and
-    proves in how complete a thraldom the Scotch were held, and how
-    thoroughly their minds as well as their bodies were enslaved.”
-
-The XVIIth century, which was the golden age of French literature, and
-also of the Catholic Church in France, threw almost total darkness over
-Scotland, which during that period was most completely under the power of
-Protestantism. The clergy governed the nation; they were the only men of
-real influence; and yet there was no philosophy, no science, no poetry,
-no literature worth reading. “From the Restoration,” says Laing, “down
-to the Union the only author of any eminence whom Scotland produced was
-Burnet.”
-
-If the thrift and industry of the Scotch are due to Protestantism,
-to what shall we ascribe the enterprise and commerce of the Catholic
-republics of Venice and Genoa during the middle ages?
-
-If England’s wealth to-day comes from the Reformation, how shall we
-account for that of Spain in the XVIth and XVIIth centuries? And if the
-decline of Spain has been brought about by the Catholic faith, to what
-cause shall we assign that of Holland, who in the XVIIth century ruled
-the seas and did the carrying trade of Europe?
-
-M. de Laveleye’s way of accounting for the prosperity of nations is
-certainly simple, but we doubt whether it would satisfy any respectable
-schoolboy. Unfortunately for such as he, there is no rule of three by
-which social problems may be solved. Race, climate, soil, political
-organization, and many other causes, working through ever-varying
-combinations, must all be considered if we would understand the history
-of material progress. As labor is the most fruitful cause of wealth,
-there is a necessary relation between national wealth and national
-habits, which are the outcome of a thousand influences, one of the most
-powerful of which undoubtedly is religious faith. But who does not know
-that climate influences labor, not only by enervating or invigorating
-the laborer, but also by the effect it produces on the regularity of
-his habits? If the Italian loves the _dolce far niente_, while the New
-Englander makes haste to grow rich as though some demon whom gold could
-bribe pursued him, shall we find the secret of their peculiar characters
-in their religious faith or in the climate in which they live, or shall
-we not rather seek it in a combination of causes, physical and moral?
-We have assuredly no thought of denying the intimate connection which
-exists between faith and character or between a nation’s religion and its
-civilization. We are willing even to affirm that not only the general
-superiority of Christian nations, but their superior wealth also, is in
-great measure attributable to their religion. And now, bidding adieu to
-M. de Laveleye for a while, we propose to discuss this subject, to which
-we have already alluded, somewhat more fully.
-
-Christianity certainly does not measure either the greatness or the
-happiness of a people by its wealth, nor does it take as its ideal that
-state of society in which “the millionaire is the one sole god” and
-commerce is all in all; in which “only the ledger lives, and only not all
-men lie.”
-
-Whether we consider individuals or associations of men, the Catholic
-Church does not hold and cannot hold that material interests are the
-highest. To be noble, to be true, to be humble, to be pure, is, in her
-view, better than to be rich. Man is more than money, which is good only
-in so far as it serves to develop his higher nature.
-
-“The whole aim of man is to be happy,” says Bossuet. “Place happiness
-where it ought to be, and it is the source of all good; but the source of
-all evil is to place it where it ought not to be.”
-
-“It is evident,” says S. Thomas, “that the happiness of man cannot lie
-in riches. Wealth is sought after only as a support of human life. It
-cannot be the end of man; on the contrary, man is its end.… The longing,
-moreover, for the highest good is infinite. The more it is possessed,
-the more it is loved and the more all else is despised; for the more it
-is possessed, the better is it known. With riches this is not the case.
-No sooner are they ours than they are despised, or used as means to some
-other end; and this, as it shows their imperfect nature, is proof that in
-them the highest good is not to be found.”
-
-If wealth is not the highest good of individuals, is it of nations? What
-is the ideal of society? The study of the laws which govern national life
-must necessarily begin with this question, which all who have dealt with
-the subject, from Plato to Comte and Mill, have sought to answer. It is
-manifest that each one’s attempt to solve this problem will be based upon
-his views on the previous question: What is the ideal of man? This, in
-turn, will be answered according to each one’s notions of the ideal of
-God; and here we have the secret of the phenomenon which so surprised
-Proudhon--the necessary connection between religion and society, theology
-and politics.
-
-Is there a God, personal, distinct from nature? Or is nature the only
-god, and science her prophet? It is right here at this central point that
-men are dividing; it is here we must place ourselves, if we would view
-the two great armies that in all Christendom are gathering for a supreme
-conflict.
-
-There is a form of infidelity in our day--and it is the one into which
-all unbelief must ultimately resolve itself--which starts with this
-assumption: “Whether or not there is a God must for ever remain unknown
-to man.” It reasons in this way: “This whole subject belongs within
-the region, not only of the unknown, but of the unknowable. It is an
-insoluble riddle, and the philosophies and theologies which have sought
-to unravel it, if only idle, might deserve nothing more than contempt;
-but they have been the bane of human thought, have soured all the
-sweetness of life, and therefore ought to be visited with the execration
-of mankind. Since religion is a subject about which nothing can be known,
-what is so absurd as to spend time upon it? What so absurd as to divert
-the thoughts of men from subjects in which thinking is fruitful to those
-in which it must for ever remain barren of all except evil results? What
-so absurd as to set them working for a future life, of which we can
-never know whether it exists at all, when we might at least teach them
-how to make the present one worth having? The paradise of the future,
-which the prophetic eye of science can already descry, is _in_ the world,
-not _beyond_ it; and to seek to hasten its approach is the highest and
-only worthy object in life.” As we take it, this is the creed of modern
-unbelief, to which as yet few will openly subscribe, but toward which all
-its hundred conflicting schools of thought are moving. Few men indeed are
-able to perceive the logical outcome of their opinions, and still fewer
-have the courage to confess what they more than half suspect.
-
-This superstition is a return to the nature-worship of paganism, but
-under a different aspect. Of old, nature was worshipped as revealed to
-sense, and now as revealed to thought; then as beautiful, now as true
-or useful. The first was artistic, and form was its symbol; the last is
-scientific, and law is its expression. The religion of humanity is only a
-phase of this worship; for in it man is considered, not as the child of
-God, but as the product of nature.
-
-And now what has this to do with the ideal of society or the wealth of
-nations? At the basis of all social organization lies morality, as it
-is by conduct that both individuals and nations are saved or lost. The
-history of the human race shows that religion and morality are intimately
-related. That there have been good atheists does not affect the truth
-of this proposition any more than that there have been bad Christians.
-Men are usually better or worse than their principles; practice and
-profession rarely accord; and this is remarked because it ought not to
-exist.
-
-Conduct, to be rational, should be motived, and consequently referable to
-certain general principles by which it is justified. To be particular, a
-man who believes in God, the Creator, a Father as just as he is good, has
-fundamental motives of action which are wanting to the atheist. The one
-should seek to approve himself to his heavenly Father; the other cannot
-go farther than conform to the laws of nature. To the one this life, as
-compared with that which is to be, is of value only as it relates to it;
-to the other it is all in all. And since the ultimate end of society
-is the welfare of the associated, the one will regard this end from a
-transcendental point of view, taking in time and eternity; the other will
-consider it merely with reference to man’s present state. Their notions
-of life, of its ends, aims, and proper surroundings, will be radically
-different.
-
-Suppose for a moment that religious beliefs are mere dreams, fancies of
-sick brains; is it not at once manifest that human life is a much poorer
-and sorrier thing than it is commonly thought to be? As the light of
-heaven fades away, do not all things grow dark, leaving us in the shadow
-of death, despairing or debauched, sullen or frantic? The poet’s dream,
-the mother’s fond hope, the heart’s deep yearning, the mind’s flight
-towards the infinite, all become flat, meaningless, and unprofitable. Men
-are simply animals chained to this clod, too happy if the heaven-seeking
-eye permitted them to see it alone. Trouble, danger, and physical
-pain are the only evils, and virtue is the sharp-sighted prudence
-which enables us to avoid them. Self-denial is not only useless, it is
-irrational. Our appetites are good and ought to be indulged. Nothing,
-of its own nature, is sinful; excess alone is wrong; all indulgence,
-provided it hurt no one, is good--nay, it is necessary. Whoever denies
-any one of his appetites the food it craves cripples himself, is maimed
-and incomplete. “He may be a monk; he may be a saint; but a man he is
-not.”
-
-When these views are transferred to questions of political economy and
-social organization, they lead to materialistic and utilitarian theories.
-Society must be organized on the basis of positivism; the problem of the
-future is how to give to the greatest number of individuals the best
-opportunities of indulgence, the greatest amount of comfort, with the
-least amount of pain. This is the greatest-happiness principle of Bentham
-and Mill. Culture, of course, intellectual and æsthetic, as affording the
-purest pleasure, must form a feature of this society; but its distinctive
-characteristic is wealth, which is both the means and the opportunity of
-indulgence.
-
-    “We constantly hear of the evils of wealth,” says Buckle, “and
-    of the sinfulness of loving money; although it is certain that,
-    after the love of knowledge, there is no one passion which has
-    done so much good to mankind as the love of money.”
-
-    “If we open our eyes,” says Strauss,[229] “and are honest
-    enough to avow what they show us, we must acknowledge that
-    the entire activity and aspiration of the civilized nations
-    of our time is based on views of life which run directly
-    counter to those entertained by Christ. The ratio of value
-    between the here and the hereafter is exactly reversed; and
-    this is by no means the result of the merely luxurious and
-    so-called materialistic tendencies of our age, nor even of its
-    marvellous progress in technical and industrial improvements.…
-    All that is best and happiest which has been achieved by us
-    has been attainable only on the basis of a conception which
-    regarded this present world as by no means despicable, but
-    rather as man’s proper field of labor, as the sum total of the
-    aims to which his efforts should be directed. If, from the
-    force of habit, a certain proportion of workers in this field
-    still carry the belief in an hereafter along with them, it
-    is nevertheless a mere shadow, which attends their footsteps
-    without exercising any determining influence on their actions.”
-
-This is the cosmic religion, which is preached as “the new faith, the
-religion of the future.” This world is all in all--let us make the most
-of it; or, as the pagans of old put it: “Let us eat and drink, for
-to-morrow we die.”
-
-In its essence it is sensualism; in its manifestations it will be refined
-or coarse, according to the dispositions of the persons by whom it is
-accepted. Now its worship will be accompanied with music and song and
-dance; at other times it will sink to those orgies in which man becomes
-only an unnatural animal.
-
-Let us now turn to the Christian religion, and consider its teachings
-in their bearing upon the subject we are discussing. They are the very
-opposite of those which we have just read, and proceed from principles
-which are in direct contradiction to the cosmic philosophy. God is the
-highest, the Creator of all things, which are of value only as they
-relate to him and are in harmony with the laws of his being. The earth
-is but the threshold of heaven or of hell, as the case may be. This life
-is a preparation for a future one, which is eternal; and all human
-interests, whether individual or social, to be rightly understood, must
-be viewed in their relation to this truth. Man is essentially a moral
-being, and duty, which is often in conflict with pleasure, is his supreme
-law. He is under the action of antagonistic forces; seeing the better
-and approving it, he is drawn to love the worse and to do it. Thus
-self-denial becomes the condition of virtue, and warfare with himself his
-only assurance of victory.
-
-“But he said to all: If any one wishes to come after me, let him deny
-himself, take up his cross every day, and follow me.”
-
-Wealth, which is the world’s great slave and idol, and universal
-procurator of the senses, though in itself not evil, is yet a hindrance
-to the highest spiritual life. “If thou wouldst be perfect, go sell what
-thou hast, and give it to the poor, and thou shall have treasure in
-heaven: and come and follow me.”
-
-As duty is the supreme law of the individual, it follows that we must
-seek the ideal of society in the moral order, to which all other social
-interests should be made subservient, or else they will beget only an
-unbounded and lawless activity. Even education is valuable only in so far
-as it gives man a deeper sense of his responsibility to God, and enables
-him more thoroughly to understand and perform his duty.
-
-The social problem as between Christianity and modern paganism may
-be stated in this way: is it the end of society to grow strong in
-virtue through self-denial, or to increase indefinitely the means and
-opportunity of indulgence? On which side is progress, on which decline?
-
-We cannot now go farther into this subject, but before leaving it we
-wish to quote the words of Fitzjames Stephen, who will hardly be called a
-Christian, on modern progress.
-
-    “I suspect,” he says,[230] “that in many ways it has been
-    a progress from strength to weakness; that people are more
-    sensitive, less enterprising and ambitious, less earnestly
-    desirous to get what they want, and more afraid of pain, both
-    for themselves and others, than they used to be. If this should
-    be so, it appears to me that all other gains, whether in
-    wealth, knowledge, or humanity, afford no equivalent. Strength,
-    in all its forms, is life and manhood. To be less strong is
-    to be less a man, whatever else you may be. This suspicion
-    prevents me, for one, from feeling any enthusiasm about
-    progress, but I do not undertake to say it is well founded.… I
-    do not myself see that our mechanical inventions have increased
-    the general vigor of men’s characters, though they have no
-    doubt increased enormously our control over nature. The greater
-    part of our humanity appears to me to be a mere increase of
-    nervous sensibility in which I feel no satisfaction at all.”
-
-The general superiority, and even the greater wealth, of Christian
-nations as compared with others we would attribute, in great part at
-least, to the influence of their religious faith, to which they owe their
-sentiments on the dignity and sacredness of human nature in itself, apart
-from surroundings; on the substantial equality of all men before God,
-which tends to produce as its counterpart the equality of all before the
-law, thus leading to the abolition of slavery, the elevation of woman,
-and the protection of childhood. To it also they owe their ideas on the
-family, which, in its constitutive Christian elements, lies at the very
-foundation of our civilization. To Christianity they owe the principles
-of universal charity and compassion, which have revolutionized the
-relations of social life; and, finally, to it they are indebted for the
-rehabilitation of labor, the chief source of wealth, which the pagan
-nations looked upon as degrading.
-
-“I cannot say,” writes Herodotus, “whether the Greeks get their contempt
-for labor from the Egyptians; for I find the same prejudice among the
-Thracians, the Scythians, the Persians, and the Lydians.”
-
-“The Germans,” says Tacitus, “cannot bear to remain quiet, but they love
-to be idle; they hold it base and unworthy of them to acquire by their
-sweat what they can purchase with their blood.” In the same way the Gauls
-looked upon labor with contempt.
-
-We shall have to take up M. de Laveleye’s pamphlet again; for the present
-we lay it aside with the following remark: If we should grant, to the
-fullest, all that is here said about the greater wealth and material
-prosperity of Protestant as compared with Catholic nations what are we
-thence to conclude? Shall we say that the greed of gain which is so
-marked a feature in the populations of England and the United States
-is at once the result and proof of true Christian faith? May it not be
-barely possible that the value of material progress is exaggerated? Is
-there not danger lest, when man shall have made matter the willing slave
-of all his passions, he should find that he has become the creature
-of this slave? However this may be, might not a Catholic find some
-consolation in the words of Holy Writ?
-
-    “And the angel that spoke in me, said to me: Cry thou, saying,
-    Thus saith the Lord of hosts: I am zealous for Jerusalem and
-    Sion with a great zeal. _And I am angry with a great anger with
-    the nations that are rich_; for I was angry a little, but they
-    helped forward the evil.”
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-ARE YOU MY WIFE?
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,”
-ETC.
-
-CHAPTER XII.
-
-THE BARONET IS RELIEVED.--A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
-
-The night was wild and stormy. The wind had risen to a hurricane, and
-drove the rain in Raymond’s face as he walked home through the park.
-It was driving the grass in cold ripples over the fields, and tossing
-the trees about as if it would break them. Columns of black clouds were
-trooping over the sky, and the moon broke through them as if she were
-pursued by the wind and flying for her life. Raymond was a long time
-getting to the cottage. Great gusts swept up from the valley, staggering
-him, so that he had to stand every now and then and cling to a tree until
-it passed. Then the rain beat against his face so that he could hardly
-profit by the fitful gleams of the moon as she dipped in and out of the
-clouds. He was dripping wet when he got to his own door and let himself
-in with his latch-key. He took off his coat, hanging it in the hall, and
-lighted his candle. Franceline had left it close to his hand with a match.
-
-Mechanically he walked up to his room and began to divest himself of his
-drenched clothing. He hardly noticed that they were soaking and that he
-was wet through; he was flushed and heated as if he had come straight
-from a hot room. How the blast roared and shrieked, beating against the
-cottage till it rocked like a ship at sea, and trying the windows till
-they cracked and groaned! It whistled through the chinks so that the
-flimsy red curtain fluttered as if the window had been open. Raymond
-pushed it aside and opened the shutters, and looked out. The night was
-inky black, above and below, except when a star flickered in and out like
-a gas-jet swept by the wind, and showed the river like a bit of steel,
-as it flashed and quivered under the pelting rain and hurried away into
-blacker distance. All this angry roar was better than music to Raymond.
-The fury of the elements seemed to comfort him. Nature was in sympathy
-with him. It was kind of her to be angry and disturbed when he was so
-distraught. Nature had more heart than his fellow-men. These were talking
-over his despair quietly enough now--mocking him, very likely; but the
-world around was shaken, and tossed, and driven in sympathy with him. A
-great gust came swelling up from the river, growing louder and heavier
-as it drew near, till, gathering itself up like a mountainous wave,
-it burst with a crash against the cottage. M. de la Bourbonias leaped
-back, and, with a sudden impulse of terror, flew out into the landing,
-and knocked at Angélique’s door; but the sonorous breathing of the old
-servant reassured him that all was right there and in the room beyond.
-It was pitch dark, but the reflection from his own open door showed
-Franceline’s standing wide open. He listened, but everything was silent
-there. He stole noiselessly back to his room and closed the door, without
-disturbing either of the sleepers.
-
-The storm had reached its crisis, and gradually subsided after this,
-until the wind was spent and died away in long, low wails behind the
-woods, and the moon drifted above the tattered clouds that were sweeping
-toward the east, leaving a portion of the sky stainless, with stars
-flashing out brightly. Raymond put out his candle and went to bed.
-
-Under ordinary circumstances he would probably have paid for the night’s
-adventure by an attack of bronchitis or rheumatic fever; but the mental
-fever that had been devouring him warded off every other, and when he
-came down next morning he was neither ill nor ailing.
-
-Franceline, like her _bonne_, had slept through the storm, and they were
-quite astonished to hear what an awful night it had been, and to see the
-fields strewn with great branches in every direction, gates torn up, and
-other evidences of the night’s work. But they saw no traces of another
-tempest that was raging still in a human soul close by them. Nothing
-betrayed its existence, and they guessed nothing--so securely does this
-living wall of flesh screen the secrets of the spirit from every outside
-gaze! Passions rise up in hearts whose pulses we fondly imagine close
-and familiar to us as our own, and the winds blow and the waves run high
-and make wild havoc there, turning life into darkness and despair, or,
-at the whisper of the Master’s voice, illuminating it as suddenly with a
-flood of sunshine; and we are blind and deaf to these things, and remain
-as “a stranger to our brother.” And mercifully so. Many a battle is won
-that would have been lost if it had not been fought alone. We hinder each
-other by our pity, perhaps, as often as we help.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Sir Simon had very little appetite for his breakfast when he came down
-next morning, sick at heart after a sleepless night, and found the
-pleasant meal thoughtfully spread in his favorite room, the library, with
-the table wheeled close to his arm-chair on the right side of the hearth.
-It all looked the very picture of comfort and refinement and elegance.
-But the cup was doubly poisoned to him now; last night’s adventure had
-added the last drop of bitterness to it. He could not think of Raymond
-without a poignant pang. He suspected--and he was right--that Raymond
-was thinking of him, wondering whether it was really all over with him
-this time, and whether he was bankrupt and his estate in the fangs of
-the creditors; and whether he was driving away from the Court never to
-see it again; or whether once more, for the hundred and ninety-ninth
-time, he had weathered the storm and was still afloat--even though on a
-raft. Raymond would have scarcely believed it if any one had informed him
-that he had been the instrument of destroying Sir Simon’s one chance of
-escape; that he had snatched the last plank from him in his shipwreck.
-It may have been an imaginary one, and Sir Simon, after the fashion of
-drowning men, may have been catching at a straw; but now that it was
-snatched from him, he was more than ever convinced that it had been a
-solid plank which would have borne him securely to shore. He did not
-ask himself whether Mr. Plover would have entered into his plans, and
-whether, supposing he found it his interest to do so, his fortune would
-have been equal to the demand; he only considered what might have been,
-and what was not; and thinking of this, his indulgent pity for M. de la
-Bourbonais shrank in the bitter reflection that he had ruined not only
-himself but his friend irretrievably. They were pretty much in the same
-boat now.
-
-Sir Simon’s self-made delusions had cleared away wonderfully within
-the last forty-eight hours. He drew no comparison to his own advantage
-between Raymond’s actual position and his own. If M. de la Bourbonais
-was a thief in the technical sense of the word, he, Sir Simon, was a
-bankrupt; and a bankrupt, under certain conditions, may mean a swindler.
-He had been a swindler for years; his life had been a sham these twenty
-years, and he had not the excuse of circumstances to fall back on; he
-had been dishonest from extravagance and sheer want of principle. “Take
-it first and afford it afterwards” had been his theory, and he had lived
-up to it, and now the day of reckoning had arrived. Many a time he had
-said, half in jest, that Raymond was the richer man of the two. Raymond
-used to laugh mildly at the notion, but it was true. An ambitious,
-extravagant man and a contented poor one are pretty much on a level: the
-one possesses everything he does not want; the other wants everything
-he does not possess. The unprincipled spend-thrift and the high-minded,
-struggling man were then on an equality of fortune, or rather the latter
-was virtually the wealthier of the two. But now the distinction was
-washed out. The proud consciousness of unstained honor and innermost
-self-respect which had hitherto sustained M. de la Bourbonais and
-sweetened the cup of poverty to him was gone. He was a blighted man, who
-could never hold up his head again amongst his fellow-men.
-
-“Good God! what delirium possessed him? How could he be so infatuated, so
-stupid!” broke out Sir Simon, giving vent to what was passing through his
-mind. “But,” he added presently, “he was not accountable. I believe grief
-and anxiety drove him mad.” Then he recalled that answer of Raymond’s,
-that had sounded so untrue at the time: “Yes, I can fancy myself giving
-way, if the temptation took a certain form, and if I were left to my own
-strength.” The words sounded now like a prophecy.
-
-Of course we all know that, according to the canons of poetical justice,
-the brave, suffering man should have been in some unexpected way succored
-in his extremity; that some angel in visible or invisible form should
-have been sent to hold him up from slipping into the pit that despair had
-dug for him; and that, on the other hand, the wicked spendthrift should
-have been left to eat the bread of righteous retribution, and suffer the
-just penalty of his evil behavior. But poetical justice and the facts of
-real life do not always agree.
-
-Sir Simon, after walking up and down the library, chewing the cud of
-bitter thoughts until he was sick of it, bethought himself that as
-breakfast was there he might as well try and eat it before it got cold.
-So he sat down and poured out his coffee, and then, by mere force of
-habit, and without the faintest glimmer of interest, began to turn over
-the bundle of letters piled up beside the _Times_ on the table. One
-after another was tossed away contemptuously. The duns might cry till
-they were hoarse now; he need not trouble about them; he would be at
-least that much the gainer by his disgrace. Suddenly his eye lighted on
-an envelope that was not addressed in the well-known hand of the race
-of duns, but in Clide de Winton’s, and it bore the London postmark. The
-thought of Clide generally produced on Sir Simon the effect of a needle
-run through the left side; but he took up this letter with a strange
-thrill of expectation. He opened it, and a change came over his face;
-it was not joy--it was too uncertain, too tremulous yet for that. He
-must read it again before he trusted to the first impression; he must
-make sure that he was not dreaming, and the words that danced like a
-will-o’-the-wisp before his eyes were real, written with real ink, on
-real paper. At last he dropped the letter, and a heartier prayer than he
-had uttered since his childhood came from him: “My God, I thank thee! I
-have not deserved this mercy, but I will try to deserve it.”
-
-He buried his face in his hands, and remained mute and motionless for
-some minutes. Then, starting up as if suddenly remembering something, he
-pulled out his watch. It wanted five minutes of ten. The law officer and
-the Jew creditor were to start by the train that left Charing Cross at a
-quarter past eleven. Sir Simon rang the bell sharply.
-
-“Saddle a horse, and ride as fast as you can with this to the telegraph,”
-he said to his valet, who answered the summons; “and the moment you come
-back, get ready to be off with me to London by the mid-day train.”
-
-The telegram prepared Mr. Simpson to see his client appear at his office
-at two o’clock that afternoon, and, in obedience to its directions, the
-Jew was there to meet him. Clide de Winton had seen Simpson the day
-before, and given him full authority to settle the Dullerton debts so
-as to set Sir Simon Harness free. He had only arrived in London that
-very morning, and it was the merest accident that led him to call on
-the family lawyer, who was also the family’s best friend, on his way
-from the station to his hotel. Simpson was discretion itself, and one of
-the attributes of that virtue is to know when to be indiscreet. Clide’s
-first inquiry was for Sir Simon, with a view--which the astute lawyer
-did not see through--of leading up to inquiries about other friends at
-Dullerton; whereupon Mr. Simpson bolted out the whole truth, told him of
-the baronet’s position, the long arrears of debt that had come against
-him, and which were to culminate in bankruptcy within twenty-four hours.
-It was as if the sky had fallen on Clide, or the ground opened under his
-feet.
-
-“Thank goodness I am come in time!” he exclaimed; and there and then sat
-down and wrote to Sir Simon, telling him that proceedings were stopped,
-and that he, Clide, took them in his own hands.
-
-“And this is what you call being a friend!” said the young man, as he
-and the baronet left Simpson’s office together, the one with a lightened
-purse, the other with a heart considerably more so. “To think of your
-letting things go to such lengths, and that if I had been a day later it
-would have been all over!”
-
-“My dear boy! what can I say to you? How can I ever repay you?”
-
-“By forgiving me. I’ve lived long enough to find out a secret or two.
-One is that it requires a very noble soul to forgive a man a money
-obligation, and that there is a deal more generosity in accepting than
-in conferring it. So if you don’t pick a quarrel with me after this, and
-turn your back on me, we are quits. Is it a bargain?”
-
-He held out his hand, laughing; Sir Simon wrung it till the pressure made
-Clide wince. This was his only answer, and the only sentimental passage
-the occasion gave rise to between them.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was more than a month since Clide had left St. Petersburg, although
-the season was still at its height there, and Isabel’s engagement was to
-have lasted until the end of it. This had, however, been brought to an
-abrupt and tragic close. She had acted for six weeks with unprecedented
-success; every night was a fresh triumph, and nothing was talked of in
-the _salons_ and clubs but the wonders of her voice, the intense reality
-of her acting, and her rare beauty. Ophelia was considered her grandest
-part. She was playing it one evening to a crowded house, in the presence
-of the imperial family and the whole court, and seemed wrought up to a
-pitch of power and pathos that surpassed her finest preceding efforts.
-She was singing the mad scene with melting tenderness; the house was
-breathless, hanging enraptured on every note, when suddenly the voice
-ceased, the prima donna cast a wild look on every side of her, and then,
-with a shriek too terribly real to be within the compass of art, she
-flung her arms over her head, and, clasping her hands, fell insensible to
-the ground. Never did any opera-house witness so dramatic a scene. The
-spectators rose in a body from the pit to the gallery, shouting to know
-what had happened, and calling for help. Help was near enough. A man in
-plain clothes sprang from behind the scenes, and lifted the prostrate
-Ophelia before any of the actors could interfere. There were several
-medical men among the audience, and they rushed in a body to offer
-their services. It was feared for a moment that she was dead; but the
-doctors soon pronounced it to be only a swoon, though it was impossible
-to say what might follow on the awakening. The emperor sent one of his
-chamberlains to hear and see what was going on in the green-room, and
-inquire if the piece was to be continued; whereupon the luckless manager
-flew out before the footlights, and falling on his knees under the
-imperial box, as if he saw the knout suspended over his shoulders, called
-heaven to witness that he was a loyal subject and an innocent man, and
-flung himself on the imperial clemency. The prima donna had been seized
-with illness, and the opera could not be finished that night. The czar
-waved his clemency to the terrified man, who withdrew, invoking all
-manner of benedictions on the mercy of the Father of all the Russians,
-and flew to hear what the doctors were now saying of Ophelia. They were
-saying that she was acting out her part as it had never yet been acted,
-with the perfection of nature--she was raving mad.
-
-This was not proclaimed at once. The affair was hushed up for a few days,
-and kept out of the newspapers, so that Clide only heard it accidentally
-at the club, where he happened to lounge in a week after the occurrence.
-He sent Stanton off at once to make inquiries at the house where Isabel
-lodged. But they could tell nothing of her there; she had been taken away
-the day after her seizure at the opera, and had left no address. Clide
-went straight to the lawyer, and asked if there was no way of getting
-access to her through the police; of learning at least whether she was
-in an asylum; for his first idea on hearing that she had been taken away
-was that they had placed her in some such confinement. The lawyer agreed
-with him that this was most probable, but did not promise much help in
-verifying the supposition. He seemed honestly willing to do what he could
-in the matter, but repeated the old warning that little could be done
-where imperial favor stood in the way. It was highly probable that the
-czar would still show his benevolence toward the beautiful artist by
-screening her hiding-place and the fact of her being mad, in hope of her
-being able to return and complete her engagement after rest and medical
-treatment.
-
-His position now seemed worse to Clide than it had ever been. The thought
-of Isabel’s being in a mad-house, a prey to the most awful visitation
-that humanity is subject to, rudely, perhaps cruelly, treated by coarse,
-pitiless menials, was so horrible that at first it haunted him till he
-almost fancied he was going mad himself. The image of the bright young
-creature who had first stirred the pulses of his foolish heart was for
-ever before his eyes as she appeared to him that day--how long ago it
-seemed!--in the midst of the splendors of Niagara, and that he took her
-for a sprite--some lovely creature of the water and the sunlight. He
-remembered, with a new sense of its meaning, the strange air she wore,
-walking on as if half unconscious he had wondered if she were not walking
-in her sleep. Was it a phase of the cruel malady that was then showing
-itself? And if so, was she not, perhaps, blameless from the beginning?
-This blight that had fallen on her in her brilliant maturity might have
-been germinating then, making strange havoc in her mind, and impelling
-her character, her destiny, to fearful and fantastic issues. Some weeks
-passed while Clide was a prey to these harrowing thoughts, when he
-received a letter from the lawyer, saying he had something to communicate
-to him of interest.
-
-“It is not good news,” he said, as the Englishman entered his office;
-“but it is better than complete suspense. The signora is not in St.
-Petersburg. All our researches were useless from the first, as she was
-carried off almost immediately to a lunatic asylum in Saxony.”
-
-“And she is there still?”
-
-“Yes; and she has been admirably treated with the utmost skill and care,
-so much so that it is expected she will be quite restored after a short
-period of convalescence.”
-
-“How did you ascertain all this?” inquired Clide.
-
-“Through a client of mine who has been for some time a patient of the
-establishment. He left it very recently, and came to see me on his
-return, and in talking over the place and its inmates he described one
-in a way that excited my suspicions. I wrote to the director, and put a
-few questions cautiously, and the answer leaves me no doubt but that the
-patient whom my client saw there a few days before his departure was the
-lady who interests you.”
-
-“Did you hear who accompanied her to Saxony?”
-
-“My client saw a person walking in the grounds with her once, and
-from the description it must be the same who travelled with her from
-England--her uncle, in fact: a middle-sized man with coal-black hair and
-very white teeth; ‘decidedly an unpleasant-looking person’ my client
-called him.”
-
-“Strange!” murmured Clide. “That description does not tally with my
-recollection of the man who called himself her uncle, except that he had
-a forbidding countenance and was of medium height. He had a quantity of
-gray, almost white, hair, and not a sound tooth in his head.”
-
-“Humph! White hair may turn black, and new teeth may be made to replace
-lost ones,” observed the lawyer. “I would not be put off the scent by
-changes of that sort, if the main points coincided.”
-
-“Very true. I must start at once, then, for Saxony, and try and see
-for myself. I shall have difficulty in gaining the confidence of the
-directors of the place, I dare say. Can you help me by a letter of
-introduction to any of them?”
-
-“Yes; I am well known to the principal medical man by name, and I will
-give you a line to him with pleasure.”
-
-He wrote it, and shook hands with his client and wished him good-speed.
-
-Clide travelled without halting till he drove up to the door of the
-asylum. His letter procured him admittance at once to the private room
-of the medical man, and, what was of greater importance, it inclined
-the latter to credit his otherwise almost incredible story. When Clide
-had told all he deemed necessary, the doctor informed him that the
-patient whom he believed to be his wife had already left the house and
-the country altogether; she had spent three full weeks under his care,
-and was then well enough to be removed, and had, by his advice, been
-taken home for the benefit of native air. It was just three days since
-she had left Saxony. The doctor could give no idea as to where she had
-gone, beyond that she had returned to England; he knew nothing of the
-whereabouts of her native place there, and her uncle had left no clue to
-his future residence.
-
-Clide was once more baffled by fate, and found himself again in a
-dead-lock. In answer to his inquiries concerning the nature of Isabel’s
-disease, the medical man said that it was hereditary, and therefore
-beyond the likelihood--not to say possibility--of radical cure. This, it
-seemed, was the third attack from which she had suffered. The first was
-in early girlhood, before the patient was eighteen; the second, somewhat
-later and of much longer duration--it had lasted six years, her uncle
-said; then came the third crisis, which, owing, perhaps, to the improved
-general health of the patient, but more probably to the more judicious
-and enlightened treatment she had met with, had passed off very rapidly.
-It was, however, far from being a cure. It was at best but a recovery,
-and the disease might at any moment show itself again in a more obstinate
-and dangerous form. Perfect quiet, freedom from excitement, whether
-mental or physical, were indispensable conditions for preserving her
-against another crisis. It was needless to add after this that the career
-of an actress was the most fatal one the unfortunate young woman could
-have adopted. But in that, no doubt, she was more passive than active.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-With this new light on his path, Clide hastened his return to England,
-farther than ever, it seemed, from his journey’s end, and laden with a
-heavier burden than when he set out. March! march! was still the command
-that sounded in his ears, driving him on and on like the Wandering Jew,
-and never letting him get nearer the goal.
-
-He had not the faintest idea of Isabel’s native place. She had told him
-she was Scotch, and her name said so too, though she was perfectly free
-from the native accent which marked her uncle’s speech so strongly. But
-what did that prove either way? Was Cameron her name, or Prendergast his?
-He had taken a new name in his travels, and so had she. Still, feeble as
-the thread was, it was the only one he had to guide him; so he started
-for Scotland as soon as he landed in England, having previously taken the
-precaution to acquaint the police in London with his present purpose,
-and what had led him to it. If Isabel were sufficiently recovered to
-appear again in public, it was probable that the brutal man--who was in
-reality no more than her task-master--would have made some engagement for
-her with a manager, and she might at this moment be singing her brain
-away for his benefit in some provincial theatre. It was clear he shunned
-the publicity of the London stage. Clide thought of these things as he
-tramped over the purple heather of the Highlands, following now one
-mirage, now another; and his heart swelled within him and smote him for
-his angry and vindictive feelings toward Isabel; and tears, that were
-no disgrace to his manhood, forced themselves from his eyes. Poor child!
-She was not to blame, then, for wrecking his life, and coming again like
-an evil genius to thrust him back into the abyss just as he had climbed
-to safety, beckoned onwards and upwards by another angel form. She was a
-victim herself, and had perhaps never meant to deceive or betray him, but
-had loved him with her mad, untutored heart as well as she knew how.
-
-The winter days dragged on drearily, as he went from place to place in
-Scotland, and found no trace of the missing one, heard nothing that gave
-him any hopes of finding her. The police were equally unsuccessful in
-London. Stanton had gone back there, very much against his inclination;
-but Clide insisted that he would be of more use in the busy streets,
-keeping his keen eyes open, than following his master in his wanderings
-up and down Scotland.
-
-One dark afternoon the valet was walking along Regent Street, when he
-stopped to look at some prints in a music-shop. The gas was lighted, and
-streamed in a brilliant blaze over the gaudily-attired tenors and _prime
-donne_ that were piling the agony on the backs of various operatic songs.
-Stanton was considering them, and mentally commenting on the manner of
-ladies and gentlemen who found it good to spend their lives making faces
-and throwing themselves into contortions that appeared to him equally
-painful and ridiculous, when he noticed a lady inside the shop engaged
-in choosing some music. She was dressed in black, and he only caught
-a glimpse of her side face through her veil; but the glimpse made him
-start. He watched her take the roll of music from the shopman, secure it
-in a little leathern case, and then turn to leave the shop. She walked
-out leisurely, but the moment she opened the door she quickened her pace
-almost to a run; and before Stanton knew where he was, she had rushed
-into the middle of the street. He hastened after her, but a string of
-carriages and cabs intervened and blocked the street for some moments.
-As soon as it was clear, he saw the slight figure in black stepping into
-an omnibus. He hailed it, gesticulating and hallooing frantically; but
-the conductor, with the spirit of contradiction peculiar to conductors,
-kept his head persistently turned the other way. Stanton tore after him,
-waving his umbrella and whistling, all to no purpose, until at last he
-stopped for want of breath. At the same moment the omnibus pulled up to
-let some travellers alight; he overtook it this time, and got in. The
-great machine went thundering on its way, and there opposite to him sat
-the lady in black, his master’s wife, he was ready to swear, if she was
-in the land of the living. He saw the features very indistinctly, but
-well enough to be certain of their identity; the height and contour were
-the same, and so was the mass of jet black hair that escaped in thick
-plaits from under the small black bonnet. Then there was the conclusive
-fact of his having seen her in a music-shop. This clinched the matter for
-Stanton. The omnibus stopped, the lady got out, ran to the corner of the
-street, and waited for another to come up, and jumped into it; Stanton
-meanwhile following her like her shadow. She saw it, and he saw that she
-saw it, and that she was frightened and trying to get away from him. Why
-should she do so if she were not afraid of being recognized? He was
-not a gentleman, and could see no reason for an unprotected young woman
-being frightened at a man looking fixedly at her and pursuing her, unless
-she had a guilty conscience. He sat as near as he could to her in the
-omnibus, and when it pulled up to let her down he got down. She hurried
-up a small, quiet street off Tottenham Court Road, and on reaching a
-semi-detached small house, flew up the steps and pulled violently at the
-bell. Stanton was beside her in an instant.
-
-“Excuse me, ma’am, but I know you. I don’t mean to do you any ’arm, only
-to tell you that I’m Stanton, Mr. Clide’s valet; you are my master’s
-wife!”
-
-He was excited, but respectful in his manner.
-
-“You are mistaken,” replied the lady, shrinking into the doorway. “I know
-nothing about you. I never heard of Mr. Clide, and I’m not married!”
-
-Stanton was of course prepared for the denial, and showed no sign of
-surprise or incredulity; but, in spite of himself, her tone of assurance
-staggered him a little. He could not say whether the sound of the voice
-resembled that of Mrs. de Winton. Its echoes had lingered very faintly in
-his memory, and so many other voices and sounds had swept over it during
-the intervening years that he could not the least affirm whether the
-voice he had just heard was hers or not. Before he had found any answer
-to this question, footsteps were audible pattering on the tarpauling of
-the narrow entry, and a slip-shod servant-girl opened the door. The lady
-passed quickly in; Stanton followed her.
-
-“You must leave me!” she said, turning on him. “This is my papa’s house,
-and if you give any more annoyance he will have you taken into custody.”
-She spoke in a loud voice, and as she ceased the parlor door was opened,
-and a gentleman in a velveteen coat and slippers came forward with a
-newspaper in his hand.
-
-“What’s the matter? What is all this about?” he demanded blandly, coming
-forward to reconnoitre Stanton, who did not look at all bland, but grim
-and resolute, like a man who had conquered his footing on the premises,
-and meant to hold it.
-
-“Sir, I am Stanton, Mr. Clide’s valet; this lady knows me well, if you
-don’t.”
-
-“Papa! I never saw him in my life! I don’t know who Mr. Clide is!”
-protested the young lady in a tremor. “This man has annoyed me all the
-way home. Send him away!”
-
-“I must speak to you, sir,” said Stanton stoutly. “I cannot leave the
-house without.”
-
-“Pray walk in!” said the gentleman, waving his newspaper towards the open
-parlor; “and you, my dear, go and take off your bonnet.”
-
-“Now, sir, be good enough to state your business,” he began when the door
-was closed.
-
-“My business isn’t with you, sir, but with your daughter, if she is your
-daughter,” said Stanton. “One thing is certain--she’s my master’s wife;
-there an’t no use in her denying it, and the best thing she can do is
-to speak out to her ’usband penitent-like, and he’ll forgive her, poor
-thing, and do the best he can for her, which will be better than what
-that uncle of hers ’as been doin’ for her, draggin’ her about everywhere
-and driving the poor creature crazy. That’s what I’ve got to say, sir,
-and I ’ope you’ll see as it’s sense and reason.”
-
-The occupant of the velveteen slippers listened to this speech with eyes
-that grew rounder and rounder as it proceeded; then he threw back his
-head and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
-
-“My good man, there’s some mistake! You’ve mistaken my daughter for
-somebody else; she never was married in her life, and she has no uncle
-that ever I heard of. Ha! ha! ha! It’s the best joke I ever heard in my
-life!”
-
-“Excuse me; it an’t no joke at all!” protested Stanton, nettled, and
-resolved not to be shaken by the ring of honesty there was in the man’s
-laugh. “You mayn’t know the person that calls himself her uncle, but
-I do, sir. Mayhap you are duped by the rascal yourself; but it’ll all
-come out now. I have it all in the palm of my hand.” And he opened that
-capacious member and closed it again significantly. “Your daughter must
-either come away with me quietly, or I’ll call the police and have her
-taken off whether she will or no!”
-
-“I tell you, man, you are under some preposterous mistake,” said the
-gentleman, his blandness all gone, and his choler rising. “My name is
-Honey. I am a clerk in H---- Bank, and my daughter, Eliza Jane Honey, has
-never left me since she was born. She is an artist, a singer, and gives
-lessons in singing in some of the first houses in London!”
-
-“Singer! Singing lessons! Ha! Just so! I know it all,” said Stanton, his
-mouth compressing itself in a saturnine smile. “I know it all, and I tell
-you I don’t leave this ’ouse without her.”
-
-“Confound your insolence! What do you mean? You’d better be gone this
-instant, or I’ll call the police and give _you_ into custody!
-
-“No, sir, don’t try it; it won’t answer,” said Stanton, imperturbable.
-“It ’ud only make more trouble; the poor thing has enough on her already,
-and I’m not the one to make more for her. If you call in the police I’ve
-something ’ere,” slapping his waistcoat pocket, “as ’ud settle at once
-which of us was to be took up.”
-
-Before Mr. Honey could say anything in answer to this, a voice came
-carrolling down the stairs, singing some air from an opera, rich with
-trills and _fioriture_.
-
-“There it is! The very voice! The very tune I’ve ’eard her sing in the
-drawing-room at Lanwold!” exclaimed Stanton.
-
-The singer dashed into the room, but broke off in her trills on seeing
-him.
-
-“What! you are not gone? Papa, who is he?”
-
-“My dear, he is either a madman or--or worse,” said her father. “It’s the
-most extraordinary thing I ever heard in my life!”
-
-“Speak out, ma’am, and don’t you fear I’ll do you any ’arm; my master
-wouldn’t ’ave it, not for all the money he’s worth. Nobody knows the sum
-he’s spent on them detectives already to try and catch you; and it speaks
-badly for the lot to say they’ve not caught you long ago. But don’t you
-be afraid of me, ma’am!” urged Stanton, making his voice as mild as he
-could.
-
-Eliza Jane’s answer was a peal of laughter.
-
-“Why should I be afraid of you? I never laid my eyes on you before, or
-you on me; you mistake me for somebody else, I tell you. I never heard
-of Mr. Clide, and I am certain he never heard of me. The idea of your
-insisting that I’m his wife!” And she laughed again; but there was a
-nervous twitch about her mouth, and Stanton saw it.
-
-“As like as two peas in a pod!” was his emphatic remark, as he
-deliberately scanned her face.
-
-There was no denying the resemblance, indeed. The face was fuller, the
-features more developed, but the interval of years would explain that.
-
-“Look at my hand! You see I have no wedding-ring? Ask me a few questions;
-you will find out the blunder at once, if you only try,” she said.
-
-Stanton paused for a moment, as if trying to recall something that might
-serve as a test.
-
-“I ’ave it!” he said, looking up with a look of triumph. “Open your
-mouth, ma’am, and let me look into it!”
-
-He advanced towards her, expecting instant compliance. But Miss Honey
-rushed behind her father with a cry of terror and disgust. The movement
-was perfectly natural under the circumstances, but Stanton saw it in the
-light of his own suspicions.
-
-“Ha! I guessed as much,” he said, drawing away, and speaking in a quiet
-tone of regret. “I was sure of it. Well, you give me no choice. I know my
-dooty to a lady, but I know my dooty to my master too.” He went toward
-the window, intending to throw it up and call for a policeman.
-
-“Stop!” cried Mr. Honey. “What do you expect to find in my daughter’s
-mouth?”
-
-“That, sir, is known to her and to me,” was the oracular reply. “If she
-has nothing in it as can convict her, she needn’t be afraid to let me
-look into it.”
-
-Mr. Honey turned aside, touched his forehead with his forefinger, and
-pointed with the thumb toward Stanton. After this rapid and significant
-little pantomime, he said aloud to his daughter:
-
-“My dear, perhaps it is as well to let the man have his way. He will see
-that there is nothing to see. Come and gratify his singular curiosity.”
-
-The girl was now too frightened to see the ludicrous side of the
-performance; she advanced gravely to the table, on which a gas-burner
-threw a strong, clear light, and opened her mouth. Stanton came and
-peered into it. “Please to lift the left side as wide open as you can,
-ma’am; it was the third tooth from the back of her left jaw.”
-
-She did as he desired, but, after looking closely all round, he could
-see nothing but two fine, pearly rows of teeth, all ivory, without the
-smallest glimmer of gold or silver to attest the presence of even an
-unsound one.
-
-“I beg your pardon, ma’am! I beg a thousand pardons, sir! I find I’ve
-made a great mistake! I’ve behaved shameful rude to you and the young
-lady; but I hope you’ll forgive me. I was only doing my dooty to my
-master. I’m sorrier than I can say for my mistake!” Both father and
-daughter were too thankful to be rid of him to withhold their free and
-unconditional pardon. They even went the length of regretting that he had
-had so much trouble and such an unpleasant adventure all to no purpose,
-and cordially wished him better success next time, as he withdrew,
-profusely apologizing.
-
-“Papa, he must be an escaped lunatic!” cried the young lady, as the
-hall-door closed on Stanton.
-
-“I dare say they took me for a maniac, and indeed no wonder!” was
-Stanton’s reflection, as he heard a peal of laughter through the window.
-
-The adventure left, nevertheless, an uneasy feeling on his mind, and
-the next day he called on Mr. Peckitt, the dentist, and related it. Mr.
-Peckitt had not seen the wearer of the silver tooth since the time he had
-attended her before her departure for Berlin; but he had seen her uncle,
-and made an entire set of false teeth for him. He took the liberty on
-first seeing him of inquiring for the young lady; but her uncle answered
-curtly that she was in no need of dental services at present, and turned
-off the subject by some irrelevant remark. Mr. Peckitt, of course, took
-the hint, and never reverted to it. This was all he had to tell Stanton;
-but he did not confirm the valet’s certainty as to the non-identity of
-Miss Honey on the grounds of the absence of the silver tooth. It was, he
-thought, improbable that his patient should have parted with that odd
-appendage, and that, if so, she should have gone to a strange dentist to
-have it replaced by an ordinary tooth; but either of these alternatives
-was possible.
-
-This was all the information that Stanton had for his master when the
-latter returned from his bootless search in Scotland.
-
-On the following day Sir Simon Harness came to London and heard of the
-strange adventure. He was inclined to attach more importance to it than
-Clide apparently did.
-
-“Suppose this so-called Eliza Jane Honey should not have been Isabel,”
-he said, “but some one like her--the same whom you saw at Dieppe?” Clide
-shook his head.
-
-“Impossible! _I_ could not be deceived, though Stanton might. This Miss
-Honey, too, was fuller in the face, and altogether a more robust person,
-than Isabel, as Stanton remembers her. Now, after the terrible attack
-that she has suffered lately, it is much more likely that she is worn and
-thin, poor child!”
-
-“That is true. Still, there remains the coincidence of the splendid voice
-and of her being an artist. If I were you, I would not rest till I saw
-her myself.”
-
-“It would only make assurance doubly sure. Stanton has startled me
-over and over again for nothing. Every pair of black eyes and bright
-complexion that he sees gives him a turn, as he says, and sets him off
-on the chase. No; the woman I saw at Dieppe was my wife--I am as sure
-of that as of my own identity. I did not get near enough to her to say,
-‘Are you my wife?’ but I am as certain of it as if I had.” He promised,
-however, to satisfy Sir Simon, that he would go to Tottenham Court and
-see Miss Honey.
-
-While Clide’s tongue was engaged on this absorbing topic, he was mentally
-reverting to another subject which was scarcely less absorbing, and which
-was closer to his heart. His love for Franceline had not abated one atom
-of its ardor since absence and a far more impassable gulf had parted him
-from her; her image reigned supreme in his heart still, and accompanied
-him in his waking and sleeping thoughts. He felt no compunction for this.
-His conscience tendered full and unflinching allegiance to the letter of
-the moral law, but it was in bondage to none of those finer spiritual
-tenets that ruled and influenced Franceline. He would have cut off his
-right hand rather than outrage her memory by so much as an unworthy
-thought; but he gave his heart full freedom to retain and foster its
-love for her. He had not her clear spiritual insight to discern the
-sinfulness of this, any more than he had her deep inward strength to
-enable him to crush the sin out of his heart, even if he had tried, which
-he did not. It was his misfortune, not his fault, that his love for her
-was unlawful. Nothing could make it guilty; that was in his own power,
-and the purity of its object was its best protection. She was an angel,
-and could only be worshipped with the reverent love that one of her own
-pure kindred spirits might accept without offence or contamination. Such
-was Clide’s code, and, if he wanted any internal proof of his own loyalty
-to sanction it, he had it in the shape of many deep-drawn sighs--prayers,
-he called them, and perhaps they were--that Franceline might not suffer
-on his account, but might forget him, and be happy after a time with some
-worthier husband. He had been quite honest when he sighed these sighs--at
-least he thought he was; yet when Sir Simon, meaning to console him and
-make things smooth and comfortable, assured him emphatically that they
-had been both happily mistaken in the nature of Franceline’s feelings,
-and then basely and cruelly insinuated that Ponsonby Anwyll was in a
-fair way to make her a good husband by and by, Clide felt a pang more
-acute than any he had yet experienced. This is often the case with us. We
-never know how much insincerity there is in the best of our prayers--the
-anti-self ones--until we are threatened with the grant of them.
-
-Sir Simon said nothing about the stolen ring. His friendship for Raymond
-partook of that strong personal feeling which made any dishonor in its
-object touch him like a personal stain. He could not bear even to admit
-it to himself that his ideal was destroyed. M. de la Bourbonais had been
-his ideal of truth, of manly independence, of everything that was noble,
-simple, and good. There are many intervals in the scale that separates
-the ordinary honest man from the ideal man of honor. Sir Simon could
-count several of the former class; but he knew but one of the higher
-type. He had never known any one whom he would have placed on the same
-pinnacle of unsullied, impregnable honor with Raymond. Now that he had
-fallen, it seemed as if the very stronghold of Sir Simon’s own faith had
-surrendered; he could disbelieve everything, he could doubt everybody.
-Where was truth to be found, who was to be trusted, since Raymond de la
-Bourbonais had failed? But meantime he would screen him as long as he
-could. He would not be the first to speak of his disgrace to any one. He
-told Clide how Raymond had lost, for him, a considerable sum of money
-recently, through the dishonesty of a bank, and how he had borne the loss
-with the most incredible philosophy, because just then it so happened he
-did not want the money; but since then Franceline’s health had become
-very delicate, and she was ordered to a warm climate, and these few
-hundreds would have enabled him to take her there, and her father was now
-bitterly lamenting the loss.
-
-Clide was all excitement in a moment.
-
-“But now you can supply them?” he cried. “Or rather let me do it through
-you! I must not, of course, appear; but it will be something to know I am
-of use to her--to both of them. You can easily manage it, can you not?
-M. de la Bourbonais would make no difficulty in accepting the service
-from you.”
-
-“Humph! As ill-luck will have it, there is a coldness between us at
-present,” said Sir Simon--“a little tiff that will blow off after a while
-but meanwhile Bourbonais is as unapproachable as a porcupine. He’s as
-proud as Lucifer at any time, and I fear there is no one but myself from
-whom he would accept a service of the kind.”
-
-“Could not Langrove manage it? They seemed on affectionate terms,” said
-Clide.
-
-“Oh! no, oh! no. That would never do!” said Sir Simon quickly. “I don’t
-see any one at Dullerton but myself who could attempt it.”
-
-“Well, but some one must, since you say you can’t,” argued Clide with
-impatience. “When do you return to the Court?”
-
-“I did not mean to return just yet a while. You see, I have a great deal
-of business to look to--of a pleasant sort, thanks to you, my dear boy,
-but still imperative and admitting of no delay. I can’t possibly leave
-town until it has been settled.”
-
-“I should have thought Simpson might have attended to it. I suppose you
-mean legal matters?” said the young man with some asperity. He could not
-understand Sir Simon’s being hindered by mere business from sparing a day
-in a case of such emergency, and for such a friend. It was unlike him to
-be selfish, and this was downright heartlessness.
-
-“Simpson? To be sure!” exclaimed the baronet jubilantly, starting up and
-seizing his hat. “I will be off and see him this minute. Simpson is sure
-to hit on some device; he’s never at a loss for anything.”
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-THE STORY OF EVANGELINE IN PROSE.
-
-I spare you M. Jourdain’s oft-quoted saying. Too often, I fear, I
-successfully imitate the “Bourgeois Gentilhomme” in speaking prose
-without knowing it--aye, at the very moment when I think to woo the Muse
-most ardently. But great is the courage demanded to announce a purpose
-to be prosaic--prosy, it may be--with premeditation. Especially true is
-this when, as in the case before me, the subject itself ranks high as
-poetry. Mr. Longfellow, in some of his later writings, may seem to aim
-at, or does, perhaps, unconsciously catch, that tone, made fashionable
-by the younger Victorian songsters, which sets the poet apart as a being
-differing from his kind, and makes him, as the English poet-laureate
-does, “born in a golden clime”
-
-    “With golden stars above.”
-
-But in his “Tale of Acadie” our American Wordsworth touches with
-sympathetic finger the chords that vibrate with feeling in common hearts.
-This is the lyre he sweeps with a magic sweetness not excelled by any
-modern English poet. _Evangeline_ is a poem of the hearth and domestic
-love. That is to say, though it is true the heroine and her betrothed
-never come together in one happy home, the feelings described are such as
-might without shame beat tenderly in any Christian maiden’s breast; such,
-too, as any husband might wish his wife to feel. How different is this
-from the fierce passion--a surrender to the lower nature--which burns
-and writhes and contorts itself in Mr. Swinburne’s heroines! One is
-Christian Love, the other the pagan brutishness of Juvenal’s Messalina.
-It may be said indeed with truth that, in portraying a Catholic maiden
-and a Catholic community, Mr. Longfellow has, with the intuition of
-genius, reflected in this poem the purity and fidelity blessed by the
-church in the love it sanctions. His admirers, therefore, cannot but
-regret that debasing contact with the new school of the XIXth-century
-realism which, in such an one of his later poems, for example, as that
-entitled “Love,” draws him to the worship of the “languors” and “kisses”
-of the Lucretian Venus. The love of Evangeline is that which is affected
-by refined women in every society--humble though the poet’s heroine be;
-the other strips the veil from woman’s weakness.
-
-The charm of the poem is that it transports us to a scene Arcadian,
-idyllic, yet which impresses us with its truthfulness to nature. This
-is not Acadia only, but Arcadia. The nymphs, and the shepherds and
-shepherdesses, and the god Pan with his oaten reed, put off the stage
-costumes worn by them in the pages of Virgil or on the canvas of
-Watteau, and, lo! here they are in real life in the village of Grand
-Pré--Evangeline milking the kine, Gabriel Lajeunesse, and Michael the
-fiddler, and the level Acadian meadows walled in by their dykes from
-the turmoil of war that shook the world all around them. The picture is
-truthful; but truthful rather by the effect of the bold touches that
-befit the artist and poet than in the multitude of details--some more
-prosaic, some not so charming--which, massed together, make up the more
-faithful portrait of the historian. The description of scenery in the
-poem confuses the natural features of two widely-separated and different
-sections of the country; the Evangeline of Grand Pré is not in all
-respects the Acadian girl of Charlevoix or Murdock; the history of men
-and manners on the shores of the Basin of Mines,[231] as depicted by
-the poet, is sadly at variance with the angry, tumultuous, suspicious,
-blood-stained annals of those settlements. Strange as it may seem, the
-poem is truer of the Acadians of to-day, again living in Nova Scotia,
-than of their expatriated forefathers. Remoteness of time did not mean,
-in their case, a golden age of peace and plenty. Far from it! It meant
-ceaseless war on the borders, the threats and intrigues of a deadly
-national feud, the ever-present, overhanging doom of exile, military
-tyranny, and constant English espionage. Now absolute peace reigns within
-the townships still peopled by their descendants, and the Acadian peasant
-and village maiden cling in silence and undisturbed to the manners their
-fathers brought from Normandy nearly three centuries ago.
-
-The first few lines give the coloring to the whole poem. They are the
-setting within which are grouped the characters.
-
-    “This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
-    Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,”
-
-stand “like Druids of eld,” or “harpers hoar”;
-
-    “While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
-    Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.”
-
-This is the refrain running through the poem like the _aria_ of the
-“Last Rose of Summer” through _Martha_. Yet the picture conveyed to the
-reader’s mind is that of the Atlantic coast of Acadia, or Nova Scotia,
-not of the Basin of Mines, where Evangeline dwelt with her people. The
-natural features of the two sections of country are strikingly diverse.
-On the east coast of Nova Scotia rises a line of granitic and other
-cliffs, sterile, vast, jagged, opposing their giant shoulders to the
-roaring surges of the Atlantic. On the hills behind, the pines and
-hemlocks rustle and murmur in answer to the waves. This is the “forest
-primeval” and the “loud-voiced neighboring ocean.” But on the west coast
-is quite another scene. The Basin of Mines is an inland gulf of an inland
-sea--the Bay of Fundy. Here the granite rocks and murmuring pines give
-place to red clay-banks and overflowed marshes. And here is Horton, or
-Grand Pré. It is separated by the whole breadth of the peninsula of Nova
-Scotia from the ocean. The “mists from the mighty Atlantic,” which
-
-    “Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er from their station descended,”
-
-are in reality the fogs of the Bay of Fundy shut out by the North
-Mountain. Instead of the long swell of the Atlantic breaking on a rocky
-coast, we have in the Basin of Mines numerous small rivers running
-through an alluvial country, with high clay-banks left bare by the
-receding tide. This last feature of the scene is correctly described
-by the poet; but it must be borne in mind that it is not united with
-the natural features of the east coast. The Acadians never, in fact,
-affected the Atlantic sea-board. They sailed shuddering past its frowning
-and wintry walls, and, doubling Cape Sable, beat up the Bay of Fundy to
-where the sheltered Basins of Port Royal and Mines invited an entrance
-from the west. For over one hundred years after the founding of Port
-Royal the Atlantic coast of Acadia remained a waste. A fishing-village
-at Canseau on the north--a sort of stepping-stone to and from the great
-fortress of Louisburg--and a few scattered houses and clearings near
-La Tour’s first settlement alone broke the monotonous silence of the
-wilderness. The Indian hunter tracking the moose over the frozen surface
-of the snow, and some half-solitary Irish and New England fishermen in
-Chebucto Bay, divided the rest of the country between them. It was not
-until 1749 that Cornwallis landed his colonists at Halifax, and made
-the first solid footing on the Atlantic coast. But for generations
-previously, in the rich valley of the River of Port Royal, and along
-the fertile banks of the streams flowing into the Basin of Mines--the
-Gaspereau, the Canard, and the Pereau--the thrifty Acadians spread their
-villages, built their churches, and were married and buried by the good
-Recollect Fathers.
-
-I was a lad scarce emancipated from college when I first visited those
-scenes. I remember well my emotion when I drew my eyes away from the
-landscape, and, turning to my companion, Father K----, asked him if
-there were any remains of the old village of Grand Pré. To my youthful
-imagination Evangeline was as real as the people about me. Father K----
-was the priest stationed at Kentville, about ten miles distant from
-Grand Pré and the Gaspereau River, which were included in his mission. He
-was an old family friend, and I was going to spend the summer vacation
-with him. We were driving from Windsor through Horton and Wolfville to
-Kentville, passing on our road through all the scenes described in the
-poem. I have often visited that part of the country since then, but never
-has it made such an impression on me. The stage-coach then rolled between
-Windsor and Kentville, and something of the rural simplicity congenial
-with the poem was still felt to be around one. Last year I rode by rail
-over the same ground, and later on another line of railroad to Truro, and
-thence around the Basin of Mines on the north through Cumberland. But my
-feelings had changed, or the whistle of the locomotive was a sound alien
-to the memories of those green meadows and intersecting dykes. Evangeline
-was no longer a being to be loved, but a beautiful figment of the poet’s
-brain.
-
-I don’t know to this day whether Father K---- was quizzing me, or was
-loath to shatter my boyish romance, when he told me that there were some
-old ruins which were said to be the home of Evangeline. It is probable he
-was having a quiet joke at my expense, as he was noted for his fund of
-humor, which I learned better to appreciate in later years. Poor Father
-K----! He was a splendid type of the old Irish missionary priest--an
-admirable Latinist; well read in English literature, especially the Queen
-Anne poets; hearty, jovial, and could tell a story that would set the
-table in a roar. And, withal, no priest worked harder than he did in his
-wide and laborious mission, or was a more tender-hearted friend of the
-poor and afflicted. He is since dead.
-
-During the month or six weeks I spent with Father K----, that part of the
-country became quite familiar to me by means of his numerous drives on
-parish duties, when I usually accompanied him. Often, as the shades of
-the summer evening descended, have I watched the mists across the Basin
-shrouding the bluff front of Cape Blomidon--“Blow-me-down,” as it is more
-commonly called by the country-folk. At other times we drove up the North
-Mountain, where the
-
-    “Sea-fogs pitched their tents,”
-
-and, standing there, I have looked down upon the distant glittering
-waters of the Bay of Fundy.
-
-On one occasion we rode over from Kentville to Wolfville, and then up the
-Gaspereau, at the mouth of which
-
-    “The English ships at their anchors”
-
-swung with the tide on the morning which ushered in the doom of Grand
-Pré. We rode some distance up the valley to the house of a Catholic
-farmer, and there put up for the day. It was the day on which the
-elections took place for the House of Assembly. The contest was fiercely
-conducted amid great popular excitement. One of those “No-Popery” cries,
-fomented by an artful politician--which sometimes sweep the colonies as
-well as the mother country--was raging in the province. Father K----
-left Kentville, the county town, on that day to avoid all appearance
-of interference in the election, and also to get away from the noise
-and confusion that pervaded the long main street of the village. I can
-remember the news coming up the Gaspereau in the evening how every one
-of the four candidates opposed to Father K---- had been returned.
-But at that time I paid little heed to politics, and during the day I
-wandered down through the field to the river, and strolled along its
-willow-fringed banks. Some of those willows were very aged, and might
-have swung their long, slim wands and narrow-pointed leaves over an
-Evangeline and a Gabriel a hundred years before. Those willows were not
-the natural growth of the forest, but were planted there--by whom? No
-remnant of the people that first tilled the valley was left to say!
-
-Riding home next day, a laughable incident, but doubtless somewhat
-annoying to Father K----, occurred. Just as we were about to turn a
-narrow bend of the road, suddenly we were confronted by a long procession
-in carriages and all sorts of country vehicles, with banners flying, men
-shouting, and everything to indicate a triumphal parade. It was, in fact,
-a procession escorting two of the “No-Popery” members elected the day
-before. The position was truly rueful, but Father K---- had to grin and
-bear it. There was no escape for us; we had to draw up at the side of the
-road, and sit quietly in our single wagon until the procession passed us.
-It was a very orderly and good-humored crowd, but there were a good many
-broad grins, as they rode by, at having caught the portly and generally
-popular priest in such a trap. Nothing would persuade them, of course,
-but that he had been working might and main for the other side during
-the election. Finally, as the tail of the procession passed us, some one
-in the rear, more in humor than in malice, sang out: “To h--ll with the
-Pope.” There was a roar of laughter at this, during which Father K----
-gathered up his reins, and, saying something under his breath which I
-will not vouch for as strictly a blessing, applied the whip to old Dobbin
-with an energy that that respectable quadruped must have thought demanded
-explanation.
-
-Changed indeed was such a scene from those daily witnessed when Father
-Felician,
-
-    “Priest and pedagogue both in the village,”
-
-ruled over his peaceful congregation at the mouth of the Gaspereau.
-
-It has been said in the beginning of this article that Evangeline, the
-heroine and central figure of the poem, is not altogether true to history
-as typical of the Acadian girl of that period, as seen in the annals of
-Port Royal; and doubtless this assertion can be borne out by the records.
-But, on second thoughts, it does appear, as it were, a profanation to
-subject such a bright creation of the poet’s mind to the analysis of
-history. As profitably might we set about converting the diamond into
-its original carbon. The magical chemistry of genius, as of nature, has
-in either case fused the dull and common atoms into the sparkling and
-priceless jewel.
-
-The stoutest champion of her sex will not, upon consideration, contend
-that so absolutely perfect a creature as Evangeline is likely to be found
-in any possible phase of society. Is not a spice of coquetry inseparable
-from all women? Evangeline has none of it. She is, too, too unconscious
-that her lover
-
-    “Watches for the gleam of her lamp and her shadow”
-
-under the trees in the orchard. She is the heroine of an idyl--not,
-indeed, of unreal Arthurian romance, but of that exalted and passionless
-love which the virgin heart seeks, but afterwards consoles itself for not
-finding. That ideal star does not shine upon this world; but its divine
-rays fall softly upon many an unknown heart in the cloister.
-
-But it is incontestable that the Acadian maidens of Port Royal and Mines
-shared in some of the agreeable frivolities which still, it is said,
-sometimes distinguish their sisters in the world. They had an eye for a
-military uniform and clanking spurs even in those “primeval” days. It
-is a frequent complaint of the French governors to the home authorities
-at Paris that their young officers were being continually led into
-marriage with girls of the country “without birth,” and, worse still,
-often “without money.” In the old parish register of Annapolis can be
-seen more than one entry of the union of a gallant ensign or captain to
-a village belle from the inland settlements whose visit to the Acadian
-metropolis had subjugated the Gallic son of Mars. Nor was the goddess of
-fashion altogether without a shrine in close contiguity to the “murmuring
-pines and the hemlocks.” Some of the naval and military officers sent for
-their wives from Paris or Quebec, and these fine ladies brought their
-maids with them. This is not a supposition, but a fact which can be
-verified by reference to the letters of M. des Goutins and others in the
-correspondence of the time. Imagine a Parisian soubrette of the XVIIIth
-century in the village of Grand Pré! It is a shock to those who derive
-their knowledge of Acadie from Mr. Longfellow’s poem; but those who
-are familiar with the voluminous records of the day, preserved in the
-provincial archives, are aware of a good many stranger things than that
-related in them. Since _Evangeline_ was published the Canadian and Nova
-Scotian governments have done much to collect and edit their records, and
-they are now accessible to the student. Rightly understood, there is no
-reason why the flood of light thus thrown upon the lives of the Acadians
-should detract anything from our admiration for that simple and kindly
-race. They were not faultless; but the very fact that they shared in the
-common interests, and even foibles, of the rest of the world gives that
-tone of reality to their history which makes us sympathize with them more
-justly in the cruel fate that overtook them. Yet, in depicting the young
-Acadian girl of that period as he has done, the poet has but idealized
-the truth. The march of the history of her people aids him in making the
-portrait a faithful one. Had he placed the time a little earlier--that is
-to say, under the French-Acadian _régime_--and his heroine at Annapolis,
-his poem could not have borne the criticism of later research. But in
-selecting the most dramatic incident of Acadian history as the central
-point of interest, he has necessarily shifted the scene to one of the
-Neutral French settlements. Here, too, he is aided in maintaining the
-truthfulness of his portraiture by the fact that the English conquest,
-in depriving the Acadians of the right of political action, and cutting
-them off as much as possible from intercourse with Canada and France,
-had thrown them back upon rural occupations alone, and developed their
-simple virtues. Mines and Chignecto had been noted for their rustic
-independence and their manners uncorrupted by contact with the world,
-even under the old _régime_. One of the military governors of Port Royal
-complains of them as “semi-republicans” in a letter to the Minister of
-Marine and Colonies at Paris. After the conquest of 1710, intercourse
-with Annapolis and its English Government House and foreign garrison
-became even more restricted. No oath of allegiance being taken to the
-new government, the _curé_ was recognized both by the inhabitants and
-the Annapolis government as their virtual ruler. Under the mild sway
-of Fathers Felix, Godalie, and Miniac--in turn _curés_ of Mines--the
-Acadians sought to forget in the cultivation of their fields the stern
-military surveillance of Annapolis, and, later, Fort Edwards and Fort
-Lawrence. Father Miniac comes latest in time, and shared the misfortunes
-of his flock in their expulsion. But in Father Godalie, the accomplished
-scholar and long-loved friend of the people of Grand Pré, we seem best
-to recognize the “Father Felician” of Mr. Longfellow’s poem. He was a
-guide well fitted to form the lovely character of Evangeline; nor do the
-authentic records of the time bear less ample testimony to the virtue of
-his people than the glowing imagination of the poet.
-
-It is less in the delineation of individual character than in its
-description of the undisturbed peace reigning at Grand Pré that the poem
-departs most from the truth of history. The expulsion of 1755 was not a
-thunderbolt in a clear sky descending upon a garden of Eden. It was a
-doom known to be hanging over them for forty years. Its shadow, more
-or less threatening for two generations, was present in every Acadian
-household, disabling industry and driving the young men into service or
-correspondence with their French compatriots. Space would not permit, in
-so short a paper, to enter into the history of that desperate struggle
-for supremacy on this continent ending on the heights of Abraham,
-isolated chapters of which have been narrated with a graphic pen by Mr.
-Francis Parkman. Acadie was one of its chosen battlegrounds. So far
-from the Acadians living in rural peace and content, it may be said
-broadly yet accurately that from the date of their first settlement to
-their final expulsion from the country, during a period extending over
-one hundred and fifty years, five years had never passed consecutively
-without hostilities, open or threatened. The province changed masters,
-or was wholly or partially conquered, seven times in a little over one
-hundred years, and the final English conquest, so far from establishing
-peace, left the Acadians in a worse position than before. They refused
-to take the oath of allegiance to the English government; the French
-government was not able to protect them, though it used them to harass
-the English.
-
-They acquired, therefore, by a sort of tacit understanding, the title
-and position of the “Neutral French,” the English government simply
-waiting from year to year until it felt itself strong enough to remove
-them _en masse_ from the province, and the Acadians yearly expecting
-succor from Quebec or Louisburg. Each party regarded the other as aliens
-and enemies. Hence it is that no French-Acadian would ever have used the
-words “his majesty’s mandate”--applied to George II.--as spoken by Basil
-the blacksmith in the poem. That single expression conveys a radically
-false impression of the feelings of the people at the time. The church at
-Mines, or Grand Pré, from the belfry of which
-
-    “Softly the Angelus sounded,”
-
-had been burned down twice by the English and its altar vessels stolen by
-Col. Church in the old wars. Nor had permanent conquest, as we have said,
-brought any change for the better. The _curés_ were frequently imprisoned
-on pretext of exciting attacks on the English garrisons, and sometimes,
-as in the case of Father Felix and Father Charlemagne, were exiled from
-the province. In 1714 the intention was first announced of transporting
-all the Acadians from their homes. It was proposed to remove them to Cape
-Breton, still held by the French. The pathetic remonstrance of Father
-Felix Palm, the _curé_ of Grand Pré, in a letter and petition to the
-governor, averted this great calamity from his people at that time. But
-the project was again revived by the English Board of Trade, 1720-30. In
-pursuance of its orders, Gov. Philipps issued a proclamation commanding
-the people of Mines to come in and take the oath of allegiance by a
-certain day, or to depart forthwith out of the province, permitting, at
-the same time--a stretch of generosity which will hardly be appreciated
-at this day--each family to carry away with it “two sheep,” but all the
-rest of their property to be confiscated. This storm also blew over. But
-the result of this continual harassment and threatening was to drive the
-Acadians into closer correspondence with the French at Louisburg, and
-to cause their young men to enlist in the French-Canadian forces on the
-frontier. In view of this aid and comfort given to the enemy, and their
-persistent refusal to take the oath of allegiance, later English writers
-have not hesitated to declare the removal of the Acadians from the
-province a political and military necessity. But the otherwise unanimous
-voice of humanity has unequivocally denounced their wholesale deportation
-as one of the most cruel and tyrannical acts in the colonial history of
-England. We are not to suppose, however, that the Acadians folded their
-hands while utter ruin was thus threatening them. In 1747 they joined
-in the attack on Col. Noble’s force at Mines, in which one hundred
-of the English were killed and wounded, and the rest of his command
-made prisoners. They were accused, not without some show of reason, of
-supporting the Indians in their attack on the new settlement at Halifax.
-It is admitted that three hundred of them, including many of the young
-men from Grand Pré, were among the prisoners taken at Fort Beau Sejour
-on the border a few months before their expulsion. It is not our purpose
-to enter into any defence or condemnation of those hostilities. But it
-is plain that Mr. Longfellow’s beautiful lines describing the columns of
-pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense, ascending
-
-    “From a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment,”
-
-“free from fear, that reigns with the tyrant, or envy, the vice of
-republics,” were not applicable to the condition of affairs at Grand Pré
-in 1755, nor at any time.
-
-The poem follows with fidelity the outlines of the scenes of the
-expulsion. Heart-rending indeed is the scene, as described even by those
-who were agents in its execution. The poet gives almost _verbatim_ the
-address of Col. John Winslow in the chapel. Nevertheless one important
-clause is omitted. Barbarous as were the orders of Gov. Lawrence, he
-was not absolutely devoid of humanity. Some attempt was made to lessen
-the pangs of separation from their country by the issuing of orders
-to the military commanders that “whole families should go together on
-the same transport.” These orders were communicated with the others to
-the inhabitants by Col. Winslow, and it appears, they were faithfully
-executed as far as the haste of embarkation would permit. But as the
-young men marched separately to the ships, and some of them escaped for
-a time into the woods, there was nothing to prevent such an incident
-occurring as the separation of Evangeline and Gabriel.
-
-About seven thousand (7,000) Acadians, according to Gov. Lawrence’s
-letter to Col. Winslow, were transported from their homes. The total
-number of these unfortunate people in the province at that time has
-been estimated at eighteen thousand. The destruction was more complete
-at Grand Pré than elsewhere, that being the oldest settlement, with the
-exception of Annapolis, and the most prosperous and thickly settled. A
-few years later another attempt was made to transfer the remainder of the
-Acadian population to New England; but the transports were not permitted
-to land them at Boston, as they were completely destitute, and the New
-England commonwealths petitioned against being made responsible for their
-support. The Acadian exiles were scattered over Pennsylvania, Virginia,
-and Georgia. About four hundred and fifty were landed at Philadelphia.
-
-    “In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware’s waters,
-    Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn, the apostle,
-    Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.
-    …
-    There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,
-    Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.”
-
-A few months ago I visited the Quaker City. There, where Evangeline ended
-her long pilgrimage, I took up the thread of that story the early scenes
-of which had been so familiar to me. How different those around me! Gone
-were the balsamic odors of the pines and the salt spray of the ocean.
-One can conceive how the hearts of the poor Acadian exiles must have
-trembled. I sought out the old “Swedish church at Wicaco,” whence the
-“sounds of psalms
-
-    “Across the meadows were wafted”
-
-on the Sabbath morning when Evangeline went on her way to the hospital,
-and there found her lover dying unknown. The quaint little church--not
-larger than a country school-house--built of red and black bricks brought
-from Sweden, is now almost lost in a corner near the river’s edge, in
-the midst of huge warehouses and intersecting railroad tracks. In the
-wall near the minister’s desk is a tablet in memory of the first pastor
-and his wife buried beneath. Fastened to the gallery of the choir--not
-much higher than one’s head--is the old Swedish Bible first used in
-the church, and over it two gilded wooden cherubs--also brought from
-Sweden--that make one smile at their comical features. In the churchyard,
-under the blue and faded gray tombstones, repose the men and women of
-the congregation of 1755 and years before. But no vestiges of the Acadian
-wanderers remain in the Catholic burying-ground.
-
-    “Side by side in their nameless graves the lovers are sleeping.
-    Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard,
-    In the heart of the city, they lie unknown and unnoticed.”
-
-Many of the Acadians succeeded in wandering back to their country. Others
-escaped into what is now called New Brunswick, which was then a part of
-Acadia, and either returned to Nova Scotia in after-years when the whole
-of Canada was finally ceded to the English, or founded settlements,
-existing to this day in New Brunswick, and returning their own members
-to the Provincial Parliaments. The descendants of the Acadians, still
-speaking the French language and retaining the manners of their
-forefathers, are more numerous than is generally supposed in Nova Scotia.
-They number thirty-two thousand out of a total population of three
-hundred and eighty-seven thousand (387,000), according to the census of
-1871. The poet says:
-
-    “Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic
-    Linger a few Acadian peasants.…
-    Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun,
-    And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline’s story.”
-
-This refers, no doubt, to the settlement at Chezzetcook, which, from its
-closeness to Halifax, is best known. On Saturday mornings, in the market
-at Halifax, the Acadian women can be seen standing with their baskets of
-eggs and woollen mitts and socks for sale. They are at once recognized by
-their short blue woollen outer petticoats or kirtles, and their little
-caps, with their black hair drawn tightly up from the forehead under
-them. The young girls are often very pretty. They have delicate features,
-an oval face, a clear olive complexion, and eyes dark and shy, like a
-fawn’s. They soon fade, and get a weather-beaten and hard expression from
-exposure to the climate on their long journeys on foot and from severe
-toil.
-
-But in Yarmouth County, and on the other side of the peninsula in
-the township of Clare, Digby County, there are much larger and more
-prosperous settlements. Clare is almost exclusively French-Acadian.
-The people generally send their own member to the provincial House
-of Assembly. He speaks French more fluently than English. The priest
-preaches in French. Here at this day is to be found the counterpart of
-the manners of Grand Pré. Virtue, peace, and happiness reign in more
-than “a hundred homes” under the old customs. Maidens as pure and sweet
-as Evangeline can be seen as of old walking down the road to the church
-on a Sunday morning with their “chaplet of beads and their missal.” But
-the modern dressmaker and milliner has made more headway than among the
-poor Chezzetcook people. Grand Pré itself, and most of the old Acadian
-settlements, are inhabited by a purely British race--descendants of the
-North of Ireland and New England settlers who received grants of the
-confiscated lands. By a singular turn of fortune’s wheel the descendants
-of another expatriated race--the American loyalists--now people a large
-part of the province once held by the exiled Acadians.
-
-
-THE PATIENT CHURCH.
-
-                Bide thou thy time!
-    Watch with meek eyes the race of pride and crime,
-    Sit in the gate, and be the heathen’s jest,
-                Smiling and self-possest.
-    O thou, to whom is pledged a victor’s sway,
-                Bide thou the victor’s day!
-
-                Think on the sin
-    That reap’d the unripe seed, and toil’d to win
-    Foul history-marks at Bethel and at Dan--
-                No blessing, but a ban;
-    Whilst the wise Shepherd hid his heaven-told fate,
-                Nor reck’d a tyrant’s hate.
-
-                Such loss is gain;
-    Wait the bright Advent that shall loose thy chain!
-    E’en now the shadows break, and gleams divine
-                Edge the dim, distant line.
-    When thrones are trembling, and earth’s fat ones quail,
-                True seed! thou shalt prevail.
-
-                                              --NEWMAN.
-
-
-SIR THOMAS MORE.
-
-_A HISTORICAL ROMANCE._
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.
-
-IV.
-
-William du Bellay having remained in France, M. de Vaux had been sent to
-replace him in England. The latter, having but recently returned from
-Rome, where he was attached to the embassy of M. de Grammont, French
-ambassador to that court, was not yet initiated into the state of affairs
-as they existed at the court of Henry VIII.
-
-Du Bellay was not satisfied with the change; and the old diplomate,
-finding his new assistant inclined to be somewhat dull, undertook to
-enlighten him--leading him on step by step into the intricacies of
-diplomacy, like a mother, or rather a governess, a little brusque, who is
-impatient at the slow progress the child makes in learning to walk.
-
-“Come!” he exclaimed, “I see you understand nothing of this; so I shall
-have to be patient and begin it all over again. It is incredible,” he
-added, by way of digression, addressing himself to the public (who was
-absent), “what absurd reports are circulated outside with regard to what
-we say and do in our secret negotiations! It extends even to all these
-harebrains of the court; but you who have a foot in diplomacy I cannot
-excuse. Come, let us see--we say:
-
-“When my brother left, he went to demand on the part of Henry VIII., of
-the universities of France, and above all that of Paris (preponderating
-over all the others)--remark well: to demand, I say--that they should
-give decisions favorable to the divorce. Now, this point appeared at
-first quite insignificant; but it is just here we have shown our ability
-(I would say I, but I do not wish to vaunt _myself_ over a young man
-just starting out in the world like yourself). Then our king has replied
-to the King of England that he would ask nothing better than to use his
-influence with the universities to induce them to give satisfaction on
-this subject; but that (notice this especially) the Emperor Charles V.
-had made precisely the same demand in an opposite direction, in favor of
-Queen Catherine, his aunt; that if he refused the emperor, he would be
-extremely displeased, and that he was compelled to reflect a second time,
-because the princes, his children, were held as hostages in the hands of
-the emperor, and in spite of all his efforts he had not yet been able to
-pay the price of their ransom stipulated at the treaty of Cambrai.
-
-“It then remained to say that we could do nothing for him--on the
-contrary, must oppose him so long as the children were held prisoners,
-or while there was even a chance that they would be restored to us
-on condition that we should throw our influence on the side of Queen
-Catherine. All of which is as clear as day--is it not? Now you are going
-to see if I have understood how to take advantage of these considerations
-with Henry VIII.”
-
-Saying this, with a slightly derisive smile, Du Bellay took from a drawer
-a casket of green sharkskin, which he handed to De Vaux, who opened it
-eagerly.
-
-“Oh! how beautiful,” he exclaimed, taking from the case and holding up in
-the sunlight a magnificent _fleur de lis_ composed entirely of diamonds.
-“Oh! this is most superb.”
-
-“Yes, it is beautiful!” replied Du Bellay with a satisfied air, “and
-worth one hundred and fifty thousand crowns. Philip, the emperor’s
-father, pledged it to the King of England for that sum. We are obliged
-by the treaty to redeem it; but as we have not the money to pay, it has
-been made a present to us. And here is what is better still,” he added,
-displaying a quittance--“a receipt in full for five hundred thousand
-crowns which the emperor owed Henry VIII.; and he now makes a present
-of it to Francis I., to enable him to pay immediately the two millions
-required for the ransom of the princes.”
-
-“That is admirable!” cried De Vaux. “It must be admitted, my lord, that
-we shall be under great obligations to Mlle. Anne.”
-
-“All disorders cost dear, my child,” replied Du Bellay; “and if this
-continues, they will ruin England. Think of what will have to be paid yet
-to the University of Paris!…”
-
-“And do you suppose they will consent to this demand?” interrupted De
-Vaux.
-
-“No, truly, I do not believe it,” replied Du Bellay. “Except Master
-Gervais, who is always found ready to do anything asked of him, I know
-not how they will decide; but, between ourselves, I tell you I believe
-they will be against it. But, observe, we have not promised a favorable
-decision--we have only left it to be hoped for; which is quite a
-different thing.”
-
-“That is very adroit,” replied De Vaux, “assuredly; but it seems to me
-not very honest.”
-
-“How! not honest?” murmured Du Bellay, contracting his little gray
-eyebrows, and fixing his greenish eyes on the fair face of the youth.
-“Not honest!” he again exclaimed in a stentorian voice. “Where do you
-come from, then, young man? Know that among these people honesty is
-a thing unheard of. Others less candid than myself may tell you the
-contrary, knowing very well that such is not the truth. They arrange
-projects with the intention of defeating them; they sign treaties with
-the studied purpose of violating them; they swear to keep the peace in
-order to prepare for war; and a state sells her authority and puts her
-influence in the balance of the world in favor of the highest bidder.
-Let the price be earth or metal, it is of no consequence; I make no
-distinction. When Henry devastated our territories and took possession
-of our provinces, was it just? No! ‘Might makes right’; that is the
-veritable law of nations--the only one they are willing to acknowledge or
-adopt. In default of strength, there remains stratagem; and I must use
-it!”
-
-“Under existing circumstances you are right,” replied De Vaux, replacing
-in its case the superb _fleur de lis_, and again waving it in the
-sunlight. “It is a pity,” he added, “that they may be obliged to return
-this; it would set off wonderfully well the wedding dress of the future
-Duchess of Orleans.”
-
-“What! are they speaking already of the marriage of the young Duke of
-Orleans?” asked Du Bellay in surprise.
-
-“Ah! that is a great secret,” replied De Vaux confidentially. “You know
-our king has not abandoned the idea of subjugating the Milanese, and, to
-ensure the pope’s friendship, he offers to marry his second son to his
-niece, the young Catherine de’ Medici.”
-
-“No!” cried M. du Bellay. “No, it is impossible! How can they forget that
-but a short time since the Medici family was composed of only the simple
-merchants of Florence?”
-
-“It has all been arranged, notwithstanding,” replied De Vaux. “In spite
-of all our precautions, the emperor has been apprised of it. At first
-he refused to credit it, and would not believe the King of France could
-really think of allying his noble blood with that of the Medici. In the
-meantime he has been so much frightened, lest the hope of this alliance
-would not sufficiently dazzle Clement VIII., that he has made a proposal
-to break off the marriage of his niece, the Princess of Denmark, with
-the Duke of Milan, and substitute the young Catherine in her place. We
-have, as you may well suppose, promptly advised M. de Montmorency of
-all these things, who returned us, on the spot, full power to sign the
-articles. M. de Grammont immediately carried them to the pope; and he was
-greatly delighted, as Austria, it seems, had already got ahead of us,
-and persuaded him that we had no other intention than to deceive him and
-gain time. Now everything is harmoniously arranged. They promise for the
-marriage portion of Catherine Reggio, Pisa, Leghorn, Modena, Ribera, the
-Duchy of Urbino; and Francis I. cedes to his son his claims to the Duchy
-of Milan.”
-
-“Sad compensation for a bad marriage!” replied M. du Bellay angrily:
-“new complications which will only result in bringing about interminable
-disputes! Princes can never learn to be contented with the territory
-already belonging to them. Although they may not possess sufficient
-ability to govern even _that_ well, still they are always trying to
-extend it. War must waste and ruin a happy and flourishing country, in
-order to put them in possession of a few feet of desolated earth, all
-sprinkled with gold and watered with blood.”
-
-“Ah! yes,” interrupted De Vaux earnestly, “we have learned this cruelly
-and to our cost. And relentless history will record without regret the
-account of our reverses, and the captivity of a king so valiant and
-dauntless--a king who has sacrificed everything save his honor.”
-
-“Reflect, my dear, on all this. The honor of a king consists not in
-sacrificing the happiness of his people. A soldier should be brave--the
-head of a nation should be wise and prudent,” replied Du Bellay, as he
-turned over a great file of papers in search of something, “Valor without
-prudence is worthless. The intrigues of the cabinet are more certain;
-they are of more value than the best generals. They, at least, are never
-entirely defeated; the disaster of the evening inspires renewed strength
-for the morrow. Cold, hunger, and sickness are not able to destroy
-them.… They can only waste a few words or lose a sum of money. A dozen
-well-chosen spies spread their toils in every direction; we hold them
-like bundles of straw in our hands; they glide in the dark, slip through
-your fingers--an army that cannot be captured, which exists not and yet
-never dies; which drags to the tribunal of those who pay them, without
-pity as without discrimination, without violence as without hesitation,
-the hearts of all mankind.
-
-“Gold, my child, but never blood! With bread we can move the world; with
-blood we destroy it. Your heart, young man, leaps within you at the sound
-of the shrill trumpet, when glittering banners wave and the noise of
-battle inebriates your soul. But look behind you, child, look behind you:
-the squadron has passed. Hear the shrieks and groans of the dying. Behold
-those men dragging themselves over the trampled field; their heads gashed
-and bleeding, their bones dislocated, their limbs torn; streams of blood
-flow from their wounds; they die in an ocean furnished from their own
-lacerated veins. Go there to the field of carnage and death; pause beside
-that man with pallid face and agonized expression; think of the tender
-care and painful anxiety of the mother who reared him from his cradle.
-How often she has pressed her lips upon the golden curls of her boy, the
-hope of her old age, which must now end in despair! Reflect there, upon
-the field of carnage and death, on the tender caresses of wives, sisters,
-and friends. Imagine the brother’s grief, the deep anguish of the father.
-Alas! all these recollections pass in an instant before the half-open
-eyes of the dying. Farewell! dream of glory, hateful vision now for ever
-vanished. Life is almost extinct, yet with the latest breath he thinks
-but of them! ‘They will see me no more! I must die far away, without
-being able to bid them a last adieu.’ Such are the bitter thoughts
-murmured by his dying lips as the last sigh is breathed forth. Tell me,
-young man, have you never reflected when, on the field glittering in the
-bright summer sunshine, you have seen the heavy, well-drilled battalions
-advance; when the prince rode in the midst of them, and they saluted him
-with shouts of enthusiasm and love; when that prince, a weak man like
-themselves, elated with pride, said to them: ‘March on to death; it is
-for me that you go!’ For you! And who are you? Their executioner, who
-throws their ashes to the wind of your ambition, to satisfy the thirst
-of your covetousness, the insolent pride of your name, which the century
-will see buried in oblivion! Ah! my son,” continued the old diplomate,
-deeply affected, with his hands crossed on the packet of papers, that he
-had entirely forgotten, “if you knew how much I have seen in my life of
-these horrible calamities, of these monstrous follies, which devastate
-the world! If you but knew how my heart has groaned within me, concealed
-beneath my gloomy visage, my exterior as impassible as my garments, you
-would understand how I hate them, these mighty conquerors, these vile
-plagues of the earth, and how I count as nothing the sack of gold which
-lies at the bottom of the precipice over which they push us, the adroit
-fraud that turns them aside from their course! But shall I weep like
-an old woman?” he suddenly exclaimed, vexed at being betrayed into the
-expression of so much emotion.
-
-Hastily brushing the tear from his cheek, he began examining the package
-of papers, and, instantly recovering his usual composure, became M. du
-Bellay, the diplomate.
-
-Young De Vaux, greatly surprised at the excess of feeling into which
-the ambassador had suddenly been betrayed, so much at variance with his
-previous manner, as well as his rule of conduct and the rather brusque
-reception he had given him, still remembered it when all thought of the
-occurrence had passed from the mind of his superior.
-
-“Here, sir, read that,” he exclaimed, throwing the young man a small
-scrap of paper.
-
-“I will read it, my lord.”
-
-“Read aloud, sir.”
-
-“‘Cardinal Wolsey, overcome by grief and alarm, has fallen dangerously
-ill. The king has been informed of it; he has ordered three physicians
-to Asher, and obliged Lady Anne to send him the golden tablets in token
-of his reconciliation. Furthermore, it is certainly true that the king
-has said: “I would not lose Wolsey for twenty thousand pounds.” It is
-unnecessary to impress upon my lord the importance of this event. My lord
-will, I hope, approve of the celerity with which I have despatched this
-information.’”
-
-“It is without signature!” said De Vaux.
-
-“I credit it entirely,” murmured Du Bellay.
-
-“By my faith, I am delighted! These golden tablets afford me extreme
-pleasure,” said De Vaux. “This will revive the hopes of poor Cardinal
-Wolsey.”
-
-“And that is all!… And you, content to know that he is happy, will remain
-quietly seated in your chair, I suppose,” said M. du Bellay, fixing his
-green eyes, lighted with a brilliant gleam, on young De Vaux. “Monsieur!”
-he continued, “it is not in this way a man attends to the business of
-his country. Since the day the cardinal was exiled, I have deliberated
-whether I should go to see him or not. My heart prompted me to do so, but
-it was not my heart I had to consult. I was persuaded the king would not
-be able to dispense with him, and sooner or later he would be recalled to
-the head of affairs. In that case I felt inclined to give him a proof of
-my attachment in his disgrace. But, on the other hand, that intriguing
-family who are constantly buzzing around the king induced me constantly
-to hesitate. Now I believe we have almost nothing more to fear; we will
-arrive there, perhaps, before the physicians, and later we shall know how
-to proceed.”
-
-“Most willingly!” cried De Vaux. “I shall be happy indeed to see this
-celebrated man, of whom I have heard so many different opinions.”
-
-“Doubtless,” interrupted Du Bellay impatiently, “pronounced by what
-is styled ‘public opinion’--a tribunal composed of the ignorant, the
-deluded, and short-sighted, who always clamor louder than others, and
-who take great care, in order to avoid compromising their stupidity, to
-prefix the ominous ‘they say’ to all their statements. As for me, I say
-they invariably display more hatred toward the virtues they envy than the
-vices they pretend to despise; and they will judge a man more severely
-and criticise him more harshly for the good he has tried to do than for
-what he may have left undone.… Gossiping, prying crowd, pronouncing
-judgment and knowing nothing, who will cast popularity like a vile mantle
-over the shoulders of any man who will basely stoop low enough before
-them to receive it! He who endeavors to please all pleases none,” added
-M. du Bellay, with a singularly scornful expression. “To live for his
-king, and above all for his country, despising the blame or hatred of
-the vulgar, should be the motto of every public man; and God grant I may
-never cease to remember it!”
-
-“You believe, then, the cardinal will be restored to the head of
-affairs?” asked De Vaux, running his fingers through his blonde curls,
-and rising to depart.
-
-“I am not sure of it yet,” replied Du Bellay; “we are going to find
-out. If the crowd surrounds him, as eager to pay him homage to-day as
-they were yesterday to overwhelm him with scorn and contempt; if, in a
-word, the courtiers sigh and groan around his bed, and pretend to feel
-the deepest concern, it will be a most certain indication of his return
-to favor. And, to speak frankly, I believe the king already begins to
-discover that no one can replace the cardinal near his person as private
-secretary; for that poor Gardiner copies a despatch with more difficulty
-than his predecessor dictated one.”
-
-M. du Bellay arose and started, followed by De Vaux, to the bank of the
-Thames, where they entered a large boat already filled with passengers
-awaiting the moment of departure to ascend the river either to Chelsea,
-Battersea, or as far as Pultney, where the boat stopped. Bales of
-merchandise were piled up in the centre, on which were seated a number
-of substantial citizens conversing together with their hands in their
-pockets, and wearing the self-sufficient air of men the extent of whose
-purse and credit were well understood.
-
-They fixed, at first, a scrutinizing glance on the new arrivals, and
-then resumed their conversation.
-
-“Come, come, let us be off now!” exclaimed a young man, balancing himself
-on one foot. “Here is half an hour lost, and I declare I must be at
-Chelsea to dinner.”
-
-“Indeed, it is already an hour. Look here! This cockswain doesn’t
-resemble our parliament at all; _that_ does everything it is told to do!”
-he added, as he sauntered into the midst of the crowd.
-
-“Hold your tongue, William,” immediately replied one of them; “you don’t
-recollect any more, I suppose, the assembly at Bridewell, where the king,
-knowing we condemned his course in the divorce affair, after having
-seized all the arms in the city, told us himself there was no head so
-high but he would make it fall if it attempted to resist him.”
-
-“What shameful tyranny!” replied another, rolling a bundle under
-his foot. “I cannot think of it without my blood boiling. Are these
-Englishmen he treats in this manner?”
-
-“And that wicked cardinal,” continued his neighbor in a loud, shrill
-voice--“he was standing by the king, and looking at us with his
-threatening eyes. He has been the cause of all the troubles we have had
-with this affair. But we are rid of him, at last.”
-
-“We are rid of him, did you say?” interrupted a man about fifty or sixty
-years of age, who appeared to be naturally phlegmatic and thoughtful.
-“You are very well contented, it seems to me; … but it is because you
-only think of the present, and give yourself no concern whatever about
-the future. Ah! well, in a few days we will see if you are as well
-satisfied.”
-
-“And why not then?” they all exclaimed in the same voice.
-
-“Because, I tell you, because …”
-
-“Explain yourself more clearly, Master Wrilliot,” continued young
-William. “You always know what’s going to happen better than anybody
-else.”
-
-“Ah! yes, I know it only too well, in fact, my young friend,” he replied,
-shaking his head ominously; “and we will very soon learn to our sorrow
-that if the favor of the cardinal costs us dear, his disgrace will cost
-us still more. Parliament is going to remit all the king’s debts.”
-
-“What! all of his debts? But Parliament has no right to do this!” they
-all exclaimed.
-
-“No; but it will take the right!” replied Master Wrilliot. “William will
-lose half of his wife’s marriage portion, which, if I mistake not, his
-father gave him in royal trust; and I shall lose fifteen thousand crowns
-for which I was foolish enough to accept the deed of conveyance.”
-
-“Ah! ah! that will be too unjust; it ought not to be,” they all repeated.
-
-“Yes,” continued this far-seeing interlocutor, shaking his head
-contemptuously, “the king has no money to pay us. War has drained his
-private treasury, but he nevertheless draws from it abundant means to
-ransom French princes, who make him believe they will marry him to that
-lady Boleyn; and if you do not believe me, go ask these Frenchmen who are
-here present,” he added, raising his voice, and casting on MM. du Bellay
-and de Vaux a glance of cold, disdainful wrath.
-
-M. du Bellay had lost nothing of the conversation; it was held too near
-him, and was too openly hostile for him to feign not to remark it.
-Finding himself recognized, and neither being able to reply to a positive
-interrogation nor to keep silence, he measured in his turn, very coolly,
-and without permitting the least indication of emotion or anger to
-appear, the face and form of his adversary.
-
-“Sir;” he exclaimed, regarding him steadily, “who are you, and by what
-right do you call me to account? If it is your curiosity that impels you,
-it will not be gratified; if, on the contrary, you dare seek to insult
-me, you should know I will not suffer it. Answer me!”
-
-“The best you can make of it will be worth nothing,” replied, with
-a loud burst of laughter, a Genoese merchant who did not recognize
-the ambassador, as he sat by the men who directed the boat. “Forget
-your quarrel, gentlemen, and, instead of disputing, come look at this
-beautiful vessel we are just going to pass. See, she is getting ready
-to sail. A fine ship-load!--a set of adventurers who go to try their
-fortunes in the new world discovered by one of my countrymen,” he added
-with an air of intense satisfaction.
-
-“Poor Columbus!” replied one of the citizens, “he experienced throughout
-his life that glory does not give happiness, and envy and ingratitude
-united together to crush his genius. Do you not believe, if he could have
-foreseen the cruelties Hernando Cortez and Pizarro exercised toward the
-people whom he discovered, he would have preferred leaving the secret of
-their existence buried for ever in the bosom of the stormy sea that bore
-him to Europe, rather than to have announced there the success of his
-voyage?”
-
-“I believe it,” said Wrilliot, “his soul was so beautiful! He loved
-humanity.”
-
-“Christopher Columbus!” exclaimed young William, full of youthful
-enthusiasm and admiration for a man whose home was the ocean. “I cannot
-hear his name pronounced without emotion! I always imagine I see him
-in that old convent of Salamanca, before those learned professors and
-erudite monks assembled to listen to a project which in their opinion was
-as rash as it was foolish.
-
-“‘How do you suppose,’ said they, ‘that your vessel will ever reach the
-extremity of the Indies, since you pretend that the earth is round? You
-would never be able to return; for what amount of wind do you imagine it
-would require to enable your ship to remount the liquid mountain which
-it had so easily descended? And do you forget that no creature can live
-under the scorching atmosphere of the torrid zone?’
-
-“Columbus refuted their arguments; but these doctors still insisted,
-nor hesitated to openly demand of him how he could be so presumptuous
-as to believe, if the thing had been as he said, it could have remained
-undiscovered by so many illustrious men, born before him, and who had
-attained the highest degree of learning, while for him alone should have
-been reserved the development of this grand idea.”
-
-“And yet,” said Wrilliot, who had listened in silence, “it was permitted,
-some years later, that he should go down to the grave wearing the chains
-with which his persecutors had loaded him, in order to keep him away from
-the world that he alone had been able to discover!”
-
-“What perseverance! What obstacles he succeeded in overcoming!” replied
-one of those who had first spoken. “I shall always, while I live, recall
-with pleasure having been of service to his brother Bartholomew when he
-came to this country.”
-
-“What! he came here?” repeated William.
-
-“Yes, and was in my own house,” continued the citizen. “Christopher,
-finding the senate of Genoa and the King of Portugal refused equally
-to listen or furnish him with vessels necessary for the enterprise
-he had so long meditated, sent his brother to King Henry VII. He was
-unfortunately captured, in coming over, by some pirates, who kept him in
-slavery. Many years elapsed before he succeeded in escaping and reaching
-England, where he found himself reduced to such a state of destitution
-that he was obliged to design charts for a living, and to enable him to
-present himself in decent apparel at court. The king gave him a favorable
-reception, but Christopher, in the meantime, receiving no intelligence
-from his brother, solicited so earnestly the court of Spain that he
-obtained two small vessels from Isabella of Castile, and very soon after
-Europe learned of the existence of another hemisphere. Spain planted her
-standard there, and we thus lost the advantages which were destined for
-us.”
-
-“I do not regret it,” replied an old man sitting in the midst of the
-crowd, who had until that time maintained a profound silence. “Is it
-not better for a nation to be less rich and powerful than stained with
-so many crimes? It is now but thirty-eight years since Columbus founded
-the colony of San Domingo. This island then contained a million of
-inhabitants; to-day there scarcely remain forty thousand. But,” pursued
-the old man with a bitter smile, “they will not stop there. No; they will
-not confine their barbarous exploits to that miserable region. They are
-renewing in Peru the carnage they carried on in Mexico. It is necessary
-to have a great many places for a man to die--to pass a few moments, and
-then go and hide himself in the grave! I have already lived seventy-nine
-years, and yet it seems to me now that my left hand still rests on my
-cradle. I can scarcely believe that these white locks are scattered upon
-my head; for my life has sped like the fleeting dream of a single night
-that has passed. Yes, William,” continued the old man, “you look at me
-with astonishment, and your eyes, full of youthful fire, are fixed upon
-mine, in which the light has long been extinguished. Ah! well, you will
-very soon see it extinguished in your own, but not before you will have
-witnessed all their cruelties.”
-
-“That is bad,” replied William. “But these Indians are stupid and
-indolent beyond all parallel;[232] they will neither work nor pay the
-taxes imposed on them.”
-
-“And from whom do the Spaniards claim the right of reducing these people
-to a state of servitude,” exclaimed the old man indignantly, “and to
-treat them like beasts of burden whom they are privileged to exterminate
-with impunity, and carry off the gold their avarice covets, the dagger
-in one hand, the scourge in the other? They ensure them, they say, the
-happiness of knowing the Christian religion! How dare they presume to
-instruct these people in that Gospel of peace which commands us to love
-our neighbor as ourselves, to detach our hearts from the things of the
-world, and, leaving our offering before the altar, go and be reconciled
-with our enemy?”
-
-“From that point of view your argument would seem just,” replied William;
-“but the fact is, if the Spaniards did not force these islanders to work
-them, the mines would remain unproductive, the fields uncultivated, and
-the colonies would perish.”
-
-“You are mistaken,” replied the old man. “In acting as she does Spain
-destroys in her own womb the source from whence she would draw an immense
-revenue. If she had been satisfied to establish an honest and peaceable
-commerce with these countries, her industry, excited to the highest
-degree by the rich commodities of exchange, would have conferred an
-incalculable benefit on an entire people whom her blind cupidity has
-induced her to crush and destroy.
-
-“Do you suppose these isolated negroes they buy at such enormous prices
-will ever be able to replace the native inhabitants who live and die in
-their own country? This strange and ferocious population will remain
-among the colonies, enemies always ready to revolt; a yoke of iron and
-blood will alone be sufficient to keep them in subjection. But let these
-masters tremble if ever the power falls into the hands of their slaves!”
-
-MM. du Bellay and de Vaux listened to this conversation in silence, and
-the diversion was at first agreeable; but they were soon convinced that
-they were suddenly becoming again the objects of general attention.
-
-“I tell you,” exclaimed one, “they are going to look for the cardinal and
-bring him back to court.”
-
-“Well!” replied another, “I would like to see M. du Bellay in the place
-of the legate Campeggio.”
-
-“Ah! and what have they done with him, then?” they all eagerly demanded.
-
-“He was arrested at Dover, where he had gone to embark. He was
-dreadfully alarmed, believing they came to assassinate him. His baggage
-was searched, in order to find Wolsey’s treasures, with which he was
-entrusted, they said, for safe keeping.”
-
-“And did they find them?” asked the Genoese merchant, eagerly leaning
-forward at the sound of the word treasure.
-
-“It seems they did not find them,” was the reply.
-
-“Hear what they say!” whispered young De Vaux in the ear of M. du Bellay.
-
-“I presume they were in search of the legal documents, but they were too
-late. They have long ago arrived in Italy. Campeggio was careful enough
-to send them secretly by his _son_ Rudolph.[233] I often saw this young
-man in Rome, and heard him say his father had entrusted him with all his
-correspondence and despatches,[234] as he was not certain what fate Henry
-had in store for him.”
-
-“You say,” replied young William, elevating his voice in order that M. du
-Bellay might hear him, “that the king has sent the Earl of Wiltshire to
-Rome to solicit his divorce. He had better make all these strangers leave
-who come into our country only to sow discord, and then gather the fruits
-of their villany.”
-
-This speech, although spoken indirectly, was evidently intended for
-the two Frenchmen; but the Genoese merchant, always inclined to be
-suspicious, immediately applied it to himself.
-
-“Master William,” he exclaimed, reddening with anger, “have you forgotten
-that for twenty years I have been a commercial friend of your father.
-And if he has made his fortune with our velvets and silks, to whom does
-he owe it, if not to those who, by their honesty and promptness in
-fulfilling their engagements, were the first cause of his success? Now,
-because you are able to live without work, you take on this insulting
-manner--very insulting indeed. However, I give you to understand that,
-if it suited me to do it, I could make as great a display of luxury
-and wealth as yourself, and can count on my dresser as many dishes and
-flagons of silver as you have; and if it suited me to remain at home,
-there is no necessity for me to travel any more on business.”
-
-The merchant continued to boast of his fortune, and William began to
-explain that his remarks were by no means intended for him, when the
-passengers began to cry out: “Land! land! Here is Chelsea; we land at
-Chelsea.”
-
-The rowers halted immediately, and the little boats sent from the shore
-came to take off the passengers who wished to land.
-
-Almost all of them went; none remaining on the boat except the
-ambassador, the Genoese merchant, and two citizens whose retiring and
-prudent character could be read in the quiet, thoughtful expression of
-their faces. They gazed for a long time on the surrounding country; at
-last one of them hazarded the question:
-
-“Do you know who owns that white house with the terraced garden extending
-down to the bank of the Thames?”
-
-“That is the residence of Sir Thomas More, the new chancellor,” replied
-his companion methodically.
-
-“Ah! it does not make much show. Do you know this new chancellor?”
-
-“By my faith, no! However, I saw him the other day on the square at
-Westminster, as I was passing; the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk were
-conducting him with great ceremony to the Star Chamber (at least that
-is what they told me). I stopped to look at him. There was an immense
-crowd filling all the square. In crossing it the Duke of Norfolk stopped,
-and, turning to the crowd before him, said the king had instructed him
-to publicly proclaim what great and important services Sir Thomas had
-rendered him in every position he had confided to his care, and it was
-on that account he esteemed him so highly, and had appointed him now to
-the highest position in the kingdom because of his virtues and the rare
-talents he possessed. Everybody listened and said nothing (because you
-know the last is always the best).” The citizen said this in a very low
-tone.
-
-“More replied very well,” he continued. “He said that, while deeply
-grateful for his majesty’s goodness and favors, he felt no less deeply
-convinced that the king had rewarded him far beyond his merits; in all
-he had accomplished he had but done his duty, and he greatly feared now
-that he might not possess the ability necessary for acquitting himself of
-the duties of so high and important an office. And--a very singular thing
-(for they do not usually speak of their predecessors)--he declared that
-he could not rejoice in the honor conferred on him, as it recalled the
-name of the wise and honorable prelate whom he had superseded. On hearing
-that I supposed they would hiss; but not at all. He said everything so
-well, with so much sincerity, dignity, and firmness, that they applauded
-him with an indescribable enthusiasm. It seemed those who knew him were
-never satisfied with praising him. Nobody, they said, rendered justice so
-scrupulously as he; none were so wise, so disinterested; in fact, they
-never ended the recital of his perfections.”
-
-“Ah!” said the other, in a voice scarcely audible, while he looked round
-to discover if any one could hear him, “we will see later if he performs
-all these wonderful things, and if any one will be able to get near him
-without paying even his doorkeeper, as was the case with the other.”
-
-“Yes, we will see,” replied his companion. “None of these great lords are
-worth much--any amount of _promises_; but of _deeds_--nothing!”
-
-“But this is not a great lord,” answered the citizen.
-
-“Ah! well, it is all the same; as soon as they rise, they grow proud,
-and despise and scorn the people. You may believe if ever I obtain a
-patent of nobility, and become still richer than I am now, I will crush
-them beautifully; there will not be one who will dare contradict me. By
-my faith! it is a great pity I had not been born a count or a baron;
-I should have been so well up to all their impertinences and want of
-feeling.”
-
-“It is not very difficult,” replied his companion; “you are, I think,
-sufficiently so now for the good of that poor youth who wants to marry
-your daughter. He will lose his senses, I am afraid, poor fellow.”
-
-“What did you say, neighbor?” replied the citizen, feeling the blood
-mount to his face. “Do you think I will give my daughter to a wretch who
-has not a cent in the world--I who have held in my family the right of
-citizenship from time immemorial? My grandmother also told me we have had
-two aldermen of our name. All that counts, you see, Master Allicot; and
-if you wish to remain my friend, I advise you not to meddle yourself with
-the tattle of my wife and daughter on the subject of that little wretch
-they are putting it into her head to marry; because, in truth, the mother
-is as bad as the daughter. Ah! neighbor, these women, these women are the
-plagues of our lives! Don’t say any more to me about it. They will run
-me distracted; but they will make nothing by it, I swear it, neighbor.
-The silly jades! to dare speak to me of such a match! Hush! don’t say any
-more to me about it, neighbor; for it will drive me mad!”
-
-The neighbor _did_ reply, however, because he had been commissioned to
-use his influence in softening the husband and father in favor of a young
-mechanic full of life and health, who had no other fault than that of
-belonging to a class less elevated than that of the proud citizen who
-rejected his humble supplications with scorn.
-
-But the _dénouement_ of this embassy, and the termination of this
-romance of the warehouse, have been for ever lost to history; for M. du
-Bellay, seeing they were almost in sight of Asher, made them land him,
-and the two honorable citizens doubtless continued their journey and
-their conversation.
-
-At Asher M. du Bellay found everything just as he expected. The
-physicians surrounded Wolsey’s bed, watching his slightest movement.
-The golden tablets of young Anne Boleyn were thrown open upon the
-coarse woollen bedspread that covered the sick man. Cromwell walked the
-floor with folded arms. He approached the bed from time to time, looked
-at Wolsey, whose closed eyes and labored breathing betokened nothing
-favorable, then at the golden tablets, then at the physicians around
-him. He seemed to say, “Is he going to die, and just when he might be so
-useful to me?”
-
-On seeing M. du Bellay enter, his countenance lighted up; he ran on
-before him, and endeavored to arouse Wolsey from his stupor.
-
-“My lord, the ambassador of France!” he cried in the ear of the dying man.
-
-But he received no reply.
-
-“It is singular,” said the doctors, “nothing can arouse him.” And they
-looked gravely at each other.
-
-“He will not die! I tell you he will not die!” replied Cromwell, evincing
-the most impatient anxiety.
-
-He approached the cardinal and shook his head.
-
-“Crom--well,” murmured the sick man.
-
-“Monsieur du Bellay!” shouted Cromwell a second time.
-
-Wolsey’s eyes remained closed.
-
-“Let him alone,” cried the physicians; “he must not be excited.”
-
-“So I think,” said M. du Bellay. “You can tell him I have been here,”
-continued the ambassador, turning towards Cromwell, “but did not wish to
-disturb him.”
-
-M. du Bellay then took his leave, and returned by the land route to
-London. He encountered, not far from Asher, a party of the cardinal’s old
-domestics, whom the king had sent to carry him several wagon-loads of
-furniture and other effects. At the head of this convoy rode Cavendish,
-one of the cardinal’s most faithful servants.
-
-Seeing M. du Bellay, they collected around him, and hastily inquired
-about their master.
-
-Du Bellay advised them to quicken their speed, and, taking leave, went
-on his way, thinking that the cardinal would not be restored to favor,
-and already arranging in his mind another course in which to direct his
-diplomatic steps for the future.
-
-He was not mistaken: Wolsey escaped death, but only to find himself
-surrounded by misery and abandoned to despair.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-PRIMITIVE CIVILIZATION.[235]
-
-If our modern men of science would not travel out of their sphere,
-there would be no war between them and the church. In the name of the
-Catholic religion we invite them to push onward in the path of scientific
-discovery with the utmost energy and ardor of which they are capable.
-But if their discoveries are to have any bearing on the truths of the
-Christian revelation, we can accept nothing less than demonstration, and
-they must not credit science, as does Mr. Tyndall, with mere theories
-of speculative philosophy. With this reservation, we wish their labors
-all possible success. But if poor fallible reason--whose discoveries,
-after whole millenniums of toil, are little better than a record of the
-blunders of one generation corrected by the blunders of another; and,
-even on the supposition that they are all correct, are, by comparison
-with what is unknown, as a drop of water compared with the limitless
-ocean--ventures to deny the existence of the soul because it has no
-lens powerful enough to bring it within the cognizance of the senses,
-its conclusion is no longer scientific. The doctor has become a quack,
-the philosopher a fool. If the torch which the Creator has placed at
-the service of his creature, to help him to grope his way amidst the
-objects of sense, and to illuminate his faith, is to be flung in his
-face because it does not reveal the whole infinitude of the majesty of
-his beauty, we can only compassionate so childish a misuse of a noble
-gift. If natural philosophy is to rob the sensible creation of a motive
-and end, and to proclaim it to be merely the result of an unintelligent
-atomic attraction and evolution of forces, a more intelligent and a
-more logical philosophy, in harmony with the unquenchable instinct of
-immortality within the human soul, casts from it such pitiful trifling
-with indignation and a holy disdain. If, in short, the science of nature
-would dethrone nature’s Creator and God, we address to it the word which
-He to whom all true science leads addressed to the ocean he placed in the
-deep hollows of the earth: “Hitherto thou shalt come, and thou shalt go
-no farther: and here thou shalt break thy swelling waves.”
-
-Physical science cannot contradict the divine revelation. No discovery
-hitherto made has done so; and until one such presents itself we are
-entitled to assume its impossibility as a philosophical axiom. For this
-reason we are of those who would give full rein to even the speculations
-of experimental philosophy, so long as they are confined strictly within
-the domain of secondary causes or natural law, and do not venture into a
-sphere of thought beyond the reach of experimental science, where they
-are immediately confronted with the dogmas of the faith.
-
-We have never thought that the theory of the evolution of species
-must of necessity transgress that limit. It has been made to do so by
-_philosophuli_, if we may invent a name for them--speculative bigots,
-who are bent on extorting from natural phenomena any plausible support
-of the infidel prejudices of which they were previously possessed. A
-more intelligent observation of scientific facts would have saved them
-from a ridiculous extravagance which makes them resemble those afflicted
-creatures, whom we so often meet with in asylums for the insane, who
-suppose themselves to be God.
-
-We must never lose sight of the fact that God can only communicate with
-his creature in such a way as he can understand. If he were to reveal
-himself to any of us as he is, we should die, unless he supplied us with
-a miraculous capacity for supporting the vision. If he had inspired the
-historian of those primitive ages to describe the astronomical phenomenon
-which happened in the time of Joshua in the exact language of physical
-science, what meaning would it have conveyed to people who did not
-know that the earth revolves around its own axis and around the sun?
-If it be objected, Why did not the Holy Spirit use language consistent
-with scientific truth, and leave it to be understood afterwards in the
-progress of science? we reply, Because it would have thwarted his own
-designs to have done so. The Bible is a book of instruction in truth out
-of the reach of human intelligence, not a book of natural science; and
-it appeals to the obedience of faith rather than to reason. The mental
-toil of scientific discovery was a part of the punishment inflicted on
-the original transgression. To anticipate the result of that toil by
-thousands of years would have been to contradict His own dispensation.
-
-In the same manner the sublime record of the genesis of the illimitable
-universe which weaves its dance of light in space is told in a few
-sentences: The fiat of Him with whom one day is as a thousand years,
-and a thousand years as one day, and the successive order of the
-creation--that is all. Time was not then, for it was the creation of
-time. Man can conceive no ideas independent of time, and so days are
-named; but it is evident that the word may stand for indeterminate
-periods of time. The creation of light was, it cannot be doubted,
-instantaneous. But that creation was a law--limitation, relation,
-succession--whose working was an evolution in successive orders or
-stages, over which presided the Creator, and still presides. “My Father
-worketh hitherto, and I work.” Each of these was a distinct creation,
-perfect in itself, not an evolution of species. The creation was
-progressive, but not in the sense of the creation of every one of its
-six cycles evolving out of the preceding one; for in that case either
-the lower would have disappeared or the evolution would be still in
-operation. The firmament did not develop out of light, nor the ocean
-and the dry land out of the firmament; nor were the fishes an evolution
-from the sea-weed, nor the birds from the trees and shrubs, nor the wild
-beasts from the reeds of the jungle, nor man from the lower animals. But
-they were all to be made before his creation who was the sum and end
-of all; and the atmosphere must be created before the birds, the ocean
-before the fishes, the dry land before vegetable life.
-
-And not only was there never any evolution of species into other species,
-but the creation of every separate species was complete, so that
-there has never been an evolution of any species into a higher state
-or condition. There has never been any progress in that sense. Every
-species, including the human being, remains precisely as it issued from
-the hand of God, when it has not degenerated or disappeared. Indeed,
-the tendency of all living things around us is to degeneracy and decay.
-Whatever progress can be predicated of man is of his moral nature only,
-and of his knowledge, through the divine revelation. But even that is not
-a race progress, an evolution of species, but an individual one. If this
-be conceded--and we think it scarcely admits of dispute--we see no danger
-to the dogmas of the faith in allowing to the natural philosophers any
-length of ages they may claim for the creation of the home of man before
-he was called into being for whom it was destined.
-
-Whatever period of time was covered by those cycles of creation,
-throughout them it may be said that he was being made. If all was for
-him and to end in him, it was in effect he who all along was being made.
-Yet the whole was only a preparatory creation. It was only his body in
-which all resulted. “A body thou hast prepared for me.” It was when “God
-breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” that man was created. It
-was then he became “a living soul.”
-
-The error of the physicists who reject revelation is threefold. They make
-the body the man; they thus assign to his body and the inner principle
-which animates it a simultaneous beginning and joint development, some
-of them going so far as to make the spirit itself, or soul, or whatever
-they call the animating principle, the spontaneous product of material
-forces. And, throwing back the beginning of the evolution process into
-untold ages, by comparison with which the life of an individual is a
-scarcely appreciable moment, they suppose the process to be still going
-on as it begun. All this obviously contradicts the direct statements of
-revelation. It is, indeed, shocking to mere human reason. The work of the
-natural creation ended with the sixth day. Up to that time, whether the
-periods were long or short, the work was going on. But it was complete
-when the body which had been prepared for him was animated with the
-spirit of life. After that there was no farther development. It is
-contrary to reason to suppose it. It is contrary to the whole analogy of
-nature. Not an instance can be adduced, throughout the entire creation,
-of one species developing into another--not an instance even of any
-species developing within itself into a higher order of being. But up to
-that period, of which it is thus written, _Igitur PERFECTI SUNT cœli et
-terra, et omnis ornatus eorum: COMPLEVITQUE Deus die septimo opus suum
-quod fecerat; et requievit die septimo ab uni verso opere quod patrarat_,
-we may admit, without risk of heterodoxy, any doctrine of evolution of
-which the physicists may give us a satisfactory evidence.
-
-The physicists, in support of their irrational theory of evolution,
-maintain that the earliest developments of human consciousness were of
-the lowest order, and that man has ever since been gradually progressing
-towards a higher morality and loftier spheres of thought. In this able
-and interesting work Father Thébaud demonstrates, by an exhaustive
-induction from the history and literature of all the nations, that the
-history of mankind up to the coming of Christ, instead of a progress, was
-a continual retrogression.
-
-In his introductory chapter he establishes, by proofs which should be
-conclusive to all minds unprepossessed by an arrogant perversity, that
-primitive man was in possession of a primitive revelation. In the morning
-twilight of the ages, as far back as we can see across the Flood, up to
-the very cherubim-guarded entrance to the seats of innocence from which
-the erring creature had been driven, he traces everywhere those rites
-and dogmas, in their elemental form, which, in their complete development
-and full significance, made known to us by the revelation of the fulness
-of time, are still of faith and observance amongst the sons of God from
-end to end of the habitable globe. This revelation did not go beyond
-monotheism, because the fallen immortal had to be prepared, through
-long ages of discipline, for the revelation of the triune nature of the
-Godhead, and of his restoration to the forfeited favor of his Father
-by the incarnation and atoning sacrifice of the Eternal Son. We do not
-remember to have met before with the ingenious hypothesis[236] that the
-configuration of the earth, consisting of an all-embracing ocean, in the
-midst of which vast continents are islands, evidences the design of the
-Creator to have been that “men should have intercourse of some kind with
-one another,” and that on the land.
-
-    “The oceans and rivers, instead of being primarily dividing
-    lines, intended to separate men from one another, had precisely
-    for their first object to become highways and common channels
-    of intercourse between the various nations of mankind.”
-
-But our author considers that the social intercommunion to which the
-configuration of the earth was to administer was not to develop in the
-form of “an universal republic,” but that “men were to consent to exist
-in larger or smaller groups, each of them surrounded with well-defined
-limits determining numerous nationalities,” united in the bond of
-religious uniformity which he terms patriarchal Catholicity.
-
-The design of the Creator of universal brotherhood amongst his creatures
-was not to be fulfilled before the lapse of ages, and throughout that
-dismal period it has the appearance of being perpetually thwarted
-by their perverseness. The memories of Paradise rapidly faded away
-amongst them. After what period of time we are not told, the sons of
-God committed a second infidelity by intermarrying with the daughters
-of men. The result was a race of giants--giants in capacity and crime
-as well as in bodily form--whose existence universal tradition attests.
-In almost open alliance with the powers of darkness, they sank with
-such fearful rapidity down the abyss of depravation, dragging with them
-the better portion of the race, that, to avert the triumph of hell and
-the utter reprobation of his creature, the offended Creator buried the
-guilty memories of colossal crime beneath an universal deluge, at whose
-subsidence the first civilization reappeared on the mountains of Asia in
-all its earliest purity, brought across the forty days’ extinction of
-life upon the earth by the eight souls who alone had turned a deaf ear to
-the universal seduction. “This idea of a gradual and deeper degradation
-of human kind,” says Frederick Schlegel, “in each succeeding age, appears
-at first sight not to accord very well with the testimony which sacred
-tradition furnishes on man’s primitive state, for it represents the two
-races of the primitive world as contemporary; and, indeed, Seth, the
-progenitor of the better and nobler race of virtuous patriarchs, was much
-younger than Cain. However, this contradiction is only apparent, if we
-reflect that it was the wicked and violent race which drew the other into
-its disorders, and that it was from this contamination a giant corruption
-sprang, which continually increased, till, with a trifling exception, it
-pervaded the whole mass of mankind, and till the justice of God required
-the extirpation of degenerate humanity by one universal flood.”
-
-It does not admit of a moment’s doubt, as our author argues, that with
-this terrible judgment began the dissolution of that fraternal unity
-which God had intended should be the happy lot of the human family,
-and for which the configuration of the earth was adapted. The gigantic
-unity of crime was smitten to pieces in the helplessness of division.
-They who had been brothers looked in one another’s faces and found them
-strange. They opened their lips, and, lo! their speech was to others a
-jargon of unintelligible sounds. The one could no more understand the
-other than they could the wolf or the jackal with whom they both began
-to be mutually classed. The intercommunion of families of men with one
-another was rudely snapped asunder. There were no means of common action,
-there was no medium of common thought. The fragments into which the human
-family were smitten went off in different directions, to post themselves,
-in attitudes of mutual distrust and defiance, behind mountains or
-morasses, on the skirts of forests, the borders of torrents, or in
-the security of measureless deserts, where their practised eyes swept
-the horizon. Intercommunion was rendered still more impossible by the
-mutual antagonism, fear, and hatred that prevailed. And the very ocean,
-instead of being a pathway for the interchange of social life, became a
-formidable barrier between man and man. The dangers to be encountered
-on the lands to which the winds might bear them were more to be dreaded
-than the terrible phantoms which, issuing ever and anon from the home
-of the storms, raged across the ocean, and lashed into merciless fury
-its roaring waves. Memory had lost, in the primeval language, the key of
-its treasure-house. As years went on, amidst the exacting preoccupations
-of new ways of life, new surroundings, new ways of expressing their
-thoughts, and their increasing tribal or race isolation, the ideas upon
-which their primeval civilization had been based grew dimmer and dimmer,
-until they finally disappeared.
-
-“To establish this in detail,” says the author of _Gentilism_, “is the
-purpose of this work.” And this purpose appears to us to have been
-accomplished in the most convincing manner.
-
-The scientists maintain, and it is necessary to their evolution theory,
-that man began with barbarism, and moved slowly onwards in the gradual
-stages of their tedious evolution process towards what they call
-civilization, which is to lead, we believe, in the future developments of
-the ever-continuing evolution, to some loftier state and condition, of
-the nature of which they supply us with not the faintest idea.
-
-This notion of the original barbarism of man is one of those fallacies
-which get imbedded in the general belief of mankind one knows not how.
-Strange to say, it has been very generally acquiesced in for no manner
-of reason; and it is only of late years that thoughtful men, outside of
-the faith, have come to suspect that it is not quite the truism they had
-imagined.
-
-There is a reason for this: The attenuation of the claims of another
-world on the every-day life and on the conduct of men effected by the
-great revolt of the XVIth century, and the keener relish for the things
-of this life which consequently ensued, have infected the sentiments of
-mankind with an exaggerated sense of the importance of material objects
-and pursuits. Thus the idea of civilization, instead of being that of
-the highest development of the moral and whole inner being of social
-man, is limited to the discovery of all the unnumbered ways and means of
-administering to the embellishment and luxury of his actual life. His
-very mental progress, as they term it with extraordinary incorrectness,
-is only regarded in this light.
-
-    “The speculators on the stone, bronze, and iron ages,” writes
-    our author, “place civilization almost exclusively in the
-    enjoyment by man of a multitude of little inventions of his
-    own, many of which certainly are derived from the knowledge and
-    use of metals. Any nation deprived of them cannot be called
-    civilized in their opinion, because reduced to a very simple
-    state of life, which, they say unhesitatingly, is barbarism.…
-    Barbarism, in fact, depends much more on moral degradation
-    than on physical want of comfort. And when we come to describe
-    patriarchal society, our readers will understand how a tribe
-    or nation may deserve to be placed on an exalted round of the
-    social ladder, although living exclusively on the fruits of the
-    earth, and cultivating it with a simple wooden plough.”[237]
-
-Father Thébaud next proceeds, with convincing force, to demolish the
-argument in behalf of the gradual evolution of the entire race from
-a state of barbarism, which the evolutionists allege to have been
-inevitably its first stage of intellectual consciousness drawn from the
-discovery of human skeletons in caves, and in the drift of long past
-ages, in juxtaposition with instruments of rude construction belonging to
-the palæolithic age and fossil remains of extinct animals. This argument
-has always appeared to us so feeble as to seem a mystery how it could be
-employed by learned men, unless in support of some preconceived opinion
-which they would maintain at all hazards. The occasional outbreaks of the
-Mississippi, the terrible devastation effected by the mere overflow of
-the Garonne in the South of France, give but a faint idea of what changes
-must have been effected upon the crust of the earth by the subsidence of
-the huge mass of water, which must have been at least eight or nine times
-as ponderous as all the oceans which have since lain at peace in its
-hollows. As the prodigious volumes of water, sucked and drawn hither and
-thither, as they hurried to their mountain-bed, rushed in furious tides
-and vast whirlpools of terrific force, they must have torn up the earth’s
-crust like a rotten rag. Whole valleys must have been scooped out down
-to the very root of the mountains, and _débris_ of all kinds deposited
-everywhere in all kinds of confusion, so as to afford no secure data
-whatever for chronological, or zoölogical, or geological deductions.
-
-Still more conclusive is Father Thébaud’s refutation of the argument
-in behalf of the evolution theory drawn from the discovery of stone
-implements of rude construction in what is asserted to be the earliest
-drift deposit of iron in the later strata, and bronze in the latest. To
-make this argument of any force it must be proved that these periods
-evolved regularly and invariably from one another throughout the whole
-race of mankind. Their _periodicity_, as Father Thébaud has it, must be
-indisputably proved. But this is just what it cannot be. On the contrary,
-
-    “In this last age in which we live; in the previous ages,
-    which we can know by clear and unobjectionable history;
-    finally, in the dimmest ages of antiquity of which we possess
-    any sufficiently reliable records, the three ‘periods’ of
-    stone, bronze, and iron have always subsisted simultaneously,
-    and consequently are no more ‘periods’ when we speak of the
-    aggregate of mankind, but they are only three co-existing
-    aspects of the same specific individual.”[238]
-
-To the same effect is the argument that
-
-    “The artistic distance between the rough palæolithic flints
-    and the polished stones of the neolithic period exhibits a gap
-    which tells but indifferently in favor of the believers in
-    continuous progress. Either there has been a strange severment
-    of continuity, or the men of the first period were better
-    artists, and not such rough barbarians as the remains we
-    possess of them seem to attest.”
-
-The scientific arguments, however, of Father Thébaud, in disproof of
-the alleged original barbarism of the human race, satisfactory as they
-are, as far as they go, are little more than introductory to the more
-conclusive historical argument which constitutes the body of his valuable
-and very opportune work. “The best efforts to ascertain the origin of
-man,” he justly remarks, “or primeval religion, by the facts of geology
-or zoölogy, can at best only result in more or less probable conjectures.”
-
-In an argument of this nature our author begins, as was to have been
-expected, from that philosophical, impassive, and ancient people who
-inhabit the triangular peninsula which stretches out from no vast
-distance from the original seat of the renewed race of man into the
-Southeastern Atlantic. There they have dwelt from times beyond which
-history does not reach. Inheriting a civilization which dates from the
-subsiding Deluge, whose gradual decadence can be distinctly traced, they
-are in possession of the earliest writings that exist, unless the books
-of Moses or the book of Job are older, which, we do not think it is rash
-to say, is, at least, doubtful. We find ourselves in the presence of the
-noblest truths of even supernatural religion, mingled, it is true, with
-the gross pantheistical absurdities which had already begun to deface the
-primitive revelation and to deteriorate the primitive civilization.
-
-The general process throughout the world was, no doubt, as Father Thébaud
-describes--
-
-    “After a period of universal monotheism, the nations began to
-    worship ‘the works of God,’ and fell generally into a broad
-    pantheism. They took subsequently a second step, perfectly well
-    marked, later on, in Hindostan, Central Asia, Egypt, Greece,
-    etc.--a step originating everywhere in the imagination of
-    poets, materializing God, bringing him down to human nature
-    and weakness, and finally idealizing and deifying his supposed
-    representations in statuary and painting.”[239]
-
-But we must venture to differ from Father Thébaud as to the religion of
-the Hindoos having ever taken the latter step. The form its pantheism
-took, in consequence of its tenets of the incarnations of Vishnu--the
-second god of the triad--and of metempsychosis, was a worship of animals,
-and especially of the cow--a worship which prevails to this day. But
-this was not the gross idolatry of the Greeks and Romans, but rather a
-respect, a _cultus_, in consequence of the supposed _possible_ presence
-in the former of departed friends, and of the incarnation of the divinity
-in the latter. Their idols are huge material representations of the might
-and repose which are the chief attributes of the Hindoo deity, or of
-animals with which the above-named ideas were especially associated; but
-we do not think they ever were worshipped as was, for example Diana by
-the Ephesians.
-
-Be this as it may, it in no way affects the incontrovertible testimony
-which Father Thébaud adduces to the high state of civilization of this
-remarkable people fifteen hundred years, at all events, before Christ.
-He proves it from their social institutions, which issued from a kind
-of tribal municipality closely resembling the Celtic clans, but without
-the principle of superseding the rightful heir to a deceased _canfinny_
-by another son in consequence of certain disqualifications, and that of
-the ever-recurring redistribution of land, which were the bane of Celtic
-institutions. The caste restrictions, our author shows from the laws of
-Menu, were not nearly so rigorous in those primitive ages; and from the
-same source he exhibits undeniable proof of that purity of morals which
-evidences the highest stage of civilization, and which has sunk gradually
-down to the vicious barbarism of the present day. We suspect, however,
-that this latter has been somewhat exaggerated. It is certainly our
-impression, taken from works written by those who have lived for years in
-familiar intercourse with the people, that amongst the Hindoo women there
-still lingers conspicuous evidence of the purity of morals which was
-universal amongst them in the beginning of their history.
-
-It might have been added, moreover, that the laws of Menu, in addition
-to their high morality, display a knowledge of finance and political
-economy, of the science of government, and of the art of developing the
-resources of a people which indicate a very high state of civilization
-indeed.
-
-It is impossible for us, within the limits assigned us, to follow
-Father Thébaud through an argument consisting exclusively of learned
-detail. Our readers, if they would have any proper appreciation of it,
-must consult the work itself. We remark merely that, starting from the
-admitted fact that the Vedas contain the doctrine of plain and pure
-monotheism, and that in those distant ages “doctrines were promulgated
-and believed in” “which far transcend all the most solemn teaching of
-the greatest philosophers who flourished in the following ages, and
-which yield only to the sublime and exquisitely refined teachings of
-Incarnate Wisdom,”[240] our author traces the inroads of pantheism from
-the time when the doctrine, recently revived by men once Christians, of
-an “universal soul” was openly proclaimed, and “when it was asserted
-that our own is a ‘spark’ from the ‘blazing fire,’ that God is ‘all
-beings,’ and ‘all beings are God.’”[241] And he traces elaborately the
-change through the several mystical works of the philosophical Brahmins
-subsequent to the Vedas. Buddhism is a comparatively modern development.
-We doubt its being any form of Hindooism whatever. It appears to us to
-be rather the earliest development of that spirit of hostility to the
-life-giving truths of the Christian revelation which began its work
-almost at their very cradle--that abject principle of materialism which,
-after having dragged down the vast populations of China and of North and
-Western India to the lowest depths of mental and moral degradation of
-which human nature is susceptible, is now sweeping over Christendom, and
-threatening to “deceive,” if it were possible, “even the very elect.”
-
-Father Thébaud’s next chapter is devoted to a historical review of the
-primeval religion and its decline in Central Asia and Africa. And here
-the proof is more overwhelming, if possible, than in the case of India.
-As to the monotheism of the great Doctor--if we may give him such a
-title--of the ancient East, and of the Zends, there can be no manner
-of doubt. Nay, “even the doctrine of the resurrection of the body is
-clearly contained in the most authentic part of the Zend-Avesta.” There
-is also that august personage, apart from all superior beings under God,
-“who stands between God and man; shows the way to heaven, and pronounces
-judgment upon human actions after death; guards with his drawn sword
-the whole world against the demons; has his own light from inside, and
-from outside is decorated with stars.” Our author makes Zoroaster,
-at the latest, a contemporary of Moses, and justly observes that the
-Zend-Avesta “represents the thoughts of men very near the origin of
-our species.” Now, the magnificent eloquence and profound truth of the
-thoughts we meet, rivalling at times the Book of Job, the beauty of the
-prayers, and the elaborate splendor of the ritual, testify to a very
-different state of things in those earliest days from that alleged by
-the evolutionists. Father Thébaud decides the Zends to be Vedic, and
-not Persian. And no doubt in the remarkable form and construction of
-the poems--dramatic, and mostly in the form of dialogue--in the tone of
-thought and leading religious ideas, they closely resemble the Hindoo
-Vedas. But it is our impression that we do not find in the writings of
-Zoroaster that perpetual insistence on the necessity of absorption into
-the deity which characterizes the Hindoo poems--the _Bhagavât-Gita_, for
-example. It would appear that the Persians occupied a special place in
-the dispensation of God in the ancient world. The Holy Spirit, in the
-prophecies, speaks of “my servant Cyrus whom I have chosen,” and it is
-certain that the pure monotheistic worship was preserved longer in Persia
-than in any nation of antiquity, except the Jewish. Its corruption was
-into dualism, by which the spirit of evil, as in the Indian _Trimourti_,
-was invested with almost co-ordinate power with the spirit of good. But
-for full information on this important and interesting subject we must
-refer the reader to Father Thébaud himself.
-
-Our limits do not admit of our giving scarcely the faintest outline of
-our author’s argument in proof of the monotheism of Pelasgic Greece, and
-its gradual degradation to a sensual and idolatrous anthropomorphism in
-Hellenic and Heroic Greece. The substantial genuineness of the Orphic
-literature he successfully establishes, as well as the similarity of
-its doctrines to those of the Vedas; from which he draws the obvious
-inference that the two came from the same source, and that that branch
-of the Aryan family carried with them to their more distant settlements
-traditions of the primitive revelation so conspicuous in the Persian and
-Hindoo mystic epics, but much defaced and distorted in the course of
-their long and toilsome migrations. If _pure_ monotheism ever prevailed
-in Pelasgic Greece, its reign was short. Indeed, to Orpheus himself are
-ascribed pantheistic doctrines. It was the poets who ushered in that
-special form of idolatry which took possession of Greece, the worship of
-the human being deified with all his infirmities--the _anthropomorphism_
-of the gods, as Father Thébaud calls it. And the chief sinner, on this
-score, was Homer, the first and greatest of them all. Yet did that
-densely-populated, unseen world of the Greeks--that sensuous, nay
-vicious, idolatry--which peopled the ocean and the mountains and the
-forests with gods, and imagined a divinity for every fountain, and every
-grove, and every valley, and every rill, with its superior deities, up to
-the supreme father of Olympus, himself subject to that forlorn solution
-of the riddle of “evil”--fate--bear witness from Olympus, and from Hades,
-and from the realms of the sea, to the primitive revelation. It bore
-witness to a civilization from which that degradation of the ideas of
-God to the level of humanity, in spite of its artistic grace and poetic
-feeling, deformed, however, by a filthy lasciviousness, with its short
-period of literary splendor and of exalted philosophy, ending with the
-sophistical negations of scepticism, was a fall, and not a progress.
-
-For all this, “the precious fragments of a primitive revelation are
-found,” as Father Thébaud truly observes, “scattered through the
-writings of nearly all ancient Greek and Latin philosophers and poets.”
-His two chapters on this subject--chapter vii. on “Hellenic Philosophy
-as a Channel of Tradition,” and chapter viii. on “The Greek and Latin
-Poets as Guardians of Truth”--are perhaps the most interesting part of
-his most interesting and instructive work. They embrace a subject which
-has always appeared to us as more worthy of learned labor than any other
-which could be named. That life would be well spent which should devote
-itself to collecting all these fragments of traditionary truth from all
-ante-Christian literatures. Such a work would not turn back the flood of
-rationalism, whose first risings we owe to Greece--for it is rather moral
-than intellectual--but it would materially obstruct it, and would rescue
-from it many souls which might otherwise be lured to their destruction by
-the feeble echoes of the sophists and Aristophanes, which, beginning with
-Voltaire, are now multiplying through all the rationalistic press of the
-world.
-
-Meanwhile, we cordially commend Father Thébaud’s work on _Gentilism_ to
-the attentive study of all who wish for solid information and sagacious
-criticism on a subject which appears to us, without wishing in the least
-to underrate scientific investigation, to be more interesting and more
-important than all or any of the discoveries of physical science. These,
-as has been proved of late years, may be turned against the truth, and
-become thus a means of darkening instead of enlightening the soul. At the
-best, be they correct or erroneous, great or small, many or few, they
-cannot add an inch to our stature or a day to our lives. They do not
-even add to our happiness.
-
-But a false science--one which would assign to each of us an
-insignificant phenomenal existence, whose individuality will disappear,
-at the end of its few days of living consciousness, in an universal
-whole in an eternal state of progress--is as fatal to human happiness as
-anything can be short of the abyss of reprobation. More consoling, as it
-is more in accordance with right reason, is the testimony which comes
-to us trumpet-tongued, in one vast unison, from all the ages, that the
-history of the race is one of decadence, not of progress. The sentence
-passed was death. The road to death is decadence. The way is rounded;
-there is a movement onward and a growth of life until the descent begins
-which lands us in dissolution. But every moment from the first cry of
-infancy is a step nearer to death; we are every one of us dying every
-day; and a movement towards death is not progress. Individual experience
-joins its voice to that of universal history in testimony of this. The
-revelation of Christ has put us in possession of the highest and certain
-truth; it has given us a more exalted moral, and has recast our nature in
-a higher, nay, in a divine, mould. We are still dying every day; but the
-certain hope of a joyful resurrection has deprived death of its agonizing
-sting, and made it, like sleep, a source of happiness instead of despair.
-But this is nothing like the progress of which the sceptics prate. It is
-a supernatural stage in the dispensation of God for the renewal of his
-fallen creature, predetermined before all time. His own part in it--the
-natural order--is one long history of decadence. There has been the ebb
-and flow, the rising to fall, of all movement. But decadence has all
-along triumphed over progress. Amidst what a decadence are we now living
-from the promising progress of the middle ages! And we are bid to expect
-so terrific a retrogression before the consummation of all things, that
-“even the elect shall scarcely be saved.”
-
-It is the witness of all the ages--human progress ebbing and
-flowing--but, on the whole, the flow does not overtake the ebb. The ocean
-of life has been ever ebbing into its eternal abysses, and will ebb,
-leaving behind it a dry and barren waste, until the morning of eternity
-shall break over the withdrawing night of time, chaos shall be for ever
-sealed in the confusion and sadness of its darkness, and the final word
-shall go forth, of which the sublime physical law was only a type and a
-shadow: “Let there be light!”
-
-
-MADAME’S EXPERIMENT.
-
-A SAINT AGNES’ EVE STORY.
-
-“MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT YOUR THOUGHTS, NOR YOUR WAYS MY WAYS, SAITH THE
-LORD.”
-
-Madame the Countess of Hohenstein stood at the window of the great hall
-of her palace, waiting for the coach which was to take her to a _château_
-some leagues distant, where she was to grace a grand entertainment, and
-to be kept for a whole night by her hosts as an especial treasure. For
-Madame the Countess of Hohenstein, spite of her sixty years and her three
-grown sons, was a famous beauty still and a brilliant conversationist,
-and few were her rivals, young or old, throughout the kingdom. But
-her face was clouded as she waited in her stately hall that January
-afternoon, and she listened with a pained expression to the sound of
-a footstep overhead pacing steadily up and down. She touched a bell
-presently.
-
-“Tell your master,” she said to the servant who answered it, “that I wish
-to see him again before I leave.” And soon down the winding stairway she
-watched a young man come with the same steady pace which might have been
-heard overhead for a half-hour past.
-
-No need to ask the relationship between the two. Black, waving hair,
-broad brow, set lips, firm chin, the perfect contour of the handsome
-face--all these were the son’s heritage of remarkable beauty from his
-queenly mother; but the headstrong pride and excessive love which shone
-from her eyes as he came in sight met eyes very different from them.
-Large and black indeed they were, but their intense look, however deep
-the passion it bespoke, told of an unearthly passion and a fire that is
-divine.
-
-“Ah! Heinrich love,” his mother said, “once more, come with me.”
-
-“Nay, little mother,” he answered--the caressing diminutive sounding
-strangely as addressed to her in her pomp of attire and stately
-presence--“you said I need not go; that you did not care for me at the
-baron’s.”
-
-“Not so, Heinrich. I care for you everywhere, everywhere. I am lost
-without you, love of my soul. But I know you hate it, and, if you must
-stay from any place, better that than some others. There are no maidens
-there I care for, my son.”
-
-She watched the calm forehead contract as she spoke. “There! as ever,”
-she exclaimed. “Wilt never hear woman mentioned without a frown? You
-are no monk yet, child, at your twentieth year; nor ever shall be, if I
-can help it. It is enough for me, surely, to have given two sons to the
-priesthood, without yielding up my last one, my hope and my pride.”
-
-Heinrich made no answer, for the sound of the carriage-wheels was heard,
-and he offered his mother his hand, led her down the steps, and placed
-her in the coach. She drew him towards her, and kissed him passionately.
-“Farewell, my dearest,” she said. “I count the minutes till we meet
-again.” And she never ceased to watch him as long as the mansion was
-visible.
-
-He was a sight of which many a mother might have been proud, as he stood
-there bare headed, the winter sun lighting his face, the winter wind
-lifting his dark locks, the fresh bloom of youth enhancing his peculiar
-beauty. His mother sighed deeply as the coach turned a corner which hid
-him from her view--a sigh often repeated during the course of her journey.
-
-It was a full hour before she was out of her own domains, though the
-horses sped swiftly over the frozen ground. All those broad acres, all
-that noble woodland, all those peasant homes, were hers; and for miles
-behind her the land stretching north and west belonged with it, for she
-had married the owner of the next estate, and, widowed, held it for her
-son. But at her death all these possessions must be divided among distant
-unknown kinsmen, if Heinrich persisted in the desire, which had been his
-from early boyhood, to become a monk. His mother’s whole heart was set
-against it. Her aim in life was to find for him a wife whom he would
-love, and whom he would bring to their home; she longed to hold before
-her death her son’s son on her knee.
-
-The coach stopped as the sun was setting; and at the palace door, too
-eager for a sight of her to wait in courtly etiquette within, host and
-hostess stood ready to greet this friend of a lifetime.
-
-“No Heinrich?” they cried, laughing. “A truant always. And we have that
-with us to-day which will make you wish him here. No matter what! You
-will see in time.”
-
-And in time she saw indeed. Going slowly up the marble stairs a half-hour
-later, a vision of magnificent beauty, with her ermine mantle wrapped
-about her, the hood fallen back from her regal head, the eyes with the
-pained look of disappointment and longing still lingering in them in
-spite of the loving welcomes lavished upon her, she came, in a turn
-of the stairs, upon another vision of beauty radiant as her own, and
-extremely opposite.
-
-Coming slowly down towards her was a young girl, tall and slight, with a
-skin of dazzling fairness, where the blue veins in temple and neck were
-plain to see; a delicate tint like blush-roses upon the cheek; great
-waves of fair hair sending back a glint of gold to the torches just
-lighted in the hall; eyes very large, and so deeply set that at first
-their violet blue seemed black--eyes meek and downcast, and tender as a
-dove’s, but in them, too, a look of pain and yearning. The face at first
-view was like that of an innocent child, but beneath its youthfulness lay
-an expression which bespoke a wealth of love and strength and patience,
-unawakened as yet, but of unusual force. Skilled to read character by
-years of experience in kings’ palaces, madame the countess read her
-well--so far as she could read at all.
-
-Evidently the maiden saw nothing that was before her; but madame held her
-breath in surprise and delight, and stood still, waiting her approach.
-Not till she came close to her did the girl look up, then she too stopped
-with a startled “Pardon madame”; and at sight of the timid, lovely eyes,
-at the sound of the voice--like a flute, like water rippling softly, like
-a south wind sighing in the seaside pines--madame opened her arms, and
-caught the stranger to her heart. “My child, my child,” she cried, “how
-beautiful you are!”
-
-“Madame, madame,” the girl panted in amazement, carried away in her turn
-at the sudden sight of this lovely lady, who, she thought, could be,
-in her regal beauty and attire, no less than a princess--“Madame sees
-herself surely!”
-
-The countess laughed outright at the artless, undesigned compliment. “And
-as charming as beautiful,” she said. “I must see more of you, my love.”
-
-Then, kissing the cheek, red now as damask roses, she passed on. In
-the hall above her hostess stood with an arch smile on her lips. “Ah!
-Gertrude, we planned it well,” she said. “Fritz and I have been watching
-for that meeting. It was a brilliant tableau.”
-
-“But who is she, Wilhelmina? Tell me quickly. She is loveliness itself.”
-
-“’Tis but a short story, dear. We found her in Halle. Her name is
-Elizabeth Wessenberg. She is well-born, but her family are strict
-Lutherans. She--timid, precious little dove!--became a Catholic by some
-good grace of the good God. But it was a lonely life, and I begged her
-off from it for a while. Oh! but her parents winced to see her go. They
-hate the name even of Catholic. That is all--only she sings like a lark,
-and she hardly knows what to make of her new life and faith, it is so
-strange to her.”
-
-“That is all! Thanks, Wilhelmina. I will be with you soon. I long to see
-her once again.”
-
-All that evening the countess kept Elizabeth near her, and every hour
-her admiration increased. A maiden so beautiful, yet so ignorant of her
-own charms, so unworldly, so innocent, she had never seen. Alone in her
-room that night she fell trembling upon her knees--poor, passionate,
-self-willed mother!--before the statue of the Holy Mother bearing the
-divine Son in her arms, and she held up her hands and prayed aloud.
-
-“I have found her at last,” she cried--“a child who has won her way into
-my heart at once with no effort of her own; a pearl among all pearls;
-one whom my boy _must_ love. Lord Jesus, have I not given thee two sons?
-Give me now one son to keep for my own, and not for thee. Grant that he
-may love this precious creature, fit for him as though thou thyself hadst
-made her for him, even as Eve was made for Adam.” And then she covered
-her face, and sobbed and pleaded with long, wordless prayers.
-
-The next day saw her on her homeward way, but not alone. She had coaxed
-in her irresistible fashion till she had obtained for herself from her
-friend a part of Elizabeth’s visit; and Elizabeth felt as if she were
-living in a dream, there in the costly coach, wrapped in furs and watched
-by those beautiful eyes. Constantly the countess talked with her, leading
-the conversation delicately in such a manner that she found out much in
-regard to Elizabeth’s home, and penetrated into her hidden sorrows in
-regard to the coldness and lack of sympathy there. And it needed no words
-to tell that this was a heart which craved sympathy and love most keenly;
-which longed for something higher and stronger than itself to lean upon.
-Every time she looked at the sensitive face, endowed with such exquisite
-refinement of beauty; every time the childlike yet longing, unsatisfied
-eyes met hers; every time the musical voice fell upon her ears, fearing
-ever an echo of that same craving for something more and better than the
-girl had yet known, madame’s mother-heart throbbed towards her, and it
-seemed to her that she could hardly wait for the blessing which, she had
-persuaded herself, was surely coming to her at last.
-
-Now and then she spoke of the country through which they passed: and to
-Elizabeth it was almost incredible that such wealth could belong to one
-person only. Now and then she spoke of “my son” in a tone of exultant
-love, and then Elizabeth trembled a little; for she dreaded to meet this
-stranger. Very grand and proud she fancied him; one who would hardly
-notice at all a person so insignificant as herself.
-
-“Here is the village chapel, Elizabeth,” madame said, as the coach
-stopped suddenly. “Will you scold, my little one, if I go in for a minute
-to the priest’s house? Or perhaps you would like to visit the Blessed
-Sacrament while I am gone?”
-
-Yes, that was what Elizabeth would like indeed; and there she knelt and
-prayed, never dreaming how much was being said about her only next door.
-
-“Father!” madame exclaimed impetuously to the gray-haired priest who rose
-to greet her, “I must have Mass said for my intention every morning for
-a week. See, here is a part only of my offering.” And she laid a heavy
-purse upon the table. “If God grant my prayer, it shall be doubled,
-tripled.”
-
-“God’s answers cannot be bought, madame,” the priest said sadly, “nor can
-they be forced.”
-
-“They must be this time, then, father. You must make my intention your
-own. Will you not? Will you not for this once, father?”
-
-“What is it, then, my daughter?”
-
-“Father, do not be angry. It is the old hunger wrought up to desperation.
-I cannot give my boy to be a monk!”
-
-The priest’s face darkened.
-
-“No! no!” madame hurried on. “It is too much to ask of me. And now I have
-found a bride for him at last. She waits for me in the chapel, fair and
-pure as the lilies. I am taking her home in triumph.”
-
-“Does Heinrich know of this?”
-
-“Not one word. He cannot fail to love her when he sees her. It is for
-this I ask your prayers.”
-
-The priest pushed away the purse. “I will have none of this,” he said.
-“It is far better to see my poor suffer than that this unrighteous deed
-should be done. You call yourself a Catholic, and pride yourself because
-your house was always Catholic; and yet you dare say that anything is too
-much for God to ask of you! I am an old man, madame, and have had many
-souls to deal with, but I never yet saw one whose vocation was more plain
-than Heinrich’s to the entire service of God’s church. Will you dare run
-counter to God’s will?”
-
-“Nay, father, it cannot be his will. Our very name would die out--our
-heritage pass from us!”
-
-“And suppose it does! Who shall promise you that if Heinrich marries
-there shall ever be child of his to fill his place? And what _are_ place,
-and name, and heritage, madame? That which death, or war, or a king’s
-caprice may snatch away in a moment. But your spiritual heritage shall
-never die. What mother on earth but might envy you if you give your three
-sons--your all--to God! Many are the children of the desolate, more than
-of her that hath an husband, saith the Lord. _He_ maketh a barren woman
-to dwell in a house the joyful mother of children. There is a place and a
-name within his walls better than sons and daughters. Do you dream what
-risk you run, what part you play, when you would tempt from his calling
-one who, if you leave God to work his own pleasure, shall hereafter shine
-as the stars through all eternity?”
-
-She did not answer back with pride. Instead, her whole face grew soft,
-and the large tears filled her eyes and ran slowly down her cheeks.
-“I want to do right,” she said humbly; “but I cannot feel that it is
-right. Father, see: I will not ask you to make my intention yours. But I
-promise you one thing: I _must_ ask God to grant me this blessing, but it
-shall be the last time. If I fail now, let his will be done. And do you,
-father, ask him to make it plain to me what his will is.”
-
-“God bless you, daughter!” the old priest answered, much moved by her
-humility. “I will pray that indeed. But still I warn you that I think you
-are doing wrong in so much as trying such an experiment as this which you
-have undertaken.”
-
-“No, no,” she cried again. “No, no, father. This once I must try, or my
-heart will break.”
-
-Again in the carriage, she pressed Elizabeth to her closely, and kissed
-her, and said words of passionate love, finding relief thus for the
-pent-up feelings of her heart; but Elizabeth knew not how to reply. It
-troubled and perplexed her--this lavish affection; for she could not
-repay it in kind. It only served to waken a suffering which she had known
-from childhood, a strange, unsatisfied yearning within her, which came at
-the sight of a lovely landscape, or the sound of exquisite music, or the
-caresses of some friend. She wanted _more_; and where and what was that
-“more,” which seemed to lie beyond everything, and which she could never
-grasp?
-
-She felt it often during her visit--that visit where attention was
-constantly bestowed on her, and she lived in the midst of such luxury as
-she had never known before. Something in Heinrich’s face seemed to her to
-promise an answer to her questionings--it was so at rest, so settled;
-and this, more than anything else about him, interested and attracted
-her. Madame saw the interest, without guessing the cause. She felt
-also that Heinrich was not wholly insensible to Elizabeth’s presence;
-and though she asked him no direct questions, she contrived to turn
-conversation into the channels which could not fail to engage him, and
-which the young convert also cared for most.
-
-Elizabeth decided that Heinrich knew more than any one else, but even
-he tired her sometimes. “He knows _too_ much,” she thought, “and he is
-so cold and indifferent. Yet he would not be himself if he were more
-like madame; and she is too tender. Oh! what does it all mean? There is
-nothing that makes one content except church, and one cannot be always
-there.”
-
-So passed the time till S. Agnes’ Eve. That night, when the young people
-entered the dining-hall, madame was absent. She sent a message that they
-must dine without her, as she had a severe headache, and Elizabeth might
-come to her an hour after dinner.
-
-The meal was a silent one. When it was over, and they went into the
-library, Heinrich seated himself at the organ. Grand chorals, funeral
-marches full of mourning and awe and hope, Mass music welcoming the
-coming of the Lord of Sabaoth, filled the lofty room. When he ceased,
-Elizabeth was sobbing irrepressibly.
-
-“Forgive me, forgive me!” she said. “I cannot help it. O monsieur! I
-know not what it means. Love and hate, beauty and deformity, joy and
-suffering--I cannot understand. Nothing satisfies, and to be a Catholic
-makes the craving worse. Is it because I am only just beginning, and
-that I shall understand better by and by?”
-
-He stood at a little distance from her, looking not at her at all, but
-upward and far away.
-
-“I will tell mademoiselle a story, if she will permit it,” he said. “Many
-years ago there was a princess, very beautiful, very wise, and very
-wealthy. Her councillors begged that she would marry, and at last she
-told them that she would do so, if they would find for her the prince
-she should describe, he should be so rich that he should esteem all the
-treasures of the Indies as a little dust; so wise that no man could ever
-mention in his presence aught that he did not already know; so fair that
-no child of man should compare with him in beauty; so spotless in his
-soul that the very heavens should not be pure in his sight. They knew not
-where to find that prince, but their lady knew.”
-
-He paused, though not as for an answer. He had guessed well his mother’s
-plans and hopes; he fathomed as truly Elizabeth’s nature; and when he
-spoke again, it was as no one except the priest of God had ever heard him
-speak:
-
-“There are some souls whom no one and nothing on earth can possibly
-satisfy. Beauty, and learning, and friendship, and home, and love, each
-alike wearies them. God only can content them, and he is enough--_God
-alone_. To such souls he gives himself, if they sincerely desire it. It
-is a love beyond all imaginable earthly love. It satisfies, yet leaves
-a constant craving which we have no wish should cease. He understands
-everything: even those things which we cannot explain to ourselves. It is
-he finding whom the soul loveth him, and will not let him go.”
-
-After saying this, he sat down once more at the organ, and played again
-till the hour named by madame arrived. Elizabeth found her pale and
-suffering, but with a glad look in her eyes.
-
-“You have had talk together, then,” she cried. “I heard the music cease
-for a while. And is he not charming and good, my Heinrich?”
-
-“Yes,” Elizabeth said dreamily. “He made me understand a little
-to-night--better than any one has ever done before.”
-
-“Is that so, my little one? And how then?”
-
-“Here,” Elizabeth said innocently, laying her hand on her heart, and with
-no suspicion of the meaning which the countess attached to the act. “If I
-could only understand more--more.”
-
-“You will in time, most dear one--in time, in time.” And oh! the exulting
-ring in madame’s voice. “But see, my precious, what I have to show you.”
-
-A chest was drawn up beside madame’s easy-chair. She opened it, and
-before Elizabeth’s dazzled eyes lay jewels of wondrous lustre and
-value--long strings of pearls, changing opals with the fire-spark
-trembling in them, sapphires blue as the sky, emeralds green as the sea,
-and glittering diamonds. Madame drew out the costly things, and adorned
-Elizabeth with one set after another by turn, watching the effect. Last
-of all, she touched a spring, and took from a secret drawer a set of
-pearls, large and round, with a soft amber tint in them. These she held
-caressingly and sighed.
-
-“Look, Elizabeth,” she said. “Forty years ago this very night I wore
-them, when I was a girl like you. There was a great ball here. Some
-one--ah! but how grand and beautiful he looked; my poor heart remembers
-well, and is sore with the memory now--some one begged me to try the
-charm of S. Agnes’ Eve. Dost know it, dear? Nay? Then you shall try it
-too. Go supperless to rest; look not to left or right, nor yet behind
-you, but pray God to show you that which shall satisfy your heart of
-hearts.”
-
-“Did he show you, madame?”
-
-Madame sighed heavily. “Alas! love, alas! What contents us here? I had
-it for a time, and then God took it from me. No prouder wife than I, no
-prouder mother; but husband and sons are gone, all except my Heinrich.
-Pray God to keep him for me, Elizabeth, Elizabeth.”
-
-“And who, then, was S. Agnes, madame? And shall I pray to her that
-prayer?”
-
-Madame looked aghast, then smiled an amused yet troubled smile. “Nay,
-child, I thought not of that. S. Agnes was one who loved our blessed Lord
-alone, not man. She died rather than yield to earthly love and joy.”
-
-“But why, madame?”
-
-“O child, child! But I forget, You have only just begun the Catholic
-life, my sweet. God’s love, then, is enough for some people; but they are
-monks and nuns, not common Christians like you and me and Heinrich. We
-could not live in that way, could we, Elizabeth--you and Heinrich and I?”
-
-“And God would never grow tired of us, madame! Nor ever die! Nor ever
-misunderstand! O madame! I think we could not live with less.” And
-Elizabeth stood up suddenly, as if too agitated to remain quiet.
-
-“Ah! love, you are only just a convert. In one’s first excitement one
-fancies many things. You are meant to serve God in the world, my dear,
-for many years to come--you and my Heinrich. Pray for him to-night.”
-
-But hurrying along the hall to her own room, Elizabeth whispered
-passionately in her heart: “I do not want to pray for him. Let him pray
-for himself. His saints pray for him too, and God loves him, and he does
-not need me. Does madame, then, suppose that he could ever care for me,
-or I for him? I want more than he can give--more--more! _Show_ me my
-heart’s desire, O God, my God!”
-
-In her excitement and in the darkness she laid her hand on the wrong
-door, and, opening it, found herself in an old gallery, at the end of
-which a light was glimmering. Scarcely heeding what she did, she moved
-toward it, and found that she was in the choir of the castle chapel. The
-door fell gently to behind her, but did not close, and Elizabeth was
-alone. Alone? The aisles were empty, the organ was still, the priest was
-gone; but before the sacred shrine the steady ray of the lamp told that
-He who filleth the heaven of heavens was dwelling in his earthly temple,
-and that unseen angels guarded all the place.
-
-But of angels or men Elizabeth thought not. Silently, slowly she moved
-onward, her hands pressed upon her heart, whose passionate beating grew
-still as she came nearer to the Sacred Heart which alone could fully
-comfort, fully strengthen, fully understand. Slowly she moved, as one who
-knows that some great joy is coming surely, and who lengthens willingly
-the bliss of expectation.
-
-And so she reached a narrow flight of steps, and made her way gently
-down, and knelt. Outside, in the clear night, a great wind rose, and
-rocked the castle-tower, but Elizabeth knew it not. She was conscious
-only of the intense stillness of that unseen Presence; of peace flooding
-her whole soul like a river; of the nearness of One who is strength and
-love and truth, infinite and eternal.
-
-“Show me my heart’s desire, O God, my God!” she sighed.
-
-God, _my_ God! She lifted up her eyes, and there, above the shrine,
-beheld the great crucifix of Hohenstein, brought from the far-off East by
-a Crusader knight. She lifted up her eyes, and saw the haggard face full
-of unceasing prayer, the sunken cheeks, the pierced hands and feet, the
-bones, easy to number, in the worn and tortured body, the side with its
-deep wound where a spear had passed.
-
-Yet, looking upward steadily, all her excitement gone, a sacred calm
-upon her inmost soul, Elizabeth knew that her prayer was answered, her
-lifelong hunger satisfied. God had given her her heart’s desire.
-
-God, _my_ God! No love but his could satisfy; and his could with an
-eternal content. To that Heart, pierced for her, broken for her, she
-could offer no less than her whole heart; and that she _must_ offer, not
-by constraint, but simply because she loved him beyond all, above all,
-and knew that in him, and in him only, she was sure of an unfailing, an
-everlasting love.
-
-Madame, seeking her in the early morning, found her room unoccupied,
-then noticed the gallery-door ajar, and, trembling, sought her there.
-Elizabeth had kept S. Agnes’ Eve indeed, but it was before the shrine of
-S. Agnes’ Spouse and Lord.
-
-“My daughter,” the countess said, using the word for the first time, and
-with oh! how sad a tone--“what have you done this night, my daughter?”
-
-Elizabeth lifted hand and face toward the shrine. “Madame,” she answered
-slowly, as one who speaks unconsciously in sleep, “I have found Him whom
-my soul loveth. I hold him, and I will not let him go.”
-
-God himself had made his way plain indeed before Madame the Countess of
-Hohenstein in this her last struggle with his will. The very plan which
-she had chosen to gain her cherished hopes had crushed them. Not priest
-or son, but the girl whom she herself had named for her final trial, had
-shown her that God’s purposes were far aside from hers.
-
-“Take all, O Lord!” she cried, while her tears fell like rain. “Take all
-I have. I dare not struggle longer.”
-
-One son gave up his life a martyr in the blood-stained church in Japan.
-Another endured a lifelong martyrdom among the lepers of the Levant,
-winning souls yet more tainted than the bodies home again to God. And
-one, the youngest, and the fairest, and the dearest, was seen in China
-and in India, in Peru and in Mexico, going without question wherever he
-was sent, for the greater glory of God; but he was never seen in his
-German home again. After they once left her, their mother never beheld
-their faces. And she who had been taken to her heart as a daughter
-entered an order in a distant land.
-
-Yet none ever heard madame the last Countess of Hohenstein murmur against
-her lot. Clearly, tenderly, patiently, more and more did God vouchsafe
-to make his way plain to her. In chapel, day by day, she watched the
-decaying banners which told of the fields her fathers won; saw the
-monuments to men of her race who had fought and died for their king and
-their land; read the names once proudly vaunted, now almost forgotten.
-What was fame like this to the honor God had showered on her? Souls east
-and west brought safe to him; life laid down for the Lord of lords; a
-seed not to be reckoned; a lineage which could never fail; sons and
-daughters to stand at last in that multitude which no one can number, who
-have come out of great tribulation, with fadeless palms of victory in
-their hands--such was her place and name in the house of God.
-
-The quaint German text upon her tombstone puzzled travellers greatly, and
-those who could decipher it wondered but the more. It ran thus:
-
-                          _Requiescat in Pace._
-
-                                GERTRUDE,
-             _Twenty-ninth and Last Countess of Hohenstein_.
-
-The children of thy barrenness shall still say in thy ears: The place is
-too strait for me; make me room to dwell in. And thou shalt say in thy
-heart: Who hath begotten me these? I was barren, and brought not forth,
-led away, and captive; and who hath brought up these? I was destitute and
-alone; and these, where were they?
-
-Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will lift up my hand to the Gentiles,
-and will set up my standard to the people. And they shall bring thy sons
-in their arms, and carry thy daughters upon their shoulders. And thou
-shalt know that I am the Lord; for they shall not be confounded that wait
-for him.
-
-
-THE BASQUES.
-
-We are all Basques. Nay, reader, be not startled at having your supposed
-nationality thus suddenly set aside. An author of far more learning than
-we can lay claim to--Señor Erro, a Spanish Basque--gravely asserts that
-all the inhabitants of Europe and Asia, if not of America also, sprang
-from the Basques. In short, they--that is, _we_--are the primitive race.
-And this fearless writer, with a due sense of national superiority, goes
-boldly on to prove that Adam and Eve spoke the Basque language in the
-terrestrial Paradise, of which he gives a detailed description according
-to the Biscayan interpretation of the Biblical account.
-
-We remember how, in search of Adam--great progenitor!--whose
-said-to-be-fine statue is among the army of saints on the glorious roof
-of Milan cathedral, we got bewildered on that celestial height, so that
-we do not to this day feel sure of having discovered the true Adam, and
-might never have found our way down to earth again had it not been for
-the kind offices of one of Victor Emanuel’s soldiers. So it is with many
-a _savant_ in tracing the origin of the human species. Lost in threading
-the way back to our first parents, they need some rough, uncultured soul
-to lead them out of the bewildering maze--back to the point whence they
-started.
-
-But let us hope in this instance filial instinct has not mistaken the
-genuine Adam--the first speaker, it is possible, of Basque. Señor Erro
-finds in this language the origin of all civilization and science. It
-must be confessed we have wofully forgotten our mother-tongue; for it is
-said to be impossible to learn to speak it unless one goes very young
-among the Basques. It is a common saying of theirs that the devil once
-came into their country to learn the language, but gave it up in despair
-after three hundred years’ application! It may be inferred he had lost
-the knowledge he had made such successful use of a few thousand years
-before in the Garden of Eden.
-
-M. Astarloa, likewise a Biscayan, maintains that the extraordinary
-perfection of this language is a proof it is the only one that could have
-been conferred on the first man by his Creator, but in another place says
-it was formed by God himself at the confusion of tongues in the tower of
-Babel--which assertions rather lack harmony.
-
-Max Müller, the eminent philologist, pretends a serious discussion
-took place about two hundred years ago in the metropolitan chapter of
-Pampeluna as to the following knotty points:
-
-_First._ Was Basque the primitive language of mankind? The learned
-members confessed that, however strong might be their private
-convictions, they did not dare give an affirmative reply.
-
-_Secondly._ Was Basque the only language spoken by Adam and Eve in the
-garden of Eden?
-
-As to this, the whole chapter declared there could be no doubt whatever
-that it was “impossible to bring a reasonable objection against such an
-opinion.”
-
-This is extremely amusing; but, of course, too absurd to be true.
-Besides, the archives of Pampeluna do not afford the slightest hint of so
-singular a record.
-
-Southwestern France, however, has many traditions of the Oriental origin
-of its inhabitants. Tarbes and Lourdes are said to have been founded by
-Abyssinian princesses. Belleforest, in his _Cosmography_, says Japhet
-himself came into Gaul and built the city of Périgueux, which for several
-ages bore his name. Père Bajole, of Condom, a Jesuit of the XVIIth
-century, is less precise in his suppositions, but thinks the country was
-peopled soon after the Deluge, and therefore by those who had correct
-notions of the true God. Moreover as Noah, of course, would not have
-allowed his descendants to depart without suitable advice as to the way
-of salvation, especially to the head of the colony, he concludes that
-many of the ancient Aquitanians were saved. The Sire Dupleix cites the
-epistle of S. Martial to show they had retained some proper notions of
-theology, which accounts for the rapid success of the first Christian
-apostles of the country.
-
-But to return to the Basques in particular: In the _Leyenda
-Pendadola_--an old book of the XIth century--we read that “the first
-settlement in Spain was made by the patriarch Tubal, whose people
-spoke the language still used in the provinces of Biscay”--that is,
-the Basque. William von Humboldt likewise attributed to the Basques an
-Asiatic origin, and was decidedly of the school of MM. Erro and Astarloa,
-though he rejected their exaggerations. The Basque language, so rich,
-harmonious, and expressive, is now generally believed to be one of the
-Turanian tongues. Prince Lucian Bonaparte shows the analogy between it
-and the Hungarian, Georgian, etc.
-
-The word Basque is derived from the Latin _Vasco_; for in Southwestern
-France it is quite common to pronounce the letter _v_ like _b_--a habit
-which made Scaliger wittily say: _Felices populi, quibus Vivere est
-Bibere_.
-
-The Basque country consists of several provinces on both sides of the
-Pyrenees bordering on the Bay of Biscay. Labourd, Soule, and Lower
-Navarre are now in the department of the Basses-Pyrenees, on the French
-side. The two provinces of Biscay and Guipuzcoa--a part of Alava and of
-Upper Navarre--belong to Spain. The whole Basque population cannot be
-more than 500,000. The people, as we have had a proof of, are proud of
-their ancient nationality; and though there is a difference of manners,
-physiognomy, and even of idiom in these sections, they all recognize each
-other as brethren. They are a noble race, and have accomplished great
-deeds in their day. Entrenched behind their mountains, they long kept
-the Romans at bay, drove back the Moors, and crushed the rear-guard of
-Charlemagne.
-
-The Basques have always been famous navigators. The first suggestion
-that led to the discovery of America is said to have been given
-Christopher Columbus by Sanchez de Huelva, a Basque pilot. The Basques
-of Labourd certainly discovered Cape Breton. They were the first to go
-on whale-fisheries, which, in 1412, extended as far as Iceland. And
-Newfoundland seems to have been known to them in the middle of the
-XVth century. The first name of Cape Breton--isle des Bacaloas or
-Bacaloac--is a Basque name.
-
-In the middle ages the Basques maintained a certain independence by means
-of their _fueros_, or special privileges, which had been handed down from
-time immemorial and confirmed by several of the kings of France. The wood
-of Haïtze is still pointed out as the place where the assemblies of the
-elders, or _bilçars_, were formerly held in the district of Labourd. Here
-came together the proprietors of the different communes to regulate their
-administrative affairs. The most of the assembly leaned on their staves
-or against the venerable oaks of the forest. But the presiding member sat
-on a huge stone, the secretary on another, while a third was used for
-recording the decrees of the assembly, to which the kings of France and
-Navarre were often forced to yield by virtue of their _fueros_.
-
-And this country was never over-ruled by oppressive lords who held
-it in subjection by means of their fortified castles. The device of
-Bayonne--_Nunquam polluta_--seems to express the unstained independence
-that had never been subjected to feudal dominion. It doubtless had great
-families who distinguished themselves by their bravery and military
-services, and were noted for their wealth, like the _casas de parientes
-majores_--the twenty-four families of great antiquity--in Guypuzcoa,
-among which was the family of Loyola of Aspeïtia, to which the immortal
-founder of the Jesuits belonged, as well as that of Balda, his mother’s
-family; but they never pretended to the feudal authority of the great
-nobles of France and Spain. It was only in the XVth century that several
-Basque families, who had become wealthy, ventured to erect some
-inoffensive towers like those of Uturbi near St. Jean de Luz, occupied by
-Louis XI. while on the frontier arranging the treaty between the kings of
-Castile and Arragon.
-
-It is said of the Basques of Spain: As many Basques, as many nobles. Many
-of their villages have coats of arms on all the houses, which contrast
-with the decayed lattices and crumbling roofs. The owners point to their
-emblazonry with the air of a Montmorency. When the Moors invaded the
-North of Spain, thousands of mountaineers rose to drive them out. As
-they made war at their own expense, those who returned alive to their
-cottages received the reward of gentlemen--the right of assuming some
-heraldic sign and graving it on their walls as a perpetual memorial of
-their deeds. In the valley of Roncal the inhabitants were all ennobled
-for having distinguished themselves at the battle of Olaso, in the reign
-of Fortunio Garcia. In the village of Santa Lucia, not far from Toledo,
-an old house of the XIIIth century is still to be seen with double lancet
-windows, which has its record over the door proving the part a former
-owner had taken at the bridge of Olaso--an azure field traversed by a
-river, which is spanned by a bridge with three golden arches surmounted
-by the bleeding head of a Moor.
-
-In a faubourg of Tolosa is a modest house stating that Juan Perez having
-borne arms for more than fifty years in Italy, Spain, Portugal, Flanders,
-etc., and taken part in the great naval victory over the Turks at Lepanto
-under Don Juan of Austria, the emperor created him knight and gave him
-for his arms the imperial eagle.
-
-But most of these armorial bearings have reference to the chase, to
-which the people were so addicted. The trophies they brought home,
-instead of being nailed up over the door, were now graven there in
-stone--sometimes a wolf, or a hare, or even a favorite hound. Two dogs
-are on the arms inherited by the Prince of Viana, the donor of the fine
-bells to the basilica of Notre Dame de Lourdes.
-
-In the commune of Bardos is a château which bears the name of Salla from
-the founder of the family. It was he who, fighting under Alphonse the
-Chaste, King of Navarre, had his legs broken by the explosion of a rock,
-from which time the house of Salla has had for its arms three _chevrons
-brisés, d’or, sur un champ d’azur_. The most illustrious member of this
-family is Jean Baptiste de la Salle, who founded the admirable order
-of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, with a special mission for
-instructing the poor.
-
-Mgr. de Belsunce, the celebrated bishop of Marseilles, was also of Basque
-origin. The Château de Belsunce is still to be seen--an old manor-house
-with Gothic turrets bespeaking the antiquity of the family. The name is
-associated with the legends of the country. Tradition relates that a
-winged monster having terrified the whole region, a knight of this house
-armed himself with a lance and went forth to attack the monster in his
-den. The dragon, having received a mortal wound, sprang with a dying
-effort upon his enemy, seized him, and rolled with him into the Nive.
-From that time the family of Belsunce bore on its shield a dragon sable
-on a field gules.
-
-The arms of Fontarabia is a siren on the waves bearing a mirror and a
-comb--symbol of this enchanting region. This historic place, once the
-rival of St. Jean de Luz, now wears a touching aspect of desolation and
-mourning which only adds to its attractions. Its ruins have a hue of
-antiquity that must delight a painter’s eye. The long street that leads
-to the principal square carries one back three hundred years, most of the
-houses being in the Spanish style of the XVIth century. There are coats
-of arms over every door, and balconies projecting from every story, with
-complicated trellises or lattices that must almost madden the moon-struck
-serenader. Nothing could be more picturesque than this truly Spanish
-place. Many of the houses bear the imposing name of _palacios_, which
-testify to the ancient splendor of this _ciudad muy noble, muy leal, y
-muy valerosa_. Overlooking the whole place is the château of Jeanne la
-Folle, massive, heavy, its walls three yards thick, its towers round--a
-genuine fortress founded in the Xth century, but mostly rebuilt by
-Charles V. Its chronicles are full of historic interest. Here took place
-the interview between Louis XI. and Henri IV. of Castille, whose arrogant
-favorite, Beltram de la Cueva, in his mantle broidered with gold and
-pearls and diamonds, and his boat with its awning of cloth of gold, must
-have offered a striking contrast to the extreme simplicity of the King of
-France.
-
-The fine, imposing church of Fontarabia, in the transition style, is a
-marked exception to the Basque churches generally, which are of simple
-primitive architecture, with but few ornaments; and these, at least on
-the French side of the frontier, mostly confined to the sanctuary, which
-is rich in color and gilding. Perhaps over the main altar is a painting,
-but by no means by Murillo or Velasquez. If on the Spanish side, it may
-be a S. Iago on a white steed, sword in hand, with a red mantle over his
-pilgrim’s dress, looking like a genuine _matamore_, breathing destruction
-against the Moors. The Madonna, too, is always there, perhaps with a
-wheel of silver swords, as if in her bosom were centred all the sorrows
-of the human race.
-
-The galleries around the nave in the Basque churches gives them the
-appearance of a _salle de spectacle_; but the clergy think the separation
-of the sexes promotes the respect due in the sanctuary, and the people
-themselves cling to the practice. The men occupy the galleries. They
-all have rosaries in their hands. From time to time you can see them
-kiss their thumbs, placed in the form of a cross, perhaps to set a seal
-on their vows to God, as people in the middle ages used to seal their
-letters with their thumbs to give them a sacred inviolability. Licking
-the thumb was, we know, an ancient form of giving a solemn pledge; and,
-till a recent period, the legal form of completing a bargain in Scotland
-was to join the thumbs and lick them. “What say ye, man? There’s my
-thumb; I’ll ne’er beguile ye,” said Rob Roy to Bailie Nicol Jarvie.
-
-When Mass is over, every man in the galleries respectfully salutes his
-next neighbor. This is considered obligatory. Were it even his deadliest
-enemy, he must bow his head before him. Mass heard with devotion brings
-the Truce of God to the heart.
-
-The women occupy the nave, sitting or kneeling on the black,
-funereal-looking carpet that covers the stone above the tomb of their
-beloved dead. For every family has a slab of wood or marble with an
-inscription in large characters, which covers the family vault below, and
-their notions of pious respect oblige the living to kneel on the stone
-that covers the bones of their forefathers. Or this _was_ the case; for
-of late years burial in churches has been forbidden, and these slabs
-now only serve to designate the inalienable right of the families to
-occupy them during the divine service. It is curious and interesting to
-examine these sepulchral slabs; for they are like the archives of a town
-inscribed with the names of the principal inhabitants, with their rank
-and occupation. In some places the women, by turns, bring every morning
-an offering for their pastor, which they deposit on these stones like an
-expiatory libation. Several of them are daily garnished with fruit, wine,
-eggs, beeswax, yarn, and linen thread, and the _curé_, accompanied by his
-servant or the sacristan, goes around after Mass to collect this tribute
-of rural piety in a basket, and give his blessing to the families. These
-offerings of the first-fruits of the earth are still continued, though
-the dead are buried elsewhere.
-
-The seat of that mighty potentate, the village mayor, is in the choir, as
-befits his dignity, which he fully sustains by his majestic deportment in
-sight of the whole congregation. Sometimes he chants at the lectern, like
-Charlemagne. The square peristyle of the church is often divided between
-him and the village school-master for their respective functions, as if
-to invest them with a kind of sanctity.
-
-In Soule the belfry is formed by extending upwards the western wall of
-the church in the form of three gables, looking like three obelisks.
-The bell is hung in the central one. The origin of this custom is thus
-explained by M. Cénac Montaut:
-
-“In former times, when the Basques had some difficulty about accepting
-all the truths of the Gospel, the clergy were unable to make them
-comprehend the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. One of the priests, like S.
-Patrick with the shamrock, saw he must appeal to the senses in order to
-reach the mind and heart. Entering his rude pulpit one day, he addressed
-his flock something after the following manner: ‘Some of you, my dear
-brethren, recently objected that the God of the Old Testament, in the
-tables of the law, wished to be worshipped as one God, and that to add
-now the Son and Holy Spirit to the Deity is to overthrow the law of Sinai
-and affect the divine Essence itself.… My dear brethren, hitherto we have
-had but one gable on our belfry, directing towards heaven the innermost
-prayer of the heart, and bearing the bell by which God seems to speak to
-us in return. If, now, two other gables were added to this, would not
-this triple tower, standing on one base, and pointing to the same heaven,
-still constitute one belfry?’”
-
-This appeal was effective. Those who had been unable to accept the
-abstract doctrine of the Trinity perfectly comprehended this material
-unity. The other priests of Soule hastened to make use of so happy an
-oratorical figure, and all through the valley of the Gave rose the
-three-gabled, dogmatic belfries, such as we see at the present day.
-
-Near the church is often a modest white house with a small garden
-containing a few trees and flowers, where the Daughters of the Cross
-devote themselves to the instruction of children, planting the seeds of
-piety in their youthful hearts.
-
-The Basque houses, with their triangular, tile-covered roofs, often
-project like a _châlet_, and are painted white, green, and even pink.
-The casements are made in the form of a cross, and stained red. The
-doorway is arched like a church-portal, and has over it a Virgin, or
-crucifix, or some pious inscription. There is no bolt on the door; for a
-Basque roof is too inviolable to need a fastening. At the entrance is a
-_bénitier_ (for holy water), as if the house were to the owner a kind of
-sanctuary to be entered with purification and a holy thought. You enter
-a large hall that divides the house into two parts, and contains all the
-farming utensils. It is here the husbandman husks his corn and thrashes
-his wheat. The uncolored walls of the rooms are hung with a few rude
-pictures, as of the Last Judgment, the Wandering Jew, or Napoleon. There
-are some large presses, a few wooden chairs, a shelf in the corner with
-a lace-edged covering for the statue of the Virgin, who wears a crown of
-_immortelles_ on her head and a rosary around her neck. At one end of the
-room is a bed large enough for a whole family, and so high as almost to
-need a ladder to ascend it. The open pink curtains show the holy-water
-font, the crucifix, and faded palm branch annually renewed. There is
-no house without some religious symbol. The Basque has great faith in
-prayer. He stops his plough or wild native dance to say the Angelus. He
-never forgets to arm himself with the sign of the cross in a moment of
-danger. He makes it over the loaf of bread before he divides it among the
-family. The mother makes it on the foreheads of her children at night. At
-Candlemas a blessed candle burns under every roof in honor of the true
-Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. It is the
-boast of the country that Protestantism never found entrance therein,
-even during its prevalence in Béarn at the time of Joan of Navarre,
-though that princess took pains to have the Huguenot version of the New
-Testament translated into Basque and published at La Rochelle in 1591
-for their benefit. The whole Bible is now translated, M. Duvoisin having
-devoted six years to the work, and Prince Lucian Bonaparte a still longer
-time in settling the orthography and superintending the edition.
-
-It must not be supposed, however, that the Basques are an austere race.
-They are very fond of their national dances, and excel in the _jeu de
-paume_. Among their other amusements is the _pastorale_, acted in the
-open air with a _chirula_ (a kind of flute) and a tambourine for the
-orchestra. The subject is borrowed from the Bible, the legend of Roland,
-the wars with the Moors, etc. They are composed by native poets, and have
-a certain antique simplicity not without its charm. The people flock to
-these representations, as to their Cantabrian dances, in their gayest
-attire. The old man wears a _béret_ drawn over his forehead, while his
-long hair floats behind in token of the nobility of his ancient race.
-He wears short breeches, long woollen stockings, and leather shoes with
-handsome silver buckles.
-
-The young Basque, straight, well formed, and proud in his bearing, wears
-his blue _béret_ jauntily perched on one side of his head. His jacket is
-short. Silver clasps fasten his collar and wristbands. He wears sandals
-on his feet, with red bars across the instep. A bright red sash girdles
-his waist--as of all mountaineers, enabling them to endure fatigue the
-better, like the surcingle of a horse. “Beware of that young man with the
-loose girdle,” said Sulla, speaking of Cæsar. For among the Romans the
-word _discinctus_ was applied to the indolent, cowardly soldier, as _alte
-cinctus_ (high-girdled) meant a prompt, courageous man.
-
-The girls, slender in form, with regular, expressive features, are veiled
-in a black mantilla, or else carry it on their arms. A gay kerchief is
-wound around the back of their heads like a turban, leaving visible the
-shining bands of their beautiful black hair.
-
-The old women wear white muslin kerchiefs on their heads, with one corner
-falling on the shoulder. On the breast is suspended a golden heart or
-_Saint-Esprit_. Sometimes they are enveloped from head to foot in a
-great black cloak, which is absolutely requisite when they attend a
-funeral. This mantle forms part of the _trousseau_ of every bride of any
-substance, and she wears it on her wedding-day, as if to show herself
-prepared to pay due honor to all the friends who should depart this life
-before her. It must be a great comfort for them to see this mourning
-garment prepared in advance, and the sight of the bride veiled in her
-long black capuchin must diffuse a rather subdued gayety over the wedding
-party.
-
-The Basques pay great respect to the dead. When a man dies, his next
-neighbor on the right carries the crucifix before his bier in the funeral
-procession, and his nearest neighbor on the left walks at its side.
-And the whole neighborhood assembles around it in church, with lighted
-candles in their hands, to hear the Mass for the Dead. They adorn their
-graveyards with shrubs and flowers. And they never omit the month’s-mind,
-or anniversary service.
-
-Of course no one goes to the Basque country without visiting the famous
-Pas de Roland. The whole region is singularly wild and picturesque.
-We pass through a deep gorge encumbered with rocks, over which the
-Nive plunges and foams in the maddest possible way. Twin mountains of
-granite rise to the very heavens, their sides covered with the golden
-broom, or furrowed with deep gullies that tell of mountain torrents. The
-overhanging cliffs, and the dizzy, winding road along the edge of the
-abyss, create a feeling of awe; and by the time we arrive, breathless and
-fatigued, at the Pas de Roland, we are quite prepared to believe anything
-marvellous.
-
-              “I lie reclined
-    Against some trunk the husbandman has felled;
-    Old legendary poems fill my mind,
-              And Parables of Eld:
-    I wander with Orlando through the wood,
-    Or muse with Jaques in his solitude.”
-
-This archway was produced by a mere blow from the heel of the great
-Paladin, who did not consider the mountain worthy the use of his mighty
-sword. Everything is bathed in the golden light of the wondrous legend,
-which harmonizes with the spot. We even fancy we can hear the powerful
-horn of Orlando--the greatest trumpeter on record. We can see Carloman,
-with his black plumes and red mantle--opera-like--as he is described in
-the _Chant d’Altabisçar_! The natives, _pur sang_, do not call this pass
-by the name of Roland, but _Utheca gaiz_--a bad, dangerous passage, as
-in truth it is. It is the only means of communication with the opposite
-side of the mountain. After going through it, the mountains recede, the
-horizon expands, a country full of bucolic delights is revealed to the
-eye, the exaltation of the soul subsides, and the mind settles down to
-its normal state of incredulity.
-
-Just below the Pas de Roland, on the French side, are the thermal springs
-of Cambo, in a lovely little valley watered by the Nive. The air here is
-pure, the climate mild, the meadows fresh and sprinkled with flowers, the
-encircling hills are crowned with verdure. Never did Nature put on an
-aspect of more grace and beauty than in this delicious spot. One of the
-springs is sulphurous, the other ferruginous. They became popular among
-the Spanish and Basques during the last century when patronized by Queen
-Marie Anne de Neuberg, the second wife of Don Carlos II. of Spain. Some
-of her royal gifts to the church of Cambo are still shown with pride.
-These springs were visited as early as 1585, among others, by François
-de Nouailles, Bishop of Dax, who is often referred to in proof of their
-efficacy; but as that eminent diplomatist died a few weeks after he tried
-the waters, the less said of his cure the better for their reputation.
-Napoleon I., however, had faith in their virtues. He visited Cambo, and
-was only prevented by his downfall from building a military hospital here.
-
-Not two miles from Cambo is the busy town of Hasparren. The way thither
-is through a delightful country, with some fresh beauty bursting on the
-eye at every step. On all sides are to be seen the neat white cottages of
-the laborers in the midst of orchards, meadows, and vineyards; sometimes
-in the hollows of a valley like a nest among the green leaves; sometimes
-on the hills commanding the most delicious of landscapes. Hasparren has
-about six thousand inhabitants, mostly farmers, but who try to increase
-their income by some trade. Twelve hundred of them are shoemakers; seven
-or eight hundred are weavers, curriers, or chocolate-makers. The spacious
-church is hardly able to contain the crowd of worshippers on festivals. A
-curious history is connected with the belfry.
-
-The government having imposed a tax on salt in 1784, the people around
-Hasparren, who had hitherto been exempted, resolved to resist so heavy
-an impost. They rang the bell with violence to call together the
-inhabitants. Even the women assembled in bands with spits, pitchforks,
-and sickles, to the sound of a drum, which one of their number beat
-before them. The mob, amounting to two thousand, entrenched themselves
-in the public cemetery, where they received with howls of rage the five
-brigades the governor of Bayonne was obliged to send for the enforcement
-of the law. Bloodshed was prevented by the venerable _curé_, who rose
-from his sick-bed and appeared in their midst. By his mild, persuasive
-words he calmed the excited crowd, induced the troops to retire and the
-mob to disperse. The leaders being afterwards arrested, he also effected
-their pardon--on humiliating conditions, however, to the town. The
-hardest was, perhaps, the destruction of the belfry, from which they had
-rung the alarm; and it was not till some time in the present century
-they were allowed to rebuild it.
-
-It is remarkable that the ancient Basques left no poems, no war-songs to
-celebrate their valorous deeds, no epic in which some adventurous mariner
-recites his wanderings; for the language is flexible and easily bends to
-rhythm. But the people seem better musicians than poets. There are, to be
-sure, some rude plaints of love, a few smugglers’ or fishermen’s songs,
-sung to bold airs full of wild harmony that perhaps used to animate
-their forefathers to fight against the Moors; but these songs have no
-literary merit. Only two poems in the language have acquired a certain
-celebrity, because published by prominent men who ascribed to them a
-great antiquity. One of these is the _Chant des Cantabres_, published by
-Wilhelm von Humboldt in 1817 in connection with an essay on the Basque
-language. Ushered into the world by so distinguished a linguist, it was
-eagerly welcomed by German _savants_, and regarded as a precious memorial
-of past ages. M. von Humboldt took it from the MSS. of a Spaniard
-employed in 1590 to explore the archives of Simancas and Biscay. He
-pretended to have found it written on an old, worm-eaten parchment, as
-well it might be if done soon after the invasion of the country by the
-Romans. We wonder he did not also find the history of the conquest of
-Cantabria in five books composed by the Emperor Augustus himself, said to
-have been in existence in the XVIIth century!
-
-The _Chant d’Altabisçar_ is said to have been discovered by M. La Tour
-d’Auvergne in an old convent at St. Sebastian, in 1821, written on
-parchment in characters of the XIIIth or XIVth century. It is unfortunate
-so valuable a MS., like the original poems of Ossian, should have been
-lost! The contents, however, were preserved and published in 1835,
-and, though now considered spurious, merit a certain attention because
-formerly regarded as genuine by such men as Victor Hugo, who, in his
-_Légende des Siècles_, speaks of Charlemagne as “plein de douleur” to
-think
-
-    “Qu’on fera des chansons dans toutes ces montagnes
-    Sur ses guerriers tombés devant des paysans,
-    Et qu’on en parlera plus que quatre cents ans!”
-
-M. Olivier, in his _Dictionnaire de la Conversation_, enthusiastically
-exclaims: “What shall I say of the Basque chants, and where did this
-people, on their inaccessible heights, obtain such boldness of rhythm
-and intonation? Every Basque air I know is grand and decided in tone,
-but none more strikingly so than the national chant of the Escualdunacs,
-as they call themselves in their language. And yet this fine poem has
-for some of its lines only the cardinal numbers up to twenty, and then
-repeated in reverse order. Often, while listening to the pure, fresh
-melody of this air, I have wondered what meaning was concealed beneath
-these singular lines. From one hypothesis to another I have gone back
-to the time when the Vascon race, hedged in at the foot of the Pyrenees
-by the Celtic invaders, sought refuge among the inaccessible mountains.
-Then, it seemed to me, this _Chant_ was composed as a war-song in which,
-after recounting, one by one, their years of exile, they numbered
-with the same regularity, but in a contrary direction, their deeds of
-vengeance!”
-
-Such is the power of imagination. It is the
-
-            “Père Tournamine
-    Qui croit tout ce qu’il s’imagine.”
-
-Let us give the literal translation of the lines in which M. Olivier
-finds such an expression of sublime vengeance:
-
-    “They come! they come! What a forest of lances!
-    With many-colored banners floating in the midst.
-    How the lightning flashes from their arms!
-    How many are there? Boy, count them well!
-    One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten,
-        eleven, twelve,
-    Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,
-        twenty.
-    …
-    They fly! they fly! Where, then, is the forest of lances?
-    Where the many-colored banners floating in the midst?
-    The lightning no longer flashes from their blood-stained arms.
-    How many left? Boy, count them well!
-    Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen,
-        thirteen,
-    Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three,
-        two, one.”
-
-The first book in the Basque language was printed in the XVIth century,
-in the same year Rabelais published his _Pantagruel_, in which he makes
-Panurge ask in the Basque language for an _erremedio_ against poverty,
-that he might escape the penalty of Adam which brought sweat to his
-brow--a question many are still asking in far more intelligible language.
-
-The most ancient specimens of genuine Basque literature show what changes
-the language has undergone within four or five centuries, which is a
-proof against the authenticity of these _Chants_. M. Bladé, a French
-critic, says his butter-man readily translated every word of the _Chant
-des Cantabres_, so admired by the Baron von Humboldt. Fortunately, it is
-not needed to prove the valor of the Cantabrians when their country was
-invaded by the Romans, nor that of _Altabisçar_ to show the part they
-took in Roncesvalles’ fearful fight.
-
-
-THE ETERNAL YEARS.
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE DIVINE SEQUENCE.”
-
-    “Tranquil Hope still trims her lamp
-    At the Eternal Years.”--_Faber._
-
-CHAPTER I.
-
-OUR IMPRESSIONS.
-
-It is probable that most of us have been, at some time in our
-intellectual and spiritual life, conscious of a divergence between our
-mental impressions and our received belief respecting the nature and
-characteristics of the divine Being. Outside the closed-in boundaries of
-our faith there has been, as it were, a margin of waste land which we
-seldom explore, but the undefined, uncultivated products of which flit
-athwart our imagination with something like an uncomfortable misgiving.
-We do not go far into it, because we have our certain landmarks to stand
-by; and while the sun of faith shines bright on these, we can say to
-ourselves that we have nothing really to do with the sort of fog-land
-which surrounds our own happy enclosure. Our allotment is one of peace
-within the true fold of the church.
-
-We know where we are; we know what we have got to do; and we refuse to
-be seriously troubled by the dubious questions which may possibly never
-disturb us, unless we deliberately turn to them.
-
-To us, as Catholics, this is a safe resolve. We know the Church cannot
-err. We believe, and are ready, absolutely and unreservedly ready,
-to believe, all she puts before us as claiming our belief. And this
-is no childish superstition. It is no unmanly laying down of our
-inalienable right to know good from evil; it is no wilful deafness
-or deliberate closing of our eyes. It is the absolutely necessary
-and perfectly inevitable result of the one primary foundation of all
-our belief--namely, that the church is the organ of the Holy Ghost,
-the infallible utterance of an infallible voice, which voice is none
-other and no less than the voice of God, speaking through and by the
-divinely-instituted kingdom which comprises the church of God. With
-this once firmly fixed in our hearts and intellects, nothing, can
-disturb us. Even supposing something to be defined by the church for
-which we were unprepared--as was the case with some on the definition
-of the Infallibility of the Sovereign Pontiff--still these surprises,
-if surprises they be, can be no otherwise than sweet and welcome. To
-us there cannot be a jarring note in that voice which is the voice
-of the Holy Ghost. The trumpet cannot give a false sound. It is our
-fault--either intellectually our fault (which is rather a misfortune
-than a fault) or spiritually (which is from our negligence and
-lukewarmness)--if the blast of that trumpet painfully startle us from
-our slumbers. To all who are waking and watching the sound can only be
-cheering and encouraging. The good soldier is ever ready to hear it and
-prompt to obey. The slumberer is among those to whom our Lord says: “You
-know how to discern the face of the sky, and can you not know the signs
-of the times?”[242]
-
-He evidently expects us to know the signs of the times. The Lord is not
-in the strong wind, nor is he in the earthquake or the fire. He is in
-the gentle air.[243] But the wind and the earthquake and the fire are
-his precursors, and those who have experienced, and heard, and witnessed
-these warnings should be all attention for the softer sound which is the
-utterance of the divine Voice in the church.
-
-There should be no surprise save the surprise of a great joy, the
-admiring astonishment of finding out how good our God is, and what
-marvellous treasures of things new and old our great mother, the
-church, lays before us from time to time, as the Spirit of God moves
-over the ocean of divine love, as it were incubating the creations of
-the world of grace. We lie down in our certainty as the infant lies
-down in its mother’s lap, and we rise on the wings of hope and faith
-as the lark rises in the morning light, without the shadow of a doubt
-that the lambient air will uphold the little fluttering wings with
-which it carries its joyous song to the gates of heaven. Underneath us
-are the “everlasting arms,”[244] and therefore we “dwell in safety and
-alone”--alone as regards those outside the church, who cannot understand
-our security, because they have never grasped the idea that, the voice
-of the church being the voice of the third Person of the ever-blessed
-Trinity to doubt the church is the same as to say that God is a liar.
-
-If we have dwelt thus at length upon our certitude, and upon the
-intellectual and spiritual repose it gives us, we have done so for the
-purpose of making it absolutely impossible for our readers to suppose
-that when we speak of a divergence between some of our mental impressions
-and our received belief, we are in any degree insinuating that we have
-not got all we require in the absolute and definite teaching of the
-church; or that we have any cause to feel troubled about any question
-which the church has left as an open question, and respecting which any
-one of us individually may have been unable to arrive at a conclusion.
-All we mean is this: that there are certain feelings, impressions, and
-imaginings which we find it hard to silence and extinguish, difficult to
-classify in accordance with our substantial belief, and which hang about
-us like a sail on the mast of a vessel which the unwary crew have left
-flapping in a dangerous gale.
-
-The points in question may be various as the minds that contemplate them.
-They may embrace a variety of subjects, and may assume different shapes
-and aspects, according to the external circumstances under which they
-present themselves, or to the color of our own thoughts and feelings at
-the moment they are before us. Their field is so vast and their possible
-variety so great that it would be vain for us to attempt to give even
-a glance at them all. Indeed, the doing so is beyond our capacity, and
-would be beyond the capacity of any one man. For who shall tell what is
-fermenting in the thoughts of one even of his fellow-beings? He can
-merely guess blindly at the souls of others from having dwelt in the
-depths of his own, and knowing, as the one great fact, that all men are
-brothers.
-
-We are far, therefore, from intending to take up all the possible
-questions not hedged in and limited and defined by dogmatic teaching,
-or to try and help others to come to a conclusion on each. We might as
-well attempt to count the sands of the sea-shore. All we are proposing
-to ourselves for our own consolation, and, if possible, for that of our
-readers, is to lay hold of certain facts which will give a clew to other
-less certain facts, and, in short--if we may be allowed to resort to a
-chemical term--to indicate certain solvents which will hold in solution
-the little pebbles that lie in our path, and which might grow into great
-stumbling-blocks had we not a strong dissolving power always at our
-command.
-
-It is self-evident that there is one knowledge which contains all other
-knowledge, and that is the knowledge of God. As all things flow from
-him, therefore all things are in him; and if we could see or know him,
-we should know all the rest. That knowledge, that seeing, is the “light
-of glory.” Its perfection is only compatible with the Beatific Vision,
-which vision is impossible to mere man in his condition of _viator_, or
-pilgrim.[245] It is the conclusion of faith just as broad noon is the
-termination of darkness. But as faith is the leading up to the Beatific
-Vision, to the light of glory, and to the knowledge of all things,
-therefore in its degree is it the best substitute for sight--the dawning
-of a more perfect day, and the beginning of knowledge. Consequently,
-“faith is the evidence of things that appear not.” And as it is some of
-the things “that appear not” which are puzzling and bewildering many of
-us, let us lay hold of our faith and go whither it shall lead us.
-
-We can in this life only know God mediately and obscurely by reason and
-faith. But as the direct and clear intuition of God in the Beatific
-Vision will include the knowledge of all else, so even our present
-imperfect knowledge of him comprises in a certain sense all other and
-lesser science, and is necessary to the highest knowledge of created
-things.
-
-To do this thoroughly we will investigate the occasional divergence
-between our mental impressions, as we sometimes experience them, and our
-received belief of the Divine Nature and characteristics.
-
-In a burst of holy exultation S. Paul asks, “Who hath known the mind of
-the Lord?”[246]--not as though regretting his ignorance, but rather with
-the feelings of one who, having suddenly come upon an evidently priceless
-treasure, exclaims, Who can tell what wealth now lies before us?
-
-Yes, indeed! we know him well while we know him but imperfectly. There
-is more to know than we can guess at, but our hearts are too narrow to
-hold it. And yet sometimes how full to overflowing has that knowledge
-seemed! Have we not followed him from the cradle to the grave, in that
-sweet brotherhood which he has established with each one of us? Have
-we not lost ourselves in far-reaching thoughts of how, and where he was
-when his brotherhood with us was not an accomplished fact, but only an
-ever-enduring divine intention co-equal with his own eternal existence--a
-phase of that very existence, for ever present to the Divine Idea, though
-not yet subjected to the conditions of time? We have thought of him as
-in the bosom of the Father in a way in which, wonderful to relate, he
-never can be again in the bosom of the Father. A something has passed in
-respect to the existence of God himself, and actually made a difference
-in the extrinsic relations of the divine Being.
-
-There was an eternity in which the Son of God--he whom we most seem to
-know of the three Persons of the ever-blessed Trinity--dwelt in the bosom
-of the Father unconnected with his sacred humanity. There was an eternity
-when his name was not Jesus, when he was the Son of God only, and not the
-Son of man.
-
-We are expressing what everybody knows who is a Christian--a platitude
-almost, and yet so full of wonder that, unless we have thoroughly gone
-into it and sifted it, we have not ransacked half the riches of what we
-can and may know of the “mind of the Lord.”
-
-In truth, we are very apt to be repelled by this contemplation. There is
-something dreary to us in the eternity when the Brother of our race and
-the Spouse of our souls was only the everlasting Begotten of the Father,
-dwelling in that inscrutable eternity to which we, as the creatures of
-time, seem to have no link. Our thoughts and imaginations are shackled
-by the conditions of our own being. Yesterday we were not. And so all
-before yesterday seems like a blank to us. To-morrow we know will be--if
-not for us in this identical state, yet certainly for us in some other
-state. But that dim yesterday, which never began and of which no history
-can be written, no details given, only the great, grand, inarticulated
-statement made that the QUI EST, the “I am,” filled it--this appalls
-us. Can nothing be done to mitigate this stupendous though beautiful
-horror? Is there no corner into which our insignificance can creep, that
-so we may look out upon those unknown depths without feeling that we
-are plunging into a fathomless ocean, there to sink in blank darkness
-and inanition? Surely the God of the past (as from our point of view we
-reckon the past) should not be so appallingly unknown to us who have
-our beloved Jesus in the present, and who look forward to the Beatific
-Vision of the whole blessed Trinity with trembling hope in the future.
-But before we can in any degree overcome the stupor with which we think
-of the backward-flowing ages of eternity, we must endeavor more fully to
-realize the nature of time.
-
-We are all apt to speak of time as a period; whereas it is more properly
-a state.
-
-The generality of persons, in thinking of time in relation to eternity,
-represent to themselves a long, long ago, blind past, and then an
-interminable but partially appreciable future, and time lying as a sort
-of sliced-out period between the two, which slice is attached to the
-eternity behind and the eternity in front, and about which we have the
-comfort and satisfaction of being able to write history and chronicle
-events, either on a large or a small scale. We treat it as we should do a
-mountain of gold, which we coin into money, and we conveniently cut it up
-into ages, years, months, days, and hours. It is our nature so to do, and
-we cannot do otherwise. It is the condition of our being. But as it will
-not be always the condition of our being, there are few things we are
-more constantly exhorted to than the attempt to raise our imagination,
-or rather our faith, as much as possible out of these conventional and
-arbitrary trammels, and dispose ourselves for that other state which is
-our ultimate end, and where there are no years and no days.
-
-In point of fact, time is only an imperfection of our being--an
-absolutely necessary imperfection, because our being is finite, and
-our state is a probationary state; and probation implies not only that
-succession which is necessary in every finite being, but change and
-movement in respect to things which are permanent in a more perfect
-state. Our condition in time has not inaptly been compared to that of a
-man looking through the small aperture of a camera-obscura, which only
-permits him to behold a section of what is passing. The figures appear
-and vanish. But the window is thrown wide open in eternity, and he sees
-the whole at once. He is, therefore, under a disadvantage so long as he
-is in the camera-obscura, viewing the landscape through a small hole.
-And this is our position, judging of eternity through the aperture of
-time. Even now we have a wonderful power of adding to our time, or of
-shortening it, without any reference to clocks or sun-dials, and which,
-if we think about it, will help to show us that time is a plastic
-accident of our being.
-
-When we have been very much absorbed, we have taken no note of time,
-and the hours have flown like minutes. During that interval we have,
-as it were, made our own time, and modified our condition with
-reference to time by our own act. Time, therefore, is plastic. Were we
-by some extraordinary and exceptional power to accomplish in one day
-all that actually we now take a year to effect, but at the same time
-intellectually to retain our present perception of the succession of
-events, our life would not really have been shorter for the want of
-those three hundred and sixty-four days which we had been able to do
-without. Life is shorter now than it was in the days of the patriarchs.
-But possibly the perception of life is not shortened. Nay, rather,
-from the rapidity with which events are now permitted to succeed each
-other, partially owing to the progress of science and to man’s increased
-dominion over material force, the probability is that our lives are not
-abstractedly much, if at all, more brief than Adam’s nine hundred and
-thirty years. All things now are hastening to the end. They have always
-been hastening. But there is the added impetus of the past; and that
-increases with every age in the world’s history.
-
-Now, let us imagine life, or a portion of life, without thought--that is,
-without the act of thinking. Immediately we find that it is next door
-to _no thing_, to no time, and no life. We can only measure life with
-any accuracy by the amount of thought which has filled it--that is, by
-the quantity of our intellectual and spiritual power which we have been
-able to bring to the small aperture in the camera-obscura, by which to
-contemplate the ever-flowing eternity which lies beyond, and cut it up
-into the sections we call time.
-
-Another example will show us how plastic is the nature of time. Take
-the life of an animal. We are inclined to give the largest reasonable
-and possible importance to the brute creation. It is an open question,
-in which we see great seeds of future development, all tending to
-increased glory to the Creator and to further elucidation of creative
-love. Nevertheless, it is obvious that brutes perceive only or chiefly
-by moments. There is, as compared with ourselves, little or no sequence
-in their perceptions. There is no cumulative knowledge. They are without
-deliberate reflection, even where they are not without perception of
-relations and circumstances, past or future. Consequently, they are more
-rigorously subjects to time than ourselves. Therefore, when we deprive
-an animal of life, we deprive him of a remainder of time that is equal
-to little more than no time, in proportion to the degree in which his
-power of filling time with perception is less than our own.[247] All
-we have said tends to prove that the existence of time is a relative
-existence; it is the form or phase of our own finite being. It is an
-aspect of eternity--the aspect which is consistent with our present
-condition. For time is the measure of successive existence in created
-and finite beings. As finite spirits we cannot escape from this limit of
-successive existence, any more than a body can escape from the limit of
-locality and finite movement in grace. Eternal existence is the entire
-possession of life, which is illimitable, in such a perfect manner that
-all succession in duration is excluded. This is possible only in God
-himself, who is alone most pure and perfect act, and therefore is at once
-all he can be, without change or movement. But the created spirit must
-ever live by a perpetual movement of increase in its duration, because it
-is on every side finite. Time, therefore, will continue to exist while
-creatures continue to exist.
-
-Having arrived at this conclusion we cannot refuse ourselves the
-satisfaction of pointing out one obvious deduction--namely, that if
-time has, in itself, only a relative existence, it is impossible it can
-ever put an end to the existence of anything else. It is inconceivable
-that the _non est_ can absorb, exterminate, annihilate, or obliterate
-any one single thing that has ever had one second of real existence,
-of permitted being, of sentient, or even of insentient, life. God can
-annihilate, if he so will (and we do not think he will), but time
-cannot. Time can hide and put away. It can slip between us and the only
-reality, which is eternity; that is the condition of God, the QUI EST.
-Wait awhile, and time will have, as it were, spread or overflowed into
-eternity. It will hide nothing from our view. It will be “rent in two
-from the top to the bottom,” from the beginning to the end, like the
-veil of the Temple, which is its symbol. And then will appear all that
-it has hitherto seemed, but only seemed, to distinguish. We shall find
-it all in the inner recesses of eternity. What cause, in point of fact,
-have we for supposing that anything which _is_ shall cease to exist?
-Why, because we no longer behold certain objects, do we imagine them to
-be really lost for ever? Is this a reasonable supposition on the part
-of beings who are conscious that once they themselves were not, and yet
-believe that they always shall be? Why should the mere diversity in other
-existences make us apprehend that the missing is also the lost, and that
-we have any substantial cause for doubting that all which exists will
-go on existing? Do we anywhere see symptoms of annihilation? It is true
-we see endless mutations, but those very mutations are a guarantee to
-us of the continuousness of being. All material things change: but they
-only change. They do not ever in any case go out and cease to be. If
-this be true of merely material things, how absolutely true must it be
-of the immaterial; and how more than probable of that which is partly
-one and partly the other, of that far lower nature of the brutes, which
-have a principle of life in them inferior to ours and superior to the
-plants, and of which, since we do not believe their sensations to be the
-result of certain fortuitous atoms that have fashioned themselves blindly
-after an inexorable law, and independently of an intelligent Lawgiver,
-we may reasonably predicate that they too will have a future and, in
-its proper inferior order, an advanced existence. Everywhere there is
-growth--through the phases of time into the portals of eternity.
-
-The idea in the eternal Mind, of all essences, the least as well as the
-greatest, was, like the Mind that held it, eternal--that is, exempt
-from all limit of succession. The past, present, and future are the
-progressive modes of existence and of our own perceptions rather than
-the properties of the essences themselves. Those essences had a place in
-the Eternal Idea; they occupy an actual place as an actual existence in
-the phases of time, and they go on in all probability--may we not say
-in all certainty?--in the endlessness of the Creator’s intention. Let
-no one misunderstand this as implying that matter was eternal in any
-other sense than its essence being an object of the idea of the eternal
-God, it was always clearly present to the eternal Mind. Its actuality,
-as we know it, dates from this creation of the crude, chaotic mass.
-But once formed, and then fashioned, and finally animated, we can have
-no pretence for supposing that any part of it will ever cease to be.
-Nor can we have any solid reason for supposing that what has once been
-endowed with sentient life will ever be condemned to fall back into the
-all but infinitely lower form of mere organic matter, any more than we
-have reason to suppose that at some future period organic matter will
-be reduced to inorganic matter, and that out of this beautiful creation
-it will please God to resolve chaos back again, either the whole or in
-any one the smallest part. We have nothing to do with the difficulties
-of the question. They are difficulties entirely of detail, and not of
-principle; and they concern us no more than it concerns us to be able
-to state how many animalcula it took to heave up the vast sierras of
-the western hemisphere. The details may well puzzle us, and we cannot
-venture on the merest suggestion. But the principle is full of hope,
-joy, and security, which in itself is a presumption in its favor. If we
-would but believe how God values the work of his own hands; if we would
-but try to realize how intense is creative love, what much larger and
-deeper views we should have of the future of all creation, and of the
-glory that is prepared for us! Even the old heathen religions began by
-taking larger and more accurate measure of these questions (though they
-necessarily ended in error) than too many of us do with all the light of
-the Gospel thrown upon them. The animism of the heathens, which makes no
-distinction between animate and inanimate existence, but lends a soul
-to each alike, had in it a sort of loving and hopeful reverence for
-creation which is often wanting to us who alone truly know the Creator.
-In their blind groping after faith it led them to fetichism, and further
-on, as a fuller development of the same notion, to pantheism, and then
-to the ever-renewed and quite endless incarnations of Buddha. But these
-errors took their rise originally from a respectful and tender love of
-that beautiful though awful nature which man found lying all around him;
-external to himself, yet linked to himself, and beneath the folds of
-which he hoped to find the hidden deity.
-
-If these reflections have at all enabled us to understand the nature
-of time, and to shake off some of the unreasonable importance we lend
-to it in our imaginations--making of it a sort of lesser rival to
-eternity, fashioning it into an actual, existing thing, as if it were an
-attribute of God himself, instead of being, what it is, a state or phase
-imposed upon us, and not in any way affecting him--we shall have done
-much to facilitate the considerations we wish to enlarge upon. Eternity
-is “perpetually instantaneous.” It is the _nunc stans_ of theology.
-Time, on the contrary, is the past, present, and future of our human
-condition--the _nunc fluens_ of theology.
-
-With this truth well rooted in our minds, we will now turn to the
-investigation of some of those impressions to which we referred at the
-beginning of this section, and endeavor to throw light upon them from out
-of the additional knowledge we acquire of the nature and characteristics
-of the divine Being through the simple process of clearing away some
-of our false impressions with respect to time. We had in our modes of
-thought more or less hemmed in the Eternal, with our human sense of time,
-and subjected even him to the narrowing process of a past, present, and
-future. Now we are about to think of ourselves only in that position, and
-to contemplate him in eternity, dealing with us through the medium of
-time, but distinctly with a reference to eternity, and only apparently
-imposing on himself the conditions of time in order to bring himself, as
-it were, on a level with us in his dealings with us.
-
-Strange as it may appear, out of the depths of our stupidity we have
-fabricated a difficulty to ourselves in his very condescensions, and,
-looking back from our present to the past, we find ourselves puzzled at
-certain divers revelations of God made to mankind in gone-by times; just
-as, in the weakness of our faith, we are sometimes troubled with doubts
-about our own condition, and that of those about us, in that future which
-must come, and which may not be far off to any one of us.
-
-The God of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob--is he really quite the same as
-our own God? our God of the womb of Mary, of the manger, of the wayside
-places in Palestine, and Mount Calvary, and now, of the silken-curtained
-Tabernacle, and the Blessed Eucharist, and the dear, ineffable moments of
-silent prayer--is he the same?
-
-Of course we know that, literally and absolutely, he is the same
-yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Nevertheless, he appears to us
-under such different aspects that we find ourselves unintentionally
-contemplating the Old Testament as a revelation of the divine Being with
-very different emotions from those with which we contemplate him in the
-New Testament, and this, again, differing widely from our view of him
-in the church. It may be a mere matter of feeling, perhaps; but it is
-nevertheless a feeling which materially influences our form of devotion,
-the vigor of our faith, and the power of our hope and love.
-
-If we could take in all these different impressions and amalgamate them;
-if we could group them together, or make them like the several rays of
-light directed into one focus, we should obtain a more complete and a
-more influential knowledge of God than we can do while we seem rather to
-be wandering out of one view of him into another, as if we walked from
-chamber to chamber and closed each door behind us.
-
-Now, the only way we can arrive at this is by bearing in mind that the
-acts of God in governing the world are not momentary and solitary facts,
-but continuous acts, or rather one continuous act.
-
-Our difficulty lies in producing a visibly satisfactory harmony in our
-own minds as regards the acts of God, and thus (though for our own
-appreciation of them, they are to us broken up into fragments, or, in
-other terms, into separate facts) arriving at the same mental attitude
-towards them as though we saw them as one continuous act.
-
-It will aid us in our search if we, first of all, endeavor to qualify
-that act.
-
-Its very continuity, its perpetual instantaneousness, must essentially
-affect its character and make the definition no complex matter. It is an
-act of love, and it is revealed as such in the whole creation, and in the
-way God has let himself down to us and is drawing us up unto himself.
-There have been many apparent modifications, but there have been no
-actual contradictions, in this characteristic; for even the existence of
-evil works round to greater good, to a degree sufficiently obvious to us
-for us to know that where it is less obvious it must nevertheless follow
-the same law. For law is everywhere; because God is law, though law is
-not God.
-
-Modern unbelief substitutes law for God, and then thinks it has done away
-with him. To us who believe it makes no difference how far back in the
-long continuous line of active forces we may find the original and divine
-Author of all force. It is nothing but the weakness of our imagination
-which makes it more difficult to count by millions than by units.
-
-What does it matter to our faith through how many developments the
-condition of creation, as we now see it all around us, may have passed,
-when we know that the first idea sprang from the great Source of all law,
-and that with him the present state is as much one continuous act as the
-past state and the future state? You may trace back the whole material
-universe, if you will, to the one first molecule of chaotic matter; but
-so long as I find that first molecule in the hand of my Creator (and I
-defy you to put it anywhere else), it is enough for my faith.
-
-You do not make him one whit the less my Creator and my God because
-an initial law or force, with which he then stamped it, has worked
-it out to what I now see it. You may increase the apparent distance
-between the world as it is actually and the divine Fount from whence
-it sprang; you may seem to remove the creative love which called the
-universe into existence further off, by thus lengthening the chain of
-what you call developments; but, after all, these developments are for
-ever bridged over by the ulterior intentions of the Triune Deity when
-he said,“Let us make man in our image,” and by the fact that space and
-time are mere accidents as viewed in relation to the QUI EST. They are,
-so to speak, divinely-constituted conventionalities, through which the
-Divinity touches upon our human condition, but which in no way affect
-the Divine Essence as it is in itself. On the contrary, in the broken-up
-developments and evolutions which you believe you trace, and which you
-want to make into a blind law which shall supersede a divine Creator, I
-see only the pulsations of time breaking up the perpetually instantaneous
-act of God, just as I see the pulsations of light in the one unbroken
-ray. The act of God passes through the medium of time before it reaches
-our ken; and the ray of light passes through the medium of air before it
-strikes our senses; but both are continuous and instantaneous.
-
-If we have in any degree succeeded in establishing this to our
-satisfaction, it will become easier for us to estimate the acts of God as
-they come to us through the pulsations of Time; because we shall be able
-to bear in mind that they must be in a measure interpreted to us by the
-time through which they reach us. They were modified by the time in which
-they were revealed, much as the ray is modified by the substance through
-which it forces its way to us.
-
-Now, we arrive at the causes of the different impressions we receive
-of the nature and characteristics of the divine Being. They are a
-consequence of the different epochs in which we contemplate him. They are
-the pulsations appropriate to that epoch. Other pulsations belong to our
-portion of time, and to our consequent view of the divine Being; and so
-on and on, till time shall be swallowed up in Eternity, and the Beatific
-Vision burst upon us.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-MISSIONS IN MAINE FROM 1613 TO 1854.
-
-“THE BLOOD OF THE MARTYRS IS THE SEED OF THE CHURCH.”
-
-To the historical student the following paper can have but trifling
-value, as the writer makes no pretension to originality of matter, and
-seeks but to bring within the grasp of the general reader, in a condensed
-form, the gist of many books, a large number of which are rare, and
-almost inaccessible.
-
-It is hoped, however, that there are many persons who will read with
-interest a paper thus compiled from undoubted authorities, who have
-neither the time nor the inclination to consult these authorities for
-themselves. These persons will learn with wonder of the self-abnegation
-of the French priests who went forth among the savages with their lives
-in their hands, with but one thought in their brains, one wish in their
-hearts, one prayer on their lips--the evangelization of the Indians.
-
-As Shea says: “The word Christianity was, in those days, identical with
-Catholicity. The religion to be offered to the New World was that of the
-Church of Rome, which church was free from any distinct national feeling,
-and in extending her boundaries carried her own language and rites, not
-those of any particular state.”
-
-The Franciscan, Dominican, and Jesuit bore the heat and burden of
-the day, and reaped the most bountiful harvest in that part of North
-America now known as the State of Maine; and the first mission in that
-neighborhood was planted at Mt. Desert, and called St. Sauveur. A hotel
-at Bar Harbor is so named, but not one in a hundred of the numerous
-guests who cross its threshold knows the reason of the French name of
-their temporary abiding-place.
-
-This reason, and the facts connected therewith, we shall now proceed to
-give to our readers. In 1610 Marie de Médicis was Regent of France. The
-king had been assassinated in the streets of Paris in the previous month
-of May. Sully was dismissed from court. All was confusion and dissension.
-Twelve years of peace and the judicious rule of the king had paid the
-national debt and filled the treasury.
-
-The famous Father Cotton, confessor of the late king, was still powerful
-at court. He laid before the queen the facts that Henri IV. had been
-deeply interested in the establishment of the Jesuit order in Acadia, and
-had evinced a tangible proof of that interest in the bestowal of a grant
-of two thousand livres per annum.
-
-The ambitious queen listened indulgently, with a heart softened,
-possibly, by recent sorrows, and consented to receive the son of the
-Baron Poutrincourt, who had just returned from the New World, where he
-had left his father with Champlain. Father Cotton ushered the handsome
-stripling into the presence of the stately queen and her attendant
-ladies. Young Biencourt at first stood silent and abashed, but, as the
-ladies gathered about him and plied him with questions, soon forgot
-himself and told wondrous tales of the dusky savages--of their strange
-customs and of their eagerness for instruction in the true faith. He
-displayed the baptismal register of the converts of Father Fléche, and
-implored the sympathy and aid of these glittering dames, and not in vain;
-for, fired with pious emulation, they tore the flashing jewels from their
-ears and throats. Among these ladies was one whose history and influence
-were so remarkable that we must translate for our readers some account of
-her from the Abbé de Choisy.
-
-Antoinette de Pons, Marquise de Guercheville had been famed throughout
-France, not only for her grace and beauty, but for qualities more rare at
-the court where her youth had been passed.
-
-When Antoinette was La Duchesse de Rochefoucauld, the king begged her to
-accept a position near the queen. “Madame,” he said, as he presented her
-to Marie de Médicis, “I give you a Lady of Honor who is a lady of honor
-indeed.”
-
-Twenty years had come and gone. The youthful beauty of the _marquise_ had
-faded, but she was fair and stately still, and one of the most brilliant
-ornaments of the brilliant court; and yet she was not altogether worldly.
-Again a widow and without children, she had become sincerely religious,
-and threw herself heart and soul into the American missions, and was
-restrained only by the positive commands of her mistress the queen from
-herself seeking the New World.
-
-Day and night she thought of these perishing souls. On her knees in her
-oratory she prayed for the Indians, and contented herself not with this
-alone. From the queen and from the ladies of the court she obtained
-money, and jewels that could be converted into money. Charlevoix tells
-us that the only difficulty was to restrain her ardor within reasonable
-bounds.
-
-Two French priests, Paul Biard and Enémond Massé, were sent to Dieppe,
-there to take passage for the colonies. The vessel was engaged by
-Poutrincourt and his associates, and was partially owned by two Huguenot
-merchants, who persistently and with indignation refused to permit the
-embarkation of the priests. No entreaties or representations availed, and
-finally La Marquise bought out the interest of the two merchants in the
-vessel and cargo, and transferred it to the priests as a fund for their
-support.
-
-At last the fathers set sail, on the 26th of January, 1611. Their
-troubles, however, were by no means over; for Biencourt, a mere lad,
-clothed in a little brief authority--manly, it is true, beyond his
-years--hampered them at every turn. They arrived at Port Royal in June,
-after a hazardous and tempestuous voyage, having seen, as Father Biard
-writes, icebergs taller and larger than the Church of Notre Dame.
-The fathers became discouraged by the constant interference of young
-Biencourt, and determined to return to Europe, unless they could, with
-Mme. de Guercheville’s aid, found a mission colony in some other spot.
-
-Their zealous protectress obtained from De Monts--who, though a
-Protestant, had erected six years before the first cross in Maine at
-the mouth of the Kennebec--a transfer of all his claims to the lands of
-Acadia, and soon sent out a small vessel with forty colonists, commanded
-by La Saussaye, a nobleman, and having on board two Jesuit priests,
-Fathers du Thet and Quentin.
-
-It was on the 1st of March, 1613, that this vessel left Honfleur, laden
-with supplies, and followed by prayers and benedictions.
-
-On the 16th of May La Saussaye reached Port Royal, and there took on
-board Fathers Massé and Biard, and then set sail for the Penobscot. A
-heavy fog arose and encompassed them about; if it lifted for a moment,
-it was but to show them a white gleam of distant breakers or a dark,
-overhanging cliff.
-
-“Our prayers were heard,” wrote Biard, “and at night the stars came out,
-and the morning sun devoured the fogs, and we found ourselves lying in
-Frenchmans Bay opposite Mt. Desert.”
-
-L’Isle des Monts Déserts had been visited and so named by Champlain in
-1604, and Frenchman’s Bay gained its title from a singular incident that
-had there taken place in the same spring.
-
-De Monts had broken up his winter encampment at St. Croix. Among his
-company was a young French ecclesiastic, Nicholas d’Aubri, who, to
-gratify his curiosity in regard to the products of the soil in this new
-and strange country, insisted on being set ashore for a ramble of a few
-hours. He lost his way, and the boatmen, after an anxious search, were
-compelled to leave him. For eighteen days the young student wandered
-through woods, subsisting on berries and the roots of the plant known as
-Solomon’s Seal. He, however, kept carefully near the shore, and at the
-end of this time he distinguished a sail in the distance. Signalling
-this, he was fortunate enough to be taken off by the same crew that had
-landed him. On these bleak shores the colonists decided to make their
-future home, and, with singular infelicity, selected them as the site of
-the new colony. It is inconceivable how Father Biard, who had already
-spent some time in the New World, could have failed to suggest to La
-Saussaye and to their patroness that a colony, to be a success, must be
-not only in a spot easily accessible to France, but that a small force of
-armed men was imperative; for, to Biard’s own knowledge, the English had
-already seized several French vessels in that vicinity.
-
-On these frowning shores La Saussaye landed, and erected a cross, and
-displayed the escutcheon of Mme. de Guercheville; the fathers offered the
-Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and gave to the little settlement the name of
-St. Sauveur.
-
-Four tents--the gift of the queen--shone white in the soft spring
-sunshine. The largest of these was used as a chapel, the decorations of
-which, with the silver vessels for the celebration of the Mass and the
-rich vestments, were presented by Henriette d’Entraigues, Marquise de
-Verneuil.
-
-The colonists labored night and day to raise their little fort and to
-land their supplies. Their toil was nearly over, the vessel, ready for
-sea, rode at anchor, when a sudden and violent storm arose.
-
-This storm had been felt twenty-four hours earlier off the Isles of
-Shoals by a fishing vessel commanded by one Samuel Argall. Thick fogs
-bewildered him, and a strong wind drove him to the northeast; and when
-the weather cleared, Argall found himself off the coast of Maine. Canoes
-came out like flocks of birds from each small bay. The Indians climbed
-the ship’s side, and greeted the new-comers with such amazing bows and
-flourishes that Argall, with his native acuteness, felt certain that they
-could have learned them only from the French, who could not be far away.
-Argall plied the Indians with cunning questions, and soon learned of the
-new settlement. He resolved to investigate farther, and set sail for the
-wild heights of Mt. Desert. With infinite patience he crept along through
-the many islands, and, rounding the Porcupines, saw a small ship anchored
-in the bay. At the same moment the French saw the English ship bearing
-down upon them “swifter than an arrow,” writes Father Biard, “with every
-sail set, and the English flags streaming from mast-head and stern.”
-
-La Saussaye was within the fort, Lieut. la Motte on board with Father du
-Thet, an ensign, and a sergeant. Argall bore down amid a bewildering din
-of drums and trumpets. “Fire!” cried La Motte. Alas! the gunner was on
-shore. Father du Thet seized and applied the match.
-
-Another scathing discharge of musketry, and the brave priest lay dead. He
-had his wish; for the day before he left France he prayed with uplifted
-hands that he might not return, but perish on that holy enterprise. He
-was buried the following day at the foot of the rough cross he had helped
-to erect.
-
-La Motte, clear-sighted enough to see the utter uselessness of any
-farther attempt at defence, surrendered, and Argall took possession of
-the vessel and of La Saussaye’s papers, from among which he abstracted
-the royal commission. On La Saussaye’s return from the woods, where he
-had retreated with the colonists, he was met by Argall, who informed him
-that the country belonged to his master, King James, and finally asked
-to see his commission. In vain did the French nobleman search for it.
-Argall’s courtesy changed to wrath; he accused the officer of piracy, and
-ordered the settlement to be given up to pillage, but offered to take
-any of the settlers who had a trade back to Virginia with him, promising
-them protection. Argall counted, however, without his host; for on
-reaching Jamestown the governor swore that the French priests should be
-hung. Useless were Argall’s remonstrances, and finally, seeing no other
-way to save the lives of the fathers, he produced the commission and
-acknowledged his stratagem.
-
-The wrath of Sir Thomas Dale was unappeased, but the lives of the priests
-were, of course, safe. He despatched Argall with two additional ships
-back to Mt. Desert, with orders to cut down the cross and level the
-defences.
-
-Father Biard was on board, as well as Father Massé; they, with refined
-cruelty, being sent to witness the destruction of their hopes.
-
-This work of destruction completed, Argall set sail for Virginia. Again
-a storm arose, and the vessel on which were the ecclesiastics was driven
-to the Azores. Here the Jesuits, who had been so grossly ill-treated, had
-but a few words to say to be avenged. The captain of the vessel was not
-without uneasiness, and entreated the priests to remain in concealment
-when the vessel was visited by the authorities. This visit over, the
-English purchased all they needed, and weighed anchor for England.
-Arrived there, a new difficulty occurred; for there was no commission
-to show. The captain was treated as a pirate, thrown into prison, and
-released only on the testimony of the Jesuit Fathers, who thus returned
-good for evil.
-
-Father Biard hastened to France, where he became professor of theology at
-Lyons, and died at Avignon on the 17th of November, 1622. Father Massé
-returned to Canada, where he labored without ceasing until his death, in
-1646.
-
-With the destruction of St. Sauveur, the pious designs of Mme. de
-Guercheville seem to have perished. At any rate, the most diligent
-research fails to find her name again in the annals of that time.
-Probably the troubled state of France made it impossible for her to
-provide the sinews of war, or of evangelization. Nevertheless, the good
-seed was planted, and zeal for the mission cause again revived in Europe,
-particularly in the Society of Jesus. Young men left court and camp to
-share the privations and life of self-denial of the missionaries. Even
-the convents partook of the general enthusiasm, and Ursuline Nuns came to
-show the Indians Christianity in daily life, ministering to the sick and
-instructing the young.
-
-Many years after the melancholy failure of the mission at Mt. Desert, an
-apparent accident recalled the Jesuit Fathers to the coast of Maine.
-
-In 1642 there was a mission at Sillery, on the St. Lawrence, where had
-been gathered together a large number of Indian converts, who lived, with
-their families about them, in peace and harmony under the watchful care
-of the kind fathers. Among these converts was a chief who, to rescue
-some of his tribe who had been taken prisoners, started off through the
-pathless wilderness, and finally reached the English at Coussinoe, now
-known as Augusta, on the Kennebec.
-
-There the Indian convert so extolled the Christian faith and its mighty
-promises that he took back with him several of the tribe. These were
-baptized at Sillery, and became faithful servants of our Lord Jesus
-Christ. In consequence of the entreaties of these converts, Father
-Gabriel Drouillettes was sent to the lonely Kennebec.
-
-Here he built a chapel of fir-trees in a place now known as Norridgewock,
-a lovely, secluded spot. Some years before Father Biard had been there
-for a few weeks, so that the Indians were not totally unprepared to
-receive religious instruction. Father Drouillettes was greatly blessed
-in his teaching, and converted a large number, inspiring them with a
-profound love for the Catholic faith, which the English, twenty years
-before, had failed to do for the Protestant religion. He taught them
-simple prayers, and translated for their use, into their own dialect,
-several hymns. The savages even learned to sing, and it was not long
-before the solemn strains of the _Dies Iræ_ awakened strange echoes in
-the primeval forests.
-
-Even the English, biassed as they were against the Catholics, watched
-the good accomplished by the faithful servant of the great Master, and
-learned to regard his coming as a great blessing, though at this very
-time the stern Puritans at Plymouth were enacting cruel laws against his
-order.
-
-When the Indians went to Moosehead Lake to hunt and fish, Father
-Drouillettes went with them, watching over his flock with unswerving
-solicitude. But the day of his summons to Quebec came, and a general
-feeling of despair overwhelmed his converts. He went, and the Assumption
-Mission was deserted; for by that name, as it was asked for on that day,
-was this mission always designated.
-
-Year after year the Abnakis--for so were called the aborigines of
-Maine--sent deputations to Quebec to entreat the return of their beloved
-priest, but in vain; for the number of missionaries was at that time very
-limited. Finally, in 1650, Father Drouillettes set out with a party on
-the last day of August for the tiresome eight days’ march through the
-wilderness; the party lost their way, their provisions were gone, and it
-was not until twenty-four days afterwards that they reached Norridgewock.
-
-From a letter written at this time by Father Drouillettes we transcribe
-the following: “In spite of all that is painful and crucifying to nature
-in these missions, there are also great joys and consolations. More
-plenteous than I can describe are those I feel, to see that the seed of
-the Gospel I scattered here four years ago, in land which for so many
-centuries has lain fallow, or produced only thorns and brambles, already
-bears fruit so worthy of the Lord.” Nothing could exceed the veneration
-and affection of the Indians for their missionary; and when an Englishman
-vehemently accused the French priest of slandering his nation, the chiefs
-hurried to Augusta, and warned the authorities to take heed and not
-attack their father even in words.
-
-The following spring Father Drouillettes was sent to a far-distant
-station, and years elapsed before he returned to Quebec, where he died in
-1681, at the age of eighty-eight.
-
-About this time two brothers, Vincent and Jacques Bigot, men of rank
-and fortune, left their homes in sunny France to share the toil and
-privations of life in the New World. They placed themselves and their
-fortunes in the hands of the superior at Quebec, and were sent to
-labor in the footprints of Father Drouillettes. During their faithful
-ministrations at Norridgewock, the chapel built by their predecessor
-was burned by the English, but was rebuilt in 1687 by English workmen
-sent from Boston, according to treaty stipulations. And now appears upon
-the scene the stately form of one of the greatest men of that age; but
-before we attempt to bring before our readers the character and acts of
-Sebastian Râle, we must beg them to turn from Norridgewock, the scene
-of his labors and martyrdom, to the little village of Castine. For in
-1688 Father Thury, a priest of the diocese of Quebec, a man of tact and
-ability, had gathered about him a band of converts at Panawauski, on the
-Penobscot. This settlement was protected by the Baron Saint-Castine.
-This Saint-Castine was a French nobleman and a soldier who originally
-went to Canada in command of a regiment. The regiment was disbanded, and
-Saint-Castine’s disappointed ambition and a heart sore from domestic
-trials decided him, rather than return to France, to plunge into the
-wilderness, and there, far from kindred and nation, create for himself a
-new home.
-
-After a while the baron married a daughter of one of the sachems of
-the Penobscot Indians, and became himself a sagamore of the tribe. The
-descendants of this marriage hold at the present day some portion of the
-Saint-Castine lands in Normandy.
-
-Twice was the French baron driven from his home by the Dutch; twice
-was the simple chapel burned by them. In 1687 Sir Edmund Andros was
-appointed governor of New England, and in the following year, sailing
-eastward in the frigate _Rose_, he anchored opposite the little fort and
-primitive home of Saint-Castine. The baron retreated with the small band
-of settlers to the woods. Andros, being a Catholic, touched nothing in
-the chapel, but carried off everything else in the village. In 1703 the
-war known as Queen Anne’s war broke out. Again Saint-Castine was attacked
-by the English, and his wife and children carried off as prisoners, but
-were soon after exchanged. From this time the name of Baron Saint-Castine
-appears in all the annals of the time, as the courageous defender of his
-faith and of its priests. Father Râle, at Norridgewock, turned to him for
-counsel and aid, and never turned in vain. From Castine on to Mt. Desert
-the shores are full of historical interest; for there were many French
-settlements thereabouts, the attention of that nation having been drawn
-to that especial locality by a grant of land which M. Cardillac obtained
-of Louis XIV. in April, 1691. This grant was evidently made to confirm
-possession. A certain Mme. de Grégoire proved herself to be a lineal
-descendant of Cardillac, and in 1787 acquired a partial confirmation of
-the original grant.
-
-Relics of the French settlers are constantly turned up by the plough in
-the vicinity of Castine, and in 1840 a quantity of French gold pieces
-were found; but of infinitely more interest was the discovery there, in
-1863, of a copper plate ten inches in length and eight in width. The
-finder, knowing nothing of the value of this piece of metal, cut off a
-portion to repair his boat. This fragment was, however, subsequently
-recovered. The letters on the plate are unquestionably abbreviations of
-the following inscription: “1648, 8 Junii, S. Frater Leo Parisiensis, in
-Capuccinorum Missione, posuit hoc fundamentum in honorem nostræ Dominæ
-Sanctæ Spei”--1648, 8th of June, Holy Friar Leo of Paris, Capuchin
-missionary, laid this foundation in honor of Our Lady of Holy Hope.
-
-In regard to this Father Leo the most diligent research fails to find
-any other trace. The plate, however, was without doubt placed in the
-foundation of a Catholic chapel--probably the one within the walls of the
-old French fort. Father Sebastian Râle sailed in 1689 for America. After
-remaining for nearly two years in Quebec, he went thence to Norridgewock.
-He found the Abnakis nearly all converted, and at once applied himself to
-learning their dialect. To this work he brought his marvellous patience
-and energy, and all his wondrous insight into human nature. He began his
-dictionary, and erected a chapel on the spot known now as Indian Old
-Point. This chapel he supplied with all the decorations calculated to
-engage the imagination and fix the wandering attention of the untutored
-savage. The women contended with holy emulation in the embellishment of
-the sanctuary. They made mats of the soft and brightly-tinted plumage
-of the forest birds and of the white-breasted sea-gulls. They brought
-offerings of huge candles, manufactured from the fragrant wax of the
-bay-berry, with which the chapel was illuminated. A couple of nuns from
-Montreal made a brief sojourn at Norridgewock, that they might teach the
-Indian women to sew and to make a kind of lace with which to adorn the
-altar. Busied with his dictionary and with his flock, Father Râle thus
-passed the most peaceful days of his life; but this blessed quiet ended
-only too soon.
-
-In 1705 a party of English, under the command of a Capt. Hilton, burst
-from out the forest, attacking the little village from all sides at once,
-finishing by burning the chapel and every hut.
-
-About the same time the governor-general of New England sent to the lower
-part of the Kennebec the ablest of the Boston divines to instruct the
-Indian children. As Baxter’s (the missionary) salary depended on his
-success, he neglected no means that could attract.
-
-For two months he labored in vain. His caresses and little gifts were
-thrown away; for he made not one convert.
-
-Father Râle wrote to Baxter that his neophytes were good Christians, but
-far from able in disputes.
-
-This same letter, which was of some length, challenged the Protestant
-clergyman to a discussion. Baxter, after a long delay, sent a brief
-reply, in Latin so bad that the learned priest says it was impossible to
-understand it.
-
-In 1717 the Indian chiefs held a council. The governor of New England
-offered them an English and an Indian Bible, and Mr. Baxter as their
-expounder.
-
-The Abnakis refused them one and all, and elected to adhere to their
-Catholic faith, saying: “All people love their own priests! Your Bibles
-we do not care for, and God has already sent us teachers.”
-
-Thus years passed on in monotonous labor. The only relaxation permitted
-to himself by Father Râle was the work on his dictionary. The converts
-venerated their priest; their keen eyes and quick instincts saw the
-sincerity of his life, the reality of his affection for them, and
-recognized his self-denial and generosity. They went to him with their
-cares and their sorrows, with their simple griefs and simpler pleasures.
-He listened with unaffected sympathy and interest. No envious rival, no
-jealous competitor, no heretical teacher, disturbed the relations between
-pastor and flock. So, too, was it but natural that they should look to
-him for advice when they gathered about their council-fires.
-
-The wrongs which the Eastern Indians were constantly enduring at the
-hands of the English settlers kindled to a living flame the smouldering
-hatred in their hearts, which they sought every opportunity of wreaking
-in vengeance on their foe. Thus, like lightning on the edge of the
-horizon, they hovered on the frontier, making daring forays on the farms
-of the settlers.
-
-It was not unnatural that the English, bristling with prejudices
-against the French, and still more against Catholics, should have seen
-fit to look on Father Râle as the instigator of all these attacks,
-forgetting--what is undeniably true--that Father Râle’s converts were
-milder and kinder and more Christian-like than any of their Indian
-neighbors. The good father was full of concern when he heard that a
-fierce and warlike tribe, who had steadily resisted all elevating
-influences, were about settling within a day’s journey of Norridgewock.
-He feared lest his children should be led away by pernicious examples; so
-he with difficulty persuaded some of the strangers to enter the chapel,
-and to be present at some of the imposing ceremonies of the mother
-church. At the close of the service he addressed them in simple words,
-and thus concluded:
-
-“Let us not separate, that some may go one way and some another. Let
-us all go to heaven. It is our country, and the place to which we are
-invited by the sole Master of life, of whom I am but the interpreter.”
-The reply of the Indians was evasive; but it was evident that an
-impression was made, and in the autumn they sent to him to say that if he
-would come to them they would receive his teachings.
-
-Father Râle gladly went at this bidding, erected a cross and a chapel,
-and finally baptized nearly the whole tribe.
-
-At this time Father Râle wrote to his nephew a letter, in which he
-says: “My new church is neat, and its elegantly-ornamented vestments,
-chasubles, copes, and holy vessels would be esteemed highly appropriate
-in almost any church in Europe. A choir of young Indians, forty in
-number, assist at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and chant the divine
-Offices for the consecration of the Holy Sacrament; and you would be
-edified by the beautiful order they preserve and the devotion they
-manifest. After the Mass I teach the young children, and the remainder
-of the morning is devoted to seeing those who come to consult me on
-affairs of importance. Thus, you see, I teach some, console others, seek
-to re-establish peace in families at variance, and to calm troubled
-consciences.”
-
-Another letter still later, in speaking of the attachment of the converts
-to their faith, says: “And when they go to the sea-shore in summer to
-fish, I accompany them; and when they reach the place where they intend
-to pass the night, they erect stakes at intervals in the form of a
-chapel, and spread a tent made of ticking. All is complete in fifteen
-minutes. I always carry with me a beautiful board of cedar, with the
-necessary supports. This serves for an altar, and I ornament the interior
-with silken hangings. A huge bear-skin serves as a carpet, and divine
-service is held within an hour.”
-
-While away on one of the excursions which Father Râle thus describes, the
-village was attacked by the English; and again, in 1722, by a party of
-two hundred under Col. Westbrook. New England had passed a law imposing
-imprisonment for life on Catholic priests, and a reward was offered for
-the head of Father Râle. The party was seen, as they entered the valley
-of the Kennebec, by two braves, who hurried on to give the alarm; the
-priest having barely time to escape to the woods with the altar vessels
-and vestments, leaving behind him all his papers and his precious Abnaki
-dictionary, which was enclosed in a strong box of peculiar construction.
-It had two rude pictures on the lid, one of the scourging of our Blessed
-Lord, and the other of the Crowning of Thorns. This box is now in the
-possession of the Massachusetts Historical Society, while the dictionary
-itself is at Harvard.
-
-Father Râle saved himself by taking refuge in a hollow tree, where he
-remained for thirty-six hours, suffering from hunger and a broken leg.
-
-With wonderful courage Father Râle built up another chapel, and writes
-thus, after recounting the efforts of the English to take him prisoner:
-“In the words of the apostle, I conclude: I do not fear the threats of
-those who hate me without a cause, and I count not my life dear unto
-myself, so that I might finish my course and the ministry which I have
-received of the Lord Jesus.”
-
-Again, over the council-fires, the Indian chiefs assembled. They decided
-to send an embassy to Boston, to demand that their chapel, which had been
-destroyed by the English, should be rebuilt.
-
-The governor, anxious to secure the alliance of the tribe, listened
-patiently, and told them in reply that it belonged properly to the
-governor of Canada to rebuild their church; still, that he would do it,
-provided they would agree to receive the clergy he would choose, and
-would send back to Quebec the French priest who was then with them. We
-cannot forbear repeating here the unequalled satire of the Indian’s reply:
-
-“When you came here,” answered the chief, “we were unknown to the French
-governor, but no one of you spoke of prayer or of the Great Spirit. You
-thought only of my skins and furs. But one day I met a French black-coat
-in the forest. He did not look at the skins with which I was loaded, but
-he said words to me of the Great Spirit, of Paradise and of hell, and of
-prayer, by which is the only path to heaven.
-
-“I listened with pleasure, and at last begged him to teach and to baptize
-me.
-
-“If, when you saw me, you had spoken to me of prayer, I should have had
-the misfortune to pray as you do; for I was not then able to know if your
-prayers were good. So, I tell you, I will hold fast to the prayers of the
-French. I will keep them until the earth burn up and perish.”
-
-At last the final and fatal effort on the life of Father Râle was made,
-in 1724.
-
-All was quiet in the little village. The tall corn lay yellow in the
-slanting rays of an August sun, when suddenly from the adjacent woods
-burst forth a band of English with their Mohawk allies. The devoted
-priest, knowing that they were in hot pursuit of him, sallied forth to
-meet them, hoping, by the sacrifice of his own life, to save his flock.
-Hardly had he reached the mission cross in the centre of the village than
-he fell at its foot, pierced by a dozen bullets. Seven Indians, who had
-sought to shield him with their bodies, lay dead beside him.
-
-Then followed a scene that beggars description. Women and children were
-killed indiscriminately; and it ill became those who shot women as they
-swam across the river to bring a charge of cruelty against the French
-fathers.
-
-The chapel was robbed and then fired; the bell was not melted, but was
-probably afterward buried by the Indians, for it was revealed only a few
-years since by the blowing down of a huge oak-tree, and was presented to
-Bowdoin College.
-
-The soft, dewy night closed on the scene of devastation, and in the
-morning, as one by one the survivors crept back to their ruined homes
-with their hearts full of consternation and sorrow, they found the body
-of their beloved priest, not only pierced by a hundred balls, but with
-the skull crushed by hatchets, arms and legs broken, and mouth and eyes
-filled with dirt. They buried him where the day before had stood the
-altar of the little chapel, and sent his tattered habits to Quebec.
-
-It was by so precious a death that this apostolical man closed a career
-of nearly forty years of painful missionary toil. His fasts and vigils
-had greatly enfeebled his constitution, and, when entreated to take
-precautions for his safety, he answered: “My measures are taken. God has
-committed this flock to my charge, and I will share their fate, being too
-happy if permitted to sacrifice myself for them.”
-
-Well did his superior in Canada, M. de Bellemont, reply, when requested
-to offer Masses for his soul: “In the words of S. Augustine, I say it
-would be wronging a martyr to pray for him.”
-
-There can be no question that Sebastian Râle was one of the most
-remarkable men of his day. A devoted Christian and finished scholar,
-commanding in manners and elegant in address, of persuasive eloquence and
-great administrative ability, he courted death and starvation, for the
-sole end of salvation for the Indian.
-
-From the death of Father Râle until 1730 the mission at Norridgewock
-was without a priest. In that year, however, the superior at Quebec
-sent Father James de Sirenne to that station. The account given by this
-father, of the warmth with which he was received, and of the manner in
-which the Indians had sought to keep their faith, is very touching. The
-women with tears and sobs hastened with their unbaptized babes to the
-priest.
-
-In all these years no Protestant clergyman had visited them, for Eliot
-was almost the only one who devoted himself to the conversion of the
-Indians, though even he, as affirmed by Bancroft, had never approached
-the Indian tribe that dwelt within six miles of Boston Harbor until five
-years after the cross had been borne, by the religious zeal of the
-French, from Lake Superior to the valley of the Mississippi.
-
-But Father Sirenne could not be permitted to remain any length of time
-with the Abnakis. Again were they deserted, having a priest with them
-only at long intervals.
-
-Then came the peace of 1763, in which France surrendered Canada. This
-step struck a most terrible blow at the missions; for although the
-English government guaranteed to the Canadians absolute religious
-freedom, they yet took quiet steps to rid themselves of the Jesuit
-Fathers.
-
-A short breathing space, and another war swept over the land, and with
-this perished the last mission in Maine. In 1775 deputies from the
-various tribes in Maine and Nova Scotia met the Massachusetts council.
-The Indians announced their intention of adhering to the Americans, but
-begged, at the same time, for a French priest. The council expressed
-their regret at not being able to find one.
-
-“Strange indeed was it,” says Shea, “that the very body which, less than
-a century before, had made it felony for a Catholic priest to visit the
-Abnakis, now regretted their inability to send these Christian Indians a
-missionary of the same faith and nation.”
-
-Years after, when peace was declared, and the few Catholics in Maryland
-had chosen the Rev. John Carroll--a member of the proscribed Society of
-Jesus--as bishop, the Abnakis of Maine sent a deputation bearing the
-crucifix of Father Râle. This they presented to the bishop, with earnest
-supplications for a priest.
-
-Bishop Carroll promised that one should be sent, and Father Ciquard
-was speedily despatched to Norridgewock, where he remained for ten
-years. Then ensued another interval during which the flock was without a
-shepherd.
-
-At last a missionary priest at Boston, Father (afterward Cardinal)
-Cheverus, turned his attention to the study of the Abnaki dialect, and
-then visited the Penobscot tribe.
-
-Desolate, poor, and forsaken as they had been, the Indians still clung
-to their faith. The old taught the young, and all gathered on Sundays to
-chant the music of the Mass and Vespers, though their altar had no priest
-and no sacrifice.
-
-Father Cheverus, after a few months, was succeeded by Father Romagné,
-who for twenty years consecrated every moment and every thought to the
-evangelization of the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy tribes. In July, 1827,
-Bishop Fenwick visited this portion of his diocese, and in 1831 sent them
-a resident missionary. A beautiful church stood at last in the place of
-Romagné’s hut, and two years later Bishop Fenwick, once a father in the
-Society of Jesus, erected a monument to Father Râle on the spot where he
-was slain a hundred and nine years before. From far and near gathered
-the crowd, Protestant as well as Catholic, to witness the ceremony. The
-monument stands in a green, secluded spot, a simple shaft of granite
-surmounted by a cross, and an inscription in Latin tells the traveller
-that there died a faithful priest and servant of the Lord. Bishop Fenwick
-became extremely anxious to induce some French priest to go to that
-ancient mission, and a year later the Society of Picpus, in Switzerland,
-sent out Fathers Demilier and Petithomme to restore the Franciscan
-missions in Maine. They conquered the difficulties of the Abnaki dialect
-with the aid of a prayer-book which the bishop had caused to be printed,
-and in this small and insignificant mission Father Demilier toiled until
-his death, in 1843.
-
-The successor of Bishop Fenwick resolved to restore the Abnaki mission
-to the Fathers of the Society of Jesus, by whom it had been originally
-founded. Therefore, since 1848, the Penobscots and Passamaquoddys have
-been under the care of the Jesuits, who in that year sent out from
-Switzerland Father John Bapst to Old Town, on the Penobscot--a short
-distance from Bangor--where he ministered faithfully to the Abnakis until
-he nearly lost his life in a disgraceful Know-Nothing riot in 1854.
-
-As we find ourselves thus at the conclusion of our narration, incidents
-crowd upon our memory of the wondrous sacrifices made by the Catholic
-clergy in the old missions of Maine; but we are admonished that our space
-is limited.
-
-Little attention, however, has been paid to the fact that to these
-Catholic priests alone under God is due the evangelization of the many
-Indian tribes which formerly haunted our grand old forests. Of these
-tribes, only a few of the Penobscots are left, and these cling still to
-the cross as the blessed symbol of the faith first brought to them, “as
-a voice crying in the wilderness,” by Fathers Biard and Du Thet at St.
-Sauveur in 1613.
-
-
-PRUSSIA AND THE CHURCH.
-
-The first attempts to introduce the Christian religion into Prussia
-were unsuccessful. S. Adalbert, in 997, and S. Bruno, in 1009, suffered
-martyrdom whilst preaching the Gospel there, and the efforts of Poland
-to force the conquered Prussians to receive the faith only increased
-the bitterness of their anti-Christian prejudices. Early in the XIIth
-century Bishop Otto, of Bamberg, made many conversions in Pomerania; and
-finally, in the beginning of the XIIIth, the Cistercian monk Christian,
-with the approval and encouragement of Pope Innocent III., set to work
-to convert the Prussians, and met with such success that in 1215 he was
-made bishop of the country. The greater part of the people, however,
-still remained heathens, and the progress of Christianity aroused in
-them such indignation that they determined to oppose its farther advance
-with the sword. To protect his flock Bishop Christian called to his aid
-the knights of the Teutonic Order; in furtherance of his designs, the
-Emperor Frederic II. turned the whole country over to them, and Pope
-Gregory IX. took measures to increase their number, so that they might be
-able to hold possession of this field, now first opened to the Gospel.
-Pope Innocent IV. also manifested special interest in the welfare of the
-church in Prussia; he urged priests and monks to devote themselves to
-this mission, supported and encouraged the bishops in their trials and
-difficulties, and exhorted the convents throughout Germany to contribute
-books for the education of the people. But circumstances were not wanting
-which made the position of the church in Prussia very unsatisfactory. The
-people had for the most part been brought under the church’s influence by
-the power of arms, and consequently to a great extent remained strangers
-to her true spirit. The Teutonic Order, moreover, gave ecclesiastical
-positions only to German priests, so as to hold out inducements to the
-people to learn German; though, as a consequence, the priests were unable
-to communicate with their flocks, except by the aid of interpreters.
-
-The grand master, too, had almost unlimited control over the election
-of bishops, which was the cause of many evils, especially as the Order
-gradually grew lax in the observance of the rule, and lost much of
-its Christian character. Unworthy men were thrust into ecclesiastical
-offices, the standard of morality among the clergy was lowered, and the
-people lost respect for the priesthood. It is not surprising, in view of
-all this, that the religious sectaries of the XIIIth and XIVth centuries
-should have found favor in Prussia, and made converts among her still
-half-pagan populations.
-
-In 1466 the Teutonic Order became a dependency of the crown of Poland.
-There was no hope of its freeing itself from this humiliating subjection
-without foreign aid; and with a view to obtain this, the knights resolved
-to choose their grand master from one or other of the most powerful
-German families. First, in 1498, they elected Frederic, Duke of Saxony;
-and upon his death, in 1510, Albrecht, Margrave of Brandenburg, was
-chosen to succeed him.
-
-Albrecht refused the oath of supremacy to Sigismund, King of Poland, who
-thereupon, in 1519, declared war upon him.
-
-To meet the expenses of the war, Albrecht had the sacred vessels of
-the church melted down and minted; but he was unable to stand against
-the arms of Poland, and therefore sought the mediation of the Emperor
-of Germany, through whose good offices he was able to conclude, in
-1521, a four years’ truce. He now went into Germany, where Luther was
-already preaching the Protestant rebellion, and asked aid from the
-Imperial Parliament, which was holding its sessions at Nuremberg; and
-as this was denied him, he turned with favor to the teachers of the new
-doctrines. The Teutonic Order had become thoroughly corrupt, and Leo X.
-urged Albrecht to begin a reformation _in capite et membris_; but the
-grand master sought the advice of Luther, from whom he received the not
-unwelcome counsel to throw away the “stupid, unnatural rule of his Order,
-take a wife, and turn Prussia into a temporal hereditary principality.”
-Albrecht accordingly asked for preachers of the new doctrines, and in
-1526 announced his abandonment of the Order and the Catholic Church by
-his marriage with the daughter of the King of Denmark. Acting upon the
-Protestant principle, _cujus regio illius religio_--the ruler of the land
-makes its religion--he forced the Prussians to quit the church from which
-they had received whatever culture and civilization they had.
-
-At his death, in 1568, Lutheranism had gained complete possession of the
-country.
-
-A few Catholics, however, remained, for whom, early in the XVIIth
-century, King Sigismund of Poland succeeded in obtaining liberty of
-conscience, which, however, was denied to those of Brandenburg Frederic
-William, the second king of Prussia, and the first to form the design
-of placing her among the great powers of Europe by the aid of a strong
-military organization, in giving directions in 1718 for the education of
-his son, afterwards Frederic the Great, insisted that the boy should be
-inspired with a horror of the Catholic Church, “the groundlessness and
-absurdity of whose teachings should be placed before his eyes and well
-impressed upon his mind.”
-
-Frederic William was a rigid Calvinist; and if he tolerated a few
-Catholics in his dominions, it was only that he might vent his ill-humor
-or exercise his proselytizing zeal upon them. He indeed granted Father
-Raymundus Bruns permission to say Mass in the garrisons at Berlin and
-Potsdam, but only after he had been assured that it would tend to prevent
-desertions among his Catholic soldiers, and that, as Raymundus was a
-monk, bound by a vow of poverty, he would ask no pay from his majesty.
-
-In 1746 permission was granted the Catholics to hold public worship in
-Berlin, and the S. Hedwig’s church was built; in Pomerania, however, this
-privilege was denied them, except in the Polish districts.
-
-During the XVIIIth century congregations were formed at Stettin and
-Stralsund. In the principality of Halberstadt the Catholics were allowed
-to retain possession of a church and several monasteries, in which
-public worship was permitted; and in what had been the archbishopric of
-Magdeburg there were left to them one Benedictine monastery and four
-convents of Cistercian Nuns. These latter, however, were placed under the
-supervision of Protestant ministers.
-
-Frederic the Great early in life fell under the influence of Voltaire
-and his disciples, from whom he learned to despise all religion, and
-especially the rigid Calvinism of his father. He became a religious
-sceptic, and, satisfied with his contempt for all forms of faith, did
-not take the trouble to persecute any. He asked of his subjects, whether
-Protestant or Catholic, nothing but money and recruits; for the rest,
-he allowed every one in his dominions “to save his soul after his own
-fashion.” He provided chaplains for his Catholic soldiers, and forbade
-the Calvinist and Lutheran ministers to interfere with their religious
-freedom, for reasons similar to those which had induced his father to
-permit Raymundus Bruns to say Mass in the garrison at Berlin. He had
-certainly no thought of showing any favor to the church, except so far as
-it might promote his own ambitious projects. His great need of soldiers
-made him throw every obstacle in the way of those who wished to enter
-the priesthood, and his fear of foreign influence caused him to forbid
-priests to leave the country. His mistrust of priests was so great that
-he gave instructions to Count Hoym, his Minister of State, to place them
-under a system of espionage. Catholics were carefully excluded from all
-influential and lucrative positions. They were taxed more heavily than
-Protestants, and professors in the universities were required to take an
-oath to uphold the Reformation.
-
-Notwithstanding, it was in the reign of Frederic the Great that the
-Catholic Church in Prussia may be said to have entered upon a new life.
-For more than two hundred years it had had no recognized status there;
-but through the conquest of Silesia and the division of Poland, a large
-Catholic population was incorporated into the kingdom of Prussia, and
-thus a new element, which was formally recognized in the constitution
-promulgated by Frederic’s immediate successor, was introduced into the
-Prussian state. Together with the toleration of all who believed in God
-and were loyal to the king, the law of the land placed the Catholic and
-Protestant churches on an equal footing. To understand how far this was
-favorable to the church we must go back and consider the relations of
-Prussia to Protestantism.
-
-What is known as the Territorial System, by which the faith of the
-people is delivered into the hands of the temporal ruler, has existed in
-Prussia from the time Albrecht of Brandenburg went over to the Reformers.
-Protestantism and absolutism triumphed simultaneously throughout Europe,
-and this must undoubtedly be in a great measure attributed to the fact
-that the Protestants, whether willingly or not, yielded up their faith
-into the keeping of kings and princes, and thus practically abandoned
-the distinction of the spiritual and temporal powers which lies at the
-foundation of Christian civilization, and is also the strongest bulwark
-against the encroachments of governments upon the rights of citizens.
-Duke Albrecht had hardly become a Protestant when he felt that it was
-his duty (“_coacti sumus_” are his words) to take upon himself the
-episcopal office. This was in 1530; in 1550 he treated the urgent request
-of the Assembly to have the bishopric of Samland restored as an attack
-upon his princely prerogative.
-
-His successor diverted to other uses the fund destined for the
-maintenance of the bishops, and instituted two consistories, to which he
-entrusted the ecclesiastical affairs of the duchy.
-
-During the XVIIth century Calvinism gained a firm foothold in Prussia. It
-became the religion of the ruling family, and Frederic William, called
-the Great Elector, to whose policy his successors have agreed to ascribe
-their greatness, sought in every way to promote its interests, though he
-strenuously exercised his _jus episcopale_, his spiritual supremacy over
-both the Lutherans and the Calvinists.
-
-His son, Frederic, who first took the title of King of Prussia (1700),
-continued the policy of his father with regard to ecclesiastical affairs.
-“To us alone,” he declared to the Landstand, “belongs the _jus supremum
-episcopale_, the highest and sovereign right in ecclesiastical matters.”
-
-The Lutherans wished to retain the exorcism as a part of the ceremony
-of baptism; but Frederic published an edict by which he forbade the
-appointment of any minister who would refuse to confer the sacrament
-without making use of this ceremony. In the same way he meddled with the
-Lutheran practice of auricular confession; and by an order issued in 1703
-prohibited the publication of theological writings which had not received
-his imprimatur.
-
-His successor, Frederic William, the father of Frederic the Great,
-looked upon himself as the absolute and irresponsible master of the
-subjects whom God had given him. “I am king and master,” he was wont
-to say, “and can do what I please.” He was a rigid Calvinist, and made
-his absolutism felt more especially in religious matters. It seems that
-preachers then, as since, were sometimes in the habit of preaching long
-sermons; so King Frederic William put a fine of two thalers upon any one
-who should preach longer than one hour. He required his preachers to
-insist in _all their sermons_ upon the duty of obedience and loyalty to
-the king, and the government officials were charged to report any failure
-to make special mention of this duty. Both Lutherans and Calvinists were
-forbidden to touch in their sermons upon any points controverted between
-the two confessions. No detail of religious worship was insignificant
-enough to escape his meddlesome tyranny. The length of the service, the
-altar, the vestments of the minister, the sign of the cross, the giving
-or singing the blessing, all fell under his “high episcopal supervision.”
-
-This unlovely old king was followed by Frederic the Great, who, though
-an infidel and a scoffer, held as firmly as his father to his sovereign
-episcopal prerogatives, and who, if less meddlesome, was not less
-arbitrary. And now we have got back to the constitution which, after
-Silesia and a part of Poland had been united to the crown of Prussia,
-was partially drawn up under Frederic the Great, and completed and
-promulgated during the reign of his successor; and which, as we have
-already said, placed the three principal confessions of the Christian
-faith in the Prussian states--viz., the Lutheran, the Reformed, and
-the Catholic--on a footing of equality before the law. Now, it must be
-noticed, this constitution left intact the absolute authority of the king
-over the Reformed and Lutheran churches, and therefore what might seem
-to be a great gain for the Catholic Church was really none at all, since
-it was simply placed under the supreme jurisdiction of the king. There
-was no express recognition of the organic union of the church in Prussia
-with the pope, nor of the right of the bishops to govern their dioceses
-according to the ecclesiastical canons, but rather the tacit assumption
-that the king was head of the Catholic as of the Protestant churches in
-Prussia. The constitution was drawn up by Suarez, a bitter enemy of the
-church, and in many of its details was characterized by an anti-Catholic
-spirit. It annulled, for instance, the contract made by parents of
-different faith concerning the religious education of their children,
-and manifested in many other ways that petty and tyrannical spirit which
-has led Prussia to interfere habitually with the internal discipline and
-working of the church.
-
-As the Catholic population of Prussia increased through the annexation
-of different German states, this constitution, which gave the king
-supreme control of spiritual matters, was extended to the newly-acquired
-territories. Thus all through the XVIIIth century the church in Prussia,
-though not openly persecuted, was fettered. No progress was made, abuses
-could not be reformed, the appointment of bishops was not free, the
-training of the priesthood was very imperfect; and it is not surprising
-that this slavery should have been productive of many and serious evils.
-
-The French Revolution and the wars of Napoleon, which caused social and
-political upheavals throughout Europe, toppled down thrones, overthrew
-empires, and broke up and reformed the boundaries of nations, mark a new
-epoch in the history of Prussia, and indeed of all Germany, whose people
-had been taught by these disastrous wars that they had common interests
-which could not be protected without national unity, the want of which
-had never before been made so painfully manifest.
-
-After the downfall of Napoleon, the ambassadors of the Allied Powers met
-in Vienna to settle the affairs of all Europe. Nations, provinces, and
-cities were given away in the most reckless manner, without any thought
-of the interests or wishes of the people, to the kings and rulers who
-could command the greatest influence in the congress or whose displeasure
-was most feared. Germany demanded the restoration of Alsace and Lorraine,
-but was thwarted in her designs by Great Britain and Russia, who feared
-the restoration of her ancient power.
-
-Prussia received from the congress, as some compensation for its
-sufferings and sacrifices during the Napoleonic wars, the duchies
-of Jülich and Berg, the former possessions of the episcopal sees of
-Cologne and Treves, and several other territories, which were formed
-into the Rhine province. On the other hand, it lost a portion of the
-Sclavonic population which it had held on the east; so that, though it
-gained nothing in territory, it became more strictly a German state,
-and was consequently better fitted gradually to take the lead in the
-irrepressible movement toward the unification of Germany.
-
-In the Congress of Vienna it was stipulated that Catholics and
-Protestants should have equal rights before the law. The constitutional
-law of Prussia was extended to the newly-acquired provinces and “all
-ecclesiastical matters, whether of Roman Catholics or of Protestants,
-together with the supervision and administration of all charitable funds,
-the confirming of all persons appointed to spiritual offices, and the
-supervision over the administration of ecclesiastics as far as it may
-have any relation to civil affairs, were reserved to the government.”
-
-In 1817, upon the occasion of the reorganization of the government,
-we perceive to what practical purposes these principles were to be
-applied. The church was debased to a function of the state, her interests
-were placed in the hands of the ministry for spiritual affairs, and
-the education of even clerical students was put under the control of
-government.
-
-It was in this same year, 1817, that the tercentennial anniversary of
-the birth of Protestantism was celebrated. For two centuries Protestant
-faith in Germany had been dying out. Eager and bitter controversies,
-the religious wars and the plunder of church property during the XVIth
-and early part of the XVIIth centuries, had given it an unnatural and
-artificial vigor. It was a mighty and radical revolution, social,
-political, and religious, and therefore gave birth to fanaticism and
-intense partisan zeal, and was in turn helped on by them.
-
-There is a natural strength in a new faith, and when it is tried by
-war and persecution it seems to rise to a divine power. Protestantism
-burst upon Europe with irresistible force. Fifty years had not passed
-since Luther had burned the bull of Pope Leo, and the Catholic Church,
-beaten almost everywhere in the North of Europe, seemed hardly able to
-hold her own on the shores of the Mediterranean; fifty years later, and
-Protestantism was saved in Germany itself only by the arms of Catholic
-France. The peace of Westphalia, in 1648, put an end to the religious
-wars of Germany, and from that date the decay of the Protestant faith was
-rapid. Many causes helped on the work of ruin; the inherent weakness of
-the Protestant system from its purely negative character, the growing and
-bitter dissensions among Protestants, the hopeless slavery to which the
-sects had been reduced by the civil power, all tended to undermine faith.
-In the Palatinate, within a period of sixty years, the rulers had forced
-the people to change their religion four times. In Prussia, whose king,
-as we have seen, was supreme head of the church, the ruling house till
-1539 was Catholic; then, till 1613, Lutheran; from that date to 1740,
-Calvinistic; from 1740 to 1786, infidel, the avowed ally of Voltaire and
-D’Alembert; then, till 1817, Calvinistic; and finally again evangelical.
-
-During the long reign of Frederic the Great unbelief made steady
-progress. Men no longer attacked this or that article of faith, but
-Christianity itself. The quickest way, it was openly said by many, to
-get rid of superstition and priest-craft, would be to abolish preaching
-altogether, and thus remove the ghost of religion from the eyes of the
-people. It seems strange that such license of thought and expression
-should have been tolerated, and even encouraged, in a country where
-religion itself has never been free; but it is a peculiarity of the
-Prussian system of government that while it hampers and fetters the
-church and all religious organizations, it leaves the widest liberty
-of conscience to the individual. Its policy appears to be to foster
-indifference and infidelity, in order to use them against what it
-considers religious fanaticism. Another circumstance which favored
-infidelity may be found in the political thraldom in which Prussia
-held her people. As men were forbidden to speak or write on subjects
-relating to the government or the public welfare, they took refuge in
-theological and philosophical discussions, which in Protestant lands
-have never failed to lead to unbelief. This same state of things tended
-to promote the introduction and increase of secret societies, which,
-in the latter half of the XVIIIth century, sprang up in great numbers
-throughout Germany, bearing a hundred different names, but always having
-anti-Christian tendencies.
-
-To stop the spread of infidelity, Frederic William II., the successor
-of Frederic the Great, issued, in 1788, an “edict, embracing the
-constitution of religion in the Prussian states.” The king declared
-that he could no longer suffer in his dominions that men should openly
-seek to undermine religion, to make the Bible ridiculous in the eyes
-of the people, and to raise in public the banner of unbelief, deism,
-and naturalism. He would in future permit no farther change in the
-creed, whether of the Lutheran or the Reformed Church. This was the
-more necessary as he had himself noticed with sorrow, years before he
-ascended the throne, that the Protestant ministers allowed themselves
-boundless license with regard to the articles of faith, and indeed
-altogether rejected several essential parts and fundamental verities of
-the Protestant Church and the Christian religion. They blushed not to
-revive the long-since-refuted errors of the Socinians, the deists, and
-the naturalists, and to scatter them among the people under the false
-name of enlightenment (_Aufklärung_), whilst they treated God’s Word with
-disdain, and strove to throw suspicion upon the mysteries of revelation.
-Since this was intolerable, he, therefore, as ruler of the land and
-only law-giver in his states, commanded and ordered that in future no
-clergyman, preacher, or school-teacher of the Protestant religion should
-presume, under pain of perpetual loss of office and of even severer
-punishment, to disseminate the errors already named; for, as it was his
-duty to preserve intact the law of the land, so was it incumbent upon him
-to see that religion should be kept free from taint; and he could not,
-consequently, allow its ministers to substitute their whims and fancies
-for the truths of Christianity. They must teach what had been agreed upon
-in the symbols of faith of the denomination to which they belonged; to
-this they were bound by their office and the contract under which they
-had received their positions. Nevertheless, out of his great love for
-freedom of conscience, the king was willing that those who were known to
-disbelieve in the articles of faith might retain their offices, provided
-they consented to teach their flocks what they were themselves unable to
-believe.
-
-In this royal edict we have at once the fullest confession of the
-general unbelief that was destroying Protestantism in Prussia, and of
-the hopelessness of any attempt to arrest its progress. What could be
-more pitiable than the condition of a church powerless to control its
-ministers, and publicly recognizing their right to be hypocrites? How
-could men who had no faith teach others to believe? Moreover, what could
-be more absurd, from a Protestant point of view, than to seek to force
-the acceptance of symbols of faith when the whole Reformation rested upon
-the assumed right of the individual to decide for himself what should or
-should not be believed? Or was it to be supposed that men could invest
-the conflicting creeds of the sects with a sacredness which they had
-denied to that of the universal church? It is not surprising, therefore,
-that the only effect of the edict should have been to increase the energy
-and activity of the infidels and free-thinkers.
-
-Frederic William III., who ascended the throne in 1797, recognizing the
-futility of his father’s attempt to keep alive faith in Protestantism,
-stopped the enforcement of the edict, with the express declaration that
-its effect had been to lessen religion and increase hypocrisy. Abandoning
-all hope of controlling the faith of the preachers, he turned his
-attention to their morals. A decree of the Oberconsistorium of Berlin, in
-1798, ordered that the conduct of the ministers should be closely watched
-and every means employed to stop the daily-increasing immorality of the
-servants of the church, which was having the most injurious effects upon
-their congregations. Parents had almost ceased having their children
-baptized, or had them christened in the “name of Frederic the Great,” or
-in the “name of the good and the fair,” sometimes with rose-water.
-
-But the calamities which befell Germany during the wars of the French
-Revolution and the empire seemed to have turned the thoughts of many
-to religion. The frightful humiliations of the fatherland were looked
-upon as a visitation from heaven upon the people for their sins
-and unbelief; and therefore, when the tercentennial anniversary of
-Protestantism came around (in 1817), they were prepared to enter upon
-its celebration with earnest enthusiasm. The celebration took the form
-of an anti-Catholic demonstration. For many years controversy between
-Protestants and Catholics had ceased; but now a wholly unprovoked but
-bitter and grossly insulting attack was made upon the church from all
-the Protestant pulpits of Germany and in numberless writings. The result
-of this wanton aggression was a reawakening of Catholic faith and life;
-whilst the attempt to take advantage of the Protestant enthusiasm to
-bring about a union between the Lutheran and Reformed churches in Prussia
-ended in causing fresh dissensions and divisions. The sect of the Old
-Lutherans was formed, which, in spite of persecution, finally succeeded
-in obtaining toleration, though not till many of its adherents had been
-driven across the ocean into exile.
-
-As the Congress of Vienna had decided that Catholics and Protestants
-should be placed upon a footing of equality, and as Prussia had received
-a large portion of the _secularized_ lands of the church, with the
-stipulation that she should provide for the maintenance of Catholic
-worship, the government, in 1816, sent Niebuhr, the historian, to Rome,
-to treat with the Pope concerning the reorganization of the Catholic
-religion in the Prussian states. Finally, in 1821, an agreement was
-signed, which received the sanction of the king, and was published as a
-fundamental law of the state.
-
-In this Concordat with the Holy See there is at least a tacit recognition
-of the true nature of the church, of her organic unity--a beginning of
-respect for her freedom, and a seeming promise of a better future. In
-point of fact, however, in spite of Niebuhr’s assurance to the Holy
-Father that he might rely upon the honest intentions of the government,
-Prussia began almost at once to meddle with the rights of Catholics.
-A silent and slow persecution was inaugurated, by which it was hoped
-their patience would be exhausted and their strength wasted. And now we
-shall examine more closely the artful and heartless policy by which,
-with but slight variations, for more than two centuries Prussia has
-sought to undermine the Catholic religion. In 1827 the Protestants of
-all communions in Prussia amounted to 6,370,380, and the Catholics
-to 4,023,513. These populations are, to only a very limited extent,
-intermingled; certain provinces being almost entirely Catholic, and
-others nearly wholly Protestant. By law the same rights are granted to
-both Catholics and Protestants; and both, therefore, should receive like
-treatment at the hands of the government.
-
-This is the theory; what are the facts? We will take the religious policy
-of Prussia from the reorganization of the church after the Congress of
-Vienna down to the revolution of 1848, and we will begin with the subject
-of education. For the six millions of Protestants there were four
-exclusively Protestant universities, at Berlin, Halle, Königsberg, and
-Greifswalde; for the four millions of Catholics there were but two _half
-universities_, at Bonn and Breslau, in each of which there was a double
-faculty, the one Protestant, the other Catholic; though the professors
-in all the faculties, except that of theology, were for the most part
-Protestants. Thus, out of six universities, to the Catholics was left
-only a little corner in two, though they were forced to bear nearly
-one-half of the public burdens by which all six were supported. But this
-is not the worst. The bishops had no voice in the nomination of the
-professors, not even those of theology. They were simply asked whether
-they had any objections to make, _on proof_. The candidate might be a
-stranger, he might be wholly unfitted to teach theology, he might be free
-from open immorality or heresy; and therefore, because the bishops could
-_prove_ nothing against him, he was appointed to instruct the aspirants
-to the priesthood.
-
-At Breslau a foreign professor was appointed, who began to teach the
-most scandalous and heretical doctrines. Complaints were useless. During
-many years his pupils drank in the poison, and at length, after he had
-done his work of destruction, he was, as in mockery, removed. Nor is
-this an isolated instance of the ruin to Catholic faith wrought by this
-system. The bishops had hardly any influence over the education of their
-clergy, who, young and ignorant of the world, were thrown almost without
-restraint into the pagan corruptions of a German university, in order to
-acquire a knowledge of theology. At Cologne a Catholic college was made
-over to the Protestants, at Erfurt and Düsseldorf Catholic _gymnasia_
-were turned into mixed establishments with all the professors, save one,
-Protestants.
-
-Elementary education was under the control of provincial boards
-consisting of a Protestant president and three councillors, _one_ of whom
-might be a Catholic in Catholic districts. In the Catholic provinces
-of the Rhine and Westphalia, the place of Catholic councillor was left
-vacant for several years till the schools were all reorganized. Indeed,
-the real superintendent of Catholic elementary education was generally a
-Protestant minister.
-
-There was a government _Censur_ for books of religious instruction, the
-headquarters of which were in Berlin, but its agents were scattered
-throughout all the provinces. All who were employed in this department,
-to which even the pastorals of the bishops had to be submitted before
-being read to their flocks, were Protestants. The widest liberty was
-given to Protestants to attack the church; but when the Catholics
-sought to defend themselves, their writings were suppressed. Professor
-Freudenfeld was obliged to quit Bonn because he had spoken of Luther
-without becoming respect.
-
-Permission to start religious journals was denied to Catholics, but
-granted to Protestants; and in the pulpit the priests were put under
-strict restraint, while the preachers were given full liberty of speech.
-Whenever a community of Protestants was found in a Catholic district, a
-church, a clergyman, and a school were immediately provided for them;
-indeed, richer provision for the Protestant worship was made in the
-Catholic provinces than elsewhere; but when a congregation of Catholics
-grew up amongst Protestants, the government almost invariably rejected
-their application for permission to have a place of worship. At various
-times and places churches and schools were taken from the Catholics
-and turned over to the Protestants; and though Prussia had received an
-enormous amount of the confiscated property of the church, she did not
-provide for the support of the priests as for that of the ministers.
-
-At court there was not a single Catholic who held office; the heads of
-all the departments of government were Protestants; the Post-Office
-department, down to the local postmasters, was exclusively Protestant;
-all ambassadors and other representatives of the government, though sent
-to Catholic courts, were Protestants.
-
-In Prussia the state is divided into provinces, and at the head of each
-province is a high-president (Ober-Präsident). This official, to whom
-the religious interests of the Catholics were committed, was always a
-Protestant. The provinces are divided into districts, and at the head of
-each district was a Protestant president, and almost all the inferior
-officers, even in Catholic provinces, were Protestants.
-
-Again, in the courts of justice and in the army all the principal
-positions were given to Protestants. In the two _corps d’armées_ of
-Prussia and Silesia, one-half was Catholic; in the army division of
-Posen, two-thirds; in that of Westphalia and Cleves, three-fifths; and,
-finally, in that of the Rhine, seven-eighths; yet there was not one
-Catholic field-officer, not a general or major. In 1832 a royal order was
-issued to provide for the religious wants of the army, and every care
-was taken for the spiritual needs of the Protestant soldiers; but not
-even one Catholic chaplain was appointed. All persons in active service,
-from superior officers down to private soldiers, were declared to be
-members of the military parish, and were placed under the authority of
-the Protestant chaplains. If a Catholic soldier wished to get married
-or to have his child baptized by a priest, he had first to obtain the
-permission of his Protestant curate. What was still more intolerable, the
-law regulating military worship was so contrived as to force the Catholic
-soldiers to be present at Protestant service.
-
-Let us now turn to the relations of the church in Prussia with the Holy
-See. All direct communications between the Catholics and the Pope were
-expressly forbidden. Whenever the bishops wished to consult the Holy
-Father concerning the administration of their dioceses, their inquiries
-had to pass through the hands of the Protestant ministry, to be forwarded
-or not at its discretion, and the answer of the Pope had to pass through
-the same channel. It was not safe to write; for the government had no
-respect for the mails, and letters were habitually opened by order of
-Von Nagler, the postmaster-general, who boasted that he had never had
-any idiotic scruples about such matters; that Prince Constantine was his
-model, who had once entertained him with narrating how he had managed
-to get the choicest selection of intercepted letters in existence; he
-had had them bound in morocco, and they formed thirty-three volumes of
-the most interesting reading in his private library. Thus the church
-was ruled by a system of espionage and bureaucracy which hesitated not
-to violate all the sanctities of life to accomplish its ends. The
-bishops were reduced to a state of abject dependence; not being allowed
-to publish any new regulation or to make any appointment without the
-permission and approval of the Protestant high-president, from whom they
-constantly received the most annoying and vexatious despatches.
-
-The election of bishops was reduced to a mere form. When a see became
-vacant, the royal commissary visited the chapter and announced the person
-whom the king had selected to fill the office, declaring at the same time
-that no other would receive his approval.
-
-The minutest details of Catholic worship were placed under the
-supervision and control of Protestant laymen, who had to decide how much
-wine and how many hosts might be used during the year in the different
-churches.
-
-We come now to a matter, vexed and often discussed, in which the trials
-of the church in Prussia, prior to the recent persecutions, finally
-culminated; we allude to the subject of marriages between Catholics and
-Protestants.
-
-When, in 1803, Prussia got possession of the greater part of her Catholic
-provinces, the following order was at once issued: “His majesty enacts
-that children born in wedlock shall all be educated in the religion of
-the father, and that, in opposition to this law, neither party shall bind
-the other.” Apart from the odious meddling of the state with the rights
-of individuals and the agreements of parties so closely and sacredly
-related as man and wife, there was in this enactment a special injustice
-to Catholics, from the fact that nearly all the mixed marriages in
-Prussia were contracted by Protestant government officials and Catholic
-women of the provinces to which these agents had been sent. As these men
-held lucrative offices, they found no difficulty in making matrimonial
-alliances; and as the children had to be brought up in the religion of
-the father, the government was by this means gradually establishing
-Protestant congregations throughout its Catholic provinces. In 1825 this
-law was extended to the Rhenish province, and in 1831 a document was
-brought to light which explained the object of the extension--viz., that
-it might prove an effectual measure against the proselyting system of
-Catholics.
-
-The condition of the church was indeed deplorable. With the name of
-being free, she was, in truth, enslaved; and while the state professed
-to respect her rights, it was using all the power of the most thoroughly
-organized and most heartless system of bureaucracy and espionage to
-weaken and fetter her action, and even to destroy her life. This was the
-state of affairs when, in the end of 1835, Von Droste Vischering, one of
-the greatest and noblest men of this century, worthy to be named with
-Athanasius and with Ambrose, was made archbishop of Cologne.
-
-The Catholic people of Prussia had long since lost all faith in the
-good intentions of the government, of whose acts and aims they had full
-knowledge; and it was in order to restore confidence that a man so
-trusted and loved by them as Von Droste Vischering was promoted to the
-see of Cologne. The doctrines of Hermes, professor of theology in the
-University of Bonn, had just been condemned at Rome, but the government
-ignored the papal brief, and continued to give its support to the
-Hermesians; the archbishop, nevertheless, condemned their writings, and
-especially their organ, the _Bonner Theologische Zeitschrift_, forbade
-his students to attend their lectures at the university, and finally
-withdrew his approbation altogether from the Hermesian professors,
-refusing to ordain students unless they formally renounced the proscribed
-doctrines.
-
-By a ministerial order issued in 1825, priests were forbidden, under
-pain of deposition from office, to exact in mixed marriages any
-promise concerning the education of the offspring. A like penalty
-was threatened for refusing to marry parties who were unwilling to
-make such promises, or for withholding absolution from those who were
-bringing up their children in the Protestant religion. To avert as far
-as possible any conflict between the church and the government, Pius
-VIII., in 1830, addressed a brief to the bishops of Cologne, Treves,
-Münster, and Paderborn, in which he made every allowable concession
-to the authority of the state in the matter of mixed marriages. The
-court of Berlin withheld the papal brief, and, taking advantage of the
-yielding disposition of Archbishop Spiegel of Cologne, entered, without
-the knowledge of the Holy See, into a secret agreement with him, in
-which still farther concessions were made, and in violation of Catholic
-principle. Von Droste Vischering took as his guide the papal brief,
-and paid no attention to such provisions of the secret agreement as
-conflicted with the instructions of the Holy Father.
-
-The government took alarm, and offered to let fall the Hermesians, if
-the archbishop would yield in the affair of mixed marriages; and as
-this expedient failed, measures of violence were threatened, which were
-soon carried into effect; for on the evening of the 20th of November,
-1837, the archbishop was secretly arrested and carried off to the
-fortress of Minden, where he was placed in close confinement, all
-communication with him being cut off. The next morning the government
-issued a “Publicandum,” in which it entered its accusations against the
-archbishop, in order to justify its arbitrary act and to appease the
-anger of the people. Notwithstanding, a cry of indignation and grief
-was heard in all the Catholic provinces of Prussia, which was re-echoed
-throughout Germany and extended to all Europe. Lukewarm Catholics grew
-fervent, and the very Hermesians gathered with their sympathies to uphold
-the cause of the archbishop.
-
-The Archbishop of Posen and the Bishops of Paderborn and Münster
-announced their withdrawal from the secret convention, which the Bishop
-of Treves had already done upon his death-bed; and henceforward the
-priests throughout the kingdom held firm to the ecclesiastical law on
-mixed marriages, so that in 1838 Frederic William III. was forced to make
-a declaration recognizing the rights for which they contended. But the
-Archbishop of Cologne was still a prisoner in the fortress of Minden.
-Early, however, in 1839, health began to fail; and as the government
-feared lest his death in prison might produce unfavorable comment, he
-received permission to withdraw to Münster. The next year the king died,
-and his successor, Frederic William IV., showed himself ready to settle
-the dispute amicably, and in other ways to do justice to the Catholics.
-A great victory had been gained--the secret convention was destroyed--a
-certain liberty of communication with the Pope was granted to the
-bishops. The election of bishops was made comparatively free, the control
-of the schools of theology was restored to them, the Hermesians either
-submitted or were removed, and the Catholics of Germany awoke from a
-deathlike sleep to new and vigorous life.
-
-An evidence of the awakening of faith was given in the fall of 1844, when
-a million and a half of German Catholics went in pilgrimage, with song
-and prayer, to Treves.
-
-Nevertheless, many grievances remained unredressed. The _Censur_ was
-still used against the church; and when the Catholics asked permission
-to publish journals in which they could defend themselves and their
-religious interests, they were told that such publications were not
-needed; but when Ronge, the suspended priest, sought to found his sect of
-“German Catholics,” he received every encouragement from the government,
-and the earnest support of the officials and nearly the entire press of
-Prussia; though, at this very time, every effort was being made to crush
-the “Old Lutherans.”
-
-The government continued to find pretexts for meddling with the affairs
-of the bishops, and the newspapers attacked the church in the most
-insulting manner, going so far as to demand that the religious exercises
-for priests should be placed under police supervision. We have now
-reached a memorable epoch in the history of the Catholic Church in
-Prussia--the revolution of 1848, which convulsed Germany to its centre,
-spread dismay among all classes, and filled its cities with riot and
-bloodshed. When order was re-established, the liberties of the church
-were recognized more fully than they had been for three centuries.
-
-
-GARCIA MORENO.
-
-FROM THE CIVILTA CATTOLICA.
-
-
-I.
-
-The atrocious assassination of Garcia Moreno, the President of the
-republic of Ecuador, has filled the minds of all good people with the
-deepest grief and horror. The liberals are the only ones who have
-mentioned it in their journals with indifference. One of them headed
-his announcement of it, “A victim of the Sacred Heart”--alluding,
-with blasphemous irony, to the act of consecration of his people to
-the Adorable Heart of our Lord which this truly pious ruler had made.
-But with the exception of these reprobates--who, hating God, cannot
-love mankind--no one who has any admiration of moral greatness can
-help deploring the death of this extraordinary man--a death the more
-deplorable on account of its coming, not from a natural cause, but from a
-detestable conspiracy concocted by the enemies of all that is good, who
-abhorred equally the wisdom of his government and the soundness of his
-faith. The London _Times_ has a despatch from Paris of October 5 with the
-following communication: “It appears, from authentic information which we
-have received, that Garcia Moreno, lately President of the republic of
-Ecuador, has been assassinated by a secret society which extends through
-all South America, as well as Europe. The assassin was selected by lot,
-and obtained admission to the palace at Quito. One of his accomplices,
-an official, who was arrested after the murder, was assured by the
-president of the court-martial, before his trial, that he would be
-pardoned if he turned state’s evidence. ‘Be pardoned?’ said he. ‘That
-would be of no use to me; if you pardon me, my comrades will not. I would
-rather be shot than stabbed.’” This decision of the society to kill him
-was known to Moreno, and he informed the Pope of it in a letter, which we
-will shortly give.
-
-This illustrious man had governed the republic of Ecuador for about
-fifteen years--first as dictator, and afterwards, for two consecutive
-terms, as president; and to this office he had just been re-elected for
-a third term by an unanimous vote. He had taken charge of the state
-when it was in an exceedingly miserable condition, and by his lofty
-genius, practical tact, and perseverance, but above all by his piety and
-confidence in God, had completely renovated and restored not only the
-morals of the people, but also the whole political administration, and
-made the country a perfect model of a Christian nation. He was intending
-to complete the work which he had begun, and was able to rely confidently
-on the co-operation of his people, whose reverence and love for him were
-unbounded. But all this was intolerable to the liberals of our day; they
-could not bear that in a corner of the New World the problem should be
-solved, which they are trying to make so perplexing, of harmony between
-the state and the church; of the combination of temporal prosperity and
-Catholic piety; of obedience to the civil law and perfect submission to
-ecclesiastical authority. This was an insufferable scandal for modern
-liberalism,[248] especially because such a good example might do much to
-frustrate the plans of this perverse sect in other countries.
-
-The Masons, therefore, resolved to murder this man, whom they had found
-to be too brave and determined to be checked in any other way; for
-all the attempts they had made to intimidate him or to diminish his
-popularity had been entirely without effect. Moreno anticipated the blow,
-but, far from fearing it, was only the more persuaded to persevere in
-his undertaking, regarding it as the greatest happiness to be able to
-give his life for so holy a cause. In the last letter which he wrote to
-the Supreme Pontiff before his assassination are these words: “I implore
-your apostolic benediction, Most Holy Father, having been re-elected
-(though I did not deserve it) to the office of president of this Catholic
-republic for another six years. Although the new term does not begin
-till the 30th of August, the day on which I take the oath required by
-the constitution, so that then only shall I need to give your Holiness
-an official notification of my re-election, nevertheless I wish not to
-delay in informing you of it, in order that I may obtain from Heaven
-the strength and light which I more than any other one shall need, to
-keep me a child of our Redeemer and loyal and obedient to his infallible
-Vicar. And now that the lodges of neighboring countries, inspired by
-Germany, vomit out against me all sorts of atrocious insults and horrible
-calumnies, and even secretly lay plans for my assassination, I require
-more than ever the divine assistance and protection to live and die in
-defence of our holy religion and of this beloved republic which God has
-given me to govern. How fortunate I am, Most Holy Father, to be hated
-and calumniated for the sake of our divine Saviour; and what unspeakable
-happiness would it be for me if your benediction should obtain for me
-the grace to shed my blood for him who, though he was God, yet shed his
-own on the cross for us!” This heroic desire of the fervent Christian
-was granted. He was murdered by the enemies of Christ, in hatred of his
-zeal for the restoration of the Christian state and of his fervent love
-for the church. He is truly a martyr of Christ. Are not S. Wenceslaus of
-Bohemia and S. Canute of Denmark numbered among the holy martyrs, for
-the same cause? Both of them were killed in the precincts of the temple
-of God; and Moreno was carried back to the church from which he had
-only just departed, to breathe out his noble soul into the bosom of his
-Creator.
-
-
-II.
-
-The object of Masonic civilization is society without God. The results
-which it has succeeded in achieving, and which it deems of such
-importance, are the separation of the state from the church, liberty
-of worship, the withdrawal of public charities from religious objects,
-the exclusion of the clergy from the work of education, the suppression
-of religious orders, the supremacy of the civil law, and the setting
-aside of the law of the Gospel. Only by these means, according to the
-Masons, can the happiness of the people, the prosperity of the state,
-and the increase of morality and learning be attained. These are their
-fundamental maxims. Now, the difficulty was that Moreno had practically
-shown, and was continuing to show more completely every day, that the
-peace, prosperity, and greatness of a nation will be in proportion to
-its devotion to God and its obedience to the church; that subjection
-to God and his church, far from diminishing, ensures and increases,
-the true liberty of man; that the influence of the clergy promotes not
-only the cause of morality, but also that of letters and science; that
-man’s temporal interests are never better cared for than when they are
-subordinated to those which are eternal; and that love of country is
-never so powerful as when it is consecrated by love of the church.
-
-A man of the most distinguished talents, which had been most fully
-cultivated at the University of Paris, Moreno had in his own country
-occupied the most conspicuous positions. He had been a professor of the
-natural sciences, rector of the university, representative, senator,
-commander-in-chief of the army, dictator, and president of the republic.
-In this last office, in which he would probably have been retained by
-the nation through life, he showed what genius sanctified by religion
-can accomplish. His first care was to establish peace throughout the
-country, without which there can be no civil progress; and he succeeded
-in doing so, not by compromises, as is now the fashion--not by making
-a monstrous and abnormal amalgamation of parties and principles--but
-by the consistent and firm assertion of the principles of morality and
-justice, and by the open and unhesitating profession of Catholicity. His
-success was so marked that Ecuador very soon arrived at such a perfect
-state of tranquillity and concord as to seem a prodigy among the agitated
-and turbulent republics in its neighborhood.
-
-With the exception of some local and ineffectual attempts at revolution
-during his first presidency, which were quelled by placing some of the
-southern provinces in a state of siege for fifty days, Ecuador was
-undisturbed by sedition during the whole of his long government. This
-was partly due to the splendor of his private and public virtues, which
-dissipated the clouds of envy and hatred, and gained for him the esteem
-even of his political opponents. He was chaste, magnanimous, just,
-impartial, and so well known for clearheadedness that the people often
-stopped him on the streets to decide their disputes on the spot, and
-accepted his opinion as final. His disinterestedness seems fabulous when
-we think of the immoderate cupidity prevailing among modern politicians.
-In his first six years he would not even draw his salary, being content
-to live on the income of his own moderate fortune. In his second term he
-accepted it, but spent it almost entirely in works of public utility. And
-in such works he employed the whole of his time. When any one endeavored
-to persuade him not to shorten his life by such continual labor, he used
-to say: “If God wants me to rest, he will send me illness or death.”
-
-Owing to this unwearying assiduity and his ardent love for the good of
-his people, he was able to undertake and finish an amount of business
-that would appear incredible, were not the evidence too strong to admit
-of doubt. In No. 1,875 of the _Univers_ there is a catalogue of the
-principal enterprises which he carried through in a brief period. They
-are as follows:
-
-A revision of the constitution.
-
-The paying of the customs to the national treasury, instead of to the
-provincial ones, as formerly.
-
-National representation for the country as well as the cities.
-
-The establishment of a fiscal court, and the organization of the courts
-of justice.
-
-The foundation of a great polytechnic school, which was partially
-entrusted to the Jesuits.
-
-The construction and equipment of an astronomical observatory, which
-was built and directed by the Jesuits. On account of the equatorial
-position of Quito, Garcia Moreno, who was well versed in the mathematical
-sciences, wished to make this observatory equal to any in the world. He
-bought most of the instruments with his own private funds.
-
-Roads connecting different parts of the country. Garcia Moreno laid out
-and nearly completed five great national roads. The principal one, that
-from Guayaquil to Quito, is eighty leagues in length. It is paved, and
-has one hundred and twenty bridges. It is a solid and stupendous work,
-constructed in the face of almost insuperable difficulties.
-
-The establishment of four new dioceses.
-
-A concordat with the Holy See.
-
-The reformation of the regular clergy; the restoration among them of a
-common and monastic life.
-
-The reconstruction of the army. The army had been a mere horde, without
-organization, discipline, or uniform; the men hardly had shoes. Moreno
-organized them on the French system, clothed, shod, and disciplined them;
-now they are the model as well as the defence of the people.
-
-The building of a light-house at Guayaquil. Previously there had been
-none on the whole coast.
-
-Reforms in the collection of the customs. Frauds put an end to, and the
-revenues trebled.
-
-Colleges in all the cities; schools in even the smallest villages--all
-conducted by the Christian Brothers.
-
-Schools for girls; Sisters of Charity, Ladies of the Sacred Heart,
-Sisters of the Good Shepherd, of Providence, and Little Sisters of the
-Poor.
-
-Public hospitals. During his first presidency Moreno turned out the
-director of the hospital at Quito, who had refused to receive a poor man
-and was very negligent of his duties, and made himself director in his
-stead. He visited the hospital every day, improved its arrangements, and
-put it in good working order. He performed in it many acts of heroic
-charity.
-
-The maintenance and increase of lay congregations and orders. He was an
-active member of the Congregation of the Poor.
-
-The establishment of four museums.
-
-The Catholic Protectory, a vast and magnificent school of arts and
-trades, on the plan of S. Michele at Rome, and conducted by the Christian
-Brothers.
-
-Postal conventions with various foreign states.
-
-The embellishment and restoration of the cities. Guayaquil, and
-especially Quito, seemed as if they had been rebuilt.
-
-And he accomplished all this, not only without increasing the taxes, but
-even diminishing some of them. This is the reason why he was so much
-beloved by the people; why they called him father of his country and
-saviour of the republic. But it was also this which was his unpardonable
-sin, which had to promptly receive a chastisement which should serve
-as a warning for his successors, that they might not dare to imitate
-his manner of government. For such a course as his was sure to ruin the
-credit of Masonry in the popular mind.
-
-
-III.
-
-Moreno loved his country, and worked so hard for its good, because he was
-truly and thoroughly religious. Every one who really loves God loves his
-neighbor also; and he who loves God intensely loves his neighbor in the
-same way, because he sees in him the image of God and the price of his
-blood.
-
-When he was a student in Paris he was admired for his piety. In his own
-country, amid the continual cares and heavy responsibilities of his
-office, he always found time to hear Mass every morning and say the
-rosary every night. In his familiar conversation he spoke frequently of
-God, of religion, of virtue, and with such fervor that all who heard
-felt their hearts touched and moved by his words. Before beginning the
-business of the day, he always made a visit to the church to implore
-light from the Source of all wisdom; and he had just left it, as we
-have said, when he met the ambuscade which was prepared for him. This
-religious spirit produced in him a great zeal for the glory of God, and
-that devotion to the Vicar of Christ which in him so much resembled the
-affection of a child for his father. Let it suffice to say that when he
-had to arrange the concordat with the Holy See, he sent his ambassador
-to Rome with a blank sheet signed by himself, telling him to ask his
-Holiness to write on it whatever seemed to him right and conducive to
-the good of the church and the true welfare of the nation. Such was
-the confidence which he reposed in the Pope, with whom politicians are
-accustomed to treat as if he were an ambitious and designing foreign
-prince, instead of being the father of all the faithful. When the
-revolution entered Rome in triumph through the breach of Porta Pia,
-Garcia Moreno was the only ruler in the world who dared to enter a solemn
-protest against that sacrilegious invasion; and he obtained from his
-Congress a considerable sum as a monthly subsidy and tribute of affection
-to his Holiness.
-
-But his piety toward God and his filial love to the church can best be
-seen from the message to Congress which he finished a few hours before
-his death, and which was found on his dead body, steeped in his blood.
-Although it is somewhat long for the limits of an article, we think that
-we ought to present it to our readers as an imperishable monument of true
-piety and enlightened policy, and as a lesson for the false politicians
-of the present day and of days to come.
-
-The message is as follows:
-
-    “SENATORS AND DEPUTIES: I count among the greatest of the great
-    blessings which God has, in the inexhaustible abundance of
-    his mercy, granted to our republic, that of seeing you here
-    assembled under his protection, in the shadow of his peace,
-    which he has granted and still grants to us, while we are
-    nothing and can do nothing, and only give in return for his
-    paternal goodness inexcusable and shameful ingratitude.
-
-    “It is only a few years since Ecuador had to repeat daily
-    these sad words which the liberator Bolivar addressed in his
-    last message to the Congress of 1830: ‘I blush to have to
-    acknowledge that independence is the only good which we have
-    acquired, and that we have lost all the rest in acquiring it.’
-
-    “But since the time when, placing all our hope in God, we
-    escaped from the torrent of impiety and apostasy which
-    overwhelms the world in this age of blindness; since 1869, when
-    we reformed ourselves into a truly Catholic nation, everything
-    has been on a course of steady and daily improvement, and the
-    prosperity of our dear country has been continually increasing.
-
-    “Ecuador was not long ago a body from which the life-blood was
-    ebbing, and which was even, like a corpse, already a prey to
-    a horrible swarm of vermin which the liberty of putrefaction
-    engendered in the darkness of the tomb. But to-day, at the
-    command of that sovereign voice which called Lazarus from the
-    sepulchre, it has returned to life, though it still has not
-    entirely cast off the winding-sheet and bandages--that is to
-    say, the remains and effects of the misery and corruption in
-    which it had been buried.
-
-    “To justify what I have said, it will suffice for me to give
-    a short sketch of the progress which has been made in these
-    last two years, referring you to the various departments of
-    the government for documentary and detailed information. And
-    that you may see exactly how far we have advanced in this
-    period of regeneration, I shall compare our present condition
-    with that from which we started; not for our own glory and
-    self-gratulation, but to glorify Him to whom we owe everything,
-    and whom we adore as our Redeemer and our Father, our Protector
-    and our God.”
-
-    Here follows an enumeration of all the improvements which had
-    been made. He continues:
-
-    “We owe to the perfect liberty which the church has among
-    us, and to the apostolic zeal of its excellent prelates, the
-    reformation of the clergy, the amendment of morals, and the
-    reduction of crimes; which is so great that in our population
-    of a million there are not enough criminals to fill the
-    penitentiary.
-
-    “To the church also we owe those religious corporations
-    which produce such an abundance of excellent results by the
-    instruction of childhood and youth, and by the succor which
-    they give so liberally to the sick and to the destitute. We are
-    also debtors to these religious for the renewal of the spirit
-    of piety in this year of jubilee and of sanctification, and
-    for the conversion to Christianity and civilization of nine
-    thousand savages in the eastern province, in which, on account
-    of its vast extent, there are good reasons for establishing a
-    second vicariate. If you authorize me to ask the Holy See for
-    this foundation, we will then consult as to what measures to
-    take to promote the commerce of this province, and to put an
-    end to the selfish speculations and the violent exactions to
-    which its poor inhabitants have been a prey by reason of the
-    cruelty of inhuman merchants. The laborers, however, for this
-    field are not now to be had; and that those which we shall
-    have may be properly trained, it is right that you should
-    give a yearly subsidy to our venerable and zealous archbishop,
-    to assist him in building the great seminary which he has not
-    hesitated to begin, trusting in the protection of Heaven and in
-    our co-operation.
-
-    “Do not forget, legislators, that our little successes would be
-    ephemeral and without fruit if we had not founded the social
-    order of our republic upon the rock, always resisted and always
-    victorious, of the Catholic Church. Its divine teaching, which
-    neither men nor nations can neglect and be saved, is the rule
-    of our institutions, the law of our laws. Docile and faithful
-    children of our venerable, august, and infallible Pontiff,
-    whom all the great ones of the earth are abandoning, and who
-    is being oppressed by vile, cowardly, and impious men, we have
-    continued to send him monthly the little contribution which you
-    voted in 1873. Though our weakness obliges us to remain passive
-    spectators of his slow martyrdom, let us hope that this poor
-    gift may at least be a proof of our sympathy and affection, and
-    a pledge of our obedience and fidelity.
-
-    “In a few days the term for which I was elected in 1869
-    will expire. The republic has enjoyed six years of peace,
-    interrupted only by a revolt of a few days in 1872 at Riobamba,
-    of the natives against the whites; and in these six years it
-    has advanced rapidly on the path of true progress under the
-    visible protection of divine Providence. The results achieved
-    would certainly have been greater if I had possessed the
-    abilities for government which unfortunately I lack, or if all
-    that was needed to accomplish good was ardently to desire it.
-
-    “If I have committed faults, I ask pardon for them a thousand
-    times, and beg it with tears from all my countrymen, feeling
-    confident that they have been unintentional. If, on the
-    contrary, you think that in any respect I have succeeded,
-    give the honor of the success, in the first place, to God
-    and to his Immaculate Mother, to whom are committed the
-    inexhaustible treasures of his mercy; and, in the second place,
-    to yourselves, to the people, to the army, and to all those
-    who, in the different branches of the government, have assisted
-    me with intelligence and fidelity in the fulfilment of my
-    difficult duties.
-
-                                                  “GABRIEL GARCIA MORENO.
-
-    “QUITO, August, 1875.”
-
-That is the way that a really Catholic ruler can speak, even in this
-XIXth century. It seems, while we read his words, as if we were listening
-to Ferdinand of Castile or some other one of the saintly kings of the
-most prosperous days of Christianity. With great justice, then, did the
-government of Ecuador, when it published this message--which was found,
-as we have said, on Moreno’s dead body--append to it the following note:
-
-“The message which we have just given is the solemn voice of one who is
-dead; or, better, it is his last will and testament actually sealed with
-his own blood; for our noble president had just written it with his own
-hand when he was assailed by his murderers. Its last words are those of a
-dying father who, blessing his children, turns for the last time toward
-them his eyes, darkened by the shadow of death, and asks pardon of them,
-as if he had been doing anything during all their lives but loading them
-with benefits. Deeply moved and distressed by grief, we seek in vain for
-words adequate to express our love and veneration for him. Posterity
-no doubt will honor the undying memory of the great ruler, the wise
-politician, the noble patriot, and the saintly defender of the faith who
-has been so basely assassinated. His country, worthily represented by
-their present legislators, will shed tears over this tomb which contains
-such great virtues and such great hopes, and will gratefully record on
-imperishable tablets the glorious name of this her son, who, regardless
-of his own blood and life, lived and died only for her.”
-
-This splendid eulogy is an echo of the eternal benediction and a
-reflection of the brilliant crown which we cannot doubt that God has
-given to this his latest martyr.
-
-
-IV.
-
-The reader will see that this message of Garcia Moreno contains a true
-and genuine scheme of Christian government which he applied in the
-republic of Ecuador, in direct opposition to the ideas and aspirations
-of modern liberalism. Every point of it is in most marked contrast to
-the liberalist programme. At some risk of repetition, we will here make
-a short comparison between the two, on account of the importance of the
-conclusions which all prudent men can draw from it.
-
-Moreno begins with God, and puts him at the head of the government of
-his people; liberalism would have the state atheistic, and is ashamed
-even to mention the name of God in its public documents. Moreno desires
-an intimate union between the state and the Catholic Church, declaring
-that the social order must be founded on the church, and that her divine
-teaching must be the rule of human institutions and the law of civil
-laws; liberalism, on the other hand, not only separates the state from
-the church, but even raises it above her, and makes the civil laws the
-standard in harmony with which the ecclesiastical laws must be framed.
-It even would subject the most essential institutions of the church to
-the caprice of man. Moreno desires full liberty for the bishops, and
-ascribes to this liberty the reform of the clergy and the good morals
-of the people; liberalism wants to fetter episcopal action, excites
-the inferior clergy to rebellion against their prelates, and endeavors
-to withdraw the people from the influence of either. Moreno not only
-supports but multiplies religious communities; liberalism suppresses
-them. Moreno respects ecclesiastical property, and promotes by the
-resources of the state the foundation of new seminaries, saying that
-without them it will not be possible worthily to fill the ranks of the
-sacred ministry; liberalism confiscates the goods of the church, closes
-the seminaries, and sends the young Levites to the barracks, to be
-educated in the dissipation and license of military life. Moreno confides
-to the clergy and to the religious orders the training and instruction
-of youth; liberalism secularizes education, and insists on the entire
-exclusion of the religious element. Moreno removes from his Catholic
-nation the wiles and scandals of false religion; liberalism promulgates
-freedom of worship, and opens the door to every heresy in faith and
-to every corruption in morals. Moreno, finally, sees in himself the
-weakness inherent in man, and gives God credit for all the good which he
-accomplishes; while liberalism, full of satanic pride, believes itself
-capable of everything, and places all its confidence in the natural
-powers of man. The antagonism between the two systems is, in short,
-universal and absolute.
-
-Now, what is the verdict of experience? It is that the application
-of Moreno’s system has resulted in peace, prosperity, the moral and
-material welfare of the people--in a word, social happiness. On the
-contrary, the application of the liberalist system has produced discord,
-general misery, enormous taxation, immorality among the people, and
-public scandals, and has driven society to the verge of destruction and
-dissolution. The liberty which it has given has been well defined by
-Moreno; it is the liberty of a corpse, the liberty to rot.
-
-And at this juncture the infamous wickedness and the despicable logic of
-the liberalist party can no longer be concealed. It has laid it down as
-certain that the principles of the middle ages, as it calls them--which
-are the true Catholic principles, the principles affirmed by our Holy
-Father Pius IX. in his Syllabus--are not applicable to modern times, and
-can no longer give happiness to nations. But here is a ruler, Garcia
-Moreno by name, who gives the lie to this grovelling falsehood, and shows,
-by the irresistible evidence of facts, that the happiness of his people
-has actually come simply from the application of these principles. What is
-the answer of the liberalist sect to this manifest confutation of their
-theory? First, it endeavors to cry down its formidable adversary by
-invective and calumny; and then, finding that this does not suffice to
-remove him from public life, it murders him. This is the only means it
-has to prove its thesis; and, having made use of it, it begins to shriek
-louder than before that Catholic principles cannot be adapted to the
-progress of this age. No, we agree that they cannot, if you are going to
-kill every one who adapts them. What use is it to argue with a sect so
-malicious and perverse? O patience of God and of men, how basely are you
-abused!
-
-
-A REVIVAL IN FROGTOWN.
-
-There was quite an excitement in Frogtown. The Rev. Eliphalet Notext,
-“The Great Revivalist, who had made more converts than any other man in
-England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, the United States and Territories,
-and the British Provinces of North America,” was to “open a three weeks’
-campaign” in the town.
-
-Now, Frogtown prided itself on being the wickedest little town in
-the West. Its inhabitants claimed for it the enviable distinction of
-being “the fastest little village of its size in the United States”--a
-weakness common to most small towns. This pride in vice is a widespread
-weakness. The lean and slippered pantaloon will wag his fallen chaps
-and give evident signs of pleasant titillation when some shank-shrunken
-contemporary tells “what a rascal the dog was in his youth.”
-
-Well, the Frogtowners flattered themselves that Brother Notext would
-find their burgh a very hard nut to crack. Brother Notext was not a
-theologian. He was not a scholar. He was not a preacher. In truth, he
-was almost illiterate. But he understood the “business” of getting up
-revivals. He knew how to create a sensation. He could, at least, achieve
-a success of curiosity, as the French say.
-
-He began with the newspapers, of course. He contrived to have them say
-something about him and his “work” in every issue. He was not particular
-whether what they said of him was favorable or unfavorable. Indeed,
-he rather preferred that some of them should abuse him roundly. Abuse
-sometimes helped him more than praise. It made some people his friends
-through a spirit of contradiction. It appealed to the pugnacious
-instincts of some “professors of religion.” It enabled him to hint that
-the inimical editors were papal myrmidons, Jesuit emissaries, etc., etc.
-
-The Rev. Eliphalet was really an excellent organizer. He had been
-originally the business manager of a circus. His advertisements, his
-posters, his hand-bills, in his old occupation, were prepared with all
-the gorgeous imagery of the East. He did not forget his old tactics in
-his new profession. Immediately on his arrival in Frogtown he grappled
-the newspapers. He begged, bullied, or badgered the editors until they
-noticed him. He set the Christian Juveniles and the kindred societies to
-work, with whom, of course, there was no difficulty. In a couple of days
-he succeeded in drawing around him the clergymen of every denomination,
-except the Episcopalian and Unitarian. Some of these, however, went much
-against their will. The Episcopalian minister--a gentle, amiable man--was
-very loath at first; but the pressure brought to bear upon him was too
-strong. He finally succumbed and joined in what was called a Union
-Christian Meeting of all the Protestant congregations. This important
-point achieved, Mr. Notext had three of the “best workers” in each
-congregation selected. These he sent among the people to raise the sinews
-of war, without which no campaign, whether sacred or profane, can be
-conducted to a successful issue. Mr. Notext’s terms were reasonable--only
-three hundred dollars a week and found. A man must live; and when a man
-works hard--as Mr. Notext undoubtedly did--he must live well, or he
-cannot stand the strain on his physical and mental strength. Then, there
-were blank weeks when he had no revival in hand, and probably a hotel
-bill to pay. Taking these things into consideration, any reasonable
-person will allow that three hundred dollars a week and found was not an
-exorbitant price.
-
-Mr. Notext had a large tent which the profane said had been formerly
-used in his old business. It was pitched in a vacant lot within the city
-limits, and could accommodate about fifteen hundred persons. Mr. Notext
-prevailed on the clergymen who united with him to close their churches
-on the first Sunday of his revival. On the previous Friday he gathered
-around him a number of male and female enthusiasts. Accompanied by these
-people, organized in squads and led by the regular revival practitioners
-who did what is profanely termed the “side-show” business in all Mr.
-Notext’s tours, he sang hymns in front of every drinking-saloon in the
-town. The instrumental accompaniment to the singing was furnished by a
-melodeon, which was carried about in a one-horse cart.
-
-On Sunday the union meetings began, and, notwithstanding a heavy
-rain, the tent was full. A large platform had been erected inside,
-and near the door was a table on which were exposed for sale a great
-variety of contributions to religious literature, all by one author,
-who had evidently tried every string of the religious lyre. There were
-collections of hymns by the Rev. Mr. Notext; tracts by the Rev. Mr.
-Notext; sermons by the Rev. Mr. Notext; tales for the young by the Rev.
-Mr. Notext; appeals to the old by the Rev. Mr. Notext; reasons for the
-middle-aged by the Rev. Mr. Notext, etc., etc. There were photographs, in
-every style, of the Rev. Mr. Notext, as well as likenesses of remarkable
-converts who had been remarkable rascals until they “got religion”
-through the efforts of the Rev. Mr. Notext.
-
-On the platform were seated the shepherds of most of the flocks in
-Frogtown. Some among them, it is true, did not seem quite at home in that
-situation, but they had to be there. In the centre of the platform was an
-organ, which furnished the instrumental music. On each side of the organ
-seats were arranged for a volunteer choir. Fully half those present were
-children.
-
-The Rev. Eliphalet Notext was introduced to the audience by the minister
-of the Methodist church. The revivalist was a stout, fair-haired,
-fresh-colored, rather pleasant-looking man, inclined to corpulency,
-evidently not an ascetic, and gifted with no inconsiderable share of
-physical energy and magnetism.
-
-“I wish all persons who can sing to come on the platform and occupy the
-seats to the right and left of the organ,” he began.
-
-No movement was made in response to this call. It was repeated with a
-better result. A dozen young ladies summoned up enough courage to mount
-the platform.
-
-“This will never do!” cried Mr. Notext. “I want every person present who
-can sing right here on this stand. We can’t get along without music and
-plenty of it.”
-
-“Brethren,” he continued, turning toward the clergymen on the platform,
-“you know the singers in your congregations; go among them and send them
-up here. Everybody must put his shoulder to the wheel in the great work
-of bringing souls to Jesus.”
-
-The brethren meekly did as they were bid. They soon succeeded in filling
-the seats reserved for the singers. These numbered about one hundred.
-
-“That’s more like it,” said Mr. Notext approvingly. “Now, my friends, we
-will begin by singing a hymn. I want everybody to join in.” (A nod to the
-organist, who began to play.)
-
-The singing was rather timid at first, but, led by Mr. Notext, the
-singers rapidly gained confidence, and soon rolled forth in full chorus.
-Having fairly launched them, their leader, after the first verse, left
-them to take care of themselves. The singing was really good. The rich
-volume of harmony drowned the commonplace melody and the vulgar words.
-Thus Brother Notext was successful in the production of his first effect.
-It was evident that he depended much on the singing. There is nothing
-like a grand mass of choral music to excite the sensibilities. After two
-or three hymns, the revivalist had his audience in a highly emotional
-condition. “I want all the children together in front!” shouted Mr.
-Notext. “_Ad_ults [the accent on the first syllable] will retire to the
-back seats. Don’t stop the music! Keep up the singing! Go on! go on!”
-Then he ran to the organ, whispered something to the organist, and led
-off with
-
-    “Oh! you must be a lover of the Lord,
-    Or you won’t go to heaven when you die,”
-
-leaving the singers to sing it out for themselves after the first two or
-three lines.
-
-It took some time to get all the children to the front. If the music
-flagged, Mr. Notext shouted to the singers to “keep it up.” From time to
-time he would rush to the organ, pick up a hymn-book in a frantic manner,
-and lead off with a new hymn, waving his hands in cadence, but, with a
-due regard for his lungs, not singing a note more than was absolutely
-necessary to start the other singers afresh.
-
-The fathers and mothers of the little ones, softened by the music, looked
-with moistened eyes on their children as the latter took their seats. The
-American people are very fond of children when they are old enough to
-walk and talk and be interesting. Mr. Notext was alive to this fact. Even
-the worst criminal or the most cynical man of the world cannot help being
-touched while music charms his ears and his eyes look on the beautiful
-spectacle of childish innocence. Mr. Notext evidently knew the more
-amiable weaknesses of human nature. He appealed to the senses and the
-affections, and won over the fathers and mothers through the children.
-
-“Now, my little friends,” said Mr. Notext, “I wish you all to keep
-perfectly silent while I am talking to you. This first meeting is
-especially for you.”
-
-There was considerable buzzing among the little ones.
-
-“I must have silence, if I am to do anything with these children,” said
-Mr. Notext rather testily, and in a tone which showed that he would not
-scruple to apply the birch to his little friends if they did not keep
-quiet. “The slightest noise distracts their attention. There are some
-boys to the right there who are still talking! I wish some one would stop
-them.”
-
-A softly-stepping gentleman with long hair and green goggles went to the
-designated group, remonstrated with, and finally succeeded in silencing,
-them. Then Mr. Notext began his sermon to the children. He told the
-story of the Passion in a manner which, though it inexpressibly shocked
-Christians of the old-fashioned kind who happened to be present, was
-exceedingly dramatic--“realistic” in the highest degree, to borrow a
-word from the modern play-bill. Suddenly he broke off and said rather
-excitedly:
-
-“There is a boy on the fourth bench who persists in talking. I must have
-absolute silence, or I cannot hold the attention of these children.
-The slightest noise distracts them and takes their minds away from the
-picture I am endeavoring to present to them. It is that red-haired boy!
-Will somebody please to take him away?” Several pious gentlemen bore
-down on the poor little red-haired urchin, and all chance of “getting
-religion” was taken away from him for the nonce by his summary removal.
-When silence was restored, Mr. Notext resumed the story. When describing
-how the divine Victim was buffeted and spat upon, he administered to
-himself sounding slaps on the face, now with the left hand, now with the
-right. He placed an imaginary crown of thorns on his head, pressed the
-sharp points into his forehead, and, passing the open fingers of both
-hands over his closed eyes and down his face, traced the streams of blood
-trickling from the cruel wounds. Tears already rolled down the cheeks of
-the little ones. When he reached the nailing to the cross, he produced a
-large spike, exhibited it to the children, and went through the semblance
-of driving it into his flesh. An outburst of sobs interrupted him. Some
-of the children screamed in very terror. The desired effect was produced.
-Many fathers and mothers, touched by the emotion and terror of their
-children, wept in sympathy with them.
-
-“Now the music!” shouted Mr. Notext, stamping with impatience, as if he
-wanted a tardy patient to swallow a Sedlitz-powder in the proper moment
-of effervescence. “Now the music!” And he led off with
-
-    “Oh! you must be a lover of the Lord,
-    Or you won’t go to heaven when you die!”
-
-He shouted to the “workers” to go among the people and ask them to “come
-to Jesus.” A crowd of “workers,” some professional, some enthusiastic
-volunteers, broke loose upon the audience. They seized people by the
-hands. They embraced them. They inquired: “How do you feel now? Do you
-not feel that Jesus is calling you?” They begged them to come to Jesus at
-once. They asked them if they were “Ker-istians.”
-
-One of the workers met two gentlemen who entered together and were
-evidently present through curiosity. Of the first, who seemed to be a
-cool, keen, self-poised business man, the worker asked the stereotyped
-question:
-
-“Are you a Ker-istian?”
-
-“Of course, of course,” said the self-possessed business man.
-
-The worker passed on, perfectly satisfied with the off-hand declaration.
-He repeated the question to the gentleman’s companion, who, possessed of
-less assurance, hesitated and humbly replied:
-
-“I trust so.”
-
-The worker immediately grappled the sensitive gentleman, much to his
-mortification, and it was some time before he succeeded in effecting
-his escape, regretting, doubtless, that he had not made as prompt and
-satisfactory a profession of faith as that of his companion.
-
-The “inquiry meeting,” as the exercises toward the close were named, was
-continued until late in the afternoon. When the children were dismissed,
-they were instructed to beg their parents to come to Jesus--to entreat
-them, with tears if necessary, until they consented. A Presbyterian
-gentleman of the old school, describing his sensations after the meeting
-was over, said:
-
-“I cannot deny that I was affected. I felt tears coming to my eyes--why,
-I could not tell. The effect, however, was entirely physical. My reason
-had nothing to do with it. It condemned the whole thing as merely
-calculated to get up an unhealthy excitement, which, even if not
-injurious, would be fleeting in its effect. I noticed some nervous women
-almost worked up into spasms. As to the children, they were goaded into
-a state of nervousness and terror which was pitiable to see. I can only
-compare my own condition to that of a man who had drunk freely. While
-the effect lasted I was capable of making a fool of myself, being all
-the while aware that I was doing so. Sunlight and air have dispelled the
-intoxication, and now nothing remains but nausea.
-
-“I am disgusted with such claptrap, and ashamed of myself for having been
-affected by it, however temporarily and slightly.”
-
-The progress made on the first Sunday of the revival was duly chronicled
-in the newspapers of the day following. It was announced that hundreds of
-children had been awakened to a sense of their sinful condition. A little
-girl--four years old--had recognized that she was thoroughly steeped
-in sin. She had had no idea of the condition of her soul until she was
-roused to it by Mr. Notext’s preaching. She was now perfectly happy. She
-had experienced religion. She knew she was forgiven. She had gone to
-Jesus, and Jesus had come to her. She had sought Mr. Notext’s lodgings,
-leading her father with one hand and her mother with the other.
-
-Charley Biggs--the well-known drunken alderman--was among the converted.
-He had “got religion,” and was resolved henceforth to touch the
-time-honored toddy nevermore.
-
-A belated “local” of one of the newspapers, while returning to his
-lodgings on the previous evening, had his coat-tail pulled, much to his
-surprise, by a little girl about six years old.
-
-“Please, sir,” she asked, “do you know Jesus?”
-
-The “local” was struck dumb.
-
-“O sir!” she continued, “won’t you please come to Jesus?”
-
-This was enough. The hard heart-of the “local” was touched. He sobbed, he
-wept, he cried aloud. He fell upon his knees. The little girl fell on
-hers. They sang:
-
-    “Come to Jesus,
-    Come to Jesus,
-    Come to Jesus just now,” etc.
-
-When the “local” rose, after the conclusion of the singing, he took
-the little girl’s hand and went whither she led him. He, too, had “got
-religion”--somewhat as one gets a _coup de soleil_ or a stroke of
-paralysis.
-
-The opposition dailies mildly called attention to the purely emotional
-character of the effects produced. They expressed their fears that the
-moral and physical result of factitious excitement on minds of tender
-years might be the reverse of healthy. The next day the melodeon was
-carted about again and the singing continued on the sidewalks and in
-front of the drinking-saloons. Mr. Notext’s machinery was in full blast.
-The meeting on the second evening was devoted principally to grown
-people. The tent was full. The choir was strengthened by additional
-voices, and the music was good of its kind.
-
-After half a dozen hymns had been sung, Mr. Notext began his sermon--by
-courtesy so-called. He first spoke of the number of persons he had
-converted at home and abroad. For he had been “abroad,” as he took care
-to let his audience know. He had been the guest and the favored companion
-of the Duchess of Skippington, of the Earl of Whitefriars, of Lord This
-and Lady That, and the Countess of Thingumy. In Scotland and in Ireland
-immense crowds followed him and “got religion.” He converted three
-thousand people in a single town in Ireland. Since the meeting on the
-previous day, many children, and many adults as well, had visited him at
-his lodgings. Some who came to the tent “to make fun” went away full of
-religion. He would now let a dear little friend of his tell his own story
-in his own way.
-
-A red-haired youngster, about thirteen, was introduced to the audience as
-the nephew of a prominent and well-known official in a neighboring town.
-(It was afterwards stated, by the way, that the official in question had
-not a nephew in the world. No doubt the youngster imposed on Mr. Notext.)
-If ever there were a thoroughly “bad boy,” this youngster was one, or--as
-may be very possible--his face belied him atrociously. Mr. Notext placed
-his arm dramatically--affectionately, rather--around the young rogue’s
-neck, and led him to the front of the platform. The boy looked at the
-audience with a leer, half-impudent, half-jocular, and then gave his
-experiences glibly in a very harsh treble:
-
-“When first I heard that Rev. Mr. Notext was going to get up a revival, I
-joked about it with other boys, and said he couldn’t convert me; and the
-night of the first meeting I said to the other boys--who were bad boys,
-too--for us to go along and make fun. And so we did. And I came to laugh
-at Mr. Notext and to make fun. And somehow--I don’t know how it was--I
-got religion, and I was converted; and now I am very happy, and I love
-Mr. Notext, and I am going with him to Smithersville when he gets through
-here. And I am very happy since I was converted and became a good boy.”
-(Sensation among the audience, and music by the choir in response to Mr.
-Notext’s call.)
-
-Another juvenile convert was brought forward. He repeated substantially
-the same story as his predecessor, though more diffidently. (More music
-by the choir.)
-
-Mr. Notext now told the affecting story of “little Jimmy.” Little Jimmy
-was a native of Hindostan. He lived in some town ending in _an_. There
-was in that town a missionary school. Jimmy’s master was a very bad
-man--cruel, tyrannical. He forbade Jimmy to go to the mission-school.
-But Jimmy went, nevertheless, whenever he could. The master was a true
-believer in the national religion of Hindostan. He believed that Jimmy
-would go to perdition if he left his ancestral faith to embrace the
-national religion--or rather the governmental religion--of Great Britain.
-Jimmy would return from his visits to the mission-school in a very happy
-mood, singing as he went:
-
-    “Yes, I love Jesus,
-    Yes, I love Jesus,
-      I know, I know I do,” etc.
-
-Mr. Notext gave an operatic rendering of the scene of Jimmy going home
-singing the above words. One day the master heard Jimmy, and was roused
-to a state of fury. He forbade the boy to sing the song. But Jimmy would
-sing it (Mr. Notext did not say whether Jimmy sang the hymn in English
-or Hindostanee). Then the brutal master took an enormous cowhide--or
-the Hindostanee punitive equivalent thereto--and belabored poor Jimmy.
-But Jimmy continued to sing, though the tears rolled down his cheeks
-from pain. And the master flogged; and Jimmy sang. And still the master
-flogged and flogged. And still Jimmy sang and sang and sang. It was like
-the famous fight in Arkansas, wherein the combatants “fit and fit and
-fit.” But there must be an end of everything--even of an Arkansas fight.
-The struggle lasted for hours. Exhausted nature finally gave way, and
-poor little Jimmy died under the lash, singing with his last breath:
-
-    “Yes, I love Jesus,
-    Yes, I love Jesus,
-      I know, I know I do.”
-
-“Now, my friends,” said Mr. Notext, “I want you all to stand up for Jesus
-and sing poor little Jimmy’s song.” And Mr. Notext led off. The choir
-followed his example; but the audience remained seated.
-
-“I want to know,” said Mr. Notext rather testily, “how many Christians
-there are in this assembly. I want every one of them to stand up!”
-
-Several persons now stood up, and gradually the action began to spread,
-like yawning in a lecture-room. There were still many, however, who
-had not hearkened to Mr. Notext’s summons to stand up. He called
-attention to them, and bade some of the brethren go to them and talk
-them into an erect position. Some of the recalcitrants, evidently to
-avoid importunity, stood up. The rest also stood up, and hurriedly left
-the tent, followed by an angry scowl from Mr. Notext. After a little
-hesitation, he said: “We will now once more sing little Jimmy’s hymn.”
-And when the hymn was sung, the meeting dispersed.
-
-Next morning the friendly newspapers chronicled the wonderful success
-of Mr. Notext’s efforts. The number of converts was miraculously large.
-Two thousand persons had stood up for Jesus. The meetings were continued
-during the week. The _modus operandi_ was about the same. Mr. Notext
-repeated himself so often that interest began to languish and his _coups
-de théâtre_ to grow flat and stale. When he was at a loss for words to
-continue one of his disjointed discourses, he took refuge in music and
-hymns.
-
-“Brethren, let us sing:
-
-    “Come to Jesus!
-    Come to Jesus!
-    Come to Jesus just now,” etc.
-
-When his vulgar and often unintentionally blasphemous exhortations
-failed to hold the attention of his hearers, and Morpheus was making
-fight against him in sundry corners of the tent, he would suddenly call
-in his loudest tones on all present to stand up for Jesus. In cases of
-very marked inattention, he would summon his hearers, and particularly
-the children, to write down their names for Jesus in a large book kept
-for that purpose by the great revivalist. This stroke generally roused
-the audience pretty thoroughly. But when the children had written their
-names in the book three or four times, they began to grow tired of the
-practice, thinking that, if these writing lessons were continued, they
-might as well be at school.
-
-In the beginning of the second week there were unmistakable signs of
-impending collapse. The revival received a momentary impulse, however,
-from the opposition of another “Reverend Doctor,” who challenged Mr.
-Notext to controversy. This aroused the natural desire to witness a
-“fight” which lives in the human heart. But the desire was not gratified,
-owing to Mr. Notext’s refusal to accept the challenge. His failure to
-exhibit a proper polemical pugnacity was a very great detriment to him.
-Indeed, the end of the second week showed a marked falling off in the
-number of persons present at the nightly meetings. Then the sinews of
-war began to fail. The weekly wage of the great revivalist could not
-be raised, though he thrice sent back “the best workers” in all the
-congregations to make additional efforts to raise the stipulated sum.
-
-The Rev. Dr. Notext did not tarry very much longer in Frogtown. He
-had barely turned his back upon the little town before every trace of
-the “great tidal wave of the revival” (as the journals called it) had
-disappeared. The youthful converts had gone back to their peg tops, their
-kites, and their china alleys, and Alderman Charley Biggs was again
-taking his whiskey-toddies in the time-honored way.
-
-
-THE PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE.
-
-The President’s message, so far as it deals with the school question and
-the taxation of church property, is the sequel to the speech which he
-delivered at Des Moines. The article on that oration which appeared in
-our last number was, to some extent, an exposition of our views on the
-school question.
-
-We are sure that those views, when carefully examined, will be
-found to contain the only solution in harmony with the spirit of
-free institutions. We are willing to submit to the fairness of our
-fellow-citizens, and to wait until time and thought have matured their
-judgment on the following questions:
-
-1. Who has a right to direct the education of children--their parents or
-the government?
-
-2. Whether, in a republic whose form of government depends more than
-any other upon the virtue of its citizens, it is better to have moral
-instruction given in abundance, or to have this species of instruction
-restricted to the narrowest limits?
-
-3. Whether it is the design of a free government to legislate for all, or
-whether public institutions--the common schools, for instance--are to be
-directed only for the benefit of certain classes?
-
-4. Whether moneys raised by taxation for the common good should not be so
-applied as to satisfy the conscientious demands of all citizens?
-
-5. Whether taxation otherwise directed than for the good of all is not a
-violation of the maxim, “Taxation without representation is tyranny”?
-
-6. Whether Catholics have or have not shown zeal for education, both
-primary and scientific?
-
-7. Whether they have or have not shed their blood in defence of the
-nation, or furnished any of its great leaders in peace and war?
-
-8. Whether any instance can be shown in which they have entered or
-inhabited any country on equal terms with Protestants and infidels, and
-have abused their power to hamper or persecute their fellow-citizens?
-
-9. Whether, in paying their taxes and supporting their own schools to
-the best of their power, peacefully discussing the question of public
-welfare and their own rights, Catholics are acting as loyal citizens or
-as factious disturbers of good-will and kindly feeling among neighbors?
-
-10. Finally, whether, in consideration of the foregoing, our views are
-not entitled to respectful consideration?
-
-We have no doubt whatever that when the thoughtful and just men of our
-day and race have duly pondered upon these subjects, we shall fully agree
-with their deliberate reply.
-
-At no time in the history of our country will it be found that Catholics
-have introduced religion into the arena of political discussion, and any
-attempt to do so will meet with failure. In this they are in perfect
-accord with the principles underlying our institutions and the genuine
-spirit of this country. If, at this moment, the rancor of ancient bigotry
-and fanaticism or modern hatred of Christianity has attempted to awaken a
-political conflict on religious grounds, while it refuses to admit a calm
-consideration of Catholic claims, we appeal from Philip drunk to Philip
-sober.
-
-In the meantime, we shall assume, that there are those who wish to hear
-more with regard to our principles and convictions. We shall endeavor to
-remove all obscurity on the questions now under discussion, and to reply
-to whatever reasonable objections may be made against our principles.
-
-With regard to the taxation of church property, we await the action of
-the political world. Some politicians, whose “vaulting ambition” is of
-that kind which “o’erleaps itself,” would introduce this question into
-political discussion in order to draw off the attention of the American
-people from the real, present issues in their politics. We ask for no
-innovations; but if such be made, let there be no discrimination. We
-stand before the law as do all other religious denominations. “Let us
-have peace” were the memorable words spoken at a memorable time by a man
-who to a large extent held the future of this country in his hands. Those
-words held, and hold still, the germs of the wisest policy. We repeat
-them now, and add, if we cannot have peace, let us at least have fair
-play. If the projectors and advocates of this innovation suppose that, in
-the event of its being carried out, they will thereby worst the Catholic
-Church, their action in the end will be found to resemble that of the man
-who cut off his nose to spite his neighbor.
-
-Since these words were written, four letters have appeared in the New
-York _Times_ under the heading, “Should Church Property be Taxed?” and
-over the signature of George H. Andrews. The writer is not a Catholic.
-His clear, concise reasons against the taxation of church property, as
-recommended by the President in his message, will have the more weight
-with non-Catholic readers on that account. It is singular, yet natural,
-to see how his argument strengthens our own position on the question in
-a number of ways, particularly as regards the suicidal policy of many
-who, through hatred or fear of the Catholic Church, may be induced to
-commit themselves to a measure which would prove an irreparable mischief
-to their own church or churches. Passing by the many able and suggestive
-points in Mr. Andrews’ letters, we take just such as more immediately
-bear on the thoughts thrown out by ourselves.
-
-By the census of 1870 the value of all kinds of church property in the
-United States belonging to the leading denominations was placed as
-follows:
-
-    Methodist,                       $69,854,121
-    Roman Catholic,                   60,935,556
-    Presbyterian,                     53,265,256
-    Baptist,                          41,608,198
-    Episcopalian,                     36,514,549
-    Congregational,                   25,069,698
-    Reformed,                         16,134,470
-    Lutheran,                         14,917,747
-    Unitarian,                         6,282,675
-    Universalist,                      5,692,325
-    Others,                           24,000,000
-                                   -------------
-                                    $354,324,595
-
-“From these it appears,” says Mr. Andrews, “that the relative proportion
-of each denomination to the whole is substantially as follows:
-
-“Methodist, one-fifth of the aggregate; Roman Catholic, one-sixth
-of the aggregate; Presbyterian, one-seventh of the aggregate;
-Baptist, one-ninth of the aggregate; Episcopalian, one-tenth of the
-aggregate; Congregational, one-fourteenth of the aggregate; Reformed,
-one-twenty-second of the aggregate; Lutheran, one-twenty-third of the
-aggregate; Unitarian, one-fifty-ninth of the aggregate; Universalist,
-one-sixtieth of the aggregate.”
-
-And here is the case in a nutshell: “To me it seems obvious,” comments
-Mr. Andrews, on reviewing his figures, “that the expectation is that
-those who belong or are allied to other sects will, from dislike to or
-fear of the Roman Catholic Church, impose a burden upon it, even if in
-doing so they are obliged to assume an equal burden themselves; or, in
-other words, that the owners of $294,000,000 of church property will
-subject it to taxation in order to impose a similar tax upon the owners
-of $60,000,000 of church property. So that the adherents of every other
-sect, at variance among themselves about sundry matters of doctrine and
-practice, essential and non-essential, can be brought to act in concert,
-and to give effect to a common spirit of hostility to Roman Catholic
-doctrine, to Roman Catholic exclusiveness, Roman Catholic aggression, and
-Roman Catholic influence, by placing a tax upon Roman Catholic Church
-property--in effect, arousing a spirit of persecution, qualified by the
-condition imposed by the Constitution, that the would-be persecutor must
-share in the penalty he may succeed in imposing upon the object of his
-dislike.” Which is precisely what we have characterized as “cutting off
-one’s nose to spite a neighbor.”
-
-May we presume to ask whether the taxation of church property will reduce
-the expenses of the general government, render its officials more honest,
-and purify our legislative halls? These are the duties of the hour. Here
-are the issues of our politics. But a profound silence regarding them
-reigns in the official utterance. Are the projectors of the new policy
-afraid to face them? Does their conscience make cowards of them? Or is it
-that they are playing the part of the cuttle-fish?
-
-Up to this period the state and all religious denominations have advanced
-peaceably to prosperity, and there have been no real grounds of complaint
-on any side. At least we have heard of none publicly. What, then, has
-brought about this sudden change? Who has called for it? Why should
-it be sprung upon us at this moment? No danger threatens from this
-quarter. There is not visible on our political horizon even the “cloud
-no bigger than a man’s hand.” Catholics, when only a handful, never
-dreamed of objecting to the exemption from taxation of the property of
-other religious denominations, or to the aid which their benevolent
-institutions received. Can it be the rapid development of Catholicity
-here which has prompted the proposed innovation? Are these exemptions,
-which have been handed down from the time of our fathers, to be altered
-because Catholicity has had her share in the common progress? Let truth
-and error grapple on a fair and open field. Is there fear that truth will
-be worsted in the struggle?
-
-If the exemption of church property from taxation be so great an evil
-and danger to the country, those whom Americans generally are content to
-regard as their great statesmen must have been very short-sighted men
-after all to pass by, one after another, so glaring an evil. For the
-growth of church property is not a thing of to-day. In his message the
-President says that he believes that “in 1850 the church property of the
-United States which paid no tax, municipal or State, amounted to about
-eighty-three million dollars. In 1860 the amount had doubled. In 1875 it
-is about one thousand million dollars.”
-
-Mr. Andrews questions the estimate for 1875 on the ground that it is too
-high. But let that pass. The following table, given by Mr. Andrews, shows
-the increase in value, according to the census, of the property of the
-ten principal churches for the last twenty years:
-
-                            1850             1860             1870
-    Methodist,          $14,825,670      $33,683,371      $69,854,121
-    Roman Catholic,       9,256,753       26,744,119       60,985,556
-    Presbyterian,        14,543,780       24,227,359       53,265,256
-    Baptist,             11,620,855       19,789,378       41,608,198
-    Episcopalian,        11,375,610       21,665,698       36,514,549
-    Congregational,       8,001,995       13,327,511       25,069,698
-    Reformed,             4,116,280        4,453,820       16,134,470
-    Lutheran,             2,909,711        5,385,179       14,917,747
-    Unitarian,            3,280,822        4,338,316        6,282,675
-    Universalist,         1,718,316        2,856,095        5,692,325
-                      -------------    -------------    -------------
-                        $81,649,797     $156,470,846     $330,324,595
-
-The gradation, it will be seen, has been pretty steady, and is
-comparatively no more marked in 1870 than it was in 1860, or than it was,
-probably, in 1850. In that year, however, the Catholics were led by four
-religious bodies, and almost equalled by one. Ten years later they stood
-second, and after another ten years second still. Surrounded as they are
-by jealous foes, they offer fair game, therefore, to men in search of
-political prey. All was right so long as the others reaped an advantage
-over Catholics; but the moment there appears any prospect of Catholics
-reaping an advantage equally with the rest, the cry is: The country is in
-danger, and can only be saved by taxing church property. Who so blind as
-not to see through this flimsy pretext?
-
-Not Mr. Andrews certainly, and no words of ours could be more forcible
-than his. “Discarding all circumlocution,” he writes, “it is as well to
-get down at once to the bottom fact, which is that whatever euphemistic
-phrases may be resorted to, a desire to obstruct the growth and
-circumscribe the influence of the Roman Catholic Church gives whatever
-vitality it may possess to the proposition to tax church property.”
-
-But supposing this change to be made, is it to be imagined for a moment
-that the progress of the church will be stopped by it? That is futile.
-If, though so few in numbers and at a great disadvantage, the church was
-able to raise herself to her present position; if, when the exemptions
-were all in favor of other denominations, Catholics were able to make
-so great a progress, is it to be supposed that by these changes, and
-by placing other denominations on an equality with Catholics, the
-advancement of the Catholic Church is to be retarded?
-
-We have been trained in the stern school of poverty. We are accustomed to
-sacrifice. Our clergy do not receive high salaries. The personal expenses
-of his Eminence the Cardinal-Archbishop are much less than those of
-many a clerical family in New York City. Wherever we have arms to work
-with, the church of God shall not lack all that is necessary to give it
-dignity, even if we have to pay taxes for it besides. In Ireland the
-priests and people have shared their crust in the midst of the famine,
-and in fear of death, until within a few years. In Germany we are now
-about to part with our property, under the wicked injustice of the state,
-rather than submit to its interference in the affairs of conscience. Is
-any person foolish enough to imagine that a few dollars, more or less,
-of taxation is going to dishearten or frighten us? If you want to make
-our people more liberal, if you want to see grand Catholic churches and
-the cross overtopping roof and spire in every city, just put us on our
-mettle. Persecution is our legacy. Martyrdom is our life. The cross on
-our brows is no empty symbol. These are our feelings. We have no alarm
-whatever.
-
-These proposed innovations are only the entrance of a wedge that, driven
-home, will disturb the foundations of our government; will create
-religious strife, and blast the hopes of freedom, not only in this
-country, but all the world over. They count, however, without their
-host who think that the American people are prepared to enter on such
-a career; and the politicians who hope to ride into power by awakening
-the spirit of fanaticism and religious bigotry among us, if their names
-be held in memory at all, will at no remote period be pointed out with
-the finger of scorn and contumely as the disturbers of that peace and
-harmony which ought always to reign in a just people, and which it is the
-true policy of all government and the duty of all citizens to foster and
-maintain. We say nothing at the present regarding the unconstitutionality
-of these proposed innovations, and of the secret banding together of men
-to carry them out.
-
-
-A NIGHT AT THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE.
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF SAINT-GENEST.
-
-It is near midnight. I am alone in my cell, awaiting the mysterious guide
-who brought me hither, and who will return to call me for the office of
-Matins.
-
-I listen to every sound, seeking to understand its language. During the
-first hour I still heard steps from time to time in the distance; then
-I half opened my door and looked outside. At the end of the cloister a
-white figure appeared, carrying a small light in its hand. It approached
-at a slow pace, stopped near a pillar, and disappeared under the arches.
-
-Sometimes I have seen other shadows pass along, and have heard a few
-low-spoken words, … bells which answered each other; then, little by
-little, everything is extinguished and silent.… There is not another
-sound, another breath; … but still I listen, and cannot cease to listen.
-
-Is it indeed myself who am in this monastery? Was I, only to-day, yet in
-the midst of the living? Can one single day comprise so many things? This
-which is just ending has been so full, so strange, that I cannot well
-recount all that has happened in it.
-
-And yet it was but this morning that I was at Aix, in the midst of light
-and noise and gayety.… The children were gambolling around me! All at
-once some one said: “Suppose we go to the Grande Chartreuse!” It was said
-just as one would say anything else. We set out, as if for an ordinary
-excursion, a party of pleasure. Mme. B---- had provisions in readiness,
-which were increased by the additions of other members of the party, and
-we start in the midst of lively speeches and merriment.
-
-So long as we proceed along the valley this is all very well. The road
-rises and descends, running through the vineyards, skirting the rocks,
-while the warm breath of the south gently moves the surrounding verdure.
-Then, after piercing the flank of the mountain, it slopes down toward the
-plains of Dauphine, discovering a horizon all bathed in light.
-
-It is after passing Saint Laurent, at the foot of the _Desert_, and in
-perceiving the entrance of the gorge, that one begins to understand
-something more; … it is then that jesting is silenced and gayety grows
-grave.
-
-Then, on arriving at the Guiers-Mort, we become altogether dumb. Already
-we had ceased to laugh; we now ceased to speak, but regarded with a
-sort of stupefaction this road without issue, which seemed to end in
-chaos. The mountains rose defiantly before us, overlapping and mingling
-with each other, and here and there barring the way with huge masses of
-precipitous rock; the gigantic trees seem to rise to the clouds, and
-torrents from unknown heights fall as if from heaven, while the rocks
-crowd upon, before, around, and seem to say, “No farther shall you
-go.” As we come to a turn, it seems as if all progress were indeed at
-an end; two immense blocks fallen across each other completely close
-the horizon.… We approach them, however, and it opens again, the rocks
-forming a sort of Titanic vaulted roof overhead, and falling again in
-the form of three bridges, one above the other, the horses continuing to
-climb a road which the eye cannot take in.
-
-And whilst one is lost in these abysses, what a perfect dream of splendor
-begins to break overhead! Meadows of the most exquisite green seem as if
-suspended far above us, silvery rocks jutting out from among their black
-firs, gigantic oaks grasping the heights of the precipices, their crowns
-of verdure glittering in the wind.… It is a fantastic apparition. One
-has visions in one’s childhood of unknown regions, of enchanted forests
-guarded by genii, but one never thought to contemplate these marvels in
-reality.
-
-Then, all at once, the mountains separate, the torrents disappear, and in
-the midst of a gorge rise battlements and spires.… It is the monastery.
-There it stands, guarded by these lofty sentinels, in this sombre
-amphitheatre, which would be desolation itself if God had not scattered
-there all the magical beauties of his creation.
-
-There is not a village, not a cottage, not a wayfarer--nothing; there is
-La Chartreuse. No solitude can be compared to that!
-
-On the summit of St. Bernard and of the Simplon monasteries destined
-for the relief of travellers present themselves to the passage of the
-nations. In the sandy deserts the most isolated convents find themselves
-in the road of the caravans; but here this road conducts to nothing--it
-is a silent gorge; it is the Valley of Contemplation; it is the greatest
-solitude that one can imagine.
-
-And when from those heights one has seen the gradual approach of night;
-seen these masses of rock and of verdure enfolded in the vast shadows;
-and, at the summons of the monastery bell, has seen the last of the white
-robes descend from the mountain, he feels that it is one of those moments
-in a life which will never be forgotten. Then, after having stayed awhile
-to contemplate this scene, I rose and came to knock at this door, which
-has been to so many others as the gate of the tomb.… A Carthusian monk
-brought me to my cell, went his way in silence, and since then I have
-been left to my reflections.
-
-There are, then, men who in the morning were in their homes, in the midst
-of their friends, in life, and stir, and the noise of the outer world.…
-They have climbed this mountain, they have sought this _Desert_, have
-knocked at this gate; it has closed upon them, … and for ever.
-
-They have, as I, sat down at this table; they have gazed at the walls of
-their cell, and have said to themselves: “Behold henceforth my horizon.”
-Then they have heard the sound of these bells, the echo of these
-litanies, and they have said to themselves: “We shall henceforth hear no
-other voice.”
-
-You see, one reads these things in the works of poets, one sees them
-represented in the drama; but one must find one’s self actually in a real
-cell, and one must sleep there, to conceive anything of the reality of a
-monastic life.
-
-To awake here in the morning; to rise and eat, alone, the food which
-comes to you through a little wicket, like that of a prisoner; to meet,
-when one traverses the cloister, other shadows who salute you in silence;
-to go from the church to the cell, from the cell to the church, and to
-say to one’s self that it is always and always to be the same!
-
-Always!… All through life; or rather, there is no more life, no more
-space, no more time. It is the beginning of eternity. One is on the
-threshold of the infinite, and it seems as if all this nature had only
-been created to give these men a beginning of eternal repose.
-
-Always alone! The thought crushes one. No more to receive anything from
-without; to nourish one’s self with spiritualities alone; to meditate,
-contemplate, and pray. To pray always: … to pray for those who never pray
-themselves; to pray for those who have shattered your life, and who, may
-be, have led you hither; … to pray for those who have despoiled your
-monastery and outraged your habit--even for the impious ones who come to
-insult you in your very hospitality! And for all this one thing alone
-suffices: faith.
-
-A bell has rung; it is the hour of Matins. Some one knocks at my door. I
-open, and they conduct me to the little stall reserved for travellers.
-At first the obscurity is so great that it is difficult to distinguish
-anything. The church is empty, and none of the tapers are lighted. Then
-a door opens in the distance, and the monks enter in procession, each
-holding a long dark-lantern, of which the slanting gleams dimly lessen
-the darkness of the chapel. They repair to their stalls, and the Office
-begins.
-
-It consists principally of a monotonous psalmody of an implacable rhythm,
-of which one scarcely perceives the first murmurs, and which seems as if
-it would never end. I gaze at these tall white figures, these motionless
-heads.… What has been the drama of life to each one? What changes,
-without and within, have led them there? What have they suffered? And do
-they suffer still? What has the rule of their order done for them?--and
-still the psalmody goes on.
-
-At times they rise, uttering what seems to be a sort of lamentation; then
-they fall prostrate, with their arms stretched out before them; all the
-lights disappear; there is nothing but darkness and silence; it seems as
-if man himself were extinguished. After which the lights reappear, the
-psalmody recommences, and thus it continues.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-When the rising sun shone upon the summits of the rocks, I rose from my
-pallet, exclaiming: “The light at last! Hail to the light!” I open my
-window and look out.… There is no other place like this; such as it was
-in the night, such is it in the day. In vain may the sun mount above the
-horizon to bring warmth into this gorge--the monastery remains cold and,
-as it were, insensible; in vain his rays dart upon the walls, glitter on
-the spires, and set the rocks on fire.… There are living men, but one
-does not see them, one does not hear them; only a wagon drawn by oxen
-crosses the meadow, followed by a monk, and some beggars are approaching
-the monastery gate.
-
-Then, without guide or direction, I plunge into the forest in search of
-the Chapel of S. Bruno. This forest is of incomparable beauty; neither
-Switzerland nor the Pyrenees contain anything like it. Prodigious trees
-rise to an immense height, wrapping their gigantic roots about the
-rocks. In the midst of the waters which murmur on every side unknown
-vegetations luxuriate, sheltering at their feet a world of ferns, tall
-grass, and mosses, every dewy feather and spray being hung, as it were,
-with precious stones, upon which the sun darts here and there rays of
-gold and touches of fire. There is here a wild enchantment which neither
-pen nor pencil ever can depict; and in the midst of these marvels rises,
-from a rock, the Chapel of S. Bruno. There it was that the visions
-appeared to him, and there he caused a spring of water to flow forth;
-but to me the most wonderful of all the miracles of his legend was
-that of his getting there at all--the fact of his reaching the foot of
-this desert, hatchet in hand, cutting down the trees which barred his
-entrance, wrestling with wild animals, the masters of this forest, and
-having no other pathway than the torrent’s bed; ever mounting upwards,
-in spite of the streams, in spite of the rocks, in spite of everything;
-never finding himself lost enough, but ever struggling higher and higher
-still. The miracle is, too, that of his having fixed himself at last upon
-that spot, and to have called companions around him, who constructed each
-his little hermitage about his own; that of having, in God’s name, taken
-possession of these inaccessible mountains, all of which are surmounted
-by a cross, and to have founded an order which spread itself over the
-whole Christian world, and which is still existing.
-
-But the hour of departure has arrived. At the moment of quitting this
-solitude we again reflect. France and Italy lie spread out beneath our
-feet; … that is to say, passions, hatred, strife.… Why should we descend
-again? Why resume the burden of ambitions, rivalries, the harness of
-social conventionalities? To what purpose is it, since the end at last
-must come alike to all?
-
-We look around, we reflect, and then, after having well meditated, we all
-descend.
-
-At the foot of the desert we find again huts, then cottages, by and by a
-village. With movement and life we find our speech again, and with speech
-discussion. Overwhelmed until then by the wild beauty of all around us
-and by the majesty of its silence, the sceptics only now recommence the
-criticisms which were cut short the evening before: “What services do
-these monks render to mankind? To what purpose do they bury themselves
-upon those heights, when there is so much to be done below?”
-
-I answer nothing. These are difficult questions. Later we shall know
-which has chosen the better part, those who act or those who pray; only
-I remember that whilst thirty thousand Israelites were fighting in the
-plain, Moses, alone on the mountain, with his arms stretched out towards
-heaven, implored the God of armies. When his arms fell through weariness,
-the Amalekites prevailed; and when he raised them, Israel was victorious;
-and seeing this, he caused his arms to be supported, until the enemies of
-Israel were overcome.
-
-While we are debating we cross Saint Laurent, Les Echelles, and the
-Valley du Guiers. Here is Chambéry _en fête_, with its flags, its
-concourse of _francs-tireurs_, and bands of music; but although we have
-returned to outer life, we have brought away with us something of the
-solitude we have left, where it seems as if the earth ended.
-
-Believe me, reader, and do not forget my words when you visit these
-lands. The sight of La Grande Chartreuse is one of the most powerful
-emotions here below. To whatever religion you may belong, if your soul
-can be moved by the thought of the life to come, you will preserve an
-imperishable remembrance of a night spent in this monastery, and will
-feel that you are not altogether the same man that you were when you
-entered its walls.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    LES ETATS-UNIS CONTEMPORAINS, OU LES MŒURS, LES INSTITUTIONS ET
-    LES IDEES DEPUIS LA GUERRE DE LA SECESSION. Par Claudio Jannet.
-    Ouvrage précédé d’une Lettre de M. Le Play. Paris: E. Plon.
-    1876.
-
-The author of this volume has read carefully and seriously a large number
-of works, by different American, French, and English writers, devoted
-to an explanation of the institutions of the United States, and to the
-history and social condition of the country. He shows also a remarkable
-acquaintance with the magazines and newspapers of the United States, so
-far as they bear on the subjects of which he treats. His book, indeed,
-must have cost him years of assiduous labor.
-
-M. Jannet gives a just and impartial exposition of the laws and political
-principles of our country, as also of its present social condition.
-Rarely, if ever, has a foreigner displayed so conscientious a study of
-all that goes to make up American civilization. He professes to have
-entered upon his study and his work without any preconceived theory--a
-profession not unusual with authors, and for the most part, probably,
-honestly made. It is one thing, however, to profess, another thing to
-adhere to the profession. Were it possible for authors to adhere strictly
-to the profession made by M. Jannet, literature and all of which it
-treats would certainly not suffer therefrom: But he who imagines he has
-attained to so just and fair a position is the least free from illusion.
-The position is simply unattainable, and M. Jannet is scarcely to be
-blamed if he has not quite reached his ideal.
-
-Two classes of authors have written about the United States. The one
-sees almost everything in _couleur de rose_, the other in a sombre hue.
-M. Jannet belongs to the latter class. Throughout his volume he fastens
-upon every symptom that threatens the existence or the welfare of the
-republic. As an enumeration of these symptoms it is exact, and its
-perusal would do no harm to our spread-eagle orators.
-
-M. Jannet has evidently aimed at counterbalancing the influence of
-writers, French writers particularly, who have exaggerated the good
-side of American political society. He seems fearful lest their tone of
-thought should have too great a preponderance in France, and influence
-its present transition-state too powerfully in the direction of the
-United States. Whether or not this was called for is not a question
-for us to consider. The book, regarded as an impartial exposition of
-the present condition of the United States, resembles the picture of
-an artist, the background of which is painted with a Preraphaelite
-exactness, while the foreground is left unfinished, and the whole work,
-consequently, incomplete. Had the obvious purpose of the book been
-proclaimed at the beginning, we should have read it with a more favorable
-eye.
-
-In his last chapter, however, M. Jannet holds out some hope for the
-future of the American Republic. In our present commercial depression,
-in the recent success of the Democratic party, in the number of families
-who have preserved the primitive virtues and customs of our forefathers,
-and in the progress of Catholicity he sees a ground for this hope,
-and concludes his work by saying: “Men are everywhere prosperous or
-unfortunate, according as they observe or despise the divine law. All
-their free will consists in choosing between these two terms of the
-problem of life, and all the efforts of the spirit of innovation only
-break against, without ever being able to destroy, the eternal bounds
-set by God to the ambitious feebleness of the creature. Therein lies the
-lesson that the young republic of the New World sends from beyond the
-ocean and across the mirage of its rapid prosperity to the old nations
-of Europe, too inclined to believe in the sophisms of the great modern
-error, and to mistrust their own traditions.”
-
-M. Jannet’s work is worthy of a more extended notice, which will be given
-it at a later date. The book may be ordered directly from the publisher
-in France.
-
-    THE PUBLIC LIFE OF OUR LORD. II. Preaching of the Beatitudes.
-    By H. J. Coleridge, S.J. London: Burns & Oates. 1875. (New
-    York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)
-
-This is a new volume in the series which is intended, when complete, to
-include the entire life of Jesus Christ. We have already commended the
-preceding volume, and can only, at present, renew the expression of our
-concurrence in the unanimous verdict of competent judges, which awards a
-very high meed of praise to Father Coleridge’s work, so far as it is as
-yet given to the public.
-
-It is likely to become extensive when fully completed, since the present
-volume is filled up with the author’s introductory remarks on the
-missionary life of Our Lord, and the exposition of one portion of the
-Sermon on the Mount--to wit, the Beatitudes. It is a work which is,
-strictly speaking, _sui generis_ in our language, and indeed in all
-modern literature, and one hard to describe in such a way as to give
-an accurate notion of its quality and scope to a person who has not
-read some portion of its contents. The author has drawn from the most
-various and from the purest sources, and has himself meditated in a very
-attentive and minute manner upon the rich materials furnished him by the
-sacred lore of his studies. He proceeds leisurely, quietly, carefully,
-like the patient illuminator of a manuscript text, filling his pages with
-large and small figures, all elaborately finished. The present volume
-gives us a sketch of Galilee, the scene of the preaching and miracles of
-our divine Redeemer during his first year of public ministry, which makes
-at once the idea of that ministry, of its extraordinary laboriousness,
-its extent, and the multitude of wonderful works comprehended within its
-brief period, ten times more vivid than it can be made by a mere perusal
-of the Gospel narrative. In this respect it is especially interesting and
-instructive for those who are themselves engaged in missionary labors. We
-have a picture placed before our minds of the real nature of Our Lord’s
-public life and ministry, and grouped around it are other pictures, as
-illustrations, from the lives of the great missionary saints. When the
-author approaches to his principal theme in this volume--the Sermon on
-the Mount--he makes the whole scene and all its circumstances appear
-before us like a fine dioramic view. He is not, however, of that
-meretricious school to which Renan and Beecher have given a false and
-momentary _éclat_, as unworthy of the divine subject as the homage of
-another class of witnesses on whom Our Lord frequently imposed silence.
-The poetic, literary, and picturesque charms of Father Coleridge’s style
-are subservient to his theological, doctrinal, and moral exposition of
-sacred truths. It is the pure doctrine of the Scriptures, and of the
-fathers, doctors, and saints of the church, which we are invited and
-allured to drink from the ornamented chalice.
-
-    THE HOLY WAYS OF THE CROSS; OR, A SHORT TREATISE ON THE VARIOUS
-    TRIALS AND AFFLICTIONS, INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR, TO WHICH THE
-    SPIRITUAL LIFE IS SUBJECT, AND THE MEANS OF MAKING A GOOD USE
-    THEREOF. Translated from the French of Henri-Marie Boudon,
-    Archdeacon of Evreux. By Edward Healy Thompson, M.A. London:
-    Burns, Oates & Co. 1875. (New York: Sold by The Catholic
-    Publication Society.)
-
-Whoever, after reading the title of this book, thinks that a treatise of
-this kind would be useful and helpful, and wishes to find such a book
-as may really do the service promised by the title, will probably be
-satisfied with the book itself. It is standard and approved, and has been
-well translated by Mr. Thompson, whose preface contains some excellent
-and timely remarks of his own.
-
-    THE STORY OF S. PETER. By W. D. S. London: Burns & Oates. 1875.
-    (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)
-
-This little book purports to be a simple sketch of the life of the
-Prince of the Apostles. It will serve to recall the principal events in
-his life, and therefore will possess a certain amount of interest for
-Catholic readers. The binding, type, and paper are neat and elegant.
-The object of the book is evidently pious, and therefore we shrink from
-criticising it too minutely. The style also is pleasing and readable.
-It is to be regretted, however, that the author did not take a little
-more pains with his task. It is a good thing to have plenty of books
-on Catholic subjects; and those who are gifted with power, and who can
-command the leisure, are, to a certain extent, bound to write. But they
-are also bound to study consistency and order, and, in sending forth
-their productions, to show a proper respect for those who are expected to
-buy them. Good-will does not excuse slovenliness, and we heartily wish
-that “W. D. S.” had shown a deeper sense of this truth. The fact that a
-book is small and easily read does not free the writer from a thorough
-analysis of his subject and employment of all sources of information
-regarding it. The present work is serviceable as an introduction to a
-real treatise on the position and office of S. Peter. It is nothing more;
-and we are sorry that it is not.
-
-    LEHRBUCH DES KATHOLISCHEN UND PROTESTANTISCHEN KIRCHENRECHTS.
-    Von Dr. Friedrich H. Vering. Herder, Freiburg. 1875.
-
-A number of the most learned Catholic theologians of Germany have
-combined together to prepare a complete theological library. The present
-volume on canon law makes the fifth thus far issued. This library is one
-which will be very valuable to German priests or those who read German.
-The names of Hergenröther, Scheeben, and other writers of similar rank
-who are contributors sufficiently guarantee its excellence.
-
-    ACTA ET DECRETA CONCILII VATICANI. Collectio Lacensis, tom.
-    iii. Herder, Freiburg. 1875.
-
-These and other publications of the Herder publishing house are imported
-by the enterprising firm of the Benzigers. The first is a convenient
-and carefully edited text of the acts of the Vatican Council, to which
-is appended a list of all the episcopal sees and prelatures called
-_nullius_ in the entire Catholic Church. The second is one portion of the
-magnificent collection of modern councils published at Maria-Laach, and
-contains the acts of British and North American councils held during the
-past century, or, to speak more precisely, from 1789 to 1869.
-
-    CALDERON’S GROESSTE DRAMEN RELIGIOESEN INHALTS. Uebersetzt von
-    Dr. F. Lorinser. 3d vol. Herder, Freiburg. 1875.
-
-We cannot speak from personal knowledge of the merit of this translation.
-Readers of German literature who cannot read Calderon in the original
-will no doubt be pleased to find some of his great dramas in a German
-dress, and be sufficiently interested in them to ascertain for themselves
-how far the great poet has been successfully reproduced.
-
-    VOLKSTHUEMLICHES AUS SCHWABEN. Von Dr. Anton Birlinger. Herder,
-    Freiburg. 1861.
-
-We have here in two volumes a miscellaneous collection of every kind of
-_folk-lore_, in prose and verse, mostly very short pieces which must be
-very amusing for children and others who like to entertain themselves
-with curious odds and ends of this sort.
-
-    THE SACRIFICE OF THE EUCHARIST, AND OTHER DOCTRINES OF THE
-    CATHOLIC CHURCH EXPLAINED AND VINDICATED. By the Rev. Charles
-    B. Garside. London: Burns & Oates. 1875. (New York: Sold by The
-    Catholic Publication Society.)
-
-This is a very thoughtful and learned treatise on the Sacrifice of the
-Mass, and, though not directly controversial, it is a very lucid and
-satisfactory vindication of the Catholic doctrine on the Holy Eucharist
-considered as a sacrifice.
-
-The volume contains also essays on “Definitions of the Catholic faith,
-Existence of the church in relation to Scripture, Tradition as a vehicle
-of Christian doctrine, The Atonement and Purgatory,” and other subjects,
-all of them well written, and some, such as the one on “Definitions of
-the Catholic Faith,” occupied with discussion of questions which are
-frequently talked of at the present, and upon which it is important to
-have clear and accurate notions.
-
-    THE PERSECUTIONS OF ANNAM: A History of Christianity in Cochin
-    China and Tonking. By J. R. Shortland, M.A. London: Burns
-    & Oates. 1875. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication
-    Society.)
-
-We read an account a few days since of four hundred Catholic priests who
-four years ago were transported from Poland to Siberia by the Russian
-government; three hundred have died, and the others can survive but a
-little while. It was only a paragraph in a newspaper. The martyrs die as
-of old, and we scarcely hear of their sufferings. The missionary work
-of the church, too, is almost forgotten by her children who are living
-at ease and in comfort; and yet it is carried on in all quarters of the
-globe. Our brothers, if we be worthy to call them by this name, are
-toiling, suffering, dying for Christ and the souls of men in far-off
-countries of which we seem not to care even to know anything. Here is a
-book, most interesting and consoling, full of edifying facts and heroic
-examples, written clearly and simply. It is a history of Christianity
-in Cochin China and Tonking; and as these two countries form the Empire
-of Annam, and the history of the church is always one of persecution,
-of triumph through suffering, the book is entitled _The Persecutions of
-Annam_. For centuries Europeans have been excluded from this country,
-into the interior of which the only strangers who have penetrated have
-been Catholic missionaries, and they have gone at the risk of their
-lives. For two hundred and fifty years the apostles of the church
-have been laboring in Annam, and whoever will read this book will be
-struck with wonder at the work they have done and the sufferings they
-have endured. Never anywhere have there been more barbarous or cruel
-persecutions, and never have they been borne with more heroic fortitude
-and simple trust in God.
-
-And then what a wealth of instruction in the lives of these Annamite
-converts! From 1615 down to our own day thousands and hundreds of
-thousands have received the faith, and, rather than forfeit it, hundreds
-and thousands have endured every torment, death itself. Their warm piety,
-their intelligent faith, their dauntless courage, put us to shame.
-
-The last persecution broke out in 1858, and raged until the Christians
-were relieved by the arms of France, in consequence of which a treaty
-of peace was signed in June, 1862, which was soon followed by a decree
-granting religious worship; and we may hope that the soil which has drunk
-the blood of so many martyrs will yet become the vineyard of Christ.
-
-But we must refer our readers to the book itself, and close this brief
-notice with the wish that some one of our Catholic houses in this country
-may republish this most interesting chapter of Catholic history.
-
-    THE AMERICAN STATE AND AMERICAN STATESMEN. By William Giles
-    Dix. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 171. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. 1876.
-
-It is refreshing in these days to meet with a non-Catholic writer like
-Mr. Dix, who takes his stand on Christianity and the law of Christ as
-the foundation of all right law and government. There is a class, and
-a large class, of patriots among us who seem, unconsciously indeed, to
-resent the idea that Almighty God had anything at all to do with the
-growth and development of this country. To this class of men Mr. Dix’s
-book will be a sharp reminder that there is a God above us who rules
-all things, and that religion and governments did actually exist in the
-world at large--and in the New World, for the matter of that--before
-the _Mayflower_ touched these shores. The book deals with just what its
-title indicates: the American state and American statesmen. Among the
-statesmen dealt with are Abraham Lincoln, Charles Sumner, and several of
-the historic names that have lent a lustre to Congress. But the larger
-and graver portion of the book deals with the constitution of the States
-in themselves and their relation to the States as a whole or nation. Mr.
-Dix is a strong and earnest advocate for his views; but his views in the
-present matter are almost diametrically opposed to the general feeling of
-Americans. “Are the United States a nation?” he boldly asks in the final
-chapter of the book, and his answer is “yes” and “no.” In a word, he is
-strongly in favor of the centralization of sovereignty as opposed to the
-local independence of States. As long as federalism exists, says Mr. Dix,
-practically, so long is the nation exposed to disorder and a renewal of
-the civil war.
-
-So important a question, it is needless to remark, is scarcely to be
-settled in a book-notice; is, indeed, beyond books altogether. It is
-a growth. The country and government alike are a growth, and a growth
-that will not be forced. They are just entering on the hundredth year
-of a life that has been seriously threatened, and, notwithstanding the
-theatrical thunder which is being heard just now of politicians resolved
-to make “a hit,” we cannot but look to the development of this growth
-with hope and confidence. At the same time, it is the part of all who
-are concerned to guard that growth well, to see that no weeds spring
-up around it, to let in light and air and freedom, and to keep off all
-noxious influences that would threaten the life of the parent stem. In
-the desire to do this, such chapters as “Christianity the Inspirer of
-Nations,” “Materialism the Curse of America,” and “America a Christian
-Power,” which seem to us the strongest chapters in Mr. Dix’s book, will
-be found full of eloquent suggestion and sound, even solemn, advice.
-The book, as a whole, will be found a very interesting one. The writer
-is a bold man, who certainly has the courage of his convictions, which
-he never hesitates to express openly. The book overruns with apt
-illustration and an extraordinary eloquence. Indeed, there is a fault
-in parts of too great eloquence, compensated for over and over again by
-passages full of terseness, purity, and strength.
-
-    PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY CONSTABLE AND GILLIES. (Bric-à-Brac
-    Series.) Edited by Richard Henry Stoddard. New York: Scribner,
-    Armstrong & Co. 1876.
-
-This volume completes the first Bric-à-Brac Series. The publishers
-announce an extensive sale--proof only of its being suited to certain
-literary tastes. We have not been able to pronounce a very favorable
-opinion upon the merits of the series. In turning over the leaves of a
-college sheet the other day, we came upon an extract from the letter of
-a young lady at one of our fashionable seminaries, in which, counselling
-her sisters to high resolves and noble aims, she says: “Instead of
-getting a new hat this term, let us buy a Bric-à-Brac.” We think this
-is good evidence of the value of these volumes as literary works. They
-are admirably suited for boarding-school misses. But what the authors
-and scholars who are gossiped about would say at being brought down to
-this level is another question. On the whole, we would advise this young
-lady to buy a new hat instead. The hat will serve a useful if not a very
-exalted purpose in covering her head; the “Bric-à-Brac” will fill it with
-frivolous and untrustworthy chit-chat.
-
-This volume treats, under distinct heads, of forty-six persons--including
-a majority of the poets, novelists, historians, linguistic scholars, and
-essayists of Scotland at the beginning of this century, with a sprinkling
-of English and German _savants_, including Goethe--in a little over
-three hundred small duodecimo pages. That is to say, it gives an average
-of seven pages to each author. These seven pages are devoted almost
-exclusively in each instance to trivial personal anecdotes. From this
-simple inventory, therefore, it will be easy to form an accurate notion
-of what the young lady gains mentally as an equivalent for the loss of
-her new hat.
-
-Considerable space is given, however, to one or two worthies. Of these,
-William Godwin, the revolutionary propagandist, holds the first place,
-and with him incidentally his first wife, Mary Wollstonecraft, the author
-of the _Vindication of the Rights of Woman_. This precious pair are
-handled with great tenderness and unction.
-
-The rest of the volume is made up chiefly of reminiscences of the small
-literary stars who twinkled round Sir Walter Scott in Edinburgh at the
-beginning of the century, and stole something from the reflection of his
-brightness, but who are now for the most part forgotten.
-
-    IN DOORS AND OUT; OR, VIEWS FROM THE CHIMNEY CORNER. By Oliver
-    Optic. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1876.
-
-Excellent stories, all of which might have been drawn from actual life,
-are to be found in this volume. Like all of Oliver Optic’s books, it may
-be safely placed in the hands of young people. Some of the sketches, such
-as “Good-for-Nothings,” might be read with as much profit as amusement by
-grown-up persons, especially those who are continually complaining about
-servant-girls.
-
-
-
-
-THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
-
-VOL. XXII., No. 132.--MARCH, 1876.
-
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. I. T.
-HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
-
-
-A SEQUEL OF THE GLADSTONE CONTROVERSY.
-
-II
-
-One of the most mischievous prejudices of our day is the popular theory
-that the cure for all evils is to be sought in the intellectual education
-of the masses. Those nations, we are told by every declaimer, in which
-the education of the people is most universal, are the most moral, the
-richest, the strongest, the freest, and their prosperity rests upon the
-most solid and lasting foundation. Make ignorance a crime, teach all to
-read and write, and war will smooth its rugged front, armies will be
-disbanded, crime will disappear, and mankind will have found the secret
-of uninterrupted progress, the final outcome of which will surpass even
-our fondest dreams.
-
-This fallacy, which has not even the merit of being plausible, is,
-of course, made to do service in M. de Laveleye’s pamphlet on the
-comparative bearing of Protestantism and Catholicism on the prosperity of
-nations.
-
-“It is now universally admitted,” he informs us (p. 22), “that the
-diffusion of enlightenment is the first condition of progress.… The
-general spread of education is also indispensable to the exercise of
-constitutional liberty.… In short, education is the basis of national
-liberty and prosperity.”
-
-He then goes on to declare that in this matter of popular education
-Protestant countries are far in advance of those that are Catholic;
-that this is necessarily so, since “the Reformed religion rests on a
-book--the Bible; the Protestant, therefore, must know how to read.
-Catholic worship, on the contrary, rests upon sacraments and certain
-practices--such as confession, Masses, sermons--which do not necessarily
-involve reading. It is, therefore, unnecessary to know how to read;
-indeed, it is dangerous, for it inevitably shakes the principle of
-passive obedience on which the whole Catholic edifice reposes: reading is
-the road that leads to heresy.”
-
-We will first consider the theory, and then take up the facts.
-
-“The diffusion of enlightenment is the first condition of progress.
-Education is indispensable to the exercise of constitutional liberty.
-Education is the basis of national liberty and prosperity.”
-
-Enlightenment is, of course, of the mind, and means the development, more
-or less perfect, of the intellectual faculties; and education, since it
-is here considered as synonymous with enlightenment, must be taken in
-this narrow sense.
-
-Progress is material, moral, intellectual, social, political, artistic,
-religious, scientific, literary, and indefinitely manifold. Now, it is
-assumed that the diffusion of enlightenment is not merely promotive, but
-that it is an essential condition of progress in its widest and fullest
-meaning. This is the new faith--the goddess of culture, holding the torch
-of science and leading mankind into the palace of pleasure, the only true
-heaven.
-
-By conduct, we have already said, both individuals and nations are saved
-or perish; and we spoke of the civilized. Barbarous states are destroyed
-by catastrophes--they die a violent death; but the civilized are wasted
-by internal maladies--_suis et ipsa Roma viribus ruit_. They grow and
-they decay, they progress and they decline. At first poverty, virtue,
-industry, faith, hopefulness, strong characters and heroic natures; at
-last wealth, corruption, indolence, unbelief, despair, children too weak
-even to admire the strength of their fathers, too base to believe that
-they were noble. Public spirit dies out; patriotism is in the mouths
-of politicians, but, like the augurs of Rome, they cannot speak the
-word and look one another in the face. The country is to each one what
-he can make out of it, and the bond of union is the desire of each
-citizen to secure his own interests. The bondholders love their country,
-and the _sans-culottes_ are disloyal; class rises against class, civil
-discord unsettles everything, revolution succeeds revolution, and when
-the barbarian comes he holds an inquest over the corpse. It generally
-happens, too, that those civilizations which spring up quickest and
-promise most fair are fated to die earliest; as precocious children
-disappoint fond mothers. If the teaching of history is a trustworthy
-guide, we are certainly safe in affirming that civilized states and
-empires perish, not from lack of knowledge, but of virtue; not because
-the people are ignorant, but because they are corrupt.
-
-The assumption, however, is that men become immoral because they are
-ignorant; that if they were enlightened, they would be virtuous.
-
-“The superstition,” says Herbert Spencer (_Study of Sociology_, p. 121),
-“that good behavior is to be forthwith produced by lessons learned out
-of books, which was long ago statistically disproved, would, but for
-preconceptions, be utterly dissipated by observing to what a slight
-extent knowledge affects conduct; by observing that the dishonesty
-implied in the adulterations of tradesmen and manufacturers, in
-fraudulent bankruptcies, in bubble-companies, in ‘cooking’ of railway
-accounts and financial prospectuses, differs only in form, and not in
-amount, from the dishonesty of the uneducated; by observing how amazingly
-little the teachings given to medical students affect their lives, and
-how even the most experienced medical men have their prudence scarcely at
-all increased by their information.”
-
-It is not knowledge, but character, that is important; and character
-is formed more by faith, by hope, by love, admiration, enthusiasm,
-reverence, than by any patchwork of alphabetical and arithmetical
-symbols. The young know but little; but they believe firmly, they hope
-nobly, and love generously; and it is while knowledge is feeble and these
-spontaneous acts of the soul are strong that character is moulded. The
-curse of our age is that men will believe that, in education, to spell,
-to read, to write, is what signifies, and they cast aside the eternal
-faith, the infinite hope, the divine love, that more than all else make
-us men.
-
-“The true test of civilization,” says Emerson, “is not the census, nor
-the size of cities, nor the crops--no, but the kind of man the country
-turns out.” Is there some mystic virtue in printed words that to be
-able to read them should make us men? And even in the most enlightened
-countries what do the masses of men know? Next to nothing; and their
-reading, for the most part, stupefies them. The newspaper, with its
-murders, suicides, hangings, startling disclosures, defalcations,
-embezzlements, burglaries, forgeries, adulteries, advertisements of
-nostrums, quack medicines, and secrets of working death in the very
-source of life, with all manner of hasty generalizations, crude theories,
-and half-truths jumbled into intellectual _pot-pourris_; the circulating
-library, with its stories, tales, romances of love, despair, death, of
-harrowing accidents, of hair-breadth escapes, of successful crime, and
-all the commonplaces of wild, reckless, and unnatural life--these are the
-sources of their knowledge. Or, if they are ambitious, they read “How to
-get on in the world,” “The art of making money,” “The secret of growing
-rich,” “The road to wealth,” “Successful men,” “The millionaires of
-America,” and the Mammon-worship, and the superstition of matter, and the
-idolatry of success become their religion; their souls die within them,
-and what wretched slaves they grow to be!
-
-In the newspaper and circulating library God and man, heaven and
-earth--all things--are discussed, flippantly, in snatches, generally;
-all possible conflicting and contradictory views are taken; and these
-ignorant masses, who, in the common schools, have been through the Fourth
-Reader, and who know nothing, not even their own ignorance, are confused.
-They doubt, they lose faith, and are enlightened by the discovery that
-God, the soul, truth, justice, honor, are only nominal--they do not
-concern positivists. Can anything be more pitiful than the state of these
-poor wretches?--neither knowing nor believing; without knowledge, yet
-having neither faith nor love. God pity them that they are communists,
-internationalists, _solidaires_; for what else could they be? No
-enthusiasm is possible for them but that of destruction.
-
-Religion is the chief element in civilization, and consequently in
-progress. For the masses of men, even though the whole energy of mankind
-should spend itself upon some or any possible common-school system,
-the eternal principles which mould character, support manhood, and
-consecrate humanity will always remain of faith, and can never be held
-scientifically. If it were possible that science should prove religion
-false, it would none the less remain true, or there would be no truth.
-
-What children know when they leave school is mechanical, external to
-their minds, fitted on them like clothes on the body; and it is soon
-worn threadbare, and hangs in shreds and patches. Take the first boy
-whom you meet, fourteen or fifteen years old, fresh from the common
-school, and his ignorance of all real knowledge will surprise you. What
-he knows is little and of small value; what is of moment is whether he
-believes firmly, hopes strongly, and loves truly. Not the diffusion of
-enlightenment do we want so much, but the diffusion of character, of
-honest faith, and manly courage.
-
-Man is more than his knowledge. Simple faith is better than reading and
-writing. And yet the educational quacks treat the child as though he were
-mere mind, and his sole business to use it, and chiefly for low ends,
-shrewdly and sharply, with a view to profit; as though life were a thing
-of barter, and wisdom the art of making the most of it.
-
-Poor child! who wouldst live by admiration, hope, and love, how they
-dwarf thy being, stunt thy growth, and flatten all thy soaring thoughts
-with their dull commonplaces--thrift, honesty is the best policy, time is
-money, knowledge is wealth, and all the vocabulary of a shop-keeping and
-trading philosophy. Poor child! who wouldst look out into the universe
-as God’s great temple, and behold in all its glories the effulgence of
-heaven; to whom morning, noon, and night, and change of season, golden
-flood of day and star-lit gloom, all speak of some diviner life, how they
-stun thy poetic soul, full of high dreams and noble purposes, with their
-cold teaching that man lives on bread alone--put money in thy purse! And
-when thou wouldst look back with awe and reverence to the sacred ages
-past, to the heroes, sages, saints of the olden times, they come with
-their gabble and tell thee there were no railroads and common schools in
-those days.
-
-Is it strange that this education should hurt the nation’s highest
-interests by driving in crowds, like cattle to the shambles, our youths
-from God and nature and tilling of the soil to town and city, or, worse,
-into professions to which only their conceit or distaste for hard labor
-calls them? What place for morality is there in this Poor Richard’s
-Catechism--education of thrift and best policy? We grow in likeness to
-what we love, not to what we know. With low aims and selfish loves only
-narrow and imperfect characters are compatible.
-
-Science, when cherished for itself--which it seldom is and in very
-exceptional cases--refines and purifies its lovers, and chastens the
-force of passion; though even here we must admit that the wisest of
-mankind may be the meanest, morally the most unworthy. But for the great
-mass of men, even of those who are called educated, the possession of
-such knowledge as they have or can have has no necessary relation with
-higher moral life. Their learning may refine, smooth over, or conceal
-their sin; it will not destroy it. The furred gown and intertissued robe
-hide the faults that peep through beggars’ rags, but they are there all
-the same. There may be a substitution of pride for sensuality, or a
-skilful blending or alternation of the finer with the coarser. Vice may
-lose its grossness, but not its evil. And herein we detect the wretched
-sophistry of criminal statistics, which deal, imperfectly and roughly
-enough, with what is open, shocking, and repulsive. The hidden sins
-that “like pitted speck in garnered fruit,” slowly eating to the core
-of a people’s life, moulder all; the sapping of faith, the weakening of
-character, the disbelief in goodness; the luxury, the indulgence, the
-heartlessness and narrowness of the rich; the cunning devices through
-which “the spirit of murder” works in the very means of life,
-
-    “While rank corruption, mining all within,
-    Infects unseen”
-
---cannot be appreciated by the gross tests of numbers and averages. The
-poor, by statistics as by the world, are handled without gloves. In the
-large cities of civilized countries, both in ancient and in modern times,
-we have unmistakable proof of what knowledge can do to form character
-and produce even the social virtues. These populations have had the
-advantage of the best schools in the most favorable circumstances, and
-yet in character and morality they are far beneath the less educated
-peasantry. Sensual indulgence, contempt of authority, hatred and jealousy
-of those above them, make these the dangerous classes, eager for
-socialistic reforms, radical upheavals of the whole existing order; and
-were it not for the more religious tillers of the soil, chaos and misrule
-would already prevail. In Greece and Rome it was in the cities that
-civilization first perished, as it was there it began--began with men
-who had great faith and strong character, but little knowledge; perished
-among men who were learned and refined, but who in indulgence and debauch
-had lost all strength and honesty of purpose.
-
-In the last report of the Commissioner of Education some interesting
-facts, bearing on the relation of ignorance to crime, are taken from the
-Forty-fifth Annual Report of the inspector of the State penitentiary for
-the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
-
-“It is doubted if in any State, or indeed in any country,” says the
-commissioner, “forty-four volumes containing the annual statistical
-tables relating to the populations of a penal institution, covering
-nearly half a century, can, on examination, be regarded as more complete.”
-
-The number of prisoners received into the institution from 1850 to 1860
-was 1,605, of whom 15 per cent. were illiterate, 15 per cent. were able
-to read, and 70 per cent., or more than two-thirds, knew how to read
-and write; from 1860 to 1870, 2,383 prisoners were received into the
-penitentiary, and of these 17 per cent. were illiterate, 12 per cent.
-could read, and about 71 per cent. could read and write.
-
-Of the 627 convicts who were in the penitentiary during the year 1867, 62
-per cent., or five-eighths of the whole number, had attended the public
-schools of the State, 25 per cent., or two-eighths, had gone to private
-institutions, and 12 per cent., or one-eighth, had never gone to school.
-
-But, as we have said, statistics deal with crime, and chiefly with the
-more open and discoverable sort, not with morality; whereas nations are
-destroyed not so much by crime as by immorality.
-
-The thief is caught and sent to the penitentiary; but the trader
-who adulterates or gives short measure, the banker who puts forth
-a false or exaggerated statement, the merchant who fails with full
-hands, the stock-gambler who robs thousands, Crédit-Mobilier men and
-“ring” men generally who plunder scientifically, Congressmen who take
-money for helping to swindle the government, getters-up of “bubble
-companies”--salted diamond-fields and Emma Mines--compared with whom
-pickpockets and burglars are respectable gentlemen--these know not of
-penitentiaries; prisons were not built for such as they. The poor man
-abandons his wife, without divorce marries another, and is very properly
-sent to State prison. His rich and educated fellow-citizen gets a
-divorce, or is a free-lover, or keeps a harem, and for him laws were not
-made. Even that respectable old dame Society only gently shakes her head.
-We must not expect too much of gentlemen, you know. The ignorant girl
-falls, commits infanticide, and is incarcerated or hanged--heaven forbid
-that we should attempt to tell what she would have done had she been
-educated!--at any rate, she would not have gone to prison, though her
-guilt would not have been less.
-
-Has the very great diffusion of enlightenment among our people during
-the hundred years that we have been an independent nation made them more
-moral and more worthy?
-
-“The true test of civilization is not the census, nor the size of cities,
-nor the crops--no, but the kind of man the country turns out.”
-
-The Yankee is smarter than the Puritan--is he as true a man? Is the
-inventor of a sewing-machine or a patent bedstead as worthy as he who
-believes in God and in liberty against the whole earth with all his
-heart and soul, even though the heart be hard and the soul narrow? What
-compensation is there in all our philanthropies, transcendentalisms,
-sentimentalities, patent remedies for social evils, for the loss of the
-strong convictions, reverent belief, and simple dignity of character
-that made our fathers men? Do we believe in the goodness and honesty
-of men as they did, or is it possible that we should? What can come of
-beliefs in oversouls, whims, tendencies, abstractions, developments? If
-we were shadows in a shadow-land, this might do.
-
-Look at a famous trial where the very aroma and fine essence of our
-civilization was gathered: What bright minds, keen intellects! Poetry,
-eloquence, romance; the culture, the knowledge, the scientific theories,
-of the age--all are there. And yet, when the veil is lifted, we simply
-turn away heart sick and nauseated. Not a hundred statistical prison
-reports would reveal the festering corruption and deep depravity, the
-coarse vulgarity and utter heartlessness that is there, whatever the
-truth may be, if in such surroundings it can be found at all.
-
-In Laing’s _Notes of a Traveller_ (p. 221) we find a most striking
-example of almost incredible corruption united with great intellectual
-culture. “In this way,” he says, “we must account for the singular fact
-that the only positively immoral religious sect of the present times in
-the Christian world arose and has spread itself in the most educated
-part of the most educated country in Europe--in and about Königsberg,
-the capital of the province of Old Prussia. The Muckers are a sect
-who combine lewdness with religion. The conventicles of this sect are
-frequented by men and women in a state of nudity; and to excite the
-animal passion, but to restrain its indulgence, is said to constitute
-their religious exercise. Many of the highest nobility of the province,
-and two of the established clergy of the city, besides citizens,
-artificers, and ladies, old and young, belong to this sect; and two
-young ladies are stated to have died from the consequences of excessive
-libidinous excitement. It is no secret association of profligacy
-shunning the light. It is a sect--according to the declarations of Von
-Tippelskirch and of several persons of consideration in Königsberg who
-had been followers of it themselves--existing very extensively under the
-leadership of the established ministers of the Gospel, Ebel and Diestel,
-of a Count von Kaniz, of a Lady von S----, and of other noble persons.…
-The system and theory of this dreadful combination of vice with religion
-are, of course, very properly suppressed.… The sect itself appears, by
-Dr. Bretscheider’s account of it, to have been so generally diffused that
-he says ‘it cannot be believed that the public functionaries were in
-ignorance of its existence; but they were afraid to do their duty from
-the influence of the many principal people who were involved in it.’”
-
-But we are not the advocates of ignorance. We will praise with any man
-the true worth and inestimable value of education. Even mere mental
-training is, to our thinking, of rare price. Water is good, but without
-bread it will not sustain life. Wine warms and gladdens the heart of man;
-but if used without care, it maddens and drives to destruction. We are
-crying out against the folly of the age which would make the school-room
-its church, education its sacrament, and culture its religion. It is the
-road to ruin. Culture is for the few; and what a trumpery patchwork of
-frippery and finery and paste diamonds it must ever remain for the most
-of these! For the millions it means the pagan debauch, the bacchanal
-orgy, and mere animalism.
-
-“The characters,” wrote Goethe--who was pagan of the pagans and
-“decidirter Nicht-Christ”--“which we can truly respect have become
-rarer. We can sincerely esteem only that which is not self-seeking.… I
-must confess to have found through my whole life unselfish characters
-of the kind of which I speak only there where I found a firmly-grounded
-religious life; a creed, which had an unchangeable basis, resting upon
-itself--not dependent upon the time, its spirit, or its science.”
-
-This foundation of a positive religious faith is as indispensable to
-national as to individual character, and without it the diffusion of
-enlightenment cannot create a great or lasting civilization. Religion
-ought to constitute the very essence of all primary education. It alone
-can touch the heart, raise the mind, and evoke from their brutish apathy
-the elements of humanity, especially the reason; and it is therefore the
-one indispensable element in any right system of national education.
-A population unable to read or write, but with a religious faith and
-discipline, has before now constituted, and may again constitute, a great
-nation; but a people without religious earnestness has no solid political
-character. Religion is the widest and deepest of all the elements of
-civilization; it reaches those whom nothing else can touch; but for the
-masses of men there can be no religion without the authoritative teaching
-of a church.
-
-And now let us return to M. de Laveleye. “The general spread of
-education,” he says (p. 23), “is indispensable to the exercise of
-constitutional liberty.… Education is the basis of national liberty and
-prosperity.”
-
-In view of the facts that constitutional liberty has existed, and for
-centuries, in states in which there was no “general spread of education,”
-and that “the diffusion of enlightenment” is found in our own day to
-co-exist with the most hateful despotisms, we might pass on, without
-stopping to examine more closely these loose and popular phrases; but
-since the fallacies which they contain form a part of the culture-creed
-of modern paganism, and are accepted as indisputable truths by the
-multitude, they have a claim upon our attention which their assertion by
-Mr. Gladstone’s friend could not give them.
-
-There is no necessary connection between popular education and civil
-liberty, as there is none between the enlightenment and the morality of
-a people. This is a subject full of import--one which, in this age and
-country, ought to be discussed with perfect freedom and courage. Courage
-indeed is needed precisely here; for to deny that there is a God, to
-treat Christ as a myth or a common man, to declaim against religion as
-superstition, to make the Bible a butt for witticisms and fine points,
-to deny future life and the soul’s immortality, to denounce marriage, to
-preach communism, and to ridicule whatever things mankind have hitherto
-held sacred--this is not only tolerable, it is praiseworthy and runs
-with the free thought of an enlightened and inquiring age. But to raise
-a doubt as to the supreme and paramount value of intellectual training;
-of its sovereign efficacy in the cure of human ills; of its inseparable
-alliance with freedom, with progress, with man’s best interests, is
-pernicious heresy, and ought not to be borne with patiently. In our
-civilization, through the action of majorities, there is special
-difficulty in such discussions, since with us nothing is true except what
-is popular. Majorities rule, and are therefore right. With rare eloquence
-we denounce tyrant kings and turn to lick the hands of the tyrant people.
-Whoever questions the wisdom of the American people is not to be argued
-with--he is to be pitied; and therefore both press and pulpit, though
-they flaunt the banner of freedom, are the servants of the tyrant. To
-have no principles, but to write and speak what will please the most and
-offend the fewest--this is the philosophy of free speech. We therefore
-have no independent, and consequently no great, thinkers. It is dangerous
-not to think with majorities and parties; for those who attempt to break
-their bonds generally succeed, like Emerson, only in becoming whimsical,
-weak, and inconclusive. It is not surprising, then, that the Catholics,
-because they do not accept as true or ultimate what is supposed to be the
-final thought and definite will of American majorities on the subject of
-education, should be denounced, threatened, and made a Trojan Horse of to
-carry political adventurers into the White House.
-
-Nevertheless, the observant are losing confidence in the theory, so
-full of inspiration to demagogues and declaimers, that superstition
-and despotism must be founded on ignorance. In Prussia at this moment
-universal education co-exists with despotism. Where tyrannical
-governments take control of education they easily make it their ally.
-
-Let us hear what Laing says of the practical results of the Prussian
-system of education, which it is so much the fashion to praise.
-
-    “If the ultimate object,” he says, “of all education and
-    knowledge be to raise man to the feeling of his own moral
-    worth, to a sense of his responsibility to his Creator and to
-    his conscience for every act, to the dignity of a reflecting,
-    self-guiding, virtuous, religious member of society, then
-    the Prussian educational system is a failure. It is only a
-    training from childhood in the conventional discipline and
-    submission of mind which the state exacts from its subjects.
-    It is not a training or education which has raised, but
-    which has lowered, the human character.… The social value or
-    importance of the Prussian arrangements for diffusing national
-    scholastic education has been evidently overrated; for now that
-    the whole system has been in the fullest operation in society
-    upon a whole generation, we see morals and religion in a more
-    unsatisfactory state in this very country than in almost any
-    other in the north of Europe; we see nowhere a people in a more
-    abject political and civil condition, or with less free agency
-    in their social economy. A national education which gives a
-    nation neither religion, nor morality, nor civil liberty,
-    nor political liberty is an education not worth having.… If
-    to read, write, cipher, and sing be education, the Prussian
-    subject is an educated man. If to reason, judge, and act as an
-    independent free agent, in the religious, moral, and social
-    relations of man to his Creator and to his fellow-men, be the
-    exercise of the mental powers which alone deserves the name
-    of education, then is the Prussian subject a mere drum boy
-    in education, in the cultivation and use of all that regards
-    the moral and intellectual endowments of man, compared to one
-    of the unlettered population of a free country. The dormant
-    state of the public mind on all affairs of public interest,
-    the acquiescence in a total want of political influence or
-    existence, the intellectual dependence upon the government
-    or its functionary in all the affairs of the community, the
-    abject submission to the want of freedom or free agency in
-    thoughts, words, or acts, the religious thraldom of the people
-    to forms which they despise, the want of influence of religious
-    and social principle in society, justify the conclusion that
-    the moral, religious, and social condition of the people was
-    never looked at or estimated by those writers who were so
-    enthusiastic in their praises of the national education of
-    Prussia.”
-
-In spite of the continued progress of education, there is even less
-liberty, religious, civil, and political, in Prussia to-day than when
-these words were written, thirty years ago.
-
-Nothing more dazzles the eyes of men than great military success; and
-this, together with the habit which belongs to our race of applauding
-whoever wins, has produced, especially in England and the United States,
-where Bismarck is looked upon, ignorantly enough, as the champion of
-Protestantism, a kind of blind admiration and awe for whatever is
-Prussian. “Protestant Prussia,” boasts M. de Laveleye, “has defeated
-two empires, each containing twice her own population, the one in seven
-weeks, the other in seven months”; and in the new edition of Appleton’s
-_Encyclopædia_ we are informed that these victories are attributed to
-the superior education of her people. As well might the tyranny of the
-government and the notorious unchastity and dishonesty of the Prussians
-be ascribed to their superior education. Not to the general intelligence
-of the people, but to the fact that the whole country has been turned
-into a military camp, and that to the one purpose of war all interests
-have been made subservient, must we seek for an explanation of the
-victories of Sadowa and Sedan.
-
-Who would pretend that the Spartans were in war superior to the
-Athenians because they had a more perfect system of education and
-were more intelligent or had a truer religion? Or who would think of
-accounting in this way for the marvellous exploits of Attila with his
-Huns, of Zingis Khan with his Moguls, of Tamerlane with his Tartars, of
-Mahmood, Togrul-Beg, and Malek-Shah with their Turkish hordes?
-
-In fact, it may be said, speaking largely and in general, that the
-history of war is that of the triumph of strong and ignorant races over
-those which have become cultivated, refined, and corrupt. The Romans
-learned from their conquered slaves letters and the vices of a more
-polished paganism. Barbarism is ever impending over the civilized world.
-The wild and rugged north is ever rushing down upon the soft and cultured
-south: the Scythian upon the Mede, the Persian, and the Egyptian; the
-Macedonian upon Greece, and then upon Asia and Africa; the Roman upon
-Carthage, and in turn falling before the men of the North--Goth, Vandal,
-Hun, Frank, and Gaul; the Mogul and the Tartar upon China and India;
-the Turk upon Southern Europe, Asia, and Africa; and to-day, like black
-clouds of destiny, the Russian hordes hang over the troubled governments
-of more educated Europe. Look at Italy during the middle ages--the focus
-of learning and the arts for all Christendom, and yet an easy prey for
-every barbarous adventurer; and in England the Briton yields to the
-Saxon, who in turn falls before the Norman. It would be truer to say
-that Prussia owes her military successes to the ignorance of her people,
-though they nearly all can read and write. Had she had to deal with
-intelligent, enlightened, and thinking populations, she could not have
-made the country a camp of soldiers.
-
-The Prussian policy of “blood and iron” has been carried out, in defiance
-of the wishes of the people as expressed through their representatives,
-who were snubbed and scolded and sent back home as though they were a
-pack of schoolboys; yet the people looked on in stolid indifference, and
-allowed the tax to be levied after they had refused to grant it.
-
-We will now follow M. de Laveleye a step farther.
-
-“With regard to elementary instruction,” he says, “the Protestant states
-are incomparably more advanced than the Catholic. England alone is no
-more than on a level with the latter, probably because the Anglican
-Church, of all the reformed forms of worship, has most in common with the
-Church of Rome.”
-
-If any one has good reason to praise education, and above all the
-education of the people, certainly we Catholics have. The Catholic
-Church created the people; she first preached the divine doctrine of the
-brotherhood and equality of all men before God, which has wrought and
-must continue to work upon society until all men shall be recognized
-as equals by the law. She drew around woman her magic circle; from the
-slave struck his fetters and bade him be a man; lifted to her bosom the
-child; baptized all humanity into the inviolable sacredness of Christ’s
-divinity; she appealed, and still appeals, from the tyranny of brute
-force and success, in the name of the eternal liberties of the soul, to
-God. Her martyrs were and are the martyrs of liberty; and if she were not
-to-day, all men would accept accomplished facts and bow before whatever
-succeeds.
-
-The barbarians, who have developed into the civilized peoples of Europe,
-despised learning as they contemned labor. War was their business. The
-knight signed his name with his sword, in blood; the pen, like the
-spade, was made for servile hands. To destroy this ignorant, idle life
-of pillage and feud, the church organized an army, unlike any the world
-had ever seen, unlike any it will ever see outside her pale--an army
-of monks, who, with faith in Christ and the higher life, believed in
-knowledge and in work. They became the cultivators of the mind and soil
-of Europe.
-
-“The praise,” says Hallam, speaking of the middle ages, “of having
-originally established schools belongs to some bishops and abbots of the
-VIth century.”
-
-Ireland is converted and at once becomes a kind of university for all
-Europe. In England the episcopal sees became centres of learning.
-Wherever a cathedral was built a school with a library grew up under its
-shadow. Pope Eugenius II., in a council held in Rome in 826, ordered that
-schools should be established throughout Christendom at cathedral and
-parochial churches and other suitable places. The Council of Mayence,
-in 813, admonishes parents that they are in duty bound to send their
-children to school. The Synod of Orleans, in 800, enjoins the erection in
-towns and villages of schools for elementary instruction, and adds that
-no remuneration shall be received except such as the parents voluntarily
-offer. The Third General Council of Lateran, in 1179, commanded that in
-all cathedral churches a fund should be set aside for the foundation and
-support of schools for the poor. Free schools were thus first established
-by the Catholic Church. The monasteries were the libraries where the arts
-and letters of a civilization that had perished were carefully treasured
-up for the rekindling of a brighter and better day.
-
-As early as the XIIth century many of the universities of Europe were
-fully organized. Italy took the lead, with universities at Rome Bologna,
-Padua, Naples, Pavia, and Perugia--the sources
-
-    “Whence many rivulets have since been turned,
-    O’er the garden Catholic to lead
-    Their living waters, and have fed its plants.”
-
-The schools founded at Oxford and Cambridge in the IXth and Xth centuries
-had in the XIIth grown to be universities. At Oxford there were thirty
-thousand, at Paris twenty-five thousand, and at Padua twenty thousand
-students. Scattered over Europe at the time Luther raised his voice
-against the church were sixty six universities.
-
-    “Time went on,” says Dr. Newman, speaking of the mediæval
-    universities; “a new state of things, intellectual and social,
-    came in; the church was girt with temporal power; the preachers
-    of S. Dominic were in the ascendant: now, at length, we may
-    ask with curious interest, did the church alter her ancient
-    rule of action, and proscribe intellectual activity? Just the
-    contrary; this is the very age of universities; it is the
-    classical period of the schoolmen; it is the splendid and
-    palmary instance of the wise policy and large liberality of
-    the church, as regards philosophical inquiry. If there ever
-    was a time when the intellect went wild, and had a licentious
-    revel, it was at the date I speak of. When was there ever a
-    more curious, more meddling, bolder, keener, more penetrating,
-    more rationalistic exercise of the reason than at that time?
-    What class of questions did that subtle metaphysical spirit not
-    scrutinize? What premise was allowed without examination? What
-    principle was not traced to its first origin, and exhibited
-    in its most naked shape?… Well, I repeat, here was something
-    which came somewhat nearer to theology than physical research
-    comes; Aristotle was a somewhat more serious foe then, beyond
-    all mistake, than Bacon has been since. Did the church take a
-    high hand with philosophy then? No, not though that philosophy
-    was metaphysical. It was a time when she had temporal power,
-    and could have exterminated the spirit of inquiry with fire and
-    sword; but she determined to put it down by _argument_; she
-    said: ‘Two can play at that, and my argument is the better.’
-    She sent her controversialists into the philosophical arena. It
-    was the Dominican and Franciscan doctors, the greatest of them
-    being S. Thomas, who in those mediæval universities fought the
-    battle of revelation with the weapons of heathenism.”[249]
-
-To find fault with the church because popular education in the middle
-ages was not organized and general as it has since become would be
-as wise as to pick a quarrel with the ancient Greeks for not having
-railroads, or with the Romans because they had no steamships. Reading and
-writing were not taught then universally as they are now because it was
-physically and morally impossible that they should have been. Without
-steam and the printing-press, common-school systems would not now be
-practicable, nor would the want of them be felt. We have great reason to
-be thankful that the art of printing was invented and America discovered
-before Luther burned the Pope’s bull, else we should be continually
-bothered with refuting the cause-and-effect historians who would have
-infallibly traced both these events to the Wittenberg conflagration.
-
-All Europe was still Catholic when gunpowder drove old Father Schwarz’s
-pestle through the ceiling, when Gutenberg made his printing-press, when
-Columbus landed in the New World; and these are the forces which have
-battered down the castles of feudalism, have brought knowledge within the
-reach of all, and some measure of redress to the masses of the Old World,
-by affording them the possibility and opportunity of liberty in the New.
-These forces would have wrought to even better purpose had Protestantism
-not broken the continuity and homogeneity of Christian civilization. The
-Turk would not rest like a blight from heaven upon the fairest lands of
-Europe and Asia, nor the darkness of heathenism upon India and China, had
-the civilized nations remained of one faith; and thus, though our own
-train might have rushed less rapidly down the ringing grooves of change,
-the whole human race would have advanced to a level which there now seems
-but little reason to hope it will ever reach.
-
-But to come more nearly to M. de Laveleye’s assertion that the Protestant
-states are incomparably more advanced than the Catholic, with the
-exception of England, which in this matter is at least up to the standard
-of Catholic countries. In the report of the Commissioner of Education for
-1874 there is a statistical account of the state of education in foreign
-countries which throws some light upon this subject.
-
-The school attendance, compared with the population, is in Austria as
-1 to 10; in Belgium, as 1 to 10½; in Ireland, as 1 to 16; in Catholic
-Switzerland, as 1 to 16; in England, as 1 to 17. In Bavaria it is as 1
-to 7, upon the authority of Kay, in his _Social Condition of the People
-in England and Europe_. Catholic Austria, Bavaria, Belgium, and Ireland
-have proportionately a larger school attendance than Protestant England.
-England and Wales (report of 1874), with a population of 22,712,266,
-had a school population of 5,374,700, of whom only about half were
-registered, and not half of these attended with sufficient regularity to
-bring grants to their schools. Ireland, with a population of 5,411,416,
-had on register 1,006,511, or nearly half as many as England and Wales,
-though her population is not a fourth of that of these two countries.
-“The statistical fact,” says Laing, speaking of Rome as it was under the
-popes, “that Rome has above a hundred schools more than Berlin, for a
-population little more than half that of Berlin, puts to flight a world
-of humbug about systems of national education carried on by governments
-and their moral effects on society.… In Catholic Germany, in France,
-Italy, and even Spain, the education of the common people in reading,
-writing, arithmetic, music, manners, and morals, is at least as generally
-diffused and as faithfully promoted by the clerical body as in Scotland.
-It is by their own advance, and not by keeping back the advance of the
-people, that the popish (_sic_) priesthood of the present day seek to
-keep ahead of the intellectual progress of the community in Catholic
-lands; and they might, perhaps, retort on our Presbyterian clergy, and
-ask if they, too, are in their countries at the head of the intellectual
-movement of the age. Education is in reality not only not repressed, but
-is encouraged, by the popish church, and is a mighty instrument in its
-hands, and ably used.”[250]
-
-Professor Huxley’s testimony is confirmatory of this admission of Laing.
-“It was my fortune,” he says, “some time ago to pay a visit to one
-of the most important of the institutions in which the clergy of the
-Roman Catholic Church in these islands are trained; and it seemed to me
-that the difference between these men and the comfortable champions of
-Anglicanism and Dissent was comparable to the difference between our
-gallant Volunteers and the trained veterans of Napoleon’s Old Guard. The
-Catholic priest is trained to know his business and do it effectually.
-The professors of the college in question, learned, zealous, and
-determined men, permitted me to speak frankly with them. We talked like
-outposts of opposed armies during a truce--as friendly enemies; and when
-I ventured to point out the difficulties their students would have to
-encounter from scientific thought, they replied: ‘Our church has lasted
-many ages, and has passed safely through many storms. The present is but
-a new gust of the old tempest; and we do not turn out our young men less
-fitted to weather it than they have been in former times to cope with the
-difficulties of those times.’”[251]
-
-“It is a common remark,” says Kay, “of the operatives of Lancashire,
-and one which is only too true: ‘Your church is a church for the rich,
-but not for the poor. It was not intended for such people as we are.’
-The Roman church is much wiser than the English in this respect.… It is
-singular to observe how the priests of Romanist (_sic_) countries abroad
-associate with the poor. I have often seen them riding with the peasants
-in their carts along the roads, eating with them in their houses,
-sitting with them in the village inns, mingling with them in their
-village festivals, and yet always preserving their authority.”[252]
-
-With us, too, the masses of the people are fast abandoning Protestantism.
-There is no Catholic country in Europe in which the social condition of
-the masses is so wretched as in England, the representative Protestant
-country. For three hundred years, it may be said, the Catholic Church
-had no existence there. The nation was exclusively under Protestant
-influence; and yet the lower classes were suffered to remain in stolid
-ignorance, until they became the most degraded population in Christendom.
-
-“It has been calculated,” says Kay, writing in 1850, “that there are
-at the present day, in England and Wales, nearly 8,000,000 persons who
-cannot read and write.” That was more than half of the whole population
-at that time. But this is not the worst. A population ignorant of
-reading and writing may nevertheless, to a certain extent, be educated
-through religious teaching and influence; but these unhappy creatures
-were left, helpless and hopeless, to sink deeper and deeper beneath the
-weight of their degradation, without being brought into contact with
-any power that could refine or elevate them; and if their condition has
-somewhat improved in the last quarter of a century, this is no more to
-be attributed to Protestantism than the Catholic Emancipation Act or the
-Atlantic cable.
-
-
-THE SEVEN FRIDAYS IN LENT
-
-    First, thy most holy Passion, dearest Lord,
-      Doth set the keynote of our love and tears;
-      And then thy holy Crown of Thorns appears--
-    Strange diadem for thee, of lords the Lord!
-    The holy Lance and Nails we clasp and hoard:
-      What pierced thee sore heals sin-sick souls to-day;
-      Then thy Five Wounds we glorify for aye--
-    Hands, feet, and broken Heart, beloved, adored.
-    Now tears of bitter grief flow fast like rain:
-      Our Lord’s most Precious Blood for us flows fast.
-    Alas! what tears of ours, what love, what pain,
-      Can match that tide of blood and love and woe?
-    Mother, we turn to thy Seven Griefs at last;
-      Teach us to stand, with thee, the cross below.
-
-
-ARE YOU MY WIFE?
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,”
-ETC.
-
-CHAPTER XIII.
-
-THE SEARCH NEARLY OVER.
-
-It was one of those exquisitely lovely mornings that we sometimes see
-in early spring. The night had been frosty, and had hurried to meet the
-dawn, leaving her moonlight mantle behind her, frozen to silver, on every
-field or hill-side. The sky was of a heavenly blue--liquid turquoise,
-swept with feathery dashes of pink, that set off the glistening landscape
-like a velvet curtain spread for the purpose. The sun was shining through
-a pearly mist that hung, a silver gauze veil, in the air and made
-everything look dreamy and vision-like. The meadows were silvered with
-frost; so were the hedges--every twig and thorn finished like a jewel.
-The trees stood up like immense bouquets of filigree against the pink and
-blue curtain. No wonder Franceline, who had been awake and watching the
-sunrise from her window, stole a march on Angélique, and hastened out to
-enjoy the beauty of the morning. It was impossible it could hurt her; it
-was too lovely to be unkind. But besides this outward incentive, there
-was another one that impelled her to the daring escapade. She felt an
-irresistible longing to go to church this morning--one of those longings
-that she called presentiments, and seldom rejected without having reason
-to regret it. It was not that she was uneasy, or alarmed, or unhappy
-about anything. Nothing had occurred to awake the dormant fires that
-were still smouldering--though she thought them dead--and impel her to
-seek for strength in a threatened renewal of the combat. Sir Simon’s
-disappearance the morning after the dinner-party, some few days ago,
-had not surprised her; that was his way, and this time she had been
-prepared for it. It was true that ever since then her father had been
-more preoccupied, more inseparable from his work. It was a perfect mania
-with him for the last three or four days. He scarcely let the pen out of
-his hand from morning till night. He seemed, moreover, to have got to a
-point where he could no longer use her as an amanuensis, but must write
-himself. Franceline was distressed at the change; it deprived her of
-the pleasure of helping him and of their daily walk together, which had
-of late become the principal enjoyment of her life. But he could not be
-persuaded to go beyond the garden gate, and then only for ten minutes to
-take a breath of air. He was in a hurry to get back to his study, as if
-the minutes were so much gold wasted. Franceline was obliged to accept
-this sudden alteration in his habits, with the assurance that it would
-not be for long; that the great work was drawing to a close; and that,
-when it was finished, he would be free to walk with her as much as she
-liked, and in more beautiful places than Dullerton. This last she did
-not believe. No place could ever be so beautiful as this familiar one,
-because none would ever be hallowed by the same sweet early memories,
-or sanctified by the same sufferings and regrets. There was a spirit
-brooding over these quiet sylvan slopes that could never dwell, for her,
-elsewhere. She looked around her at the leafless woods that lay white and
-silent in the near distance, and at the river winding slowly towards them
-like an azure arm encircling the silver fields, and she sighed at the
-thought of ever leaving them. The sigh escaped from her lips in a little
-column of sapphire smoke; for the air was as clear as crystal, but it was
-cold too, and the bell was already ringing; so she drew her shawl closer
-and hurried on. What was that fly doing before the presbytery door? Who
-could have business with Father Henwick at such an unearthly hour as
-seven A.M.? When people live in a small place where everybody’s life is a
-routine as well known as their own to everybody else, the smallest trifle
-out of the usual way is magnified into an event. Franceline was not
-very curious by nature; she passed the mysterious fly with a momentary
-glance of interest, and then dismissed it from her thoughts. The little
-white-washed church was never full on week-days, its congregation being
-mostly of the class who can only afford the luxury of going to church
-on Sundays. A few kindly glances greeted her as she walked up to her
-place near the sanctuary. Since her health had become delicate, it was a
-rare occurrence to see her there during the week, so her presence was
-looked on as of good omen. She answered the welcoming eyes with a sweet,
-grateful smile, and then knelt down and soon forgot them.
-
-We talk of magnetic atmospheres where instinct warns us of a presence
-without any indication from our senses. I don’t know whether Franceline
-believed in such influences; but her attitude of rapt devotion as she
-knelt before the altar, seemingly unconscious of anything earthly near
-her, her soul drawn upwards through her eyes and fixed on the Unseen,
-did not suggest that there was any human presence within reach which had
-power to move her. When Father Henwick had left the altar, she rose and
-went to the sacristy door to ask if she could see him. She wanted to
-speak to him about a poor woman in the village. It was not the clerk,
-but Father Henwick himself, who came to answer her message. He did not
-welcome his young penitent in his usual gracious, affectionate manner,
-but asked sharply “who gave her leave to be out at that hour?”
-
-“The morning was so sunny I thought it would do me no harm to come,”
-replied the culprit, with a sudden sense of having done something very
-wicked.
-
-“You had no business to think about it at all; you should not have come
-without your father’s permission. Go home as fast as you can.”
-
-Franceline was turning away, when he called her back.
-
-“Come this way; you can go out through the house.” Then he added in a
-mollified tone: “You foolish child! I hope you are warmly clad? Keep your
-chest well covered, and hold your muff up to your mouth. Be off, now, as
-quick as you can, and let me have no more of these tricks!”
-
-He shook hands with her, half-smiling, half-frowning, and, opening the
-sacristy door that led into the presbytery, hurried her away. Franceline
-was too much discomfited by the abrupt dismissal to conjecture why she
-was hustled out through the house instead of being allowed to go back
-through the church, the natural way, and quite as short. She could not
-understand why Father Henwick should have shown such annoyance and
-surprise at the sight of her. This was not the first time she had played
-the trick on them at home of coming out to church on a sunny morning, and
-it had never done her any harm. She was turning the riddle in her mind,
-as she passed through the little sitting-room into the entry, when she
-saw the front door standing wide open, and a gentleman outside speaking
-to the fly-man. The moment he perceived Franceline he raised his hat and
-remained uncovered while he spoke.
-
-“Good-morning, mademoiselle! How is M. de la Bourbonais?”
-
-“Thank you, my father is quite well.”
-
-She and Clide looked at each other as they exchanged this commonplace
-greeting; but they did not shake hands. Neither could probably have
-explained what the feeling was that held them back. Franceline went on
-her way, and Clide de Winton entered the presbytery, each bearing away
-the sound of the other’s voice and the sweetness of that rapid glance
-with a terrible sense of joy.
-
-Franceline’s heart beat high within her as she walked on. What right had
-it to do so? How dared it? Poor, fluttering heart! No bitter upbraidings
-of indignant conscience, no taunts of womanly pride, could make it stop.
-The more she tried to silence it, the louder it cried. She was close by
-The Lilies, and it was crying out and throbbing wildly still. She could
-not go in and face her father in this state; she must gain a few minutes
-to collect and calm herself. The snow-drops grew in great profusion on
-a bank in the park at the back of the cottage. Raymond was fond of wild
-flowers; she would go and gather him some: this would account for her
-delay. She laid her muff on the grass. It was wet with the hoar-frost
-melting in the sun; but Franceline did not see this. She stooped down and
-began to pluck the snow-drops. It was a congenial task in her present
-frame of mind. Snow-drops had always been favorites with her. In her
-childish days of innocent pantheism she used to fancy that flowers had
-spirits, or some instinct that enabled them to enjoy and to suffer, to be
-glad in the sunshine and unhappy in the cold and the rain. She fancied
-that perfume was their language, and that they conversed in it as birds
-do in songs and chirpings. She used to be sorry for the flowers that had
-no perfume, and called them “the dumb ones,” connecting their fate in
-some vague, pitying way with that of two deaf and dumb little children
-in the village. But the snow-drops she pitied most of all. They came in
-the winter-time, when everything was cold and dreary and there were no
-kindred flowers to keep them company; no roses; no bees and butterflies
-to make music for them; no nightingales to sing them to sleep in the
-scented summer nights; no liquid, starry skies and sweet, warm dews
-to kiss them as they slept; their pale, ascetic little slumbers were
-attuned to none of these fragrant melodies, and Franceline loved them
-all the more for their loveless, lonely life. But she was not pitying
-them now, as, one by one, she plucked the drooping bells and the bright
-green leaves under the silver hedge; she was envying them and listening
-to them. Every flower and blade of grass has a message for us, if we
-could but hear it; the woods and fields are all tablets on which the
-primitive scriptures of creative love are written for us. “Your life
-is to be like ours,” the snow-drops were whispering to Franceline. “We
-dwell alone in cold and silence--so must you; we have no sister flowers
-to make life joyous, no roses to gladden us with their perfume and
-their beauty--neither shall you; roses are emblems of love, and love is
-not for you. You must be content with us. We are the emblems of purity
-and hope; take us to your heart. We are the heralds of the spring;
-we bring the promise, but we do not wait for its fulfilment. You are
-happier than we; you will not have the summer here, but you know that it
-will come hereafter, and that the flowers and fruits will be only the
-more beautiful for the waiting being prolonged. Look upwards, sister
-snow-drop, and take courage.” Franceline listened to the mystic voice,
-and, as she did so, large tears fell from her eyes on the white bells of
-the messengers, as pure as the crystal dew that stood in frozen tears
-upon their leaves.
-
-M. de la Bourbonais had not heard her go out; and when she came in and
-handed him her bouquet, fresh-gathered, he took for granted she had gone
-out for the purpose, and did not chide her for the slight imprudence.
-Angélique was not so lenient; she was full of wrath against the truant,
-and threatened to go at once and inform on her, which Franceline remarked
-she might have done an hour ago, if she had any such intention; and then,
-with a kiss and two arms thrown around the old woman’s mahogany neck, it
-was all made right between them.
-
-Franceline did not venture out again that day. She was afraid of meeting
-Clide. She strove hard to forget the morning’s incident, to stifle the
-emotions it had given rise to, and to turn away her thoughts from even
-conjecturing the possible cause of Mr. de Winton’s presence at Dullerton
-and at Father Henwick’s. But strive as she might, the thoughts would
-return, and her mind would dwell on them. She was horrified to see the
-effect that Clide’s presence had had on her; to find how potent his
-memory was with her still, how it had stirred the slumbering depths and
-broken up the stagnant surface-calm of her heart, filling it once more
-with wild hopes and ardent longings that she had fondly imagined crushed
-and buried for ever. Was her hard-earned self-conquest a sham after all?
-She could not help fearing it when she saw how persistently the idea
-kept returning again and again to her, banish it as she would: “Had he
-come to tell Father Henwick that he was free?” Then she wondered, if it
-were so, what Father Henwick would do; whether he would come and see her
-immediately, or let things take their course through Sir Simon and her
-father. Then again she would discard this notion as impossible, and see
-all sorts of evidence in the circumstances of the morning’s episode to
-prove that it could not be. Why should Father Henwick have tried so hard
-to prevent their meeting, if the one obstacle to it were removed? and why
-should Clide have been so restrained and distant when she came upon him
-suddenly? If only she could ask this one question and have it answered,
-Franceline thought she could go back again to her state of stagnation,
-and trample down her rebellious heart into submission once more.
-
-She slept very little that night, and the next morning she determined
-that she would go out at any risk. Sitting still all day in this state
-of mind was unbearable; so about eleven o’clock, when the sun was high
-and the frost melted, she put on her bonnet and said she was going for a
-walk to see Miss Merrywig. As the day was fine and she had not taken cold
-yesterday, Angélique made no difficulty. Franceline started off to the
-wood, and was soon crushing the snow-drops and the budding lemon-colored
-primroses as she threaded her way along the foot-paths.
-
-For some mysterious reason which no one could fathom, but which the
-oldest inhabitant of the place remembered always to have existed, you
-were kept an hour waiting at Miss Merrywig’s before the door was opened.
-You rang three times, waited an age between each ring, and then Keziah,
-the antediluvian factotum of the establishment, came limping along the
-passage, and, after another never-ending interval of unbarring and
-unbolting, you were let in. It was not Keziah who opened the door for
-Franceline this morning; it was Miss Merrywig herself, shawled and
-bonneted, ready to go out.
-
-“O my dear child! _is_ it you? I am _so_ delighted to see you! Do come
-in! No, no, I am _not_ going out. That is to say, I _am_ going out. It’s
-the luckiest thing that you did not come two minutes later, or you would
-not have found me. I _am_ so glad! No, no, you are not putting me about
-the least bit in the world. Come and sit down, and I’ll explain all about
-it. I _cannot_ imagine what is keeping Keziah, and she knows I am waiting
-to be off, and that the negus will be getting cold, though it was boiling
-mad, and I _have_ only this moment put it into the flask. But what can
-be keeping her? It didn’t so much matter; in fact, it didn’t matter at
-all, only I _have_ promised little Jemmy Torrens--you know Mary Torrens’
-boy on the green?--well, I _promised_ him I would make the negus for
-him myself and _take_ it to him myself. He won’t take anything except
-from me, poor little fellow! You see he’s known me since I was a baby--I
-mean since _he_ was--and that’s why, I suppose; and Keziah knows it, and
-why she dallies so long I _cannot_ conceive! She knows I can’t leave
-the house unprotected and go off before she comes in--there are so many
-tramps about, you see, my dear. It _is_ provoking of Keziah!”
-
-“Let me take the negus to Jemmy,” said Franceline, when there was a break
-in the stream and she was able to edge in a word. “I will explain why you
-could not go.”
-
-“Oh! that’s _just_ like you to be _so_ kind, my dear; but I _promised_,
-you see, and I really _must_ go myself. What can Keziah be about?”
-
-“Then go, and I will wait and keep the house until either of you comes
-back,” suggested Franceline.
-
-“Oh! that _is_ a bright idea. That is as witty as it is kind. Well, then,
-I will just run off. I shall find you here when I return. I won’t be
-twenty minutes away, and you can amuse yourself looking over _Robinson
-Crusoe_ till I come back; here it is!” And the old lady rooted out a
-book from under a pile of all sorts of odds and ends on the table, and
-handed it to Franceline. “Sit down, now, and read that; there’s nothing I
-enjoyed like that book when I was your age, and, indeed, I make a point
-of reading it at least once every year regularly.”
-
-With this she took up her wine-flask, well wrapped in flannel to protect
-her from the scalding-hot contents, and bustled away.
-
-“If any one rings, am I to let them in?” inquired Franceline, running
-into the hall after her.
-
-“Oh! no, certainly not, unless it happens to be Mr. Langrove; you would
-not mind opening the door to _him_, would you?”
-
-“Not the least; but how shall I know it is he?”
-
-“You will be sure to hear the footsteps first and the click of the gate
-outside, and then run out and peep through _this_,” pointing to the
-narrow latticed window in the entry; “but you must be quick, or else they
-will be close to the door and see you.”
-
-Franceline promised to keep a sharp lookout for the warning steps,
-closed the door on Miss Merrywig, and went back to _Robinson Crusoe_;
-but she was not in a mood to enjoy Friday’s philosophy, so she sat down
-and began to look about her in the queer little apartment. It was much
-more like a lumber-room than a sitting-room; the large round table in
-the middle was littered with every description of rubbish--the letters
-of two generations of Miss Merrywig’s correspondents, old pamphlets,
-odds and ends of ribbon and lace, little boxes, bags of stale biscuits
-that were kept for the pet dogs of her friends when they came to visit
-her, quantities of china cats and worsted monkeys, samplers made for her
-by great-grandnieces, newspapers of the year one, tracts and books of
-hymns, all huddled pell-mell together. Fifty years’ smoke and lamp-light
-had painted the ceiling all over in dense black clouds, and the cobwebs
-of innumerable defunct spiders festooned the cornices. The carpet had
-half a century ago been bright with poppies and bluebells and ferns; but
-these vanities, like the memory of the unrighteous man, had been blotted
-out, and had left no trace behind them. Franceline was considering how
-singular it was that anything so bright and simple and happy as Miss
-Merrywig should be the presiding genius of this abode of incongruous
-rubbish, and wishing she could make a clean sweep of it all, and tidy the
-place a little, when her attention was roused by a sound of footsteps.
-She ran out at once to look through the lattice; but she had waited too
-long. There was only time to shrink behind the door when the visitors
-had come up and the bell was sounding through the cottage. There were
-two persons, if not more; she knew this by the footsteps. Presently some
-one spoke; it was Mr. Charlton. He was continuing, in a low voice, a
-conversation already begun. Then another voice answered, speaking in a
-still lower key; but every word was distinctly audible through the open
-casement, which was so covered by an outer iron bar and the straggling
-stem of a japonica that no one from the outside would see that it was
-open, unless they looked very close. The words Franceline overheard
-had nothing in them to make her turn pale; but the voice was Clide de
-Winton’s. What fatality was this that brought them so near again, and
-yet kept them apart, and condemned her to hide and listen to him like an
-eavesdropper? There was a pause after the first ring. Mr. Charlton knew
-the ways of the house; he said something laughingly, and rang again.
-Then they reverted to the conversation that had been interrupted. Good
-God! did Franceline’s ears deceive her, or what were these words she
-heard coupled with her father’s name? She put her hand to her lips with
-a sudden movement to stifle the cry that leaped up from her heart of
-hearts. She heard Clide giving an emphatic denial: “I don’t believe it. I
-tell you it is some mistake--one of those unaccountable mistakes that we
-can’t explain or understand, but which we _know_ must be mistakes.”
-
-She could not catch what Mr. Charlton said; but he was evidently
-dissenting from Clide, and muttered something about “being convicted on
-his own showing,” which the other answered with an impatient exclamation
-the drift of which Franceline could not seize; neither could she make
-sense out of the short comments that followed. They referred to some
-facts or circumstances that were clear to the speakers, but only
-bewildered her more and more.
-
-“It strikes me the old lady does not mean to let us in at all this time,”
-said Mr. Charlton; and he gave another violent pull to the bell.
-
-“There can’t be any one in the house,” said Clide, after a pause that
-exhausted the patience of both. “We may as well come away. I will call
-later. I must see her before.…”
-
-The rest of the sentence was lost, as the two speakers walked down the
-gravel-walk, conversing in the same low tones.
-
-Franceline did not move even when the sound of their steps had long died
-away. She seemed turned to stone, and did not stir from the spot until
-Keziah came back. She gave her a message for Miss Merrywig, left the
-cottage, and went home.
-
-She found her father just as she had left him--busy at his desk, with
-books and papers strewn on the table beside him. She saw this through the
-window, but did not go in to him. She could not go at once and speak to
-him as if nothing had happened in the interval. She went to her room, and
-remained there until dinner-time, and then came down, half-dreading to
-see some alteration in him corresponding with what had taken place in her
-own mind. But he was gentle and serene as usual. No mental disturbance
-was visible on his features; at least, she did not see it. Looking at
-him, nevertheless, with perceptions quickened by what she had heard since
-they parted, it struck her that his eyes were sunk and dim, as if from
-overwork and want of sleep combined; but there was no cloud of shame or
-humiliation on his brow. Never had that dear head seemed so venerable,
-never had such a halo of nobleness and goodness encircled it, in his
-daughter’s eyes, as at this moment.
-
-She did not tease him to come out to walk with her, but asked him to read
-aloud to her for an hour while she worked. It was a long time--more than
-a week--since they had had any reading aloud. Raymond complied with the
-request, but soon returned to his work.
-
-Franceline expected that Father Henwick would call, and kept nervously
-looking out of the window from time to time; but the day wore on, and
-the evening, and he did not come. She did not know whether to be glad
-or sorry. She was in that frame of feeling when the gentlest touch of
-sympathy would have stung her like the bite of a snake. It was not
-sympathy she wanted, but a voice to join with her in passionate contempt
-for the liars who had dared to slander her father, and in indignant
-denunciation of the lie. She wanted to fling it in the teeth of those
-who had uttered it. If Father Henwick would help her to do this, let him
-come; if not, let him leave her alone. Let no one come near her with
-words of pity; pity for her now meant contempt for her father. She would
-resent it as a lioness might resent the food that was thrown to her in
-place of the cubs she had been robbed of. No love--no, not the best and
-noblest she had ever dreamed of--would compensate her for the absence of
-reverence and respect for her father.
-
-But Clide did not suspect him. She had heard him indignantly spurn the
-idea. “He no more stole it than you did,” he had said. Stolen what? Would
-no one come to tell her what it all meant? Would not Clide come? Was he
-still at Dullerton? Was there any fear--or hope?--of her meeting him
-again if she went out? She might have gone with impunity. Clide was far
-enough away, on a very different errand from that which had brought him
-yesterday across her path.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-On coming back to the Court from his abortive attempt to see Miss
-Merrywig, Clide found Stanton in great excitement with a telegram that
-had arrived for his master that instant. It was from Sir Simon, summoning
-him back by the first train that started. Some important news awaited
-him. He did not wait to see Miss Merrywig, but took the next train to
-London, and arrived there in the early afternoon. The news that awaited
-him was startling enough to justify Sir Simon’s peremptory summons. One
-of the detectives, whose sagacity and coolness fitted him for delicate
-missions of the kind, had been despatched to gather information in the
-principal lunatic asylums of England and Scotland. He had come that
-morning to tell Sir Simon Harness that he thought he had found Mrs. de
-Winton in one of them. Sir Simon went straight to the place, and, after
-an interview with the superintendent, telegraphed for Clide, as we have
-seen.
-
-It was an old-fashioned Elizabethan manor-house in the suburbs of London,
-situated in the midst of grounds almost large enough to be called a park.
-There was nothing in the outward aspect of the place to suggest its real
-character. Everything was bright and peaceful and well ordered as in the
-abode of a wealthy private family. The gardens were beautifully kept; the
-shrubbery was trim and neat; summer-houses with pretty climbing plants
-rose in shady places, inviting the inmates of the fine old mansion to sit
-out of doors and enjoy the sunshine unmolested; for there was sunshine in
-this early spring-time, and here in this sheltered spot some bits of red
-and gold and blue were peeping through the tips of closed flower-cups.
-Nothing externally hinted at the discord and disorder that reigned in so
-many human lives within the walls. The sight of the place was soothing
-to Clide. He had so often pictured to himself another sort of dwelling
-for his unhappy Isabel that it was a great relief to him to see this
-well-ordered, calm abode, and to think of her being a resident there. A
-lady-like matron received him, and conversed with him kindly and sensibly
-while they were waiting for the doctor to come in. The latter accosted
-him with the same reassuring frankness of manner.
-
-“I hope,” he said, “that your informant has not exaggerated matters, as
-that class of people are so apt to do, and that you are _expecting_ to
-see the right person. All I dare say to you is that you may hope; the
-points of coincidence are striking enough to warrant hope, but by no
-means such as to establish a certainty.”
-
-“I am too much taken by surprise to have arrived at any conclusion,”
-replied Clide; “and I have been too often disappointed to do so in a
-hurry. Until I see and speak to the patient I can say nothing.”
-
-“You can see her at once. As to speaking to her, that is not so easy. The
-sun is clouding over. That is unlucky at this moment.”
-
-His visitor looked surprised.
-
-“Oh! I forgot that I had not explained to you the nature of the delusion
-which this lady is suffering from,” continued the medical man. “It is
-one of the most poetic fancies that madness ever engendered in a human
-brain. She is enamored of the sun, and fancies herself beloved of him;
-she believes him to be a benign deity whose love she has been privileged
-to win, and which she passionately responds to. But there is more
-suffering than joy in this belief. She fancies that when the sun shines
-he is pleased with her, and that when he ceases to shine he is angry;
-the sunbeams are his smiles and the warmth his kisses. At such times she
-will deck herself out with flowers and gay colors, and sit and sing to
-her lover by the hour, pretending to turn away her face and hide from
-him, and going through all the pretty coyness of love. Then suddenly,
-when the sun draws behind a cloud, she will burst into tears, fling aside
-her wreath, and give way to every expression of grief and despair. It is
-at such moments, when they are prolonged, that the crisis is liable to
-become dangerous. She flings herself on the ground, and cries out to her
-lover to forgive her and look on her kindly again, or she will die. Very
-often she cries herself to sleep in this way. I fear you have come at an
-unfortunate moment, for the sun seems quite clouded; however, he may come
-out again, and then you will get a glimpse of the patient at her best.”
-
-He rose and led the way upstairs along a softly-carpeted corridor with
-doors opening on either side. Pointing to one, he motioned Clide to
-advance. One of the panels was perforated so as to admit of the keeper’s
-seeing what went on inside when it was necessary to watch the patient,
-without irritating her by seeming to do so or remaining in the room. At
-first the occupant was standing up at the window, her hands clasped,
-while she conversed with herself or some invisible companion in low tones
-of entreaty. Then, uttering a feeble cry, she turned mournfully away,
-laid aside the flowers that decked her long black hair, and, taking a
-large black cloak, drew it over her dress, and sat down in a dark corner
-of the room, with her face to the wall, crying to herself like a child.
-Clide watched her go through all this with growing emotion. He had not
-yet been able to catch a glimpse of her face, but the small, light
-figure, the wayward movements, the streaming black hair, all reminded him
-strikingly of Isabel. The voice was too inarticulate, so far, for him to
-pronounce on its resemblance with any certainty; but the low, plaintive
-tones fell on his ear like the broken bars of an unforgotten melody. He
-strained every nerve to see the features. But, stay! She is moving. She
-has drawn away her hands from her face, and has turned it towards him.
-The movement did not, however, dispel his doubts; it increased them.
-It was almost impossible to discover any trace of beauty in that worn,
-haggard face, with its sharp features, its eyes faded and sunk, and from
-which the tears streamed in torrents, as if they were melting away in
-brine. The skin was shrivelled like an old woman’s--one, at least, double
-the age that Isabel would be now. Was it possible that this wreck could
-be the bright, beautiful girl of ten years ago?
-
-“Are _you_ my wife?” was Clide’s mental exclamation, as he looked at the
-sad spectacle, and then, with a shudder, turned away.
-
-“I see you are unable to arrive at any conclusion,” said the doctor when
-they were out of ear-shot in an adjoining room.
-
-“I will say nothing till I have spoken to her,” replied the young man
-evasively. “When can I do this?”
-
-“I cannot possibly fix a time. She is not in a mood to be approached
-now; any violent shock in her present state might have a fatal result.
-It would, in all probability, quench for ever the feeble spark of light
-that still remains, and might bring on a crisis which no skill could
-alleviate. On the other hand, if we could apply the test at the right
-moment, the effect might be unexpectedly beneficial. I say unexpectedly,
-because, for my own part, I have not the slightest hope of any such
-result.”
-
-“Has her memory quite gone, or does she recall any passages of her past
-life accurately?”
-
-“Not accurately, I fancy; she seems to have some very vivid impressions
-of the past, but whether they be clear or not I cannot say. The balance
-of the mind is, I believe, too deeply shaken for clearness, even on
-isolated points, to survive in any of the faculties. She talks frequently
-of going over a great waterfall with her nurse, and describes scenery in
-a way that rather gave me a hope once. I spoke to her guardian, however,
-and he said she had never been near a waterfall in her life; that it was
-some picture which had apparently dwelt in her imagination.”
-
-“He might have his own reasons for deceiving you in that respect,”
-observed Clide. “His name, you say, is Par…?
-
-“Percival--Mr. Percival.”
-
-“Humph! When people change their names, they sometimes find it convenient
-to retain the initial,” remarked Clide.
-
-He went home and desired Stanton to look out for a lodging as near as
-possible to the asylum. A tolerably habitable one was found without
-delay, and he and his valet installed themselves there at once. The very
-next day he received a letter from Sir Simon Harness, informing him
-that Lady Rebecca seemed this time in earnest about betaking herself
-to a better world, and had desired him, Sir Simon, to be sent for
-immediately. The French _dame de compagnie_ who wrote to him said they
-hardly expected her to get through the week.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-M. de la Bourbonais had never been a social man since he lived at
-Dullerton. He said he did not care for society, and in one sense this
-was true. He did not care for it unless it was composed of sympathetic
-individuals; otherwise he preferred being without it. He did not want
-to meet and talk with his fellow-creatures simply because they were his
-fellow-creatures; there must be some common bond of interest or sympathy
-between them and him, or else he did not want to see them. When, in the
-early days at The Lilies, Sir Simon used to remonstrate with him on being
-so “sauvage,” and wonder how he could bear the dulness, Raymond would
-reply that no dulness oppressed him like uncongenial company. He had no
-sympathies in common with the people about the neighborhood, and so he
-would have no pleasure in associating with them. There was truth in this;
-but Sir Simon knew that the count’s susceptible pride had influenced him
-also. He did not want rich people to see his poverty, if they were not
-refined and intelligent enough to respect it and value what went along
-with it. He had studiously avoided cultivating any intimacies beyond
-the few we know, and had so persistently kept aloof from the big houses
-round about that they had accepted his determination not to go beyond
-mere acquaintanceship, and never stopped to speak when they met him out
-walking, but bowed and passed on. But of late Raymond began to feel quite
-differently about all this. He longed to see these distant acquaintances
-as if they had been so many near friends; to meet their glance of
-kindly, if not cordial, recognition; to receive the homage of their
-passing salutation. It was the dread of seeing these hitherto valueless
-greetings refused that prevented him stirring beyond his own gate. He
-marvelled himself at the void that the absence of them was making in
-his life. He did not dream they had filled such a space in it; that the
-reflection of his own self-respect in the respect of others had been
-such a strength and such a need to him. Up to this time Franceline had
-more than satisfied all his need of society at home, with the pleasant
-periodical addition of Sir Simon’s presence, while his work had amply
-supplied his intellectual wants; but suddenly he was made aware of a new
-need--something undefined, but that he hungered for with a downright
-physical hunger.
-
-Franceline’s spirit and heart were too closely bound up in her father’s
-not to feel the counter-pang of this mental hunger. She could not help
-watching him, though she strove not to do it, and, above all, not to let
-him see that she was watching him. She might as well have tried not to
-draw her breath or to stop the pulsations of her heart. Her eyes would
-fasten on him when he was not looking, and she could not but see that
-the expression of his face was changed. A hard, resolved look had come
-over it; his eyebrows were always protruded now, and his lips drawn
-tight together under the gray fringe of his mustache. She knew every
-turn of his features, and saw that what had once been a passing freak
-under some sudden thought or puzzling speculation in his work had now
-become a settled habit. She longed to speak; to invite him to speak. It
-would have been so much easier for both; it would lighten the burden to
-them so much if they could bear it together, instead of toiling under it
-apart. But Raymond was silent. It never crossed his mind for a moment
-that Franceline knew his secret. If he _had_ known it, would he have
-spoken? Sometimes the poor child felt the silence was unbearable; that
-at any cost she must break it and know the truth of the story which
-had reached her in so monstrous a form. But the idea that her father
-knew possibly nothing of it kept her back. But supposing he was silent
-only to spare her? Perhaps he was debating in his own mind what the
-effect of the revelation would be on her; wondering if she, too, would
-join with his accusers, or, even if she did not do this, whether she
-might not be ashamed of a father who was branded as a thief. When these
-thoughts coursed through her mind, Franceline felt an almost irresistible
-impulse to rush and fling her arms around his neck and tell him how
-she venerated him, and how she scorned with all her might and main the
-envious, malignant fools who dared to so misjudge him. But she never
-yielded to the impulse; the inward conflict of lodgings and shrinkings
-and passionate, tender cries of her heart to his made no outward sign.
-Raymond sat writing away at his desk, and Franceline sat by the fire
-or at the window reading and working, day after day. The idea occurred
-to her more than once that she would write to Sir Simon; but she never
-did. She did not dare open her heart to Father Henwick. How could she
-bring herself to tell him that her father was accused of theft? It was
-most probable--she hoped certain--that the abominable suspicion had not
-travelled to his ears; and if so, she could not speak of it. This was
-not her secret; it was no breach of confidence towards her spiritual
-father to be silent, and the selfish longing to pour out her filial anger
-and outraged love into a sympathizing ear should not hurry her into a
-betrayal of what was, even in its falsity, humiliating to Raymond. It
-was hard to refrain from speech when speech would have been a solace;
-but Franceline knew that the sacrifice of the cup of cold water has its
-reward, just as the bestowal has. Peace comes to us on surer and swifter
-wing when we go straight to God for it, without putting the sympathy of
-creatures between us and his touch.
-
-Mr. Langrove had never been a frequent visitor at The Lilies; but
-Franceline never remembered him to have been so long absent as now,
-and she could not but see a striking coincidence in the fact. She knew
-he had been one of the party at Dullerton that night; and if, as she
-felt certain, that had been the occasion of the extraordinary mistake
-she had heard of, the vicar, of course, knew all about it. He believed
-her father had committed a theft, and was keeping aloof from him. Did
-everybody at Dullerton know this? Mr. Langrove was not a man to spread
-evil reports in any shape. Franceline knew him well enough to be sure
-of that; but her father’s reputation was evidently at the mercy of less
-charitable tongues. She did not know that the six witnesses had promised
-Sir Simon to keep silence for his sake; but if she had known it, it would
-not have much reassured her. A secret that is known to six people can
-scarcely be considered safe. The six may mean to guard it, and may only
-speak of it among themselves and in whispers; but it is astonishing how
-far a whisper will travel sometimes, especially when it is malignant. A
-vague impression had in some inexplicable way got abroad that the count
-had done something which threw him under a cloud. The gentlemen of the
-neighborhood were very discreet about it, and had said nothing positively
-to be taken hold of, but it had leaked out that there was a screw loose
-in that direction. Young Charlton had laughed at the notion of his friend
-Anwyll thinking of Mlle. de la Bourbonais _now_; and the emphasis and
-smile which accompanied the assurance expressed pretty clearly that there
-was something amiss which had not been amiss a little while ago.
-
-Franceline had gone out for her usual mid-day walk in the park. It was
-the most secluded spot where she could take it, as well as warm and
-sheltered. She was walking near the pond; the milk-white swans were
-sailing towards her in the sunlight, expecting the bits of bread she
-had taken a fancy to bring them every day at this hour, when she saw
-Mr. Langrove emerge from behind a large rockery and step out into the
-avenue. She trembled as if the familiar form of her old friend had been
-a wild animal creeping out of the jungle to pounce upon her. What would
-he do? Would he pass her by, or stop and just say a few cold words of
-politeness? The vicar did not keep her long in suspense.
-
-“Well! here, you are enjoying the sunshine, I see. And how are you?” he
-said, extending his hand in the mild, affectionate way that Franceline
-was accustomed to, but had never thought so sweet before. “Is the cough
-quite gone?”
-
-“Not quite; but I am better, thank you. Angélique says I am, and she
-knows more about it than I do,” replied the invalid playfully. “How is
-everybody at the vicarage?”
-
-“So-so. Arabella has one of her bad colds, and Godiva is suffering from a
-toothache. It’s the spring weather, no doubt; we will all be brisker by
-and by. Are you going my way?”
-
-“Any way; I only came for a walk.”
-
-They walked on together.
-
-“And how is M. de la Bourbonais?” said the vicar presently. “I’ve not met
-him for a long time; we used to come across each other pretty often on
-the road to Dullerton. He’s not poorly, I hope?”
-
-“No, only busy--so dreadfully busy! He hardly lets the pen out of his
-hand now; but he promises me there will soon be an end of it, and that
-the book will soon be finished.”
-
-“Bravo! And you have been such a capital little secretary to him!” said
-Mr. Langrove. “The next thing will be that we shall have you writing a
-book on your own account.”
-
-Franceline laughed merrily at this conceit; her fears were, if not
-banished by his cordial manner, sufficiently allayed to rid her of her
-momentary awkwardness. They were soon chatting away about village gossip
-as if nothing were amiss with either.
-
-“Angélique brought home news from the market a few days ago that Mr.
-Tobes was going to marry Miss Bulpit; is it true?” inquired the young
-girl.
-
-“Far too good to be true!” said the vicar, shaking his head. “The report
-has been spread so often that this time I very nearly believed in it.
-However, I saw Miss Bulpit, and she dispelled the illusion at once, and,
-I fear, for ever.”
-
-“But would it have been such a good thing if they got married?”
-
-“It would be a very desirable event in some ways,” said Mr. Langrove,
-with a peculiar smile; “it would give her something to do and some one to
-look after her.”
-
-“And it would have been a good thing for Mr. Tobes, too, would it not? He
-is so poor!”
-
-“That’s just why she won’t have him, poor fellow! When he proposed--she
-told me the story herself, and I find she is telling it right and left,
-so there is no breach of confidence in repeating it--when he proposed,
-Miss Bulpit asked him point-blank how much money he had; ‘because,’ she
-said, ‘I have only just enough for one!’”
-
-“Oh! but that was a shame. She has plenty for two; and, besides, it was
-unfeeling. Don’t you think it was?” inquired Franceline, looking up at
-the vicar. But he evidently did not share either her indignation against
-Miss Bulpit or her pity for the discarded lover. He was laughing quietly,
-as if he enjoyed the joke.
-
-They reached the gate going out on the high-road while thus pleasantly
-chatting.
-
-“Now I suppose we must say good-by,” said Mr. Langrove. “This is my way;
-I am going to pay a sick visit down in the valley.”
-
-They shook hands, and Franceline turned back.
-
-“Mind you give my compliments to the count!” said the vicar, calling
-after her. “Tell him I don’t dare go near him, as he is so busy; but if
-he likes me to drop in of an evening, let him send me word by you, and
-I’ll be delighted. By-by.”
-
-He nodded to her and closed the gate behind him.
-
-“He did not dare because he is so busy!” repeated Franceline as she
-walked on. “How did he know papa was busy? It was I who told him so a few
-minutes ago. That was an excuse.”
-
-She gave the message, nevertheless, on coming home, scarcely daring to
-look at her father while she did so.
-
-“May I tell him to come in one of these evenings, petit père?”
-
-“No; I cannot be disturbed at present,” was the peremptory answer, and
-Franceline’s heart sank again.
-
-She told him the gossip about Miss Bulpit and Mr. Tobes, thinking it
-would amuse him; he used to listen complacently to the little bits of
-gossip she brought in about their neighbors. Raymond had the charming
-faculty, common to great men and learned men, of being easily and
-innocently amused; but he seemed to have lost it of late. He listened to
-Franceline’s chatter to-day with an absent air, as if he hardly took it
-in; and before she had done, he made some irrelevant remark that proved
-he had not been attending to what she was saying. Then he had got into
-a way of repeating himself--of saying the same thing two or three times
-over at an interval of an hour or so, sometimes even less. Franceline
-attributed these things to the concentration of his thoughts on his work,
-and to his being so entirely absorbed in it as not to pay attention to
-anything that did not directly concern it. She was too inexperienced to
-see therein symptoms of a more alarming nature.
-
-M. de la Bourbonais had all his life complained of being a bad
-sleeper; but Angélique, who suffered from the same infirmity, always
-declared that he only imagined he did not sleep; that she was tossing
-on her pillow, listening to him snoring, when he said he had been wide
-awake. The count, on his side, was sceptical about Angélique’s “white
-nights,” and privately confided to Franceline that he knew for a fact
-she was fast asleep often when she fancied in the morning she had been
-awake. Some people are very touchy at being doubted when they say they
-have not “closed an eye all night.” Angélique resented a doubt on her
-“white nights” bitterly, and Franceline, who from childhood had been
-the confidant of both parties, found an early exercise for tact and
-discretion in keeping the peace between them. The discrepancies in the
-two accounts of their respective vigils often gave rise to little tiffs
-between herself and Angélique, who would insist upon knowing what M.
-le Comte had said about _her_ night; so that Franceline was compelled
-to aggravate her whether she would or not. She “knew her place” better
-than to have words with M. le Comte, but she had it out with Franceline.
-“Monsieur says he didn’t get to sleep till past two o’clock this morning,
-does he? Humph! I only wish I had slept half as well, I know. Pauvre,
-cher homme! He drops off the minute his head is on the pillow, and then
-dreams that he’s wide awake. That’s how it is. Why, this morning I was up
-and lighted my candle at ten minutes to two, and he was sleeping as sound
-as a wooden shoe! I heard him.” Franceline would soothe her by saying she
-quite believed her; but as she said the same thing to M. le Comte, and
-as Angélique generally overheard her saying so, this seeming credulity
-only aggravated her the more. Laterly Raymond had taken up a small
-celestial globe to his room, for the purpose, he said, of utilizing his
-long vigils by studying the face of the heavens during the clear, starry
-nights; and he would give the result of his nocturnal contemplations
-to Franceline at breakfast next morning--Angélique being either in the
-room pouring out the hot milk for her master’s coffee, or in the kitchen
-with the door ajar, so that she had the benefit of the conversation.
-The pantomimes that were performed at these times were a severe trial
-to Franceline’s gravity: Angélique would stand behind Raymond’s chair,
-holding up her hands aghast or stuffing her apron into her mouth, so as
-not to explode in disrespectful laughter. Sometimes she would shake her
-flaps at him with an air of despondency too deep for words, and then walk
-out of the room.
-
-“I heard M. le Comte telling mam’selle that he saw the Three Kings (the
-popular name for Orion’s belt in French) shining so bright this morning
-at three o’clock. I believe you; he saw them in his sleep! I was up and
-walking about my room at that hour, and it so happened that I opened my
-door to let in the air _just_ as the clock in the _salon_ was striking
-three!”
-
-As ill-luck would have it, Raymond overheard this confidential comment
-which Angélique was making to Franceline under the porch, not seeing that
-the sitting-room window was open.
-
-“My good Angélique,” said the count, putting his head out of the window,
-“you must have opened the door two seconds too late; it was striking
-five, most likely, and you only heard the last three strokes. I suspect
-you were sound asleep at the hour I was looking at the Three Kings.”
-
-“La! as if I were an infant not to know when I wake and when I sleep!”
-said Angélique with a shrug. “It was M. le Comte that was asleep and
-dreaming that he saw the Three Kings.”
-
-“Nay, but I lighted my candle; it was pitch-dark when I got up to set the
-globe,” argued M. de la Bourbonais.
-
-“When M. le Comte _dreamt_ that he got up and lighted his candle,”
-corrected the incorrigible sceptic. Raymond laughed and gave it up. But
-it was true, notwithstanding Angélique’s obstinate incredulity, that he
-did pass many white nights now, and the wakefulness was insensibly and
-imperceptibly telling on his health. It was a curious fact, too, that
-the more the want of sleep was injuring him, the less he was conscious
-of suffering from it. He had been passionately fond of astronomy in his
-youth, and he had resumed the long-neglected study with something of
-youthful zest, enjoying the observation of the starry constellations in
-the bright midnight silence with a sense of repose and communion with
-those brilliant, far-off worlds that surprised and delighted himself.
-Perhaps the feeling that he was now cut off from possible communion with
-his fellow-men threw him more on nature for companionship, urging him to
-seek on her glorious brow for the smiles that human faces denied him, and
-to accept her loving fellowship in lieu of the sympathy that his brothers
-refused him.
-
-But rich and inexhaustible as the treasures of the great mother are,
-they are at best but a compensation; nothing but human love and human
-intercourse can satisfy the cravings of a human heart. Raymond was
-beginning to realize this. His forced isolation was becoming poignantly
-oppressive to him. He longed to see Sir Simon, to hear his voice, to
-feel the warm clasp of his hand; he longed, above all, to get back his
-old feeling of gratitude to him. Raymond little suspected what a moral
-benefactor his light-hearted, worldly-minded friend had been to him all
-those years when he was perpetually offering services that were so seldom
-accepted. Sir Simon was all the time feeding his heart with the milk of
-human kindness, making a bond between the proud, poor brother and the
-rest of the rich and happy brotherhood who were strangers to him. Raymond
-loved them all for the sake of this one. Nothing nourishes our hearts
-like gratitude. It widens our space for love, and enlarges our capacity
-for kindness; it creates a want in us to send the same happy thrills
-through other hearts that are stirring our own. We overflow with love
-to all in thankfulness for the love of one. This is often our only way
-of giving thanks, and the good it does us is sometimes a more abiding
-gain than the service that has called it forth. It was all this that
-Raymond missed in Sir Simon. In losing his loving sense of gratefulness
-he seemed to have lost some vital warmth in his own life. Now that the
-source which had fed this gratitude was dried up, all that was tender and
-kind and good in him seemed to be running dry or turning to bitterness.
-The estrangement of one had estranged him from all; he was at war with
-all humanity. Would any sacrifice of pride be too great to win back
-the old sweet life, with its trust, and ready sympathy, and indulgent
-kindness? Why should he not write to Sir Simon? He had asked himself
-this many times, and had written many letters in imagination, and some
-even in reality; but Angélique had found them torn up in the waste-paper
-basket next morning, and had been surprised to see the fresh sheets of
-note-paper, which she recognized as her master’s, wasted in that manner
-and thrown away. He knew what he was doing, probably; it was not for her
-to lecture him on such matters, but she could not help setting down the
-unnatural extravagance as a part of the general something that was amiss
-with her master.
-
-One morning, however, after one of those white nights that gave rise to
-so much discussion in the family, Raymond came down with his mind made
-up to write a letter and send it. He could stand it no longer; he must
-go to his friend and lay bare his heart to him, so that they might come
-together again. If Sir Simon’s silence was an offence, Raymond’s was not
-free from blame. He sat down and wrote. It was a long letter--several
-sheets closely filled. When it was finished, and Raymond was folding it
-and putting it into the envelope, he remembered that he did not know
-where the baronet was. If he sent it to the Court, the servants would
-recognize the handwriting and think it odd his addressing a letter there
-in their master’s absence. He thought of forwarding it to Sir Simon’s
-bankers; but then, again, how did matters stand at present between him
-and them? He might have gone abroad and not left them his address, and
-the letter might remain there indefinitely. While Raymond was debating
-what he should do he closed up and stamped the blank envelope, making it
-ready to be addressed; then he laid it on the top of his writing desk,
-and wrote a few lines to the bankers, requesting them to forward Sir
-Simon’s address, if they had it or could inform him how a letter would
-reach him.
-
-He seemed relieved when this was done, and, for the first time for nearly
-a month, called Franceline to come and write for him. She did so for a
-couple of hours, and noticed with thankfulness that her father was in
-very good, almost in high, spirits, laughing and talking a great deal, as
-if elated by some inward purpose. Her glad surprise was increased when he
-said abruptly:
-
-“Now, my little one, run and put on thy bonnet, and we will go for a walk
-in the park together.”
-
-The day was cold, and there was a sharp wind blowing; but the sun was
-very bright, and the park looked green and fresh and beautiful as they
-entered it, she leaning on him with a fond little movement from time to
-time and an exclamation of pleasure. He smiled on her very tenderly,
-and chatted about all sorts of things as in the old days of a month ago
-before the strange cloud had drawn a curtain between their lives. He
-talked with great animation of his work, and the excitement it would be
-to them both when it was published.
-
-“We shall go to Paris for the publication, and then I will show thee the
-wonderful sights of the great city: the Louvre, and the Museum of Cluny,
-and many antiquities that will interest thee mightily; and we will go to
-some fine _modiste_ and get thee a smart French bonnet, and thou wilt be
-quite a little _élégante_!”
-
-“Oh! how nice it will be, petit père,” cried Franceline, squeezing his
-arm in childish glee; “and many learned men will be coming to see you,
-will they not, and writing articles in praise of your great work?”
-
-“Ha! Praise! I know not if it will all be praise,” said the author, with
-a dubious smile. “Some will not approve of my views on certain historical
-pets. I have torn the masks off many _soi-disant_ heroes, and replaced
-others in the position that bigotry or ignorance has hitherto denied
-them. I wonder what Simon will say to it all?”
-
-Raymond smiled complacently as he said this. It was the first time he had
-mentioned the baronet. Franceline felt as if a load were lifted off her,
-and that all the mists were clearing away.
-
-“He is sure to be delighted with it!” she exclaimed. “He always is,
-even when he quarrels with you, petit père. I think he quarrels for the
-pleasure of it; and then he is so proud of you!”
-
-They walked as far as the house, and then Raymond said it was time to
-turn back; it was too cold for Franceline to stay out more than half an
-hour.
-
-An event had taken place at The Lilies in their absence. The postman had
-been there and had brought a letter. Raymond started when Angélique met
-him at the door with this announcement, adding that she had left it on
-the chimney-piece.
-
-He went straight in and opened it. It was from Sir Simon. After
-explaining in two lines how Clide de Winton had arrived in time to save
-him at the last hour, the writer turned at once to Raymond’s troubles.
-Nothing could be gentler than the way he approached the delicate
-subject. “Why should we be estranged from one another, Raymond? Do you
-suppose I suspect you? And what if I did? I defy even that to part us.
-The friendship that can change was never genuine; ours can know no
-change. I have tried in every possible way to account satisfactorily
-for your strange, your suicidal behavior on that night, and I have
-not succeeded. I can only conclude that you were beside yourself with
-anxiety, and over-excited, and incapable of measuring the effect of your
-refusal and your conduct altogether. But admitting, for argument’s sake,
-that you did take it; what then? There is such a thing as momentary
-insanity from despair, as the delirium of a sick and fevered heart.
-At such moments the noblest men have been driven to commit acts that
-would be criminal if they were not mad. It would ill become _me_ to
-cast a stone at _you_--I, who have been no better than a swindler these
-twenty years past! Raymond, there can be no true friendship without
-full confidence. We may give our confidence sometimes without our love
-following; but when we give our love, our confidence must of necessity
-follow. When we have once given the key of our heart to a friend, we have
-given him the right to enter into it at all times, to read its secrets,
-to open every door, even that, and above that, behind which the skeleton
-stands concealed. You and I gave each other this right when we were boys,
-Raymond; we have used it loyally one towards the other ever since, and I
-have done nothing to forfeit the privilege now. All things are arranged
-by an overruling Providence, and God is wise as he is merciful; yet I
-cannot forbear asking how it is that I should have been saved from
-myself, and that you should not have been delivered from temptation--you,
-whose life has been one long triumph of virtue over adversity! It will be
-all made square one day; meantime, I bless God that the weaker brother
-has been mercifully dealt with and permitted to rescue the nobler and the
-worthier one. The moment I hear from you I will come to Dullerton, and
-you and Franceline must come away with me to the south. I will explain
-when we meet why this letter has been so long delayed.” Then came a
-postscript quite at the bottom of the page: “Send that wretched bauble
-to me in a box, addressed to my bankers. Rest assured of one thing: you
-shall be cleared before men as you already are before a higher and a more
-merciful tribunal.”
-
-Many changes passed over Raymond’s countenance as he read this letter;
-but when his eye fell on the postscript, the smile that had hovered
-between sadness, tenderness, and scorn subsided into one of almost
-saturnine bitterness, and a light gathered in his eyes that was not
-goodly to see. But the feelings which these signs betrayed found no other
-outward vent. M. de la Bourbonais quietly and deliberately tore up the
-letter into very small pieces, and then, instead of throwing them into
-the waste-paper basket, he dropped them into the grate. The fire was low;
-he took the poker and stirred it to make a blaze, and then watched the
-flame catching the bits one by one and consuming them.
-
-“It is fortunate I did not send mine!” was his mental congratulation as
-he turned to his desk, intending to feed the dying flame with two more
-offerings. But where were they? Raymond pushed about his papers, but
-could not find either of the letters. Angélique was called. Had she seen
-them?
-
-“Oh! yes; I gave them both to the postman,” she explained, with a nod of
-her flaps that implied mystery.
-
-“How both? There was only one to go. The other had no address on it,”
-said Raymond.
-
-“I saw it, M. le Comte.” Another mysterious nod.
-
-“And yet you gave it to the postman?”
-
-“Yes. I am a discreet woman, as M. le Comte knows, and he might have
-trusted me to keep a quiet tongue in my head; but monsieur knows his own
-affairs best,” added Angélique in an aggrieved tone.
-
-“My good Angélique, explain yourself a little more lucidly,” said M. de
-la Bourbonais with slight impatience. “What could induce you to give the
-postman a letter that had neither name nor address on it?”
-
-“Bless me! I thought M. le Comte did not wish me to know who he was
-writing to!”
-
-“Good gracious!” exclaimed Raymond, too annoyed to notice the absurdity
-of the reply. “But how could the postman take it when he saw it was a
-blank envelope?”
-
-“I did not let him see it; I slipped the two with my own hands into the
-bag,” said Angélique.
-
-M. de la Bourbonais moved his spectacles, and shrugged his shoulders in
-a way that was expressive of anything but gratitude for this zeal. He
-hesitated a moment or two, debating what he should do. The only way to
-ensure getting back his letter immediately was to go off himself to the
-post-office, and claim it before it was taken out to be stamped with
-the postmark, when it would be opened in order to be returned to the
-writer. There might be no harm in its being opened; the postmaster was
-not a French scholar that Raymond knew of, but he might have a friend at
-hand who was, and who would be glad to gratify his curiosity, as well as
-exhibit his learning, by reading the count’s letter.
-
-Raymond set off at once, so as to prevent this. It was the first time
-for some weeks that he had shown himself in or near the town; and if his
-mind had not been so full of his errand, he would have been painfully
-conscious and shy at finding himself abroad in open daylight in his old
-haunts and within the observation of many eyes that knew him. But he did
-not give this a thought; he was calculating the chances for and against
-his arriving at the post-office before the postman had come back from
-his rounds and handed in the out-going letters to be marked, and his
-imagination was running on to the wildest conclusions in the event of his
-being too late. He walked as if for a wager; not running, but as near to
-it as possible. The pace and his intense look of preoccupation attracted
-many glances that he would have escaped had he walked on quietly at his
-ordinary pace. He was not a minute too soon, however, just coming up
-as the postman appeared with his replenished bag. M. de la Bourbonais
-hastened to describe the shape and color of his blank envelope, and
-to explain how it had come to be where it was, and was most emphatic
-in protesting that he did not mean the letter to go, and that he was
-prepared to take any steps to prevent its going. There was no need to be
-so earnest, about it. The postmaster assured him at once that the letter
-would be forthcoming in a moment, and that his word would be quite enough
-to identify it and ensure its being returned to him. It seemed an age to
-Raymond while the letters were being turned out and sorted, but at last
-the man held up the blank envelope, with its queen’s head in the corner,
-and exclaimed jubilantly: “Here it is!”
-
-The count seized it with avidity, and hurried away, leaving the
-postmaster half-amused, half-mystified, at his excited volubility and
-warm expressions of thanks. There was no necessity to rush home at
-the same pace that he had rushed out, but Raymond felt like a machine
-wound up to a pitch of velocity that must be kept up until the wheel
-stopped of its own accord. His hat was drawn over his eyes, and his head
-bent like a person walking on mechanically, neither seeing nor hearing
-what might be going on around him. He was soon beyond the streets and
-shop-windows, and back amidst the fields and hedges. There was a clatter
-of horses coming down the road. M. de la Bourbonais saw two gentlemen
-on horseback approaching. He recognized them, even in the distance, at
-a glance: Sir Ponsonby Anwyll and Mr. Charlton. Raymond’s heart leaped
-up to his throat. What would they do? Stop and speak, or cut him dead?
-A few seconds would decide. They were close on him now, but showed no
-sign of reining in to speak. Ponsonby Anwyll raised his hat in a formal
-salutation; Mr. Charlton looked straight before him and rode on. All the
-blood in his body seemed to rush at the instant to Raymond’s face. He
-put his hand to his forehead and stood to steady himself; then he walked
-home, never looking to the right or the left until he reached The Lilies.
-
-Angélique called out from the kitchen window to know if he had made
-it right about the letter; but he took no heed of her, only walked in
-and went straight up to his room. She heard him close the door. There
-certainly was something queer come to him of late. What did he want,
-going to shut himself in his bedroom this time of day, and then passing
-her without answering?
-
-Franceline was in the study, busy arranging some primroses and wild
-violets that she had been gathering under the hedge while her father
-was out. A noise as of a body falling heavily to the ground in the room
-overhead made her drop the flowers and fly up the stairs. Angélique had
-hastened from the kitchen to ask what was the matter; but a loud shriek
-rang through the house in answer to her question.
-
-“Angélique, come! O my God! Father! father!”
-
-Raymond was lying prostrate on the floor, insensible, while Franceline
-lifted his head in her arms, and kissed him and called to him. “Oh! What
-has happened to him? Father! father! speak to me. O my God! is he dead?”
-she cried, raising her pale, agonized face to the old servant with a
-despairing appeal.
-
-“No! no! Calm thyself! He has but fainted; he is not dead,” said
-Angélique, feeling her master’s pulse and heart. “See, put thy hand here
-and feel! If he were dead, it would not beat.”
-
-Franceline laid her finger on the pulse. She felt the feeble beat; it
-was scarcely perceptible, but she could feel it.
-
-“We must lift him on to the bed,” said Angélique, and she grasped the
-slight form of her master with those long, brown arms of hers, and laid
-it gently on the bed, Franceline assisting as she might.
-
-“Now, my petite, thou wilt be brave,” said the faithful creature,
-forgetting herself in her anxiety to spare and support Franceline. “Thou
-wilt stay here and do what is necessary whilst I run and fetch the
-doctor.”
-
-She poured some eau-de-cologne into a basin of water, and desired her
-to keep bathing her father’s forehead and chafing his hands until she
-returned. This, after loosing his cravat and letting in as much air as
-possible, was all her experience suggested.
-
-Franceline sat down and did as she was told; but the perfect stillness,
-the deathlike immobility of the face and the form, terrified her. She
-suspended the bathing to breathe on it, as if her warm breath might bring
-back consciousness and prove more potent than the cold water. But Raymond
-remained insensible to all. The silence began to oppress Franceline like
-a ghastly presence; the cooing of her doves outside sounded like a dirge.
-Could this be death? His pulse beat so faintly she hardly knew whether it
-was his or the pulse of her own trembling fingers that she felt. A chill
-of horror came over her; the first vague dread was gradually shaping
-itself in her mind to the most horrible of certainties. If he should
-never awake, never speak again, never open those closed eyes on her with
-the old tender glance of love that had been as familiar and unfailing as
-the sunlight to her! Oh! what a fearful awakening came with this first
-realization of that awful possibility. What vain shadows, what trivial
-empty things, were those that she had until now called sorrows! What a
-joy it would be to take them all back again, and bear them, increased
-tenfold in bitterness, to the end of her life, if this great, this real
-sorrow might be averted! Franceline dropped on her knees beside the
-bed, and, clasping her hands, sent up one of those cries that we all of
-us find in our utmost need, when there is only God who can help us: “O
-Father! thy will be done. But if it be possible, … if it be possible, …
-let this cup pass from me!”
-
-There were steps on the stairs. It was Angélique come back. She had only
-been ten minutes away--the longest ten minutes that ever a trembling
-heart watched through--but Franceline knew she could not have been to the
-doctor’s and back so quickly. “I met M. le Vicaire just at the end of the
-lane, and he is gone for the doctor; he was riding, so he will be there
-in no time.”
-
-Then she made Franceline go and fetch hot water from the kitchen, and
-busied her in many little ways, under pretence of being useful, until Dr.
-Blink’s carriage was heard approaching. The medical man was not alone;
-Mr. Langrove and Father Henwick accompanied him.
-
-Angélique drew the young girl out of her father’s room, and sent her to
-stay with Father Henwick, while the doctor, assisted by Mr. Langrove and
-herself, attended to M. de la Bourbonais.
-
-“Oh! what is it? Did the doctor tell you?” she whispered, her dark eyes
-preternaturally dilated in their tearless glance, as she raised it to
-Father Henwick’s face.
-
-“He could say nothing until he had seen him. Tell me, my dear child, did
-your father ever have anything of this sort happen him before?” inquired
-Father Henwick, as unconcernedly as he could.
-
-“Never, never that I heard of, unless it may have been when I was too
-little to remember,” said Franceline; and then added nervously, “Why?”
-
-“Thank God! It is safe, then, not to be so serious,” was the priest’s
-hearty exclamation. “Please God, you will see him all right again soon;
-he has been overdoing of late, working too hard, and not taking air or
-exercise enough. The blade has been wearing out the sheath--that’s what
-it is; but Blink will pull him through with God’s help.”
-
-“Father,” said Franceline, laying both hands on his arm with an
-unconscious movement that was very expressive, “do you know it seems to
-me as if I were only waking up, only beginning to live now. Everything
-has been unreal like a dream until this. Is it a punishment for being so
-ungrateful, so rebellious, so blind to the blessings that I had?”
-
-“If it were, my child, punishment with God is only another name for
-mercy,” said Father Henwick. “Our best blessings come to us mostly in
-the shape of crosses. Perhaps you were not thankful enough for the great
-blessing of your father’s love, for his health and his delight in you;
-perhaps you let your heart long too much for other things; and if so,
-God has been mindful of his foolish little one, and has sent this touch
-of fear to teach her to value more the mercies that were vouchsafed to
-her, and not to pine for those that were denied. We seldom see things in
-their true proportions until the shadow of death falls on them.”
-
-“The shadow of death!” echoed Franceline, her white lips growing still
-whiter. “Oh! if it be but the shadow, my life will be too short for
-thanksgiving, were I to live to the end of the world.”
-
-“Ha! here they come,” said Father Henwick, opening the study-door as he
-heard the doctor’s steps, followed by Mr. Langrove’s, on the stair.
-
-Franceline went forward to meet them; she did not speak, but Dr. Blink
-held out his hand in answer to her questioning face, and said cheerfully:
-“The count is much better; he has recovered consciousness, and is doing
-very nicely, very nicely indeed for the present. Come! there is nothing
-to be frightened at, my dear young lady.”
-
-Franceline could not utter a word, not even to murmur “Thank God!” But
-the dead weight that had been pressing on her heart was lifted, she
-gasped for breath, and then the blessed relief of tears came.
-
-“My poor little thing! My poor Franceline!” said the vicar, leading
-her gently to a chair, and smoothing the dark gold hair with paternal
-kindness.
-
-“Let her cry; it will do her good,” said Dr. Blink kindly; and then he
-turned to speak in a low voice to Father Henwick and Mr. Langrove.
-
-He had concluded, from the incoherent account which Mr. Langrove had
-gathered from Angélique, that he should come prepared for a case of
-apoplexy, and had brought all that was necessary to afford immediate
-relief. He had recourse to bleeding in the first instance, and it had
-proved effective. M. de la Bourbonais was, as he said, doing very well
-for the present. Consciousness had returned, and he was calm and free
-from suffering. Franceline was too inexperienced to understand where the
-real danger of the attack lay. She fancied that, since her father had
-regained consciousness, there could be nothing much worse than a bad
-fainting fit, brought on by fatigue of mind and body, and, now that the
-Rubicon was past, he would soon be well, and she would take extra care
-of him, so as to prevent a relapse. Her passionate burst of tears soon
-calmed down, and she rose up to thank her visitors with that queenly
-self-command that formed so striking a part of her character.
-
-“I am very grateful to you for coming so quickly; it was very good of
-you,” she said, extending her hand to Dr. Blink: “May I go to him now?”
-
-“No, no, not just yet,” he replied promptly. “I would rather he were left
-perfectly quiet for a few hours. We will look in on him later; not that
-it is necessary, but we shall be in the neighborhood, and may as well
-turn in for a moment.” He wished them good-afternoon, and was gone.
-
-“And how did you happen to come in just at the right moment?” said
-Franceline, turning to Father Henwick. “It did not occur to me before how
-strange it was. Was it some good angel that told you to come to me, I
-wonder?”
-
-“The very thing! You have hit it to a nicety!” said Mr. Langrove. “It was
-an angel that did it.”
-
-“Yes,” said Father Henwick, falling into the vicar’s playful vein, “and
-the odd thing was that he came riding up to my house on a fat Cumberland
-pony! Now, we all know S. Michael has been seen on a white charger, but
-this is the first time, to my knowledge, that an angel was ever seen
-mounted on a Cumberland pony.”
-
-“Dear Mr. Langrove, how good of you!” said Franceline, with moistened
-eyes, and she pressed his hand.
-
-“Had you not better come out with me now for a short walk?” said the
-vicar. “I sha’n’t be more than half an hour, and it will do you good.
-Come and have early tea at the vicarage, and we will walk home with you
-before Blink comes back. What do you say?”
-
-“Oh! I think I had better not go out, I feel so shaken and tired; and
-then papa might ask for me, you know. I shall not go near him unless he
-does, after what Dr. Blink said.”
-
-“Well, perhaps it is as well for you to keep quiet. Good-by, dear. I will
-look in on you this evening.”
-
-“And so will I, my child,” said Father Henwick, laying his broad hand on
-her head; and the two gentlemen left the cottage together.
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-THE FRIENDS OF EDUCATION.
-
-To pass from the discussion of arguments to the question of motives is
-a most common yet most unjustifiable manœuvre of popular debate. This
-is usually done when the field of calm and logical reasoning has become
-tolerably clear. The flank movement is attempted as a final struggle
-against defeat otherwise inevitable. If the motive thus impugned be
-really indefensible; if it be, at the same time, glaring or manifest, a
-positive advantage is sometimes gained by a vigorous diversion from the
-real object of contention. But if such a motive has to be alleged--or,
-still worse, invented--the demonstration against it, however violent, is
-but a reluctant and ungracious acknowledgment of defeat and a flight from
-the real point at issue. The most recent instance of this sort is taking
-place before the American public, and has been afforded by those who
-endeavor to represent Catholics as opposed to free and liberal education,
-thereby attainting the motives of the position which Catholics have been
-forced to assume with regard to what are falsely called “common” schools.
-
-This attitude of our opponents, however, we regard not without
-complacency. Our object is not war, but peace and good-will among
-citizens. We hail the present violent misrepresentation as a sign
-that the enemy is close to the “last ditch,” and that the discussion
-approaches its conclusion. When this final effort to distort the Catholic
-object and to asperse the Catholic character has exhausted itself and
-been held up to the inspection of the American people, we shall have
-seen the end of the “school question.” We insist upon an improvement in
-our educational system which is necessary to perfect its character and
-to satisfy the requirements of the times. The present system does not
-meet the wishes of a very large portion of the community, is unfair to
-others besides Catholics, and is out of harmony with the spirit of free
-institutions. A system is wanted which shall at least be equal to that of
-monarchical countries, fair to all citizens alike, and which will relieve
-Catholics from the double burden of educating their own children, besides
-paying for a system of education of which they cannot conscientiously
-avail themselves.
-
-The correctness of the Catholic position is so manifest, and is so
-rapidly gaining the recognition of all thoughtful classes, that those who
-are unwilling to allow Catholics equal rights as citizens are forced, in
-order to hide the truth, not only to maintain that the present system
-is absolutely perfect and incapable of any improvement, but to accuse
-Catholics of harboring ideas of which they are not only innocent, but
-which it would be wholly impossible for them to entertain--such as
-that they are afraid of the light; that they attack the present system
-because they are inimical to all education; and that their object is, if
-possible, to do away with it altogether. Accusations similar to these
-are daily repeated, garnished with rhetoric, and sent forth to alarm our
-fellow-citizens and to encourage them to turn a deaf ear to whatever
-Catholics may say. The weak point of this movement against us is that
-the people will notice that it does not deal at all with the validity
-of Catholic claims, and that it shirks the only question at issue. They
-will be led to suspect that it is emphatically a “dodge”; and the mere
-suspicion of this will awaken curiosity as to what Catholics really have
-to say--a curiosity fatal to the success of the flank attack.
-
-In the language of those who advance the charge with which we propose
-to deal, education means either primary instruction in the elements of
-knowledge, or else higher academic culture, such as is to be furnished
-by colleges and universities. If, therefore, Catholics are hostile to
-education, in this sense of the word, they must be opposed either to
-the general spread of such information as is aimed at in elementary and
-normal schools, or to the existence and growth of the higher institutions
-of science and art.
-
-We are perfectly aware that there is another meaning given to the word
-education, to which reference is made, simply in order to avoid obscurity.
-
-Philosophers of the class to which Mr. Huxley belongs understand by
-education a certain specific course of moral and intellectual training,
-the aim of which is to ensure its pupils against ever being affected by
-“theological tendencies.” Such impressions are to be made upon childhood,
-and matured in more advanced stages, as will rid men of that natural
-but awkward habit of reasoning from cause to effect; which will free
-them from all hope of any life but the present, and any fear of future
-responsibility, in order that they may be impelled to devote themselves
-solely to the analysis and classification of material phenomena, since
-this is the only purpose of man’s existence--such a course of spiritual
-defloration as was practised upon the tender and noble genius of the late
-John Stuart Mill, the results of which, as manifested by the revelation
-of his biography, afford, in the words of an ingenuous, critic, “a most
-unpleasant spectacle.” A process of this kind is not education; it is a
-heartrending and lamentable destruction of that which is noblest and
-most essential in man, and as a definition has not yet obtained a place
-in the English language.
-
-If any of our readers would care to know our own ultimate definition
-of education, we should describe it as the complete and harmonious
-development of all the powers of man in reference to his true end. But
-for present purposes it is sufficient to adopt the ordinary sense of the
-word, as meaning the diffusion of knowledge by scholastic exercises in
-academies and colleges.
-
-If it appears singular to enlightened Protestants to hear a demand for
-circumscription and discouragement of Catholics, and, if possible, the
-suppression of religious education, from that faction whose motto is
-“Liberty and Light,” we trust that it will seem none the less paradoxical
-to hear the charge of favoring ignorance urged with most vehemence
-against us by those whose boast, up to within a few years, has been “a
-ministry without education, and a way to heaven without grammar.”
-
-The first demand does not in the least surprise us, coming, as it does,
-from a crude and undigested assumption of the principles of European
-radicalism. We have seen its consistency illustrated by madmen chasing,
-robbing, and killing one another to the cry of “liberty, equality,
-fraternity.” We understand what it is to be assaulted by this party,
-which knows not how to act except in the way of destruction, which is
-never at rest except in the midst of agitation, and never at peace, so to
-speak, except when at war.
-
-Nor is it strange to see an attempt against Catholics made outside the
-field of theological controversy, inasmuch as the result of controversy
-for the past two centuries has tended rather to the disintegration of
-Protestantism than to the conversion of Catholics to the new faith. Nor
-is it surprising to find this assault directed against the equal rights
-of Catholics in education; for here some earnest but short-sighted men
-imagine that there is not simply ground to be gained, but that the
-present system is a stronghold not to be given up. It is a stronghold,
-truly, but rather of infidelity than of Protestantism.
-
-But educated Protestants and heathen will marvel with us that the attack
-has been made on the theory that Protestantism is the born friend, and
-Catholicity the natural enemy of education, knowing as well as we the
-fatal evidence of history.
-
-The contempt for education which, until more recent times, has always
-existed, to a certain extent, among the orthodox Protestants, was founded
-upon their erroneous doctrines of the total depravity of human nature,
-the consequent invalidity of human reason, and the principle of private
-illumination.
-
-When Luther said, “The god Moloch, to whom the Jews immolated their
-children, is to-day represented by the universities” (_Wider den
-Missbrauch der Messe_), it was not simply on the ground of the
-universities being centres of association for boisterous and disorderly
-youth, or fortresses of the ancient faith, but because of that “pagan and
-impious science” which was taught in them.
-
-In his furious onslaught against them Luther was sustained by his
-well-known hatred of anything which tended to assert the prerogatives
-of human nature or the dignity of reason. No man was ever more
-intemperate in denunciation than this so-called “liberator of humanity
-and emancipator of human reason.” “True believers strangle reason,” said
-he; and he never alluded to it except in terms of most outrageous abuse.
-The last sermon of his at Wittenberg[253] is monumental in this respect;
-and his well-known reply to the Anabaptists is one of the most startling
-examples of his intensely idiomatic style.[254]
-
-The feelings of the master were fully communicated to the disciples. The
-results were fearful. The free schools which existed in every city were
-overturned by the very men whom they had educated; the _gymnasia_ were in
-many places wholly destroyed, in others so reduced as never to recover
-their former position.
-
-At Wittenberg itself the two preachers, Spohr and Gabriel Didymus,
-announced from the pulpit that the study of science was not simply
-useless but noxious, and that it was best to do away with the colleges
-and schools. The upshot was to change the academy of that city into a
-bakery. Similar measures were carried into effect throughout the entire
-duchy of Anspach. The history of the Reformation by Dr. Döllinger gives a
-long list of the numerous scholars, rectors of high schools and colleges,
-who were driven into exile, and also details a minute account of many of
-the institutions which were destroyed.
-
-The statements of Erasmus, as to the disastrous results of the
-Reformation on studies, are constant and numberless. They may
-be formulated in a sentence of one of his letters to Pirkheimer
-(1538): “_Ubicumque regnat Lutheranismus, ibi litterarum est
-interitus_”--“Wherever Lutheranism reigns, there is the destruction of
-letters.”
-
-The testimony of Sturm, Schickfuss, Bucer, and others is no less
-forcible. Luther and Melancthon in later days seem to have been appalled
-by their own work, and George Major thus sums up the melancholy condition
-of things in his own day: “Thanks to the wickedness of men and the
-contempt which we ourselves have shown for studies, the schools have more
-than ever need of patrons and protectors to save them from ruin, and to
-prevent us from falling into a state of barbarism worse than that of
-Turks and Muscovites.”
-
-The interesting works of the Benedictines of St. Maur of the XVIIIth
-century, the Bollandists, and the collections of a few other Catholic
-scholars have preserved nearly all the material that is left from which
-to construct the history of the middle ages, so thorough was the work
-of destruction done on libraries by the Calvinists and Huguenots. The
-Bodleian library is but a fragment--a few torn leaves of the literature
-which was weeded out of England by the enlightened zeal of the
-much-married father of Anglicanism.
-
-“What mad work this Dr. Coxe did in Oxon, while he sat chancellor, by
-being the chief man that worked a reformation there, I have elsewhere
-told you,” says Anthony Wood “To return at length to the royal delegates,
-some of whom yet remained in Oxford, doing such things as did not
-at all become those who professed to be learned and Christian men.
-For the principal ornaments, and at the same time supports, of the
-university--that is, the libraries, filled with innumerable works, both
-native and foreign--they permitted or directed to be despoiled.… Works
-of scholastic theology were sold off among those exercising the lowest
-description of arts; and those which contained circles or diagrams it
-was thought good to mutilate or burn, as containing certain proof of the
-magical nature of their contents.”
-
-What was left undone by the royal delegates was thoroughly attended to by
-the Puritans, who never did their work by halves, and whose views with
-regard to the Bible and literature bore a close resemblance to those of
-the early Mohammedans in their comparative estimate of the Koran and
-secular writings.
-
-For a full account of the effect of the revolution of the XVIth century
-on learning, people who may suspect Catholic writers of exaggeration can
-compare their statements with those of the learned Protestant Huber, in
-his exhaustive history of the universities. Even “honest Latimer,” who
-certainly was not a zealot for profane learning, lifted up his voice in
-complaint: “It would pity a man’s heart to hear that that I hear of the
-state of Cambridge; what it is in Oxford I cannot tell.” How it was at
-Oxford we have already seen. Throughout the length and breadth of the
-land the monastic schools, which were asylums both of mercy and learning,
-were destroyed; the mere list of their names, as given by the Protestant
-historian Cobbett, occupies one hundred and forty-five pages of his
-work. The present condition of the lower classes in England, which is
-due to their being thus deprived of means of education and assistance
-in distress, is the Nemesis of the Reformation. In listening to the
-demand that the government shall dispossess the present landlords as
-it despoiled the churchmen of old, we hear arguments of fearful power
-as to the extent of eminent domain. When it is asked why the crown and
-people shall not exercise for the common good the prerogative which was
-conceded and exercised formerly for the benefit of the crown alone, the
-present holders of property acquired by sacrilege may well take alarm
-at the progress of revolutionary ideas. And the question as to how far
-the people were forcibly deprived of the benefits of a trust vested for
-them in the church, may be decided “without constitutional authority and
-through blood.” God avert such a calamity from England! May the prayers
-of Catholic martyrs, of More and Fisher, intercede in her behalf, and
-save her from the consequences of that act, to prevent which, these,
-her truest sons, did not hesitate to offer up their lives! However,
-with these facts in view, it is scarcely wise for English Protestantism
-to assume the position of a necessary and perpetual friend of popular
-education. It is best to wait until the ink has become dry which has
-scored from the statute book of that realm the law making it felony to
-teach the alphabet to Catholics.
-
-It would be gratifying to us to contrast with the conduct of the authors
-of Protestantism that of the great educators of Europe who laid the
-foundations of our civilization. A fierce and violent revolution has
-turned that civilization aside, and introduced into it principles of
-anarchy and death. A shallow and ungrateful era has failed to perceive
-and to acknowledge its debts. It is only in the pages of scholars such
-as Montalembert, the Protestants Maitland and Huber, and the author of
-that recent modest but most charming book entitled _Christian Schools and
-Scholars_, that we begin to notice a thoughtful inquiry into the history
-of our intellectual development. The masters slumber in forgetfulness
-and oblivion. We know not the builders of the great structures of the
-middle ages; and people generally know almost as little of its great
-intellectual and social system. The history of the human race for a
-thousand years of most intense activity is summed up in a few unmeaning
-words.
-
-Time and space fail for such a comparison. But the fact that the first
-Protestants found themselves educated, the fact that they found schools
-to denounce and to destroy, in the XVIth century, is sufficient to
-justify us with regard to history prior to that date.
-
-It would also be a pleasure to describe the progress of those magnificent
-bodies of Catholic educators which rose, under divine inspiration, as a
-check to the wave of revolution, and whose successes first stimulated
-the action of Protestants by the wholesome influence of fear. But this
-also is beyond our compass. We are ready to discuss the charge that
-Catholics are opposed to education, independently of all reference to
-Protestantism, by the test of positive facts, and to stand or fall by the
-Catholic record in modern times.
-
-It is not necessary to cross the ocean or to visit countries where the
-munificence of ages has endowed the universities of Catholic lands; as,
-for instance, the seven great universities of the Papal States--Ferrara,
-Bologna, Urbino, Macerata, Camerino, Perugia, and Rome, each containing
-thousands of students. Nor is it necessary to remind the reader that
-the great Protestant universities, and notably those of England, are,
-to use the expression of a distinguished Anglican prelate, “a legacy
-of Catholicism.” The charge that Catholics are opposed to university
-education is simply laughable, considering that the university is
-essentially a Catholic idea, and has never, even in Europe, been
-successfully counterfeited.
-
-It is not necessary, although it may be instructive, to refer to the
-free schools of the city of Rome, which, according to the testimony of
-a Protestant traveller, thirty years ago surpassed even those of Berlin
-in efficiency and relative number. They were, before the recent seizure
-by the Piedmontese government, the most numerous in proportion to the
-population and the most varied in character of any city in the world.
-They presented to their scholars the choice of day or night with regard
-to time, and prepared them for every profession, art, and trade. This
-matchless variety was doubtless the result of centuries of growth; but it
-was also the spontaneous outcome of zeal for education, and laid not a
-penny of taxation upon the people. So high was the standard of gratuitous
-education that private schools, at the beginning of the reign of our Holy
-Father Pius IX., had to struggle hard in order to retain the patronage
-of the wealthy classes. At that time there were in Rome 27 institutions
-and 387 schools for free education. Of these last, 180 were for little
-children of both sexes. Of the remainder, 94 were devoted to males and
-113 to females. The total number of pupils in elementary schools amounted
-to 14,157, of which number 3,790 were of the infant class. Of those more
-advanced, 5,544 were males and 4,823 females. In elementary schools,
-_purely gratuitous_, 7,579 received education--viz., 3,952 boys and 3,627
-girls.
-
-There appears, however, in Cardinal Morichini’s report, a feature which
-has never yet been introduced into the American system--to wit, in
-_schools paying a small pension_ there were 1,592 boys and 1,196 girls;
-making a total in such schools of 2,788. This last item may furnish a
-hint to those who are anxious to secure the attendance of poor children
-in our own schools; although it is scarcely practicable where common
-education has to be provided by taxation alone. Of these 387 schools to
-which we have referred, 26 belonged to religious communities of men,
-and 23 to religious communities of women. The rest belonged to, or were
-conducted by, seculars. Besides these, 2,213 children of both sexes
-received free instruction in special conservatories.
-
-In addition to this system of free primary education, there was the vast
-system of colleges and academies connected with the university, the
-advantages of which were at the command of the most limited and humble
-means.
-
-It would be interesting to ask some of the high-school graduates in this
-country the simple historical question, “Who, in modern times; have done
-most for free education?” General Grant has doubtlessly contributed
-liberally towards it; so, it is to be presumed, has Mr. Blaine; so have
-many other distinguished lecturers on the subject of education. But
-if the question is rightly answered, the date will have to be assigned
-much earlier, and St. Joseph Calasanctius, Venerable de la Salle,
-Catherine McAuley, and a hundred thousand other “Papists” will have to
-take precedence of our illustrious fellow-citizens. The spectacle of
-one Christian Brother, or Ursuline Nun, or Sister of Mercy whose life
-is devoted to the instruction of the poor, with no recompense but the
-sweet privilege of being worn out in the service of fellow-men for the
-sake of Jesus Christ--such a spectacle as was afforded by the gifted
-Gerald Griffin, or by Mother Seton in our own country, and is daily shown
-among us by thousands of calm, intelligent men and amiable women, in the
-various religious orders--this is a testimony to education which none but
-Catholics can produce. And yet these men and women, these bright martyrs
-of charity, are they whom it is thought good to attack by every means
-within the reach of calumny.
-
-Let it be understood that we do not overlook the efforts made by
-noble men and women in the ranks of Protestantism. Though few, and
-insignificant in intensity of zeal when compared with the daily and
-common sacrifices made by Catholics, nevertheless it must be borne in
-mind that these isolated attempts have been ineffectual, save only in
-so far as they have produced imperfect copies of the great works of
-Catholicity. Protestantism, as such, has never prompted or organized
-any great attempt at general free primary education. Indeed, it might
-be safely challenged to produce any instance of the kind. And if the
-American people to-day were to be seized with remorse for its injustice
-towards Catholics, and to propose immediately to do away with all public
-schools, we should object most strongly on the ground that no adequate
-means would then exist for the education of Protestant children. The
-problem of general education has never been faced by Protestantism. The
-system of godless education is an extremely modern and thoroughly pagan
-idea. If it has found favor among the leaders of Protestantism, this
-has been because they have accepted it as a solution of the educational
-problem; not having given the matter sufficient attention to observe the
-ruinous effect which it is producing on themselves.
-
-From similar thoughtlessness comes their maintenance of the present
-system. It is a comparatively cheap solution, as far as individuals are
-concerned. It calls for no sacrifices. It is supposed to be sufficiently
-Protestant as long as the Bible is read in the schools. But if the
-present movement of the infidel party succeeds, and the “common” schools
-are reduced to purely irreligious institutions, the matter will soon
-force itself upon Protestant attention. We are convinced that they will
-perceive that Catholics have given the subject much more consideration
-than they supposed, and have been right throughout. Many of them will
-regret having misunderstood our views, and will be prepared to endorse
-the proposition that such schools are subversive of Christianity and
-demoralizing in their tendency. They will then endeavor to repair the
-evils which may still result from their ill-judged neglect of Catholic
-remonstrance. They will demand to be put upon at least an equal footing
-with infidels, probably with as much vehemence as Catholics have
-demanded an equal footing for all citizens alike. If they find themselves
-hopelessly debarred from this by the radical changes in the constitution
-which some of their number are even now proposing, they will impeach
-these amendments. This failing, they will find themselves in the position
-in which Catholics now are. Then, for the first time in history, will
-Protestantism have a fair chance to show how much it cares for education.
-
-But, as already intimated, it is not necessary to cross the seas to
-discover testimony in rebuttal of the gratuitous slander which is urged
-against Catholics. Nor is there need to summon from the tomb the teachers
-of those who founded the so-called Reformation, nor to institute an
-historic comparison between the labors of Catholics and Protestants.
-Still less need is there to attempt to penetrate the future as to what
-Catholics may do for education when they are relieved of one-half of
-their present twofold burden.
-
-We live in the XIXth century and in America; and in this, very age and
-country Catholics are doing more for education than is actually done
-by any other denomination, and, in proportion to their numbers and
-means, more than is done by all other denominations put together, which
-outnumber Catholics by at least four to one--Catholics, forsooth, who are
-impudently charged with being opposed to primary schools and collegiate
-training!
-
-This assertion will doubtless sound strangely in the ears of those who
-have allowed themselves to remain in ignorance of the facts which we
-shall presently adduce. But, in view of them, it will be acknowledged
-that our statement is the most modest that can be made, and that, if
-disposed to be boastful, we could increase it many fold without fear
-of exaggeration. Catholics in this country have, it is true, no great
-university such as those produced by the efforts and endowments of
-generations. Besides the lack of time necessary for such a development,
-two other causes have thus far prevented its origin. The first is the
-poverty of Catholics here--not simply their lack of means--but the fact
-that the extent of the country and the comparatively small number of very
-wealthy families require that educational institutions of the higher
-class should be plentifully distributed. Secondly, Catholic resources
-have actually been applied to satisfy this condition of things. We
-feel quite sanguine that, before the close of the century, in spite of
-all disadvantages, a Catholic university of the very highest character
-will be established here; but, without it, there exist at present, in
-every city of importance throughout the Union, colleges which, for
-scholarship, will fairly compete with the chartered universities of this
-country, and which, in certain localities and in special departments,
-will surpass their older and more pretentious rivals. Although these
-colleges do not approach the ideal of a university--_i.e._, a great
-city of learning, which can no more be built in a day than a great
-commercial metropolis--nevertheless there is no reason to be ashamed of
-our colleges. Scarcely one of them can be found which does not contain
-the children of non-Catholics, sent thither by the preference of parents
-and guardians. Our great academies for young ladies are recognized as
-possessing advantages which are without a parallel; and, as a class, the
-convent schools for girls are without even a rival, and contain a very
-large proportion of Protestant children.
-
-Nor are Catholics lacking in efforts to provide primary education for
-Catholic children, although their efforts in this direction are sadly out
-of proportion to their necessities. In higher intellectual culture the
-wealthy are naturally interested. They must provide suitable education
-for their children. To do this in every place is a most severe tax upon
-them. Nevertheless, it has been their duty to accomplish this, and,
-at the same time, to subscribe liberally toward the education of the
-children of their poorer brethren.
-
-The poorer classes, also, with less natural impulse to make sacrifices
-for education, exposed to the temptation of hundreds of proselytizing
-institutions, forced to pay also for the lavish expenditure of the
-public schools, have had to bear the burden of procuring the necessary
-instruction for their children without exposing them to sectarianism and
-the scorn of their religion too often openly manifested in the “common”
-schools. How far they have done their duty will presently be shown.
-Honorable men shall judge whether they have or have not valued education.
-But if it be suddenly discovered that they have valued it, let it be
-acknowledged also that they have acted as Catholics and from the deepest
-religious motives.
-
-The general statistics of the Catholic Church in America are very
-imperfect. Nevertheless, from the _Catholic Directory_ of 1875 a few
-figures may be gleaned which will abundantly sustain the statements here
-advanced. It is to be regretted that the statistics as given in the
-_Directory_ are not more complete, those of some dioceses being quite
-minute and exact, those of others very imperfect.
-
-With regard to colleges and academies for higher education, there are,
-under Catholic direction, in the United States, at least 540, with an
-attendance of not less than 48,000 pupils. In dioceses of which both
-the numbers of institutions and their attendance have been given there
-are 270 institutions, with an attendance of 24,000. A mathematical
-computation gives for the attendance in the others the amount which we
-have allowed as a safe estimate--viz., a total attendance of no less than
-48,000 souls. How does this appear to those who have listened hitherto
-to the revilers of Catholics? Are we right in repelling their charge, or
-are they right, who have nothing but their angry feelings with which to
-sustain it?
-
-If Catholics are wanting in zeal for education, the spirit of obstruction
-is not apparent in their higher institutions. But, as we have said,
-the mass of our people are poor. What provision have they made for
-themselves, besides paying for the education of others?
-
-The Catholic parochial schools are principally designed to supply the
-need of Catholic education for the masses. It would be wrong, however, to
-consider them as merely primary schools. Many of the parochial schools
-are really high schools, and have a course of studies equal to the best
-normal schools. Nevertheless, under the head of parish schools are not
-included any of those already mentioned as colleges or academies. In
-the Archdiocese of Cincinnati there are 140 parish schools, in which
-are educated about 35,000 children free of cost to the State. In the
-Archdiocese of New York there are 93 parish schools, with not less than
-37,600 children. In the Diocese of Cleveland there are 100 parish schools
-and 16,000 children. In some places the attendance of the Catholic
-schools is fully equal to that of the public schools. So that in these
-districts Catholics not only pay for the education of their own children,
-but half the expenses of the public schools, and--supposing both systems
-to be conducted with equal economy--enough to pay for the education
-of all the other children as well as their own, _free of cost_ to
-Protestants, Jews, and infidels. And yet Catholics are charged with being
-hostile to education!
-
-In the United States we have statistics of 1,400 parochial schools, the
-given attendance at which amounts to 320,000 pupils. The entire number of
-parish schools foots up 1,700, and the total figure of attendance may be
-set down at 400,000 scholars. Add to this the number of 48,000 who are
-being educated in colleges and academies, and farther increase the sum by
-the probable number of children in asylums, reformatories, and industrial
-schools, and there will appear something very like half a million of
-scholars who are receiving their education at the expense of Catholics.
-
-Taking into account Catholic numbers, Catholic means, and the time in
-which Catholics have made these provisions for education, we can safely
-challenge, not only every denomination singly, but all of them put
-together, to show any corresponding interest in the matter of education,
-whether elementary or scientific. This challenge is made, not in the
-spirit of pride (though certainly without shame), but in the name of
-truth and of generous rivalry to outstrip all others in the service
-of humanity and our country. Let it stand as the fittest reply to the
-disingenuous charge that Catholics are opposed to education.
-
-The candid reader to whom these facts are new will use his own language
-in characterizing the “flank movement” against Catholics, and will
-be disposed to credit us with honesty and consistency in our open
-criticism of the present hastily-adopted system of education. But we
-are persuaded that he will also be led, if not to make, at least to
-concur in, farther reflections on the facts which are here adduced. If
-Catholics are actually providing instruction for so vast a number of the
-people of the United States, is not this a very considerable saving to
-the public? We think it is. The average cost of education in New York
-City is $13 60 per child; in the State of New York, $11; in the United
-States and Territories, $9 26. The saving represented by such a number
-in our schools amounts, at the rate of New York City, to $6,800,000;
-at the rate of the State of New York, to $5,500,000, and at the lowest
-rate, to $4,630,000 per annum. In addition to this direct saving, we must
-be credited with the amount of our taxes for the public schools. When
-Catholics stand before the American people, and state the reasons why
-they do not consider the present educational system that prevails here to
-be either wise or just, they are not beggars in any sense. They ask for
-no favor. They demand an equitable system of disbursing the funds raised
-for education, so that no class of citizens shall be deprived of that for
-which they are forced to contribute. They would arrange it so that none
-could justly complain. As Catholics, we must have religion and morality
-(which, whatever others may think, are to us inseparable) taught in the
-schools to which we send our children. No time or place will ever alter
-our convictions on this point. What we demand for ourselves we gladly
-concede to others. We are ready to consult with them on a common and just
-basis of agreement. Nothing is wanting for a harmonious settlement except
-fairness on the part of our opponents. There is no flaw in our position,
-no evil design in our heart, nor have we the slightest disposition to
-drive a close bargain. Let the word be spoken. Let any of the Protestant
-denominations make a step forward, intimate a desire for settlement on
-the basis of equal justice to all, and Catholics are with them. But while
-we thus maintain our demand as strictly just, whether it be received or
-rejected, we are not debtors but creditors of the state. We not only ask
-our fellow-citizens, Will you stand by and see us taxed for a system of
-education of which we cannot conscientiously avail ourselves? but we
-further ask, Can you, as honest men, disregard what Catholics are doing
-for education? Do you want them not only to educate their own children,
-thereby saving you this cost, but to educate yours also?
-
-What kind of a soul has the man or the nation who would deliberately
-resist such an appeal? The time will come when people will ask--as,
-indeed, many do ask at present--“Why is not a louder outcry made for
-the Catholics in the school question?” And the answer is that we feel
-a certainty, which nothing can shake, that the American people are
-intelligent enough to understand Catholics after a time; and when they
-do understand them, they will be fair enough to do them justice.
-
-In the meantime let the Catholic laborer pay not only for the education
-of his own children at the parish school, and save this expense to
-his rich neighbor; let him also pay for the same neighbor’s children,
-not merely in primary schools, but in high schools, where ladies and
-gentlemen (whom poverty does not drive to labor at the age when the poor
-man’s children have to be apprenticed) may learn French and German and
-music, and to declaim on the glorious principles of American liberty and
-of the Constitution, under which all men are (supposed to be) free and
-equal. We love to hear their young voices and hearty eloquence. Let these
-institutions be costly in structure and furnished with every improvement.
-Let the teachers have high salaries. Let gushing editors issue forth,
-to manifest to the astonished world the wisdom and deep thought which
-they have acquired at the expense of their humbler and self-sacrificing
-neighbor. But let honest and thoughtful men ponder on the meaning of
-American equality, and judge who are the true friends of education.
-The wages of the laborers will be spent, if the shallowness and crude
-imperfection of the present system are learned, and the spirit of equal
-rights among citizens peacefully preserved; though the credit will belong
-to those who have kept their calmness of mind and made the greatest
-sacrifices.
-
-The candid reader to whom we have alluded will readily admit that
-Catholics are true friends of education, and are doing most for it
-proportionately to their means; that, instead of suspicion and abuse,
-they deserve respect, honor, and acknowledgment of their services.
-
-We think, however, that our fellow-citizens will go much farther, and
-will, in time, endorse our statement when we affirm that Catholics at
-present, and as a body, are the only true friends of popular education.
-By this is not meant simply to say that they have not been backward in
-obtaining, by their intelligence and integrity, the highest positions in
-the country; that they count as representatives such men as Chief-Justice
-Taney, Charles O’Conor, a Barry at the head of the navy, a Sheridan and
-a Rosecrans in the army, and others of the highest national and local
-reputation; or that, when the Roman purple fell upon the shoulders of the
-Archbishop of New York, it suffered no loss of dignity in touching a true
-and patriotic American, well fitted to wear it in any court or academy
-of Europe. But we do mean that, outside of the Catholic Church and those
-who sympathize with our views on this subject, there is no body whose
-representatives are not biassed in their plan for common education by
-prejudice or hostility toward some other body.
-
-With what utter disregard for the rights of conscience the infidel and
-atheistic faction coolly avows its purpose to enforce a secular and
-irreligious education upon all the people--a system known to be no less
-antagonistic to the spirit of our democratic institutions than hostile to
-the religious convictions of Catholics as well as Protestants! What loud
-outcries and stormy denunciations echo from certain popular pulpits when
-this faction demands the expulsion of the Bible from the public schools!
-Is any person cool in the midst of this confusion? Is there any class of
-citizens which looks to the common good and adheres to the principle of
-equal regard for religious rights and education free for all? There are
-such persons. There is such a class. Those are they who never shrink from
-avowing their principles, and whose principles are always right, in spite
-of temporary unpopularity--the representatives of the Catholic Church of
-America.
-
-When the excitement of the hour has died away, and the schemes of
-politicians to gain power by fastening upon the country a system fatal to
-liberty, and radical in its assault upon the spirit of our government,
-have met their just fate, then we shall receive the honor due to those
-who have defended the country from the danger of adopting partisan
-measures aimed against a certain class of citizens.
-
-We hope to live to see the day when there will not be a child in the
-whole land capable of instruction who shall not receive a thorough
-education, fitting him to be a patriotic citizen of our country, and,
-at the same time, in nowise interfering with his religious duties.
-The present system signally fails to accomplish this. Those who so
-strenuously uphold its organization and attempt to make it compulsory
-upon all are hostile to the genius of our institutions and fanatical
-in their zeal. That they are not lovers of education is evident from
-their own ignorance of facts. That they are in earnest when they charge
-Catholics with hostility to education we can scarcely believe; for we
-hear from the same lips hints and warnings against Catholic success in
-education. We hear also that the Catholic Church is growing, and, unless
-something is done to stop her, she will convert all the Protestants
-in the country; and, still at other times, that she is an effete and
-worn-out thing which cannot live through the century in a free republic.
-At one time Catholics are derided as idiots; at another represented
-as deep and insidious conspirators. There is scarcely anything which
-is not affirmed or denied of them, according as it suits the mood of
-their revilers. If our people were cooler and more dispassionate, we
-should find all those calumnies answering one another. As it is, we are
-constrained to pay them more or less attention, though the nature of the
-testimony against us scarcely allows us to take up more than one point at
-a time.
-
-If Catholics or Methodists or Episcopalians or Baptists can give a
-better and a cheaper education, we see no reason why the state should
-interfere with those who choose to avail themselves of it. Let the state
-set up any standard it may choose, or make it obligatory; Catholics
-will cheerfully come up to it, no matter how high it may be, provided
-equal rights are allowed to all. The government has a right to demand
-that its voters shall possess knowledge. It has no right to say how or
-where they shall acquire knowledge. The government is bound by public
-policy to promote education. This is to be done by stimulating in this
-department the same activity which has made Americans famous in other
-branches of social economy, by encouraging spontaneous action, and not
-by an ill-judged system of “protection” of one kind of education against
-another, or by creating a state monopoly. Bespeaking candor and due
-respect on the part of those who may differ from us, we take our stand on
-what we conceive to be the true American ground, and are willing to abide
-by the consequences--fair play, universal culture, obligatory knowledge,
-non-interference of the state in religion, and free trade in education.
-
-
-SUGGESTED BY A CASCADE AT LAKE GEORGE.
-
-    Not idly could I watch this torrent fall
-      Hour after hour; not vainly day by day
-      Visit the spot to meditate and pray.
-    The charm that holds me in its giant thrall
-    Has too much of the infinite to pall.
-      For though, like time, the waters pass away,
-      They fling a freshness, a baptismal spray,
-    Which breathes of the Eternal Fount of all.
-    And so, my God, does thy revealed word,
-      In living dogma or on sacred page,
-    Flow to us ever new; though read and heard
-      Immutably the same from age to age.
-      And thither Nature sends us to assuage
-    The higher longings by her voices stirred.
-
-
-SIR THOMAS MORE.
-
-_A HISTORICAL ROMANCE._
-
-FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.
-
-V.
-
-Time glides rapidly by, leaving no footprints on the dreary road
-over which it has passed, as the wild billows, rolling back into the
-fathomless depths whence the tempest has called them forth, leave no
-traces behind them. And so passes life--fleeting rapidly, noiselessly
-away; while man, weary with striving, tortured by cares and unceasing
-anxieties, is born, suffers, weeps, and in a day has withered, and, like
-a fragile flower of the field, perishes from the earth.
-
-Wolsey, fallen from the summit of prosperity, continued to experience a
-succession of reverses. Unceasingly exposed to the malice of his enemies,
-he struggled in vain against their constantly-increasing influence; and
-if they failed in bringing about his death, they succeeded, at least,
-in poisoning every moment of his existence. Thus, at the time even when
-Henry VIII. had sent him a valuable ring as a token of amity, they forced
-the king to despoil the wretched man of the valuable possessions which
-they pretended to wish restored to him. He received one day from his
-master a new assurance of his royal solicitude; the next, his resources
-failing, he was obliged, for want of money, to dismiss his old servants
-and remain alone in his exile.
-
-Cromwell, with an incredible adroitness, had succeeded by degrees in
-disengaging himself from the obligations he owed the cardinal, and
-in making the downfall and misfortunes of his master serve to advance
-his own interests. He had made numerous friends among the throng of
-courtiers surrounding the king, in obtaining from the unhappy Wolsey his
-recognition of the distribution which the king had made of his effects,
-by adding the sanction of his own seal. After repeated refusals on the
-part of the cardinal, he was at last successful in convincing him of
-the urgent necessity for making this concession, in order to try, he
-said with apparent sincerity, to lessen the animosity and remove the
-prejudices they entertained against him. But, in reality, the intention
-of Cromwell had been, by that manœuvre, to strip him of his entire
-possessions; for the courtiers, being well aware their titles were not
-valid under the law, were every moment afraid they might be called on to
-surrender the gifts they had received, and consequently desired nothing
-so much as to have the cardinal confirm them in their unjust possessions.
-
-It was by means of this monstrous ingratitude that Cromwell purchased the
-favor of the court, began to elevate himself near the king in receiving
-new dignities and honors, and at length found himself saved from the
-fate he had so greatly apprehended at the moment of his benefactor’s
-downfall. Of what consequence was Wolsey to him now? Banished from his
-archbishopric of York, he was but a broken footstool which Cromwell no
-longer cared to remember. He scarcely deigned to employ his new friends
-in having Wolsey (reduced to the condition of an invalid) removed from
-the miserable abode at Asher to the better situated castle of Richmond;
-and later, when the heads of the council, always apprehensive and uneasy
-because of his existence, obtained his peremptory exile, he considered
-this departure as completely liberating him from every obligation to his
-old benefactor.
-
-Events were thus following each other in rapid succession, when, toward
-the middle of the day, the door of the king’s cabinet opened, and Sir
-Thomas More, in the grand costume of lord chancellor, entered as had been
-his custom.
-
-The king turned slightly around on his chair, and fixed upon him a
-searching glance, as if he sought to read the inmost soul of More.
-
-The countenance of the chancellor was tranquil, respectful, and assured,
-such as it had always been. In vain Henry sought to discover the
-indications of fear, the impetuous desires and ambitions which he was
-accustomed to excite or contradict in the agitated heart of Wolsey, and
-by which, in his turn master of his favorite, of his future, and of his
-great talents, he made him pay so dearly for the honors at intervals
-heaped upon him.
-
-Nothing of all this could he discover! More seated himself when invited
-by the king, and entered upon the discussion of a multitude of affairs
-to which he had been devoting himself with unremitting attention day and
-night.
-
-“Sire,” he would urge, “this measure will be most useful to your
-kingdom; sire, justice, it seems to me, requires you to give such a
-decision in that case.”
-
-Never were any other considerations brought to bear nor other demands
-made; nothing for himself, nothing for his family, but all for the good
-of the state, the interests of the people; silence upon all subjects
-his conscience did not oblige him to reveal, though the king perceived
-only too clearly the inmost depths of the pure and elevated soul of his
-chancellor.
-
-By dazzling this man of rare virtues with a fortune to which a simple
-gentleman could never aspire, Henry had hoped to allure him to his own
-party and induce him to sustain the divorce bill. Thus, by a monstrous
-contradiction, in corrupting him by avarice and ambition, he would have
-destroyed the very virtues on which he wished to lean. He perceived with
-indignation that all his artifices had been unsuccessful in influencing
-a will accustomed to yield only to convictions of duty, and he feared
-his ability to move him by any of the indirect and abstract arguments
-which he felt and acknowledged to himself were weak and insufficient.
-Revolving all these reflections in his mind, the king eagerly opened the
-conversation with More, but in a quiet tone and with an air of assumed
-indifference.
-
-“Well! Sir Thomas,” he said, “have you reflected on what I asked you?
-Do you not find now that my marriage with my brother’s wife was in
-opposition to all laws human and divine, and that I cannot do otherwise
-than have it pronounced null and void, after being thus advised by so
-many learned men, and ecclesiastics also?”
-
-“Sire,” replied More, “I have done what your majesty requested me; but
-it occurs to my mind that, in an affair of so much importance, it will
-not be sufficient to ask simply the advice of those immediately around
-you; for it might be feared that, influenced by the affection they bear
-for you, they would not decide as impartially as your majesty would
-desire. Perhaps, also, some of them might be afraid of offending you. I
-have, therefore, concluded that it would be better for your majesty to
-consult advisers who are entirely removed from all such suspicions. That
-is why I have endeavored to collect together in this manuscript I have
-here the various passages of Holy Scripture bearing on this subject. I
-have added also the opinions of S. Augustine and several other fathers
-of the church, with whose eminent learning and high authority among the
-faithful your majesty is familiar.”
-
-“Ah!” said the king, with a slightly-marked movement of impatience, “that
-was right. Leave it there; I will read it.”
-
-Sir Thomas deposited the manuscript on the king’s table.
-
-“My lord chancellor,” he continued, “the House of Commons has taken some
-steps toward discharging my debts. What do they think of this in the
-city?”
-
-“Sire,” replied More, “I must tell you candidly they complain openly and
-loudly. They say if the ministers had not taken care to introduce into
-the house members who had received their positions from themselves, the
-bill would never have passed; for it is altogether unjust and iniquitous
-for Parliament to dispose in this manner of private property. They say
-still farther that it has been inserted in the preamble of the bill that
-the prosperity of the kingdom under the king’s paternal administration
-had induced them to testify their gratitude by discharging his debts.
-If this pretext is sincere, it reflects the greatest honor on Cardinal
-Wolsey; and if, on the contrary, it is false, it covers his successors
-with shame.”
-
-“What!” exclaimed the king, “do they dare express themselves in this
-manner?”
-
-“Yes,” replied Sir Thomas; “and I will frankly say to the king that it
-would have been far better to have imposed a new tax supported equally by
-all than thus to despoil individuals of their patrimony.”
-
-“They are never contented!” exclaimed the king impatiently. “I have
-sacrificed Wolsey to their hatred, whom there is no person in the kingdom
-now able to replace. This Dr. Gardiner torments me with questions which
-are far from satisfactory to his dull comprehension. Everything goes
-wrong, unless I take the trouble of managing it myself; while with the
-cardinal the slightest suggestion was sufficient. I constantly feel
-inclined to recall him! Then we will see what they will say! But no!”
-he continued, with an expression of gloomy sullenness, “they gave me no
-rest until I had banished him from his archbishopric of York. It was,
-they said, the sole means of preventing Parliament from pronouncing his
-condemnation. By this time he is doubtless already reconciled; he is so
-vain a creature that the three or four words I have said in his favor to
-my nobles of the north will have been worth more to him than the homage
-and adulation of a court, without which he cannot exist. He is pious now,
-they say, occupying himself only with good works and in doing penance
-for his many sins of the past. In fact, he is entirely reconciled!
-He has already forgotten all that I have done for him! I shall devote
-myself, then, to those who now serve me!”
-
-“I doubt very much if your majesty has been correctly informed with
-regard to the latter fact,” replied More. “Indeed, I know that the order
-compelling him to be entirely removed from your majesty’s presence is the
-one that caused him the deepest grief.”
-
-“Ah! More,” interrupted the king very suddenly, as if to take him by
-surprise, “you are opposed to my divorce. I have known it perfectly well
-for a long time; and these extracts from the fathers of the church to
-which you refer me are simply the expression of your own opinions, which
-you wish to convey to me in this indirect manner.”
-
-“Sire,” replied More, slightly embarrassed, “I had hoped your majesty
-would not force me to give my opinion on a subject of such grave
-importance, and one, as I have already explained, on which I possess
-neither the authority nor the ability to decide.”
-
-“Ah! well, Sir Thomas,” replied the king in a confident manner, wishing
-to discover what effect his words would produce on More, “being entirely
-convinced of the justice of my cause, and that nothing can prevent me
-from availing myself of it, I am determined, if the pope refuses what
-I have a right to demand, to withdraw from the tyrannical yoke of his
-authority. I will appoint a patriarch in my kingdom, and the bishops
-shall no longer submit to his jurisdiction.”
-
-“A schism!” exclaimed More, “a schism! Dismember the church of Jesus
-Christ for a woman!”
-
-And he paused, appalled at what Henry had said and astonished at his own
-energetic denunciation.
-
-The king felt, as by a violent shock, all the force of that exclamation,
-and, dropping his head on his breast, he remained stupefied, like one who
-had just been aroused from a painful and terrible dream.
-
-Just at that moment the cabinet door was thrown violently open, and Lady
-Anne Boleyn entered precipitately. She was drowned in tears, and carried
-in her arms a hunting spaniel that belonged to the king.
-
-She threw it into the centre of the apartment, evidently in a frightful
-rage.
-
-“Here,” she cried, looking at the king--“here is your wretched dog, that
-has tried to strangle my favorite bird! You never do anything but try
-to annoy me, make me miserable, and cause me all kinds of intolerable
-vexations. I have told you already that I did not want that horrid animal
-in my chamber.”
-
-In the meantime the dog, which she had thrown on the floor, set up a
-lamentable howl.
-
-The king felt deeply humiliated by this ridiculous scene, and especially
-on account of the angry familiarity exhibited by Anne Boleyn in presence
-of Sir Thomas More; for she either forgot herself in her extreme
-excitement and indignation, or she believed her empire so securely
-established that she did not hesitate to give these proofs of it. She
-continued her complaints and reproaches with increasing haughtiness,
-until she was interrupted by Dr. Stephen Gardiner, who came to bring some
-newly-arrived despatches to the king.
-
-Henry arose immediately, and, motioning Sir Thomas to open the door,
-without saying a word, he took Anne Boleyn by the hand, and, leading her
-from the room, ordered her to retire to her own apartment.
-
-He then returned, and, seating himself near the chancellor, concealed, as
-far as he was able, his excitement and mortification.
-
-Sir Thomas, still more excited, could not avoid, as they went over the
-despatches, indignantly reflecting on the manner in which Anne Boleyn
-had treated the king, on his deplorable infatuation, and the terrible
-consequences to which that infatuation must inevitably lead.
-
-The king, divining the nature of his reflections, experienced a degree of
-humiliation that made him inexpressibly miserable.
-
-“What say these despatches?” he asked, endeavoring to assume composure.
-“What does More think of me?” he said to himself--“he so grave, so pious,
-so dignified! He despises me!… That silly girl!”
-
-“They give an account of the emperor’s reception of the Earl of
-Wiltshire,” answered More. “I will read it aloud, if your majesty wishes.”
-
-“No, no,” said the king, whom the name of Wiltshire confused still more;
-“give them to me. I am perfectly familiar with the cipher.” He did not
-intend that More should yet be apprised of the base intrigues he had
-ordered to be practised at Rome to assist the father of his mistress in
-obtaining the divorce.
-
-Having taken the letters, he found the emperor had treated his
-ambassador with the utmost contempt, remarking to Wiltshire that he was
-an interested party, since he was father of the queen’s rival, and he
-would have to inform Henry VIII. that the emperor was not a merchant
-to sell the honor of his aunt for three hundred thousand crowns, even
-if he proposed to abandon her cause, but, on the contrary, he should
-defend it to the last extremity; and after saying this, the emperor had
-deliberately turned his back on the ambassador and forbidden him to be
-again admitted to his presence.
-
-Henry grew red and white alternately.
-
-“I am, then, the laughing-stock of Europe,” he murmured through his
-firmly-set teeth.
-
-Numerous other explanations followed, in which the Earl of Wiltshire
-gave an exact and circumstantial account of the offer he had made to the
-Holy Father of the treatise composed by Cromwell on the subject of the
-divorce, saying that he had brought the author with him, who was prepared
-to sustain the opinions advanced against all opposition. He ended by
-informing the king that, in spite of his utmost efforts, he had not been
-able to prevent the pope from according the emperor a brief forbidding
-Henry to celebrate another marriage before the queen’s case had been
-entirely decided, and enjoining him to treat her in the meantime as his
-legitimate wife.
-
-Wiltshire sent with his letter an especial copy of that document,
-adding that he feared the information the Holy Father had received of
-the violence exercised by the English universities toward those doctors
-who had voted against the divorce, together with the money and promises
-distributed among those of France, especially the University of Paris, to
-obtain favorable decisions, had not contributed toward influencing him.
-
-The king read and re-read several times all these statements, and was
-entirely overwhelmed with indignation and disappointment.
-
-“And why,” he angrily exclaimed, dashing the earl’s letter as far as
-possible from him--“why have these flatterers surrounding me always
-assured me I would succeed in my undertaking? Why could they not
-foresee that it would be impossible? and why have I not found a sincere
-friend who might have admonished me? More!” he cried after a moment’s
-silence--“More, I am most miserable! What could be more unjust? I am
-devoted to Lady Anne Boleyn as my future wife; and now they wish to make
-me renounce her. The emperor’s intrigues prevail, and against all laws,
-human and divine, they condemn me to eternal celibacy!”
-
-“Ah!” replied Sir Thomas in a firm but sadly respectful manner, “yes, it
-is indeed distressing to see your majesty thus voluntarily destroy your
-own peace, that of your kingdom, the happiness of your subjects, the
-regard for your own honor, so many benefits, in fact, and all for the
-foolish love of a girl who possesses neither worth nor reputation.”
-
-“More,” exclaimed the king, “do not speak of her in this manner! She is
-young and thoughtless, but in her heart she is devoted to me.”
-
-“That is,” replied More, “she is entirely devoted to the crown; she loves
-dearly the honors of royalty, and her pride is doubly flattered.”
-
-“More,” said the king, “I forgive you for speaking thus to me; your
-severe morals, your austere virtues, have not permitted you to experience
-the torments of love, and that is why,” he added gloomily, “you cannot
-comprehend its irresistible impulses and true sentiments.”
-
-“Nothing that is known to one man is unknown to another,” replied More.
-“Love, in itself, is a sublime sentiment that comes from God; but, alas!
-men drag it in the dust, like all else they touch, and too often mistake
-the appearance for the reality. To love anyone, O my king!” continued
-More, “is it not to prefer them in all things above yourself, to consider
-yourself as nothing, and be willing to sacrifice without regret all that
-you would wish to possess?”
-
-“Yes,” said Henry VIII.; “and that is the way I love Anne--more than my
-life, more than the entire world!”
-
-“No, no, sire!” exclaimed More, “don’t tell me that. No, don’t say you
-love her; say you love the pleasure she affords you, the attractions she
-possesses, which have charmed your senses--in a word, acknowledge that
-you love yourself in her, and consider well that the day when nature
-deprives her of her gifts and graces your memory will no longer represent
-her to you but as an insipid image, worthy only of a scornful oblivion!
-Ah! if you loved her truly, you would act in a different manner. You
-would never have considered aught but her happiness and her interests;
-you would blush for her, and you would not be able to endure the thought
-of the shame with which you have not hesitated to cover her yourself in
-the eyes of all your court!”
-
-“Perhaps,” … replied Henry in a low and altered voice. “But she--she
-loves me; I cannot doubt that.”
-
-“She loves the King of England!” replied More excitedly, “but not Henry;
-she loves the mighty prince who ignominiously bends his neck beneath the
-yoke which she pleases to impose on him. But poor and destitute, her
-glance would never have fallen upon you. Proud of her beauty, vain of
-her charms, she holds you like a conquered vassal whom she governs by a
-gesture or a word. She loves riches, honors and the pleasures with which
-you surround her. She is dazzled by the _éclat_ of the high rank you
-occupy, and, to attain it, she fears not to purchase it at the price of
-your soul and all that you possess. What matters to her the care of your
-honor or the love of your subjects? Has she ever said to you: ‘Henry, I
-love you, but your duty separates you from me; be great, be virtuous’?
-Has she said: ‘Catherine, your wife, is my sovereign, and I recognize no
-other’? Do you not hear the voice of your people saying to your children:
-‘You shall reign over us’? But what am I saying? No, of course she has
-not spoken thus; because she seeks to elevate herself, she thinks of her
-own aggrandizement--to see at her feet men whom she would never otherwise
-be able to command.”
-
-“What shall I do, then, what shall I do?” cried Henry dolorously.
-
-“Marry Anne Boleyn,” replied Thomas More coolly; “you should do it, since
-you have broken off her marriage with the Earl of Northumberland. If not,
-send her away from court.”
-
-“I will do it! … No, I will not do it!” he exclaimed, almost in the same
-breath. “I shall never be able to do it.”
-
-“That is to say, you never intend to do it,” replied More. “We can always
-accomplish what we resolve.”
-
-“No, no,” replied Henry; “we cannot always do what we wish. Everything
-conspires against me. Tired of willing, I can make nothing bend to my
-will! Of what use is my royal power? To be happy is a thing impossible!”
-
-“Yes, of all things in this life most impossible,” answered More; “and he
-who aspires to attain it finds his miseries redoubled at the very moment
-he thinks they will terminate. The possession of unlawful pleasures is
-poisoned by the remorse that follows in their train; and, frightened by
-their insecurity and short duration, we are prevented from enjoying them
-in quietness and peace.”
-
-“Then,” cried Henry VIII., stamping his foot violently on the floor, “we
-had better be dead.”
-
-“Yes,” replied Thomas More, “and to-morrow perhaps we may be!”
-
-“To-morrow!” repeated the king, as if struck with terror. “No, no, More,
-not to-morrow. … I would not be willing now to appear in the presence of
-God.”
-
-“Then,” replied More, “how can you expect to live peaceably in a
-condition in which you are afraid to die? In a few hours, or at least in
-a few years (that is as certain as the light of day which shines this
-moment), your life and mine will have to end, leaving nothing more than
-regrets for the past and fears for the future.”
-
-“You say truly, More,” replied the king; “but life appears so long to
-us, the future so far removed! Is it necessary, then, that we be always
-thinking of it and sacrificing our pleasures?… Later--well, we will
-change. Will we not have more time then to think of it?”
-
-“Ah!” replied More sadly, “there remains very little time to him who is
-always putting off until to-morrow.”
-
-As he heard the last words, the king’s face grew instantly crimson. He
-kept More with him, entertaining him with his trials and vexations, and
-the night was far advanced before he permitted him to retire.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-During four entire days the king remained shut up in his apartment, and
-Anne Boleyn vainly attempted to gain admittance.
-
-Meanwhile, a rumor of her downfall spread rapidly through the palace. The
-courtiers who were accustomed to attend her _levées_ in greater numbers
-and much more scrupulously than those of Queen Catherine, suddenly
-discontinued, and on the last occasion scarcely one of them made his
-appearance. They also took great care to preserve a frigid reserve and
-doubtful politeness, which excited to the last degree her alarm and that
-of her ambitious family.
-
-The latter were every moment in dread of the blow that seemed ready to
-fall upon them. In this state of gloomy disquiet every circumstance
-was anxiously noted and served to excite their apprehensions. They
-continually discussed among themselves the arrival of the despatches
-from Rome, the nature of which they suspected from the very long time
-Sir Thomas More had remained with the king. Then they refreshed their
-memories with reflections on the inflexible severity of the lord
-chancellor, his old attachment for Queen Catherine--an attachment which
-the elevation of More had never interrupted, as they had hoped would be
-the case. Finally, the sincerity of his nature and the estimation in
-which he was held by the king made them, with great reason, apprehend
-the influence of his counsel. Already they found themselves abandoned
-by almost all of those upon whose support they had relied. Suffolk,
-leagued with them heretofore, in order to secure the downfall of Cardinal
-Wolsey, now regarded them in their disgrace as of little consequence to
-one so closely related as himself to his majesty by the princess, his
-wife. The Duke of Norfolk, justly proud of his birth, his wealth, and his
-reputation, could not believe the power with which the influence of his
-niece had clothed him in the council by any means bound him to engage
-in or compromise himself in her cause. In the meantime they realized
-that they would inevitably be compelled to succumb or make a last and
-desperate effort, and they resolved with one accord to address themselves
-to Cromwell, whose shrewdness and cunning, joined to the motives of
-self-interest that could be brought to bear on him, seemed to offer them
-a last resort.
-
-Cromwell immediately understood all the benefit he would be likely to
-derive from the situation whether he succeeded or failed in the cause
-of Anne Boleyn, and determined, according to his own expression, to
-“make or unmake.” He wrote to the king, demanding an audience. “He fully
-realized,” he wrote, with his characteristic adroitness, “his entire
-incapacity for giving advice, but neither his devoted affection nor his
-sense of duty would permit him to remain silent when he knew the anxiety
-his sovereign was suffering. It might be deemed presumptuous in him
-to say it, but he believed all the difficulties embarrassing the king
-arose from the timidity of his advisers, who were misled by exterior
-appearances or deceived by the opinions of the vulgar.”
-
-The king immediately granted him an audience, although his usual custom
-was to remain entirely secluded and alone while laboring under these
-violent transports of passion. He hoped that Cromwell might be able to
-present his opinions with such ability as would at least be sufficient to
-divert him from the wretchedness he experienced.
-
-Cromwell appeared before him with eyes cast down and affecting an air of
-sadness and constraint.
-
-“Sire,” he said, as he approached the king, “yesterday, even yesterday,
-I was happy--yes, happy in the thought of being permitted to present
-myself before your majesty; because it seemed to me I might be able to
-offer some consolation for the anxieties you experience by reminding you
-that nothing should induce you to pause in your efforts to advance the
-interests of the kingdom and the state. But to-day, in appearing before
-you, I know not what to say. This morning Lady Boleyn, being informed
-that I was to have the happiness of seeing your majesty, sent for me and
-charged me with the commission of asking your majesty’s permission for
-her to withdraw from court.”
-
-“What!” exclaimed Henry, rising hastily to his feet, “she wishes to leave
-me?--she, my only happiness, my only joy? Never!”
-
-“I have found her,” continued Cromwell, seeming not to remark the
-painful uneasiness he had aroused in the king’s mind--“I have found her
-plunged in a state of indescribable grief. She was almost deprived of
-consciousness; her beautiful eyes were weighed down with tears, her long
-hair hanging neglected around her shoulders; and her pale, transparent
-cheek made her resemble a delicate white rose bowed on its slender stem
-before the violence of the tempest. ‘Go, my dear Cromwell,’ she said to
-me with a tremulous voice, but sweet as the soft expiring notes of an
-æolian lyre--‘go, say to my king, to my lord, I ask his permission to
-retire this day to my father’s country-seat. I know that I am surrounded
-by enemies, but, while favored by his protection, I have not feared their
-malice. But now I feel, and cannot doubt it, I shall become their victim,
-since they have succeeded in prejudicing my sovereign against me to such
-an extent that he refuses to hear my defence.’”
-
-“What can she be afraid of here?” cried the king. “Who would dare offend
-her in my palace?”
-
-“Who will be able to defend her if your majesty abandons her?” replied
-Cromwell in a haughty tone, feigning to forget the humble demeanor he had
-assumed, and mentally applauding the success of his stratagem. “Has she
-not given up all for you? Every day she has wounded by her refusals the
-greatest lords of the realm, who have earnestly sued for her heart and
-hand; but she has constantly refused to listen to them because of the
-love she bears for you--always preferring the uncertain hope of one day
-becoming yours to all the brilliant advantages of the wealthiest suitors
-she has been urged to accept. But to-day, when her honor is attacked,
-when you banish her from your presence, she feels she will not have
-the courage to endure near you such wretchedness, and she asks to be
-permitted to withdraw from court at once and for ever!”
-
-“For ever?” repeated the king. “Cromwell, has she said that? Have you
-heard her right? No, Cromwell, you are mistaken! I know her better than
-you.” And he turned on Cromwell a keen, scrutinizing glance.
-
-But nothing could daunt this audacious man.
-
-“She said all I have told you,” replied the hypocrite, with the coolest
-assurance, raising his head haughtily. “Would I dare to repeat what I
-have not heard? And your majesty can imagine that my devotion has alone
-induced me to become the bearer of so painful a message; for I could not
-believe, your majesty had ceased to love her.”
-
-“Never!” cried the king. “Never have I for one moment ceased to adore
-her! But listen, dear Cromwell, and be convinced of how wretched I am!
-Yesterday I received from Rome the most distressing intelligence. I
-had written the pope a letter, signed by a great number of lords of my
-court and bishops of the kingdom, in which they expressed the fears they
-entertained of one day seeing the flames of civil war break out in this
-country if I should die without male heirs, as there would be grounds for
-contesting the right of my daughter Mary to the throne on the score of
-her legitimacy. But nothing can move him.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Here the king rose, furiously indignant. “He has answered this petition,”
-he cried, walking with hurried strides up and down the floor; “and
-how?… By my faith, I can scarcely repeat it.… That he pardons the terms
-they have used in their letter, attributing them to the affection they
-bear for me; that he is under still greater obligations to me than
-they have mentioned; that it is not his fault if the affair of the
-divorce remains undecided; that he has sent legates to England; that
-the queen has refused to recognize them, and appealed from all they
-have done; that he has tried vainly in every possible way to terminate
-the affair amicably; and, furthermore, ‘You will, perhaps, be ready to
-say,’ he writes, ‘that, being under so many obligations to the king as
-I am, I should waive all other considerations and accord him absolutely
-everything he asks.’ Although that would be sovereignly unjust, yet he
-can conclude nothing else from their letter; that they reflect not on
-the queen having represented to him, that all Christendom is scandalized
-because they would attempt to annul a marriage contracted so many years
-ago, at the request of two great kings and under a dispensation from the
-pope--a marriage confirmed by the birth of several children! And what
-else? Let me see:… That if I rely on the opinion of several doctors and
-universities, he refers, on his part, to the law of God upon the sanctity
-and unity of marriage, and the highest authorities taken from the Hebrew
-and Latin writers; that the decisions of the universities which I bring
-forward are supported by no proofs; he cannot decide finally upon that,
-and, if he should precipitate his judgment, they would no longer be able
-to avert the evils with which it is said England is threatened; that he
-desires as much as they that I may have male heirs, but he is not God
-to give them to me; he has no greater wish than to please me as far as
-lies in his power, without at the same time violating all the laws of
-justice and equity; and, finally, he conjures them to cease demanding
-of him things that are opposed to his conscience, in order that he may
-be spared the pain of refusing! Mark that well, Cromwell--the pain of
-refusing! Thus, you see, after having tried everything, spent everything,
-and used every possible means, what remains now for me to hope?”
-
-“All that you wish,” replied Cromwell; “everything without exception!
-Why permit yourself to be governed by those who ought to be your slaves?
-Among all the clergy who surround you, and whom you are able to reduce,
-if you choose, to mendicity, can you not find a priest who will marry
-you? If I were King of England, I would very soon convince them that
-the happiness of _their_ lives depended entirely upon _mine_! Threaten
-to withdraw from the authority of Rome, and you will very soon see them
-yielding, on their knees, to all your demands.”
-
-“Cromwell,” said Henry VIII., “I admire your spirit and the boldness of
-the measures you advocate. From this moment I open to you the door of my
-council. Remember the kindness and the signal favor with which I have
-honored you. However, your inexperienced zeal carries you too far; you
-forget that the day I would determine really to separate myself from the
-Church of Rome, I would become schismatic, and the people would refuse to
-obey me. Moreover I am a Catholic, and I wish to die one.”
-
-“What of that?” replied Cromwell. “Am I not also a Catholic? Because your
-majesty frightens the pope, will he cease to exist? Declare to him that
-from this day you no longer recognize his authority; that you forbid the
-clergy paying their tithes to, or receiving from him their nominations.
-You will see, then, if the next day your present marriage is not
-annulled and the one you wish to contract approved and ratified.”
-
-“Do you really believe it?” said the king.
-
-“I am sure of it,” replied Cromwell.
-
-“No,” said the king. “It is a thing utterly impossible; the bishops would
-refuse to accede to any such requirements, and they would be right. They
-know too well that it is essential for the church to have a head in order
-to maintain her unity, and without it nothing would follow but confusion
-and disorder.”
-
-“Well! who can prevent your majesty from becoming yourself that head?”
-exclaimed Cromwell. “Is England not actually a monster now with two
-heads, one of them wanting a thing, and the other not? Follow the example
-given you by those German princes who are freeing themselves from the
-yoke which has humbled them for so many years before the throne of a
-pontiff who is a stranger alike to their affections and their interests!
-Then everything anomalous will rectify itself, and your subjects cease
-to believe that any other than yourself is entitled to their homage or
-submission.”
-
-“You are right, little Cromwell!” cried Henry VIII., this seductive and
-perfidious discourse flattering at the same time his guilty passion and
-the ambition that divided his soul. “But how would you proceed about
-executing this marvellous project, of which a thought had already crossed
-my own mind?--for, as I have just told you, the clergy will refuse to
-obey me, and I shall then have no means of compelling them.”
-
-“Your consideration and kindness make you forget,” replied Cromwell
-adroitly, afraid of wounding the king’s pride, “the statutes of præmunire
-offer you means both sure and easy. Is it not by those laws they have
-tried Wolsey before the Parliament? In condemning him they have condemned
-themselves, and have made themselves amenable to the same penalties. You
-have them all in your power. Threaten to punish them in their turn, if
-they refuse to take the oath acknowledging you as head of the church; and
-do it fearlessly if they dare attempt to resist you.”
-
-“Well, little Cromwell,” said Henry VIII., slapping him familiarly on
-the shoulder, “I observe with great satisfaction your coolness and the
-variety of resources you have at command. You see everything at a glance
-and fear nothing. I have made all these objections only to hear how
-you would meet them. Here, take these Roman documents, read them for
-yourself, and you will be better able to appreciate their contents; while
-I go and beg Anne to forget the wrongs I so cruelly reproach myself with
-having inflicted on her.”
-
-Saying this, Henry VIII. went out, and Cromwell followed him with his
-eyes as he walked through the long gallery.
-
-An ironical smile hovered over his thin and bloodless lips as he watched
-him. “Go, go,” he murmured to himself, “throw yourself at the feet of
-your silly mistress, and ask her pardon for wishing her to be queen
-of England. They are grand, very grand, these kings, and yet they
-find themselves very often held in the hollow of the hand of some low
-and crafty flatterer! ‘Despicable creature!’ they will say. Yes, I am
-despicable in the eyes of many; and yet they prepare, by my advice,
-to overthrow the pillars of the church, in order to enrich me with its
-consecrated spoils.”
-
-He laughed a diabolical laugh; then suddenly his face grew dark, and a
-fierce, malignant gleam shot from his eyes. “Go,” he continued--“go,
-prince as false as you are wicked. I, at least, am your equal in cunning
-and duplicity. You were not created for good, and the odious voice of
-More will call you in vain to the path of virtue. My tongue--ay, mine--is
-to you far sweeter! It carries a poison that you will suck with eager
-lips. The son of the poor fuller will make you his partner in crime. He
-will recline with you on your velvet throne, and perfidious cruelty will
-unite us heart and soul!… Go, seek that fool whom you adore and who will
-weary you very soon, and the vile, ambitious father who has begotten
-her. But, for me! … destroy your kingdom, profane the sanctuary, light
-the funeral pyre, and compel all those to mount it who shall oppose the
-laws Cromwell will dictate to you! Two ferocious beasts to-day share the
-throne of England! You will surfeit me with gold, and I will make you
-drunk with blood! You shall proclaim aloud what I shall have whispered
-in your ear! Ha! who of the two will be really king--Henry VIII. or
-Cromwell? Why, Cromwell, without doubt; because he was born in the mire.
-He has learned how to fly while the other was being fledged beneath the
-shadow of the crown! You have been reared within these walls of gold,”
-continued Cromwell, surveying the magnificent adornings of the royal
-chamber; “these exquisite perfumes, escaping from fountains and flowers,
-have always surround you. You have never known, like me, abandonment and
-want, suffered from cold and hunger in a thatched cottage, and imbibed
-the hatred, fostered in those abodes of wretchedness, against the rich;
-but I have cherished that rage in my inmost soul! There it burns like a
-consuming fire! I will have a palace. I will have power and be feared.
-Servile courtiers shall fawn at my feet, adulation shall surround me. I
-would grasp the entire world, and yet the cry of my soul would be, More,
-still more!”
-
-Saying this, Cromwell threw himself into the king’s arm-chair, and,
-pushing contemptuously from him the papers he had taken to read,
-abandoned himself entirely to the furious thirst of avarice and ambition
-that devoured him.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The curfew had already sounded many hours, and profound silence reigned
-over the city. Not a sound was heard throughout the dark and winding
-streets, save the boisterous shouts of some midnight revellers returning
-from a party of pleasure, or the dreary and monotonous song of a besotted
-inebriate as he staggered toward his home.
-
-In the mansion of the French ambassador, however, no one had retired; and
-young De Vaux, impatiently waiting the return of M. du Bellay, paced with
-measured tread up and down the large hall where for many hours supper had
-been served.
-
-Weary with listening for the sound of footsteps, and hearing only
-the mournful sighing of the night-wind, he at length seated himself
-before the fire in a great tapestried arm-chair whose back, rising
-high above his head, turned over in the form of a canopy, and gave him
-the appearance of a saint reposing in the depths of his shrine. For
-a long time he watched the sparks as they flew upward from the fire,
-then, taking a book from his pocket, he opened it at random; but before
-reaching the bottom of the first page his eyes closed, the book fell from
-his hands, and he sank into a profound sleep, from which he was aroused
-only by the noise made by the ambassador’s servants on the arrival of
-their master.
-
-M. de Vaux, being suddenly aroused from sleep, arose hastily to his feet
-on seeing the ambassador enter.
-
-“I have waited for you with the greatest impatience,” he exclaimed with a
-suppressed yawn.
-
-“Say, rather, you have been sleeping soundly in your chair,” replied M.
-du Bellay, smiling. “Here!” he continued, turning toward the valets who
-followed him, “take my cloak and hat, and then leave us; you can remove
-the table in the morning.”
-
-Obedient to their master’s orders, they lighted several more lamps and
-retired, not without regret, however, at losing the opportunity of
-catching, during the repast, a word that might have satisfied their
-curiosity as to the cause of M. du Bellay having remained at the king’s
-palace until so late an hour.
-
-“Well, monsieur! what has been done at last?” eagerly inquired young De
-Vaux as soon as they had left.
-
-“In truth, I cannot yet comprehend it myself,” replied Du Bellay. “In
-spite of all my efforts, it has been impossible to clearly unravel the
-knot of intrigue. This morning, as you know, nothing was talked of but
-the downfall of Anne Boleyn. I was delighted; her overthrow would have
-dispensed us from all obligations. Now the king is a greater fool about
-her than ever, and, unless God himself strikes a blow to sever them, I
-believe nothing will cure him of his infatuation. As I entered, his first
-word was to demand why I had been so long in presenting myself. ‘Sire,’
-I replied, ‘I have come with the utmost haste, I assure you, and am here
-ready to execute any orders it may please you to give!’”
-
-“‘Listen,’ he then said to me. ‘I have several things to tell you; but
-the first of all is to warn you of my determination to arrest Cardinal
-Wolsey. I am aware that you have manifested a great deal of interest in
-him; … that you have even gone to see him when he was sick; … but that
-is of no consequence. I am far from believing that you are in any manner
-concerned in the treason he has meditated against me. Therefore I have
-wished to advise you, that you may feel no apprehension on that account.’
-I was struck with astonishment. ‘What! sire,’ I at last answered, ‘the
-cardinal betray you? Why, he is virtually banished from England, where he
-occupies himself, they say, only in doing works of charity and mercy.’
-‘I know what I say to you,’ replied the king; ‘his own servants accuse
-him of conspiring against the state. But I shall myself examine into the
-depths of this accusation. In the meantime he shall be removed to the
-Tower, and I will send Sir Walsh with instructions to join the Earl of
-Northumberland, in order to arrest Wolsey at Cawood Castle, where he is
-now established.’”
-
-“Is it possible?” cried De Vaux, interrupting M. du Bellay. “That
-unfortunate cardinal! Who could have brought down this new storm on his
-head? M. du Bellay, do you believe him capable of committing this crime,
-even if it were in his power?”
-
-“I do not believe a word of it,” replied M. du Bellay, “and I know
-not who has excited this new storm of persecution. I have tried every
-possible means to ascertain from the king, but he constantly evaded
-my questions by answering in a vague and obscure manner. I have been
-informed in the palace that he had seen no person during the day, except
-Cromwell, Lady Boleyn, and the Duke of Suffolk. Might this not be the
-result of a plot concocted between them? This is only a conjecture, and
-we may never get at the bottom of the affair. But let us pass on to
-matters of more importance. The mistress is in high favor again. The king
-is determined to marry her, and has proclaimed in a threatening manner
-that he will separate himself from the communion of Rome, and no more
-permit the supremacy of the Sovereign Pontiff to be recognized in his
-kingdom. He demands that the King of France shall do the same, and rely
-on his authority in following his example.”
-
-“What!” cried De Vaux, astounded by this intelligence. “And how have you
-answered him, my lord?”
-
-“I said all that I felt authorized or could say,” replied Du Bellay;
-“but what means shall we use to persuade a man so far transported and
-subjugated by his passions that he seems to be a fool--no longer capable
-of reasoning, of comprehending either his duty, the laws, or the future?
-I have held up to him the disruption of his kingdom, the horrors that
-give birth to a war of religion, the blood that it would cause him to
-spill.”
-
-“‘I shall spill as much of it as may be necessary,’ he replied, ‘to make
-them yield. They will have their choice. Already the representatives of
-the clergy have been ordered to assemble. Well! they shall decide among
-themselves which is preferable--death, exile, or obedience to my will.’
-
-“Whilst saying this,” continued M. du Bellay, with a gloomy expression,…
-“he played with a bunch of roses, carelessly plucking off the leaves with
-his fingers.”
-
-“But what has been able to bring the king, in so short a time, to such an
-extremity?” asked De Vaux, whose eyes, full of astonishment and anxiety,
-interrogated those of M. du Bellay.
-
-“His base passions, without doubt; and, still more, the vile flattery
-coming from some one of those he has taken into favor,” replied Du
-Bellay impatiently.… “I tried in vain to discover who the arch-hypocrite
-could be, but the king was never for a moment thrown off his guard; he
-constantly repeated: ‘_I_ have resolved on this; _I_ will do that!’ … I
-shall find out, however, hereafter,” continued Du Bellay; “but at present
-I am in ignorance.”
-
-“Has he said anything to you about the grand master?” asked De Vaux.
-
-“No; but it seems he has been very much exercised on account of the
-cordial reception Chancellor Duprat gave Campeggio when he passed through
-France. ‘That man has behaved very badly toward me,’ he said sharply. ‘I
-was so lenient as to let him leave my kingdom unmolested, after having
-hesitated a long time whether I should not punish him severely for his
-conduct; and, behold, one of your ministers receives and treats him with
-the utmost magnificence!’
-
-“I assured him no consequence should be attached to that circumstance,
-and pretended that Chancellor Duprat was so fond of good cheer and
-grand display he had doubtless been too happy to have an opportunity of
-parading his wealth and luxury before the eyes of a stranger.
-
-“He then renewed the attack against Wolsey. ‘If that be the case,’ he
-exclaimed, ‘this must be a malady common to all these chancellors; for my
-lord cardinal was also preparing to give a royal reception in the capital
-of his realm of York; but, unfortunately,’ he added with an ironical
-sneer, ‘I happen to be his master, and we have somewhat interfered with
-his plans.’ He then attacked the pope, then our king; and finally, while
-the hour of midnight was striking, exhausted with anger and excitement,
-to my great relief, he permitted me to retire. Now,” added M. du Bellay,
-“we will have to spend the rest of the night in writing, and to-morrow
-the courier must be despatched.”
-
-TO BE CONTINUED
-
-
-PRUSSIA AND THE CHURCH.
-
-II.
-
-In February, 1848, Louis Philippe was driven from his throne by the
-people of Paris, and the Republic was proclaimed. This revolution rapidly
-spread over the whole of Europe. The shock was most violent in Germany,
-where everything was in readiness for a general outburst. Most of the
-governments were compelled to yield to the popular will and to make
-important concessions. New cabinets were formed in Würtemberg, Darmstadt,
-Nassau, and Hesse. Lewis of Bavaria was forced to abdicate. Hanover and
-Saxony held out until Berlin and Vienna were invaded by the revolutionary
-party, when they too succumbed. On the 13th of March the Vienna mob
-overthrew the Austrian ministry, and Metternich fled to England.
-Italy and Hungary revolted. Berlin was held all summer by an ignorant
-revolutionary faction. In September fierce and bloody riots broke out in
-Frankfort.
-
-Popular meetings, secret societies, revolutionary clubs, violent
-declamations, and inflammatory appeals through the press kept all Germany
-in a state of agitation. Occasional outbreaks among the peasantry,
-followed by pillage and incendiarism, increased the general confusion.
-
-It was during this time of wild excitement that the elections for the
-Imperial Parliament were held. To this assembly many avowed atheists,
-pantheists, communists, and Jacobins were chosen--men who fully agreed
-with Hecker when he declared that “there were six plagues in Germany--the
-princes, the nobles, the bureaucrats, the capitalists, the parsons,
-and the soldiers.” The parties in the Parliament took their names from
-their positions in the assembly hall, and were called the extreme left,
-the left, the left centre, the right centre, the right, and the extreme
-right. The first three were composed of red republicans, Jacobins, and
-liberals. To the right centre belonged the constitutional liberals; and
-on the right and right centre sat the Catholic members, the predecessors
-of the party of the _Centrum_ of the present day. The extreme right was
-occupied by functionaries and bureaucrats, chiefly from Prussia. The
-Parliament of Frankfort, in the _Grundrechte_, or _Fundamental Rights_,
-which it proclaimed, decreed universal, suffrage, abolished all the
-political rights of the aristocracy, the hereditary chambers in all the
-states of Germany, set aside the existing family entails, and, though
-nominally it retained the imperial power, degraded the emperor to a
-republican president by giving him merely a suspensive veto.
-
-While this Parliament was sitting the Catholic bishops of Germany
-assembled in council at Würzburg, and, at the conclusion of their
-deliberations, drew up a Memorial as firm in tone as it was clear and
-precise in expression, in which they set forth the claims of the church.
-
-“To bring about,” they said, “a separation from the state--that is
-to say, from public order, which necessarily reposes on a moral and
-religious foundation--is not according to the will of the church. If the
-state will perforce separate from the church, so will the church, without
-approving, tolerate what it cannot avoid; and when not compelled by the
-duty of self-preservation, she will not break the bonds of union made
-fast by mutual understanding.
-
-“The church, entrusted with the solemn and holy mission, ‘As my Father
-hath sent me, so send I ye,’ requires for the accomplishment of this
-mission, whatever the form of government of the state may be, the fullest
-freedom and independence. Her holy popes, prelates, and confessors have
-in all ages willingly and courageously given up their life and blood for
-the preservation of this inalienable freedom.”
-
-In virtue of these principles the bishops, in this Memorial, claimed the
-right of directing, without any interference on the part of the state,
-theological seminaries, and of founding schools, colleges, and all kinds
-of educational establishments; of exerting canonical control, unfettered
-by state meddling, over the conduct of their clergy, as well as that of
-introducing into their dioceses religious orders, congregations, and
-pious confraternities, for which they demanded the same rights which the
-new political constitution had granted to secular associations. Finally,
-they asserted their right to free and untrammelled communication with the
-Holy See; and, as included in this, that of receiving and publishing all
-papal bulls, briefs, and other documents without the Royal Placet, which
-they declared to be repugnant to the honor and dignity of the ministers
-of religion.
-
-The Frankfort Parliament decreed the total separation of church and
-state, and was therefore compelled to guarantee the freedom of all
-religions. This separation was sanctioned by the Catholic members of the
-Assembly, who looked upon it as less dangerous to the cause of religion
-and morality than ecclesiastical Josephism. In the present conflict
-between the church and the German Empire the Catholic party has again
-demanded, and in vain, the separation of church and state. In rejecting
-their urgent request, Dr. Falk declared that the leading minds in England
-and America are already beginning to regret that their governments have
-so little control over the ecclesiastical organizations within their
-limits.
-
-Whilst the representatives of the German people at Frankfort were
-abolishing the privileges of the nobles, decreeing the separation of
-church and state, and forgetting the standing armies, the governments
-were quietly gathering their forces. Marshal Radetzky put down the
-Italian rebellion, Prince Windischgrätz quelled the democracy of Vienna,
-and General Wrangel took possession of Berlin, without a battle. Russia,
-at the request of Austria, sent an army into Hungary to destroy the
-rebellion in that country, and the disturbances in Bavaria and in the
-Palatinate were suppressed by Prussian troops under the present Emperor
-of Germany. The representatives of the larger states withdrew from the
-Frankfort Parliament, which dwindled, and finally, amidst universal
-contempt and neglect, came to an end at Stuttgart, June 18, 1849.
-
-But the liberties of the church were not lost. In Prussia, as we have
-seen, a better state of things had begun with the imprisonment of the
-heroic Archbishop of Cologne in 1837. In the face of the menacing
-attitude of the German democrats and republicans, Frederick William IV.
-confirmed the liberties of the Catholic Church by the letters-patent of
-1847.
-
-The constitutions of December 5, 1848, and January 31, 1850, were drawn
-up in the lurid light of the revolution, which had beaten fiercest upon
-the house of Hohenzollern. The king had capitulated to the insurgents,
-withdrawn his soldiers from the capital, and abandoned Berlin, and with
-it the whole state, for nine months to the tender mercies of the mob. He
-was forced to witness the most revolting spectacles. The dead bodies of
-the rioters were borne in procession under the windows of his palace,
-while the rabble shouted to him: “Fritz, off with your hat.”
-
-It is not surprising, in view of this experience, that we should
-find in the constitution of 1850 (articles 15 to 18 inclusive) a
-very satisfactory recognition of the rights of the church. Why these
-paragraphs granting the church freedom to regulate and administer its
-own affairs; to keep possession of its own revenues, endowments, and
-establishments, whether devoted to worship, education, or beneficence;
-and freely to communicate with the Pope, were inserted in the
-constitution, we know from Prince Bismarck himself. In his speech in
-the Prussian Upper House, March 10, 1873, he affirmed that “they were
-introduced at a time when the state needed, or thought it needed, help,
-and believed that it would find this help by leaning on the Catholic
-Church. It was probably led to this belief by the fact that in the
-National Assembly of 1848 all the electoral districts with a preponderant
-Catholic population returned--I will not say royalist representatives,
-but certainly men who were the friends of order, which was not the case
-in the Protestant districts.”
-
-The provisions of the constitution of 1850 with regard to the church were
-honorably and faithfully carried out down to the beginning of the present
-conflict. Never since the Reformation had the church in Prussia been
-so free, never had she made such rapid progress, whether in completing
-her internal organization or in extending her influence. The Prussian
-liberals and atheists, who had fully persuaded themselves that without
-the wealth and aid of the state the Catholic religion would have no
-force, were amazed. The influence of the priests over the people grew
-in proportion as they were educated more thoroughly in the spirit and
-discipline of the church under the immediate supervision of the bishops,
-unfettered by state interference; the number of convents, both of men
-and women, rapidly increased; associations of all kinds, scientific,
-benevolent, and religious, spread over the land; religious journals and
-reviews were founded in which Catholic interests were ably advocated and
-defended; and all the forces of the church were unified and guided by the
-harmonious action of a most enlightened and zealous episcopate.
-
-This was the more astonishing as the Evangelical Church, whose liberties
-had also been guaranteed by the constitution of 1850, had shown itself
-unable to profit by the greater freedom of action which it had received.
-In fact, the Evangelical Church was lifeless, and it needed only this
-test to prove its want of vitality. It was a state creation, and in an
-age when the world had ceased to recognize the divine right of kings to
-create religions. It was only in 1817 that the Lutheran and Calvinistic
-churches of Prussia, together with the very name of Protestant, were
-abolished by royal edict, and a new Prussian establishment, under the
-title of “evangelical,” was imposed by the civil power upon a Protestant
-population of nearly eight millions, whose religious and moral sense
-was so dead that they seemed to regard with stolid indifference this
-interference of government with all that freemen deem most sacred in
-life. Acts of parliament may make “establishments,” but they cannot
-inspire religious faith and life; and it was therefore not surprising
-that, when the mummy of evangelicalism was put out into the open air of
-freedom by the constitution of 1850, it should have been revealed to all
-that the thing was dead.
-
-Nevertheless, the Prussian government continued to act toward the
-Catholic Church with great justice, and even friendliness, and the war
-against Catholic Austria in 1866 wrought no change in its ecclesiastical
-policy. Even the opening of the Vatican Council caused no alarm in
-Prussia; on the contrary, King William, as it was generally believed at
-least, was most civil to the Holy Father; and Prince Bismarck himself at
-that time saw no reason for apprehension, though he had been the head
-of the ministry already eight years. To what, then, are we to attribute
-Prussia’s sudden change of attitude toward the church? Who began the
-present conflict, and what was its provocation?
-
-This is a question which has been much discussed in the Prussian House of
-Deputies and elsewhere. Prince Bismarck has openly asserted in the House
-of Deputies within the past year that the provocation was the definition
-of papal infallibility by the Vatican Council on the 18th of June, 1870,
-and subsequently the hostile attitude of the party of the _Centrum_
-toward the German Empire.
-
-Herr von Kirchmann, a member of the German Parliament and of the Prussian
-House of Deputies, a national liberal, and not a Catholic, but in the
-main a sympathizer with the spirit of the Falk legislation, has recently
-discussed this whole subject with great ability, and--as far as it is
-possible for one who believes in the Hegelian doctrine that “the state is
-the present god”--also with fairness.[255]
-
-To Prince Bismarck’s first assertion, that the definition of papal
-infallibility was the unpardonable offence, which has been so strongly
-emphasized by Mr. Gladstone and re-echoed with parrot-like fidelity by
-the anti-Catholic press of Europe and America, Herr von Kirchmann makes
-the following reply:
-
-    “It is difficult to understand how so experienced a statesman
-    as Prince Bismarck can ascribe to this decree of the
-    council such great importance for the states of Europe, and
-    particularly for Prussia and Germany. To a theorizer sitting
-    behind his books such a decree, it may be allowed, might
-    appear to be something portentous, since, taken from a purely
-    theoretical stand-point and according to the letter, the
-    infallibility of the Pope in all questions of religion and
-    morals gives him unlimited control over all human action;
-    and many a Catholic, when called upon to receive this
-    infallibility as part of his faith, may have found that he
-    was unable to follow so far; but a statesman ought to know
-    how to distinguish, especially where there is question of
-    the Catholic Church, between the literal import of dogmas
-    and their use in practical life. In the Catholic Church as a
-    whole, this infallibility, as is well known, has existed from
-    the earliest times; its organ hitherto has been the Ecumenical
-    Council in union with the Pope; but already before 1870 it was
-    disputed whether the Pope might not alone act as the organ of
-    infallibility. In 1870 the question was decided in favor of
-    the Pope; but we must consider that the ecumenical councils
-    have, as history shows, nearly always framed their decrees
-    in accordance with the views of the court of Rome; and this,
-    of itself, proves that the change made in 1870 is rather one
-    of form than of essence. Especially false is it to maintain
-    that by this decree a complete revolution in the constitution
-    of the church has been made. To the theorizer we might grant
-    the abstract possibility that something of this kind might
-    some day or other happen; but such _possibilities_ of the
-    abuse of a right are found in all the relations of public
-    life, in the state and its representatives as well as in the
-    church. Even in constitutions the most carefully drawn up such
-    possibilities are found in all directions. What a statesman
-    has to consider is not mere possibilities, but the question
-    whether the possessor of such right is not compelled, from the
-    very nature of things, to make of it only the most moderate and
-    prudent use. So long, therefore, as the Pope does not alter
-    the constitution of the church, that constitution remains,
-    precisely in its ancient form, such as it has been recognized
-    and tolerated by the state for centuries: and wherever the
-    relations between particular states and the court of Rome
-    have been arranged by concordats, these too remain unchanged,
-    unless the states themselves find it convenient to depart from
-    them. We see, in fact, that this infallibility of the Pope
-    has in no country of Europe or America altered one jot or
-    tittle in the constitution of the Catholic Church; and where
-    in particular countries such changes have taken place, they
-    have not been made by the ecclesiastical government, but by
-    the state and in its interest. In Germany even, and in Prussia
-    itself, the Pope has, since 1870, made no change in the church
-    constitution, as determined by the Canon Law; and when, in
-    some of his encyclicals and other utterances, he has taken up
-    a hostile attitude towards the German Empire and the Prussian
-    state, he has done this only in defence against the aggressive
-    legislation of the civil government. He has never hesitated to
-    express his disapprobation of the new church laws, but he has
-    in no instance touched the constitution of the Catholic Church
-    or the rights of the bishops.”[256]
-
-It seems almost needless to remark that there is no necessary connection
-between the doctrine of Papal infallibility and that of the essential
-organization of the church; that the jurisdiction of the Pope was as
-great, and universally recognized as such by Catholics, before the
-Vatican Council as since; and consequently that it is not even possible
-that the definition of 1870 should make any change in his authoritative
-relation to, or power over, the church. His jurisdiction is wider than
-his infallibility, and independent of it; and the duty of obedience to
-his commands existed before the dogma was defined precisely as it exists
-now; and therefore it is clearly manifest that the Vatican decree cannot
-give even a plausible pretext for such legislation as the Falk Laws.
-
-    “Not less singular,” continues Herr von Kirchmann, “does it
-    sound to hear the party of the _Centrum_ in the Reichstag
-    and Prussian Landtag denounced as the occasion of the new
-    regulations between church and state. The members of this party
-    notoriously represent the views and wishes of the majority
-    of their constituents, and just as faithfully as the members
-    of the parties who side with the government. The reproach
-    that they receive their instructions from Rome is not borne
-    out by the facts; and if there were an understanding with
-    Rome of the kind which their adversaries affirm, this could
-    only be the result of a similar understanding on the part of
-    their constituents. Nothing could more strikingly prove that
-    the Catholic party faithfully represent the great majority in
-    their electoral districts than the repeated re-election of the
-    same representatives or of men of similar views. To this we
-    must add that the _Centrum_, though strong in numbers, is yet
-    in a decided minority both in the Reichstag and the Prussian
-    Landtag, and has always been defeated in its opposition to the
-    recent ecclesiastical legislation. If in other matters, by
-    uniting with opposition parties, it has caused the government
-    inconvenience, we have no right to ascribe this to feelings
-    of hostility; for on such occasions its orators have given
-    substantial political reasons for their opposition, and
-    instances enough might be enumerated in which, precisely
-    through the aid of the _Centrum_, many illiberal and dangerous
-    projects of law have fallen through; and for this the party
-    deserves the thanks of the country.
-
-    “The present action of the state against the Catholic Church
-    would be unjustifiable, if better grounds could not be adduced
-    in its favor. For the attentive observer, however, valid
-    reasons are not wanting. They are to be found, to put the
-    whole matter in a single word, in the great power to which
-    the Catholic Church in Prussia had attained by the aid of the
-    constitution and the favor of the government--a power which, if
-    its growth had been longer tolerated, would have become, not
-    indeed dangerous to the existence of the state, but a hindrance
-    to the right fulfilment of the ends of its existence.”[257]
-
-Neither the Vatican Council, then, nor the Catholics of Prussia have
-done anything to provoke the present persecution. To find fault with the
-German bishops for accepting the dogma of infallibility, after having
-strongly opposed its definition by the council, would be as unreasonable
-as to blame a member of Congress for admitting the binding force of a
-law the passage of which he had done everything in his power to prevent.
-Their duty, beyond all question, was to act as they have acted. This
-was not the offence: the unpardonable crime was that the church, as
-soon as she was unloosed from the fetters of bureaucracy, had grown too
-powerful. We doubt whether any more forcible argument in proof of the
-indestructible vitality of the church can be found than that which may be
-deduced from the universal consent of her enemies, of whatever shade of
-belief or unbelief, that the only way in which she can be successfully
-opposed is to array against her the strongest of human powers--that of
-the state. A complete revolution of thought upon this subject has taken
-place within the last half-century. Up to that time it was confidently
-held by Protestants as well as infidels that, to undermine and finally
-destroy the church, it would be simply necessary to withdraw from her the
-support of the state; that to her freedom would necessarily prove fatal.
-The experiment, as it was thought, had not been satisfactorily tried.
-Ireland, indeed, had held her faith for three hundred years, in spite of
-all that fiendish cruelty could invent to destroy it; but persecution
-has always been the life of the faith. In the United States the church
-had been free since the war of independence, but of us little was known;
-and, besides, down to, say, 1830 even the most thoughtful and far-sighted
-among us had serious doubts as to the future of the church in this
-country.
-
-But with the emancipation of the Catholics in Great Britain, the new
-constitution of the kingdom of Belgium, and the completer organization
-of the church in the United States, the test as to the action of freedom
-upon the progress of Catholic faith began to be applied over a wide and
-varied field and under not unfavorable circumstances. What the result
-has been we may learn from our enemies. Mr. Gladstone expostulates for
-Great Britain, and reaches a hand of sympathy to M. Emile de Laveleye
-in Belgium. Dr. Falk, Dr. Friedberg, and even the moderate Herr von
-Kirchmann, defend the tyrannical _May Laws_ as necessary to stop
-the growth of the church in Germany; and at home the most silent of
-Presidents and the most garrulous of bishops, forgetting that the cause
-of temperance has prior claims upon their attention, have raised the
-cry of alarm to warn their fellow-citizens of the dangerous progress of
-popery in this great and free country. Time was when “the Free Church in
-the Free State” was thought to be the proper word of command; but now
-it is “the Fettered Church in the Enslaved State,” since no state that
-meddles with the consciences of its subjects can be free.
-
-If there is anything for which we feel more especially thankful, it is
-that henceforth the cause of the church and the cause of freedom are
-inseparably united. We have heard to satiety that the Catholic Church is
-the greatest conservative force in the world, the most powerful element
-of order in society, the noblest school of respect in which mankind have
-ever been taught. Praised be God that now, as in the early days, he is
-making it impossible that Catholics should not be on the side of liberty,
-as the church has always been; so that all men may see that, if we love
-order the more, we love not liberty the less!
-
-“I will sing to my God as long at I shall be,” wrote an inspired king;
-“put not your trust in princes.” No, nor in governments, nor in states,
-but in God who is the Lord, and in the poor whom Jesus loved. From God
-out of the people came the church; through God back to the people is she
-going. We know there are still many Catholics who trust in kings and
-believe in salvation through them; but God will make them wiser. The
-Spirit that sits at the roaring Loom of Time will weave for them other
-garments. The irresistible charm of the church, humanly speaking, lies in
-the fact that she comes closer to the hearts of the people than any other
-power that has ever been brought to bear upon mankind.
-
-Having shown that the oppressive ecclesiastical legislation of Germany
-was not provoked by the church, and that its only excuse is the
-increasing power of the church, Herr von Kirchmann reduces all farther
-discussion of this subject to the two following heads: 1st. How far ought
-the state to go in setting bounds to this power of the Catholic Church?
-and 2d. What means ought it to employ?
-
-In view of the dangers with which every open breach of the peace between
-church and state is fraught for the people, it would have been advisable,
-he thinks, from political motives, to have tried to settle the difficulty
-by a mutual understanding between the two powers; nor would it, in his
-opinion, be derogatory to the sovereignty of the state to treat the
-church as an equal, since she embraces in her fold all the Catholics of
-the world, who have their directing head in the Pope, whose sovereign
-ecclesiastical power cannot, therefore, as a matter of fact, be called in
-question.
-
-That Prussia did not make any effort to see what could be effected by
-this policy of conciliation may, in the opinion of Herr von Kirchmann,
-find some justification in the fact that the government did not expect,
-and could not in 1871 foresee, the determined opposition of the Catholics
-to the May Laws of 1873. At any rate, as he thinks, the high and
-majestatic right of the state is supreme, and it alone must determine, in
-the ultimate instance, how far and how long it will acknowledge any claim
-of the church. Thus even this statesman, who is of the more moderate
-school of Prussian politicians, holds that the church has no rights which
-the state is bound to respect; that political interests are paramount,
-and conscience, in the modern as in the ancient pagan state, has no claim
-upon the recognition of the government. English and American Protestants,
-where their own interests are concerned, would be as little inclined to
-accept this doctrine as Catholics; in fact, this country was born of a
-protest against the assumption of state supremacy over conscience; and
-yet so blinding and misleading is prejudice that the Falk Laws receive
-their heart-felt sympathy.
-
-Though Herr von Kirchmann accepts without reservation the principles
-which underlie the recent Prussian anti-Catholic legislation, and
-thinks the May Laws have been drawn up with great wisdom and consummate
-knowledge of the precise points at which the state should oppose the
-growing power of the church, he yet freely admits that there are grave
-doubts whether the present policy of Prussia on this subject can be
-successfully carried out. That Prince Bismarck and Dr. Falk had but a
-very imperfect knowledge of the difficulties which lay in their path,
-the numerous supplementary bills which have been repeatedly introduced
-in order to give effect to the May Laws plainly show. Where there is
-question of principle and of conscience Prince Bismarck is not at home.
-He believes in force; like the first Napoleon, holds that Providence is
-always on the side of the biggest cannons; sneers about going to Canossa,
-as Napoleon mockingly asked the pope whether his excommunication would
-make the arms fall from the hands of his veterans. He knows the workings
-of courts, and is a master in the devious ways of diplomacy. He can
-estimate with great precision the resources of a country; he has a keen
-eye for the weak points of an adversary. His tactics, like Napoleon’s,
-are to bring to bear upon each given point of attack a force greater
-than the enemy’s. He has, in his public life, never known what it is to
-respect right or principle. With the army at his back he has trampled
-upon the Prussian constitution with the same daring recklessness with
-which he now violates the most sacred rights of conscience. Nothing, in
-his eyes, is holy but success, and he has been consecrated by it, so
-that the Bismarck-cultus has spread far beyond the fatherland to England
-and the United States. Carlyle has at last found a living hero, the very
-impersonation of the brute force which to him is ideal and admirable; and
-at eighty he offers incense and homage to the idol. We freely give Prince
-Bismarck credit for his remarkable gifts--indomitable will, reckless
-courage, practical knowledge of men, considered as intelligent automata
-whose movements are directed by a kind of bureaucratic and military
-mechanism; and this is the kind of men with whom, for the most part,
-he has had to deal. For your thorough Prussian, though the wildest of
-speculators and the boldest of theorizers, is the tamest of animals. No
-poor Russian soldier ever crouched more submissively beneath the knout
-than do the Prussian pantheists and culturists beneath the lash of a
-master. Like Voltaire, they probably prefer the rule of one fine Lion to
-that of a hundred rats of their own sort. Prince Bismarck knew his men,
-and we give him credit for his sagacity. Not every eye could have pierced
-the mist, and froth, and sound, and fury of German professordom, and
-beheld the craven heart that was beneath.
-
-Only men who believe in God and the soul are dangerous rebels. Why should
-he who has no faith make a martyr of himself? Why, since there is nothing
-but law, blind and merciless force, throw yourself beneath the wheels
-of the state Juggernaut to be crushed? The religion of culture is the
-religion of indulgence, and no godlike rebel against tyranny and brute
-force ever sprang from such worship. So long as Prince Bismarck had
-to deal with men who were nourished on “philosophy’s sweet milk,” and
-who worshipped at the altar of culture, who had science but not faith,
-opinions but not convictions, amongst whom, consequently, organic union
-was impossible, his policy of making Germany “by blood and iron” was
-successful enough. But, like all great conquerors, he longed for more
-kingdoms to subdue, and finding right around him a large and powerful
-body of German citizens who did not accept the “new faith” that the
-state--in other words, Prince Bismarck--is “the present god,” just as
-a kind of diversion between victories, he turned to give a lesson to
-the _Pfaffen_ and clerical _Dummköpfe_, who burnt no incense in honor
-of his divinity. In taking this step it is almost needless to say that
-Prince Bismarck sought to pass over a chasm which science itself does
-not profess to have bridged--that, namely, which lies between the
-worlds of matter and of spirit. Of the new conflict upon which he was
-entering he could have only vague and inaccurate notions. Nothing is so
-misleading as contempt--a feeling in which the wise never indulge, but
-which easily becomes habitual with men spoiled by success. To the man who
-had organized the armies and guided the policy which had triumphed at
-Sadowa and Sedan what opposition could be made by a few poor priests and
-beggar-monks? Would the arms fall from the hands of the proudest soldiers
-of Europe because the _Pfaffen_ were displeased? Or why should not the
-model culture-state of the world make war upon ignorance and superstition?
-
-Of the real nature and strength of the forces which would be marshalled
-in this great battle of souls a man of blood and iron could form no just
-estimate. “To those who believe,” said Christ, “all things are possible”;
-but what meaning have these words for Prince Bismarck? The soul, firm in
-its faith, appealing from tyrant kings and states to God, is invincible.
-Lifting itself to the Infinite, it draws thence a divine power. Like
-liberty, it is brightest in dungeons, in fetters freest, and conquers
-with its martyrdom. Needle-guns cannot reach it, and above the deadly
-roar of cannon it rises godlike and supreme.
-
-    “For though the giant Ages heave the hill
-    And break the shore, and evermore
-    Make and break and work their will;
-    Though world on world in myriad myriads roll
-    Round us, each with different powers
-    And other farms of life than ours,
-    What know we greater than the soul?
-    On God and godlike men we build our trust.”
-
-Men who have unwrapt themselves of the garb and vesture of thought and
-sentiment with which the world had dressed them out, who have been born
-again into the higher life, who have been clothed in the charity and
-meekness of Christ, who for his dear sake have put all things beneath
-their feet, who love not the world, who venerate more the rags of the
-beggar than the purple of Cæsar, who fear as they love God alone, for
-whom life is no blessing and death infinite gain, form the invincible
-army of Christ foredoomed to conquer. “This is the victory which
-overcometh the world--our Faith.”
-
-Who has ever forgotten those lines of Tacitus, inserted as an altogether
-trifling circumstance in the reign of Nero?--“So for the quieting of
-this rumor [of his having set fire to Rome] Nero judicially charged with
-the crime, and punished with most studied severities, that class, hated
-for their general wickedness, whom the vulgar call _Christians_. The
-originator of that name was one _Christ_, who in the reign of Tiberius
-suffered death by sentence of the procurator, Pontius Pilate. The baneful
-superstition, thereby repressed for the time, again broke out, not only
-over Judea, the native soil of the mischief, but in the City also,
-where from every side all atrocious and abominable things collect and
-flourish.”[258]
-
-“Tacitus,” says Carlyle, referring to this passage, “was the wisest, most
-penetrating man of his generation; and to such depth, and no deeper, has
-he seen into this transaction, the most important that has occurred or
-can occur in the annals of mankind.”
-
-We doubt whether Prince Bismarck to-day has any truer knowledge of the
-real worth and power of the living Catholic faith on which he is making
-war than had Tacitus eighteen hundred years ago, when writing of the rude
-German barbarians who were hovering on the confines of the Roman Empire,
-and who were to have a history in the world only through the action
-of that “baneful superstition” which he considered as one of the most
-abominable products of the frightful corruptions of his age.
-
-That the Prussian government was altogether unprepared for the determined
-though passive opposition to the May Laws which the Catholics have made,
-Herr von Kirchmann freely confesses. It was not expected that there
-would be such perfect union between the clergy and the people; on the
-contrary, it was generally supposed that, with the aid of the Draconian
-penalties threatened for the violation of the Falk Laws, the resistance
-of the priests themselves would be easily overcome. These men love their
-own comfort too much, said the culturists, to be willing to go to prison
-and live on beans and water for the sake of technicalities; and so they
-chuckled over their pipes and lager-beer at the thought of their easy
-victory over the _Pfaffen_. They were mistaken, and Herr von Kirchmann
-admits that the courage of the bishops and priests has not been broken
-but strengthened by their sufferings for the faith.
-
-    “So long as we were permitted to hope,” he says, “that we
-    should have only the priests to deal with, there was less
-    reason for doubt as to the policy of executing the laws in
-    all their rigor; but the situation was wholly altered when it
-    became manifest that the congregations held the same views as
-    the bishops and priests.… It is easy to see that all violent,
-    even though legal, proceedings of the government against these
-    convictions of the Catholic people can only weaken those
-    proper, and in the last instance alone effective, measures
-    through which the May Laws can successfully put bounds to
-    the growing power of the church. These measures--viz., a
-    better education of the people and a higher culture of the
-    priests--can, from the nature of things, exert their influence
-    only by degrees. Not till the next generation can we hope to
-    gather the fruit of this seed; and not then, indeed, if the
-    reckless execution of the May Laws calls forth an opposition
-    in the Catholic populations which will shake confidence in
-    the just intentions of the government, and beget in the
-    congregations feelings of hatred for everything connected
-    with this legislation. Such feelings will unavoidably be
-    communicated to the children, and the teacher will in
-    consequence be deprived of that authority without which his
-    instructions must lack the persuasive force that is inherent
-    in truth. In such a state of warfare even the higher culture
-    of the clergy must be useless. Those who stand on the side of
-    the government will, precisely on that account, fail to win the
-    confidence of their people; and the stronger the aged pastors
-    emphasize the Canon Law of the church, the more energetically
-    they extend the realms of faith even to the hierarchical
-    constitution of the church, the more readily and faithfully
-    will their congregations follow them.
-
-    “It cannot be dissembled that the government, through the
-    rigorous execution of the May Laws, is raging against its own
-    flesh and blood, and is thereby robbing itself of the only
-    means by which it can have any hope of finally coming forth
-    victorious from the present conflict. It may be objected that
-    the resistance which is now so widespread cannot be much longer
-    maintained, and that all that is needed to crush it and bring
-    about peace with the church is to increase the pressure of the
-    law. Assertions of this kind are made with great confidence
-    by the liberals of both Houses of the Landtag whenever the
-    government presents a new bill; and the liberal newspapers,
-    which never grow tired of this theme, declare that the result
-    is certain and even near at hand.
-
-    “Now, even though we should attach no importance to the
-    contrary assertions of the Catholic party, it is yet evident,
-    from the declarations of the government itself, that it is not
-    all confident of reaching this result with the aid of the means
-    which it has hitherto employed or of those in preparation,
-    but that it is making ready for a prolonged resistance of the
-    clergy, who are upheld and supported by the great generosity
-    of the Catholic people. The ovations which the priests receive
-    from their congregations when they come forth from prison are
-    not falling off, but are increasing; and this is equally true
-    of the pecuniary aid given to them. It is possible that much
-    of this may have been gotten up by the priests themselves
-    as demonstration; but the displeasure of the still powerful
-    government officials which the participants incur, and the
-    greatness of the money-offerings, are evidence of earnest
-    convictions.
-
-    “Nothing, however, so strongly witnesses to the existence of a
-    perfect understanding between the congregations and the priests
-    as the fact that, though the law of May, 1874, gave to those
-    congregations whose pastors had been removed or had not been
-    legally appointed by the bishops the right to elect a pastor,
-    yet not even one congregation has up to the present moment
-    made any use of this privilege. When we consider that the
-    number of parishes where there is no pastor must be at least
-    a hundred; that in itself such right of choice corresponds
-    with the wishes of the congregations; farther, that the law
-    requires for the validity of the election merely a majority
-    of the members who put in an appearance; that a proposition
-    made to the _Landrath_ by ten parishioners justifies him in
-    ordering an election; and that, on the part of the influential
-    officials and their organs, nothing has been left undone to
-    induce the congregations to demand elections, not easily could
-    a more convincing proof of the perfect agreement of the people
-    with their priests be found than the fact that to this day in
-    only two or three congregations has it been possible to hunt
-    up ten men who were willing to make such a proposal, and that
-    not even in a single congregation has an election of this kind
-    taken place.”[259]
-
-This is indeed admirable; and it may, we think, be fairly doubted
-whether, in the whole history of the church, so large a Catholic
-population has ever, under similar trials, shown greater strength
-or constancy. Of the peculiar nature of these trials we shall speak
-hereafter; the present article we will bring to a close with a few
-remarks upon what we conceive to have been one of the most important
-agencies in bringing about the perfect unanimity and harmony of action
-between priests and people to which the Catholics of Prussia must in
-great measure ascribe their immovable firmness in the presence of a most
-terrible foe. We refer to those Catholic associations in which cardinals,
-bishops, priests, and people have been brought into immediate contact,
-uniting their wisdom and strength for the attainment of definite ends.
-
-Such unions have nowhere been more numerous or more thoroughly organized
-than in Germany, though their formation is of recent date. It was during
-the revolution of 1848, of which we have already spoken, that the German
-Catholics were roused to a more comprehensive knowledge of the situation,
-and resolved to combine for the defence of their rights and the
-protection of their religion. Popular unions under the name and patronage
-of Pius IX. (Pius-Vereine) were formed throughout the fatherland, with
-the primary object of bringing together once a week large numbers of
-Catholic men of every condition in life. At these weekly meetings the
-questions of the day, in so far as they touched upon Catholic interests,
-were freely discussed, and thus an intelligent and enlightened Catholic
-public opinion was created throughout the length and breadth of the land.
-In refuting calumnies against the church the speakers never failed to
-demand the fullest liberty for all Catholic institutions.
-
-On the occasion of beginning the restoration and completion of the
-Cathedral of Cologne, the most religious of churches, the proposition
-that an annual General Assembly of all the unions should be held was
-made and received with boundless enthusiasm. The first General Assembly
-took place at Mayence in October, 1848; and thither came delegates from
-Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover, and all the other states of
-Germany, whose confidence and earnestness were increased by the presence
-of the Catholic members of the Parliament of Frankfort. For the first
-time since Luther’s apostasy the Catholics of Germany breathed the air of
-liberty. The bishops assembled at Würzburg, gave their solemn approbation
-to the great work, and Pius IX. sent his apostolic benediction. Since
-that time General Assemblies have been held at Breslau, May, 1849;
-Ratisbon, October, 1849; Linz, 1850; Mayence, 1851; Münster, 1852;
-Vienna, 1853; Linz, 1856; Salzburg, 1857; Cologne, 1858; Freyburg, 1859;
-Prague, 1860; Munich, 1861; Aix-la-Chapelle, 1862; Frankfort, 1863, and
-in other cities, down to the recent persecutions.
-
-These assemblies represented a complete system of organization, in which
-no Catholic interest was forgotten. Every village and hamlet in the land
-was there, if not immediately, through some central union. We have
-had the honor of being present at more than one of these assemblies,
-and the impressions which we then received are abiding. Side by side
-with cardinals, bishops, princes, noblemen, and the most learned of
-professors sat mechanics, carpenters, shoemakers, and blacksmiths--not
-as in the act of worship, in which the presence of the Most High
-God dwarfs our universal human littlenesses to the dead-level of an
-equal insignificance, but in active thought and co-operation for the
-furtherance of definite religious and social ends. The brotherhood of the
-race was there, an accomplished fact, and one felt the breathing as of a
-divine Spirit compared with whose irresistible force great statesmen and
-mighty armies are weak as the puppets of a child’s show.
-
-We have not the space to describe more minutely the ends, aims, and
-workings of the numberless Catholic associations of Germany; but we must
-express our deep conviction that no study could be more replete with
-lessons of practical wisdom for the Catholics of the United States.
-Organization is precisely what we most lack. Our priests are laborious,
-our people are devoted, but we have not even an organized Catholic
-public opinion--nay, no organ to serve as its channel, and make itself
-heard of the whole country. Many seem to think that the very question
-of the necessity of Catholic education is still an open one for us; and
-this is not surprising, since we have no system of Catholic education.
-Catholic schools, indeed, in considerable number, there are, but there
-is no organization. The great need of the church in this country is
-the organization of priests and people for the promotion of Catholic
-interests. Through this we will learn to know one another; our views
-will be enlarged, our sympathies deepened, and the truth will dawn upon
-us that, if we wish to be true to the great mission which God has given
-us, the time has come when American Catholics must take up works which
-do not specially concern any one diocese more than another, but whose
-significance will be as wide as the nation’s life.
-
-
-A STORY WITH TWO VERSIONS.
-
-Yes, sir, this is Brentwood. And you are of the race, you say, though not
-of the name. Clarkson, sir? Surely, surely. I remember well. Miss Jane
-Brent--the first Miss Brent I can recall--married a Clarkson. So you are
-her grandson, sir? Then you are right welcome to me and mine. Come in,
-come in. Or, if you will do me the honor, sit here in the porch, sir, and
-my Kate will bring you of her best, and right glad will we be to wait
-again on one with the Brent blood in him.
-
-None of the name left? Ah! Mr. Clarkson, have you never heard, then? But
-you must have heard of James Brent. Surely, surely. He lives still, God
-pity him! What’s that? You want to hear the story out? Well, sir, no man
-living can tell you better than I, unless it be Mr. James’ self. Settle
-yourself comfortably, Mr. Clarkson, and I’ll tell you all.
-
-Yes, this is Brentwood. ’Twas your great-great-grandsire founded it, two
-hundred years back, he and his brother--James and William. They began the
-work which was to grow and grow into foundries and factories, and the
-bank that was to ruin all. But I’m telling the end afore the beginning.
-The next two brothers built the church you see there, sir, down the road;
-and the next two after them added the tower and founded the almshouses;
-and then came the fourth James and William Brent, and one of them was an
-idiot, and the other was and is the last of the name.
-
-I was twenty years older than Mr. James, and, before ever he came into
-business, had served with his father. I watched him grow up, and I loved
-him well. But from the first I knew he was different from the rest of his
-race. He was his mother all over again--a true Mortimer, come of nobles,
-not of townsfolk; all fire and sweetness and great plans for people’s
-good and happiness, but with little of the far-sighted Brent prudence.
-He was just as tender of Mr. William as if he had had all the wits of
-himself, and used to spend part of every day with him, and amuse him part
-of many a night when the poor gentleman could not sleep.
-
-Their father died just when they came of age. They were twins, the last
-Brent Brothers, sir; and ’twas a great fortune and responsibility to fall
-full and with no restraint into such young hands. Mr. James seemed like
-one heart-broken for nigh a year after, and carried on everything just as
-his father had done, till we all wondered at it; then he saw Miss Rose
-Maurice, and loved her--as well indeed he might--and after that things
-changed. She was as simple in all her ways as she was beautiful, and
-would have thought my cottage good enough, so long as he was in it with
-her. But he!--well, sir, I know he has kissed the very ground she trod
-on, and he didn’t think a queen’s palace too fine for her. As soon as
-ever he saw her he loved her and set his soul to win her; and the very
-next day he began a new home in Brentwood. Where is it? Alack! alack!
-sir. Wait till ye _must_ hear. Let’s think, for a bit, of only the glad
-days now.
-
-You could not call it extravagance exactly. It set the whole town alive.
-So far as he could, he would have none but Brentwood folk to work upon
-the place where his bride was to dwell. And he said it was time that so
-old a family should have a home that would last as long as they. Ah! me,
-as long as they!
-
-Of course there was a city architect and a grand landscape gardener; but,
-oh! the thoughtfulness of him whom we were proud to call our master.
-There, in the very flush of his youth and love and hope, he took care of
-the widows and the little children; contrived to make work for them; was
-here and there and everywhere; and there was not a beggar nor an idler in
-Brentwood--not one. The house rose stately and tall; he had chosen a fair
-spot for it, where great trees grew and brooks were running, all ready
-to his hand; and that city man--why, sir, ’twas marvellous how he seemed
-to understand just how to make use of it all, and to prune a little
-here and add a little there, with vines and arbors and glades and a
-wilderness, till you didn’t know what God had done and what he had given
-his creatures wit to do. And in the sunniest corner of the house--Brent
-Hall, as they called it--Mr. James chose rooms for Mr. William, who was
-pleased as a child with it all, and used to sit day by day and watch the
-work go on.
-
-All the time, too, the Brent iron-foundries were being added to and
-renovated, till there was none like them round about; and the town
-streets were made like city streets, and the town itself set into such
-order as never before; and when all was ready--’twas the work of but
-three years, sir--when the house was hung with pictures and decked with
-the best; in the spring, when the grass and the trees were green, and
-the flowers were blooming fair, then he brought her home. And when I saw
-her--well, sir, first I thought of the angels; but next (if I may say it;
-and I wot it is not wrong)--next I thought of our Blessed Lady. There was
-a great painting in the Hall oratory--by some Spanish painter, they said.
-Murillo? Yes, sir, that is the name. It looked like Mrs. James Brent,
-sir. Not an angel, but a woman that could suffer and weep and struggle
-sore; and, pure and stainless, would still remember she was of us poor
-humans, and so pity and pray for us.
-
-We had been used to have Mr. Brent come into our houses, and to see him
-in the poorest cottages and the almshouses, with smiles and cheery words
-and money; but Mrs. James gave more than that, for she gave herself.
-I’ve seen those soft hands bind wounds I shrank from; and that delicate
-creature--I’ve seen her kneeling by beds of dying sinners, while her face
-grew white at what she saw and heard, and yet she praying over ’em, and,
-what’s more, _loving_ ’em, till she made the way for the priest to come.
-And she laid out dead whom few of us would have touched for hire, and
-she listened to the stories of the sad and tiresome, and her smile was
-sunshine, and the very sight of her passing by lifted up our minds to
-God. Her husband thwarted her in nothing. What was there to thwart her
-in? He loved her, and she should do what she would in this work which was
-her heart’s joy.
-
-Then we had been used to see Mr. James in church regular, weekday Mass
-and Sunday Mass; but Mrs. James was there any time, early mornings and
-noons and nights. I fancy she loved it better than the stately Hall.
-After she came, her husband added the great south transept window from
-Germany, and the organ that people came miles to hear; and he said it was
-her gift, not his. The window picture is a great Crucifixion and Our Lady
-standing by. You’ll understand better, Mr. Clarkson, ere I finish, what
-it says to Brentwood folk now.
-
-The first year there was a daughter only; but the next there came a son.
-After that, for six long years there were no more children, but then
-another son saw the light. What rejoicings, what bonfires, what clanging
-of bells, there was! But ere night the clanging changed to tolling and
-the shouts to tears; for the child died. And when Mrs. James came among
-us again, very white and changed and feeble, we all knew that with Mr.
-James and Mr. William, we were seeing the last Brent Brothers, whatever
-our grandchildren might see.
-
-However, _she_ was spared, and Mr. James took heart of such grace as
-that, and said it would be Brent and Son, which sounded quite as well
-when one was used to it. And to make himself used to it--or to stifle the
-disappointment, as I really think--he began the Brent Bank. There had
-been a Brent Bank here for years past, and to it all Brentwood and half
-the country round trusted their earnings. Only a few really rich people
-had much to do with it, but men in moderate circumstances, young doctors
-and lawyers with growing families, widows, orphans, seamstresses, the
-factory people, laborers, thought there was no bank like that. Mr. James’
-kind spirit showed itself there as elsewhere, and nobody felt himself too
-insignificant to come there, if only with a penny.
-
-Often and often I sit here and wonder, Mr. Clarkson, why it all was--why
-God ever let it be--the shame and the sorrow and the suffering that came.
-I know Mr. James was lavish, but, if he spent much on himself, he spent
-much on others too; and he made God’s house as beautiful as his own. For
-a time it looked as if God’s blessing was on him; for he prospered year
-by year, and, except for his child’s dying and his wife’s frail health,
-his cup of joy seemed running over.
-
-By and by came a year--you may just remember it, sir--a year of very hard
-times for the whole country. Banks broke, and old houses went by the
-board, and men were thrown out of work, and there was a cry of distress
-through all the land. But Brentwood folk hadn’t a thought of fear. Still,
-in that year, from the very first of it, something troubled me. Master
-was moody now and then; went up to the city oftener; had letters which
-he did not show to me, who had seen all his business correspondence
-and his father’s for thirty years and more. Sometimes he missed Mass,
-and presently I noted with a pang that he did not receive the Blessed
-Sacrament regular as he used. And Mrs. James was pale, and her eyes, that
-once were as bright and clear as sunshine, grew heavy and dark, and she
-looked more and more like the picture in her oratory; but it made one
-very sad somehow to see the likeness.
-
-The hard times began at midsummer. The Lent after there was a mission of
-Dominican friars here. I was special busy that week, and kept at work
-till after midnight. One evening, about eight, Mr. James came hurriedly
-into the office and asked for the letters. He turned them over, looked
-blank, then said the half-past eleven mail would surely bring the one
-he wanted, and he should wait till then and go for it himself. For five
-minutes or so he tried to cast up some accounts; then, too nervous-like
-to be quiet longer, he said: “I’ll go and hear the sermon, Serle. It will
-serve to fill up the time.” And off he went.
-
-The clock struck the hour and the half-hour, and the hour and the
-half-hour, and I heard the half-past eleven mail come in, and, soon
-after, Mr. James’ step again, but slow now, like one in deep thought. In
-he came, and I caught a glimpse of his face, pale and stern, with the
-lips hard set. He shut himself into his private room, and I heard him
-pacing up and down; then there came a pause, and he strode out again. He
-seemed very odd to me, but he tried to laugh, as he put down two slips
-for telegrams on my desk. “Which would you send?” said he.
-
-One was, “Go on. I consent to all your terms.” The other was, “Stop. I
-will have nothing more to do with it, no matter what happens.”
-
-Something told me in my heart that, though he was trying to pass this off
-in his old way like a joke, my master--my dear master--was in a great
-strait. I looked up and answered what he had not said at all to get an
-answer, with words which rose to my lips in spite of myself. Says I:
-“Send what Mrs. James would want you to send, sir.” And then his ruddy,
-kind face bleached gray like ashes, and he gave a groan, and the next
-minute he was gone.
-
-Though my work was done for that night, I would not leave the bank; for
-I thought he might come back. And back he did come, a full hour after,
-steady and grave and not like my master. For, Mr. Clarkson, the bright
-boy-look I had loved so, which, with the boy-nature too, had never seemed
-to leave him, was all gone out of his face, and I knew surely I never
-should see it there again. He wrote something quickly, then handed it to
-me, bidding me send telegrams to the bank trustees as there ordered. The
-slip which bore my direction bore also the words, with just a pencil-line
-erasure through them, “Go on. I consent to all your terms.” So, for good
-or for ill, whichever it might be, the other was the one he must have
-sent.
-
-These telegrams notified the trustees of a most important meeting to
-which they were summoned, and at that meeting I had, as usual, to be
-present. Perhaps his colleagues saw no change in him; but I, who had
-served him long, saw much. O Mr. Clarkson, Mr. Clarkson! whatever you may
-be--and you are young still--_be honest_. For, sir, there’s one thing of
-many terrible to bear, and it’s got to be borne here or hereafter by them
-as err from uprightness; and that thing is shame. I’d seen him kneel at
-the altar that morning, and she beside him, bless her! That’s where he
-got strength to endure the penance he had brought upon himself; else I
-don’t know how he ever could have borne it or have done it.
-
-They sat there about him where they had often sat before, those fifteen
-country gentlemen, some of whom had been his father’s and his uncle’s
-friends, and some his own schoolmates and companions. And he stood up,
-and first he looked them calm and fearless full in their faces, and then
-his voice faltered and stopped, and then they all felt that it was indeed
-something beyond ordinary that was coming.
-
-Don’t ask me to tell my master’s shame as he told it, without a gloss or
-an excuse, plain and bald and to the point. I knew and they knew that
-there was excuse for his loving and lavish nature, but he made none for
-himself.
-
-Well, there’s no hiding what all the world knows now. He had let himself
-be led away into speculation and--God pity and forgive him!--into fraud,
-till only ruin or added and greater sin stared him in the face; then,
-brought face to face with that alternative, he had chosen--just ruin, sir.
-
-There was dead silence for a space, till Sir Jasper Meredith, the oldest
-man there, and the justest business man I ever met, said gravely: “Do you
-realize, Mr. Brent, that this implies ruin to others than to you?”
-
-He was not thinking of himself, though this trouble would straiten him
-sorely; he was thinking, and so was my master, and so was I, of poor men,
-and lone women, and children and babies, made penniless at a blow; of the
-works stopped; of hunger and sickness and cold. Mr. James bowed his head;
-he could not speak.
-
-Then I had to bring out the books, and we went carefully over them
-page by page. It was like the Day of Judgment itself to turn over those
-accounts, and to read letters that had to be read, and to find out, step
-by step, and in the very presence of the man we had honored and trusted,
-that he had really fallen from his high place. He quivered under it, body
-and soul, but answered steadily every question Sir Jasper put to him;
-spoke in such a way that I was sure he as well as I thought of the last
-great day, and was answering to One mightier than man. And presently,
-when they had reached the root of it--well, Mr. Clarkson, it was sin
-and it was shame, and I dare not call it less before God; yet it was
-sin which many another man does unblushingly, and had he persisted in
-it--had he only the night previous sent that message, “Go on”--it was
-possible and probable that he could have saved himself. Yet, if I could
-have had my choice then or now, I would rather have seen him stand there,
-disgraced and ruined by his own act and will, than have had him live for
-another day a hypocrite.
-
-But Sir Jasper said never a word of praise or blame till the whole
-investigation was ended; listened silently while Mr. James told his plan
-to sell all he owned in Brentwood, pay what debts he could, and then
-begin life over again abroad, and work hard and steadily to retrieve his
-fortunes, that he might pay all and stand with a clear conscience before
-he died. Then Sir Jasper rose and came to him, put his two hands on Mr.
-James’ shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes. “James Brent,”
-he said, “I knew your father before you, and your father’s father, but
-I never honored them more, and I never honored you more, than on this
-day when you confess to having disgraced your name and theirs, but have
-had the honesty and manliness to confess it. Disgrace is disgrace; but
-confession is the beginning of amendment.”
-
-That was all. There was no offer of money help; all Sir Jasper could
-offer would have been but a drop in the ocean of such utter ruin. There
-was no advice to spare himself before he spared his neighbor; Sir Jasper
-was too just for that. But after those words I saw my master’s eyes grow
-moist and bright, and a gleam of hope come into his face. My poor master!
-my poor master! Thank God we cannot see the whole of suffering at the
-beginning!
-
-The intention was not to let the news get abroad that night. Mr. James
-went home to tell his wife and children--how terrible that seemed to
-me!--and I sat busy in the office. It was the spring of the year. Fifteen
-years ago the coming month he had brought his bride home in the sunshine
-and the flowers. This afternoon darkened into clouds, and rain came and
-the east wind. I lighted the lamps early and went to my work again.
-Presently I heard a sound such as I never heard before--a low growl, or
-roar, or shout, that wasn’t thunder or wind or rain. It grew louder; it
-was like the tramp of many feet, hurrying fast, and in the direction of
-the bank. Then cries--a name, short, distinct, repeated again and again:
-“Brent! Brent! James Brent!”
-
-I went to the window. There they were, half Brentwood and more, clamoring
-for the sight of the man they trusted above all men. I flung the window
-up and they saw me.
-
-“Halloo, there, Joseph Serle!” cried the leader, a choleric Scot who had
-not been many years among us. “Where’s our master?”
-
-“Not here,” says I, with a sinking at my heart.
-
-“He knows,” piped a woman’s shrill voice; “make him tell us true.”
-
-And then the Scot cries again: “Halloo, Joseph Serle, there! Speak us
-true, mon, or ye’ll hang for’t. Is our money safe?”
-
-What could I say? Face after face I saw by the glare of torches--faces of
-neighbors and friends and kin--and not one but was a loser, and few that
-were not well-nigh ruined. And while I hesitated how to speak again that
-woman spoke: “Where’s James Brent? Has he run, the coward?”
-
-That was too much. “He’s home,” cried I, “where you and all decent folk
-should be.”
-
-“Home! home!” They caught the word and shouted it. “We’ll go home too.
-We’ll find James Brent.” And the tide turned towards the Hall.
-
-I flew down the back-stairs to the stable, mounted the fleetest horse,
-and galloped him bareback to Brent Hall; but, fast as I rode, the east
-wind bore an angry shout behind me, and, if I turned my head, I saw
-torches flaring, and the ground seemed to tremble with the hurrying tramp
-of feet.
-
-I don’t know how they bore it or how I told ’em. I know I found them
-together, him and her, and she was as if she had not shed a tear, and her
-eyes were glowing like stars, bright, and tender, and sad, and glad all
-at once. I had hardly time to tell the news, when the sound I had dreaded
-for ’em broke upon us like the rush and the roar of an awful storm. On
-they came, trampling over the garden-beds, waving their torchlights,
-calling one name hoarse and constant--“Brent! Brent! James Brent!”
-
-“My love,” he said, bending down to her, “stay while I go to them.”
-
-And then she looked at him with a look that was more heavenly than any
-smile, and said only: “James, my place is by your side, and I will keep
-it.”
-
-He put his hand quick over his eyes like one in great awe, smiled with a
-smile more sad than tears, then opened the hall door and stood out before
-the crowd--there where many a man and woman of them had seen him bring
-his young bride home. And the sudden silence which fell upon them his own
-voice broke. “My friends,” he said, “what would you have of me?”
-
-Straight and keen as a barbed arrow, not from one voice, but from many,
-the question rose, “Is our money safe?” And after that some one called:
-“We’ll trust your word, master, ’gainst all odds.”
-
-I had thought that scene in the bank was like the Judgment Day; but what
-was this? He tried to speak, but his lips clave together. Then I saw her
-draw a little nearer--not to touch him or to speak to him; she did not
-even look at him, neither at the people, but out into the darkness, and
-up and far away; and her very body, it seemed to me, was praying.
-
-“Is our money safe?” It was like a yell now, and James Brent made answer:
-“My friends, I am a ruined man.”
-
-“Is our money safe?” Little children’s voices joined in the cry. My God,
-let Brentwood never hear the like again!
-
-My master held out his hands like any beggar; then he fell down upon his
-knees. “I confess to you and to God,” he said, “there is not one penny
-left.”
-
-Mr. Clarkson, I am Brentwood born and bred. I love my master, but I love
-my place and people too. We are a simple folk and a loving folk. It is
-an awful thing to shake the trust of such. They had deemed their honor
-and their property for ever safe with this one man, and in an hour and at
-a word their trust was broken, their scanty all was gone, their earthly
-hopes were shattered. Mr. Clarkson, sir, it drove them wild.
-
-That day had set on Brent Hall fair and stately; the morrow dawned on
-blackened ruins. The grounds lay waste; the fountains were dry; pictures
-which nobles had envied had fed the flames; fabrics which would have
-graced a queen stopped the babbling of the brooks; and in front of Brent
-Bank hung effigies of the last Brent Brothers, with a halter about the
-neck of each.
-
-He had planned--my master, my poor master!--to retrieve all. Why could it
-not be? God knows best, but it is a mystery which I cannot fathom. That
-night’s horror and exposure brought him to the very gates of death; and
-when he rose up at last, it was as a mere wreck of himself, never to work
-again. His wife’s dowry went to the people whom he had ruined and who had
-ruined him. They lived until her death, as he lives still, on charity.
-
-And that is all? No, Mr. Clarkson, not quite all. He was brave enough,
-since he could not win back his honor otherwise, to stay among us and
-gain a place again in the hearts he had wounded sore. Sometimes I think
-he teaches us a better lesson, old, and alone, and poor, than if he had
-come to build his fallen home once more. I think, sir, we have learned to
-pity and forgive as we never should have done otherwise, since we have
-seen him suffering like any one of us; as low down as any one of us.
-
-
-JAMES BRENT’S VERSION.
-
-He has told you the story, then, my boy, has he? And you are the last of
-us, and you have my name--James Brent Clarkson. The last? Then I will
-tell you more than he could tell you. Do not shrink or fancy it will pain
-me. I would like to let you know all, my boy--not for my sake; but you
-say you are only half a Catholic, and I would have you learn something of
-the deep reality of the true faith.
-
-The night I waited for the half-past eleven train I had been stopped on
-my way to the bank by a crowd at the church door, and I heard one man say
-to another: “They’re dark times, neighbor--as dark as our land’s seen
-these hundred years.” And his mate answered him: “Maybe so, Collins;
-maybe so. But Brentwood don’t feel ’em much. I believe, and so does
-most folks, that if all other houses fell, and e’en the Bank of England
-broke, Brent Brothers would stand. It’s been honest and true for four
-generations back, and so ’twull be to the end on’t.” Then the crowd
-parted, the men went into the church, and I passed down the street.
-
-“Honest and true for four generations back, and so ’twull be to the end
-on’t.” The words haunted me. At last, in desperation, to rid myself of
-the thought, I went to church also. Going in by a side door, I found
-myself in a corner by a confessional, quite sheltered from view, but
-with the pulpit in plain sight. There, raised high above the heads of
-the people, the preacher stood, a man of middle age, who looked as if
-he had been at some time of his life in and of the world; his face that
-of one who has found it almost a death-struggle to subdue self to the
-obedience and the folly of the cross. He seemed meant for a ruler among
-his fellows. I wondered idly what he was doing there in the preacher’s
-frock, speaking to the crowd.
-
-He was telling, simply and plainly, of our Lord’s agony in the garden.
-But simple and plain as were his words, there was something in the face
-and voice which drew one into sympathetic union with this man, who spoke
-as if he were literally beholding the load of our sin lying upon the
-Lord’s heart till his sweat of blood started. And when he had painted
-the scene to us, he paused as hearing the awful cry echo through the
-stillness that reigned in the crowded church, then bent forward as if his
-eyes would scan our very hearts, and spoke once more.
-
-I cannot tell you what he said, but before he ended I knew this: my sin
-cost our Lord’s agony; added sin of mine would be added anguish of his.
-The choice lay before me. When I showed Serle those two despatches, the
-one “Stop,” the other “Go on,” I held there what would be my ruin for
-time or for eternity.
-
-There is a world unseen, and mighty; its powers were round me that
-night like an army. Hitherto I had been deceiving myself with the plea
-of necessity of others’ interests to be considered, of my honor to be
-sustained. That night another motive rose before me, but it was of an
-honor put to dishonor--the Lord of glory bowed down to the earth by shame.
-
-The letter must be answered before morning, so pressing was my need.
-I decided to go to the telegraph office, and by the time I reached it
-my mind must be made up. But, in the street, I came face to face with
-the preacher I had heard that night. The moon was near the full. We two
-looked straight at each other, passed, then turned as by one impulse,
-and faced again. They who fight a fight to its end, and conquer, but
-only with wounds whose scars they must bear to their graves, sometimes
-gain a great power of reading the souls of those who are fighting a like
-contest, and know not yet if it will end in victory or defeat. Some fight
-like mine I felt sure that priest had fought. “What would you have, my
-brother?” he asked.
-
-“Answers to two questions, father,” I replied. “If a man has done wrong
-to others, and can only repair it by added wrong, shall he disgrace
-his own good name for ever by avowal, or shall he sin? And if his fall
-involves the suffering of his innocent wife and children, may he not save
-himself from shame for their sake? It is a matter which may not wait now
-for confession even. Answer as best you may, for the love of God.”
-
-I fancied that the stern face before me softened and grew pale, and in
-the momentary stillness I understood that the Dominican was praying. Then
-he answered, few words and firm, as one who _knew_:
-
-“To choose disgrace is to choose the path our divine Lord chose. To
-involve our dearest in suffering is to know his anguish whose blessed
-Mother stood beneath his cross.”
-
-Then, after one more slight, intense silence, “My brother,” he said
-earnestly, “I do not know your life, but I know my own. To drink the
-Lord’s cup of shame to its dregs--_with him_--is a blessed thing to do,
-if he gives a sinner grace to do it.”
-
-Tell me a thousand times that you have no faith yourself; that to love
-God passionately is a dream, a delusion, unworthy of our manly nature;
-that to choose shame is folly, to choose suffering is a mad mistake--what
-shame could atone for my sins or give back to the poor the means of which
-my folly had robbed them? What can your words count with those who have
-once tasted the bitter sweetness of the Lord’s own chalice? Suddenly,
-standing there, I knew what it means to love God more than houses or
-lands, wife or children; to have him more real to the soul than they to
-the heart; to be willing and glad to forsake all for him; to know I had
-one more chance left to do his will, not Satan’s; and to make my choice.
-Having brought his agony on him, there was nothing more I _could_ do but
-bear it with him.
-
-My boy, though you came on my invitation, you chose the twilight in
-which to come to me, that I might hide my shame at meeting you. Such
-shame _died dead_ in two awful nights and days: First, confession before
-the priest of God; then to colleagues and friends; then to my wife and
-to my son--oh! that stings yet; then to an angry throng, whose trust I
-had betrayed, whose hopes I had blasted, whose love and reverence I had
-turned to hate and scorn. I have seen my home in ruins, my effigy hung
-up and hooted at in the public square, my name become a byword, my
-race blotted out. I am an old man now, and still they tell my story in
-Brentwood; each child learns it; strangers hear of it. Yet, if the power
-were mine to alter these twenty years of humiliation, I would not lose
-one hour of suffering or shame.
-
-You ask me why? Thirty-five years ago I stood here, the centre and the
-favorite of this town, and I set myself to work my own will, to gain
-glory for me and mine. My wife, my name, my home, were my idols. It
-seemed an innocent ambition, but it was not for God, and it led me into
-evil work. You told me that since you came of age you have been but once
-to confession. It is by the light of that sacrament that what seems to
-you the mystery of my life is read. For a Catholic--whether striving
-after perfection, or struggling up from sin to lasting penitence--has
-for pattern the life of Jesus, the doing all in union with him, after
-his example. What is the sacrament of penance but the bearing of shame,
-though in the presence of a compassionate priest, with him who, when
-he could have rescued us at the price of one drop of his most precious
-blood, chose to die in ignominy, bearing before the world the entire
-world’s disgrace? My boy, if in any way, by the love of our common name,
-I can influence you, _go back to confession_. It is the very sacrament
-for men who would be upright, and loyal, and strong, and true; or who,
-having fallen, would humbly and bravely bear for Christ’s sake the
-disclosure and the penalty.
-
-My penance--given by God, mark you--was heavy, men think. Was it heavier
-than my sin? They do not know everything. All my life I had been helped,
-guarded, upheld; and for such to fall is a deadlier sin than for others.
-The infinite love of God bore with me and saved me. And as, day by day,
-like the unremitted lashes of a scourge, suffering fell to my portion,
-I tell you that a strange, an awful sweetness mingled with the anguish.
-I knew it was the hand of God that smote me, and that he smote here to
-spare hereafter.
-
-Oh! do not look at me. Stop! Turn your face away! I thought all such
-shame was dead, but there are moments when it overwhelms me with its
-sting. Did I say or dare to think that _God loves me_? Wait, wait, till I
-can remember what it means!
-
-Yes, I know now. Through all that night, while the torches glared, and
-wrathful faces looked curses at me, and lips shouted them, ever through
-all I saw, as it were, One sinless but reputed with the wicked; stripped
-of his garments as I of my pride; made a spectacle to angels and to men;
-mocked, reviled, scourged, crucified; and through the wild tumult I heard
-a voice say, as of old to the repentant thief on the cross: “This day
-thou shalt be with me.” And through all my heart was answering to his
-most Sacred Heart, “I, indeed, justly; for I receive the due reward of
-my deeds: but this man hath done no evil.” How could I wish to be spared
-a single pang or lose one hour of shame with him? What part could any
-Christian take but to suffer with him, having made him suffer? And when
-one has said “with him,” one has explained all. But, somehow, people do
-not always seem to understand.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Understand? Ah! no. It is a story, not of two versions, but of many. Some
-called James Brent a fool, and some a madman, and some said he should
-have saved his honor and his name at all hazards; and some, that he had
-no right to entail such suffering on his household. But there is one
-light by which such stories should be read, that is truer than these.
-When time is gone, and wealth is dust, and earthly honor vanishes like
-smoke, then, by the standard of the cross of Christ, wealth, and pomp,
-and pleasure, and business shall be duly tried. Shun humiliation here
-as we will, there shall be after this the judgment, when the Prince of
-Glory, who pronounces final sentence, will be he who, while on earth,
-chose for his portion a life of suffering and a death of shame.
-
-
-ANTI-CATHOLIC MOVEMENTS IN THE UNITED STATES.
-
-Like commercial panics, periodical outbursts of irreligious fanaticism
-seem to have become regular incidents in the history of the United
-States--occurrences to be looked for with as much certainty as
-if they were the natural outgrowth of our civilization and the
-peculiarly-constituted condition of American society. Though springing
-from widely different causes, these intermittent spasms have a marked
-resemblance in their deleterious effects on our individual welfare
-and national reputation. Both are demoralizing and degrading in their
-tendencies, and each, in its degree, finally results in the temporary
-gain of a few to the lasting injury and debasement of the multitude.
-In other respects they differ materially. Great mercantile reverses
-and isolated acts of peculation, unfortunately, are not limited to one
-community or to the growth of any particular system of polity, but are
-as common and as frequent in despotic Asia and monarchical Europe as in
-republican America. Popular ebullitions of bigotry, on the contrary,
-are, or, more correctly, ought to be, confined to those countries where
-ignorance and intolerance usurp the place of enlightened philanthropy and
-wise government. They are foreign to the spirit of American institutions,
-hostile to the best interests of society, and a curse to those who
-tolerate or encourage them. The brightest glory of the fathers of the
-republic springs, not so much from the fact that they separated the
-colonies from the mother country and founded a new nation--for that is
-nothing strange or unheard-of in the world’s history--but that they made
-its three millions of inhabitants free as well as independent: free
-not only from unjust taxation and arbitrary laws, but for ever free to
-worship their Creator according to the dictates of their conscience,
-unawed by petty authority and unaffected by the shifting counsels of
-subsequent legislators.
-
-From this point of view the Revolution appears as one of the grandest
-moral events in the records of human progress; and when we reflect on
-the numerous pains, penalties, and restrictions prescribed by the
-charters and by-laws of the colonies from whence our Union has sprung,
-it challenges our most profound admiration and gratitude. This complete
-religious equality, guaranteed by our fundamental law, has ever been
-the boast of every true American citizen, at home and abroad. From the
-halls of Congress to the far Western stump-meeting we hear it again
-and again enunciated; it is repeated by a thousand eloquent tongues
-on each recurring anniversary of our independence, and is daily and
-weekly trumpeted throughout the length and breadth of the land by the
-myriad-winged Mercuries of the press. This freedom of worship, freedom
-of conscience, and legal equality, as declared and confirmed by our
-forefathers, has become, in fact, not only the written but also the
-common law of the land--the birthright of every native-born American, the
-acquired, but no less sacred, privilege of every citizen by adoption.
-Whoever now attempts to disturb or question it, by word or act, disgraces
-his country in the eyes of all mankind, and defiles the memory of our
-greatest and truest heroes and statesmen.
-
-So powerful, indeed, were the example and teachings of those wise men who
-laid broad and deep the foundations of our happy country that, during the
-first half-century of our national existence, scarcely a voice was raised
-in opposition or protest against the principle of religious liberty
-as emphatically expressed in the first amendment to the Constitution.
-A whole generation had to pass away ere fanaticism dared to raise its
-crest, until the solemn guarantees of our federal compact were assailed
-by incendiary mobs and scouted by so-called courts of justice. The
-first flagrant instance of this fell spirit of bigotry happened in
-Massachusetts, and naturally was directed against an institution of
-Catholic learning.
-
-In 1820 four Ursuline nuns arrived in Boston and established there a
-house of their order. Six years later they removed to the neighboring
-village of Charlestown, where they purchased a piece of ground, and,
-calling it Mt. St. Benedict, erected a suitable building and reduced the
-hitherto barren hill-side to a state of beautiful cultivation. In 1834
-the community had increased to ten, all ladies of thorough education
-and refinement. From the very beginning their success as teachers was
-acknowledged and applauded, and their average attendance of pupils was
-computed at from fifty to sixty. Of these, at least four-fifths were
-Protestants, the daughters of the best American families, not only of New
-England, but of the Middle and Southern States. Though it was well known
-that the nuns had ever been most scrupulously careful not to meddle with
-the religious opinions of their scholars, and that not one conversion to
-the church could be ascribed to their influence, the fact that a school
-conducted by Catholic religious should have acquired so brilliant a
-reputation, and that its patrons were principally Protestants of high
-social and political standing, was considered sufficient in the eyes of
-the Puritan fanatics to condemn it.
-
-Its destruction was therefore resolved on, and an incident, unimportant
-in itself, occurred in the summer of 1834 which was eagerly seized upon
-by the clerical adventurers who then, as now, disgraced so many sectarian
-pulpits. It appears that an inmate of the convent, a Miss Harrison,
-had, from excessive application to music, become partially demented, and
-during one of her moments of hallucination left the house and sought
-refuge with some friends. Her brother, a Protestant, having heard of her
-flight, accompanied by Bishop Fenwick, brought her back to the nunnery,
-to her own great satisfaction and the delight of the sisterhood. This
-trifling domestic affair was eagerly taken up by the leaders of the
-anti-Catholic faction and magnified into monstrous proportions. The nuns,
-it was said, had not only driven an American lady to madness, but had
-immured her in a dungeon, and, upon her attempting to escape, had, with
-the connivance of the bishop and priests, actually tortured her to death.
-Falsehoods even more diabolical were invented and circulated throughout
-Boston. The following Sunday the Methodist and Congregational churches
-rang again with denunciations against Popery and nunneries, while one
-self-styled divine, a Dr. Beecher, the father of a numerous progeny of
-male and female evangelists, some of whom have since become famous in
-more senses than one, preached no less than three sermons in as many
-different churches on the abominations of Rome. All the bigotry of Boston
-and the adjacent towns was aroused to the highest pitch of frenzy, and
-threats against the convent were heard on every side.
-
-To pacify the public mind the selectmen of Charlestown, on the following
-day, the memorable 11th of August, appointed a committee to examine into
-the truth of the charges. They waited on the nuns, and were received
-by Miss Harrison, who was alleged to have been foully murdered. Under
-her personal guidance they searched every part of the convent and its
-appurtenances, till, becoming thoroughly satisfied with the falsity of
-the reports, they retired to draw up a statement to that effect for
-publication in the newspapers. This was what the rabble dreaded, and, as
-soon as the intention of the committee became known, the leaders resolved
-to forestall public sentiment by acting at once.
-
-Accordingly, about nine o’clock in the evening, a mob began to collect
-in the neighborhood of Mt. St. Benedict. Bonfires were lit and exciting
-harangues were made, but still there were many persons reluctant to
-believe that the rioters were in earnest. They would not admit that any
-great number of Americans could be found base and brutal enough to attack
-a house filled with defenceless and delicate women and children. They
-were mistaken, however; they had yet to learn to what lengths fanaticism
-can be carried when once the evil passions of corrupt human nature are
-aroused. Towards midnight a general alarm was rung, calling out the
-engine companies of Boston, not to quell any fire or disturbance, but,
-as was proved by their conduct, to reinforce the rioters, if necessary.
-The first demonstration was made by firing shot and stones against the
-windows and doors of the main building, to ascertain if there were any
-defenders inside; but, upon becoming satisfied that there were none, the
-cowardly mob burst open the gates and doors, and rushed wildly through
-the passages and rooms, swearing vengeance against the nuns.
-
-Trusting to the protection of the authorities, the gentle sisters were
-taken by surprise. The shots of their assailants, however, awakened
-them to a sense of danger. Hastening from their beds, they rushed to
-the dormitories, aroused the sleeping children, and had barely time
-to avoid the fury of the mob by escaping through a back entrance in
-their night-clothes. Everything portable, including money and jewelry
-belonging to the pupils, was laid hold of by the intruders, the furniture
-and valuable musical instruments were hacked in pieces, and then the
-convent was given to the flames amid the frantic cheers of assembled
-thousands. “Not content with all this,” says the report of Mr. Loring’s
-committee, “they burst open the tomb of the establishment, rifled it of
-the sacred vessels there deposited, wrested the plates from the coffins,
-and exposed to view the mouldering remains of their tenants. Nor is it
-the least humiliating feature, in this scene of cowardly and audacious
-violation of all that man ought to hold sacred, that it was perpetrated
-in the presence of men vested with authority and of multitudes of our
-fellow-citizens, while not one arm was lifted in the defence of helpless
-women and children, or in vindication of the violated laws of God and
-man. The spirit of violence, sacrilege, and plunder reigned triumphant.”
-
-The morning of the 12th of August saw what for years had been the quiet
-retreat of Christian learning and feminine holiness a mass of blackened
-ruins; but the character of Massachusetts had received even a darker
-stain, a foul blot not yet wiped from her escutcheon. It was felt by
-the most respectable portion of the citizens that some step should be
-taken to vindicate the reputation of the State, and to place the odium
-of the outrage on those who alone were guilty. Accordingly, a committee
-of thirty-eight leading Protestant gentlemen, with Charles G. Loring
-as chairman, was appointed to investigate and report on the origin and
-results of the disgraceful proceeding. It met in Faneuil Hall from day
-to day, examined a great number of witnesses, and made the most minute
-inquiries from all sources. Its final report was long, eloquent, and
-convincing. After the most thorough examination, it was found, those
-Protestant gentlemen said, that all the wild and malicious assertions put
-forth in the sectarian pulpits and repeated in the newspapers, regarding
-the Ursulines, were without a shadow of truth or probability; they
-eulogized in the most glowing language the conduct of the nuns, their
-qualifications as teachers, their Christian piety and meekness, and their
-careful regard for the morals as well as for the religious scruples of
-their pupils. They also attributed the wanton attack upon the nunnery to
-the fell spirit of bigotry evoked by the false reports of the New England
-press and the unmitigated slanders of the anti-Catholic preachers, and
-called upon the legislative authorities to indemnify, in the most ample
-manner, the victims of mob law and official connivance.
-
-But the most significant fact brought to light by this committee was
-that the fanatics, in their attack on Mt. St. Benedict, were not a mere
-heterogeneous crowd of ignorant men acting upon momentary impulse, but
-a regular band of lawless miscreants directed and aided by persons
-of influence and standing in society. “There is no doubt,” says the
-report, “that a conspiracy had been formed, extending into many of the
-neighboring towns; but the committee are of opinion that it embraced
-very few of respectable character in society, though some such may,
-perhaps, be actually guilty of an offence no less heinous, morally
-considered, in having excited the feelings which led to the design,
-or countenanced and instigated those engaged in its execution.” Here
-we find laid down, on the most unquestionable authority, the origin
-and birth-place of all subsequent Native American movements against
-Catholicity.
-
-But the sequel to the destruction of the Charlestown convent was
-even more shameful than the crime itself. Thirteen men had been
-arrested, eight of whom were charged with arson. The first tried was
-the ringleader, an ex-convict, named Buzzell. The scenes which were
-enacted on that occasion are without a parallel in the annals of our
-jurisprudence. The mother-superior, several of the sisters, and Bishop
-Fenwick, necessary witnesses for the prosecution, were received in court
-with half-suppressed jibes and sneers, subjected to every species of
-insult by the lawyers for the defence, and were frowned upon even by
-the judge who presided. Though the evidence against the prisoner was
-conclusive, the jury, without shame or hesitation, acquitted him, and he
-walked out of court amid the wildest cheers of the bystanders. Similar
-demonstrations of popular sympathy attended the trials of the other
-rioters, who were all, with the exception of a young boy, permitted to
-escape the penalty of their gross crimes.
-
-Even the State legislature, though urged to do so by many of the leading
-public men of the commonwealth, refused to vote anything like an adequate
-sum to indemnify the nuns and pupils for their losses, amounting to over
-a hundred thousand dollars. The pitiful sum of ten thousand dollars was
-offered, and of course rejected; and to this day the ruins of the convent
-stand as an eloquent monument of Protestant perfidy and puritanical
-meanness and injustice.
-
-The impunity thus legally and officially guaranteed to mobs and
-sacrilegious plunderers soon bore fruit in other acts of lawlessness
-in various parts of Massachusetts. A Catholic graveyard in Lowell was
-shortly after entered and desecrated by an armed rabble, and a house
-in Wareham, in which Mass was being celebrated, was set upon by a gang
-of ruffians known as the “Convent Boys.” A couple of years later the
-Montgomery Guards, a regular militia company, composed principally of
-Catholic freeholders of Boston, were openly insulted by their comrades on
-parade, and actually stoned through the streets by a mob of over three
-thousand persons.
-
-As there were no more convents to be plundered and burned in the
-stronghold of Puritanism, the war on those glories of religion was kept
-up in a different manner, but with no less rancor and audacity. Taking
-advantage of the excitement created by such men as Lyman Beecher and
-Buzzell, a mercenary publisher issued a book entitled _Six Months in
-a Convent_, which was put together by some contemptible preacher in
-the name of an illiterate girl named Reed, who, the better to mislead
-the public, assumed the title of “Sister Mary Agnes.” “We earnestly
-hope and believe,” said the preface to this embodiment of falsehood,
-“that this little work, if universally diffused, will do more, by its
-unaffected simplicity, in deterring Protestant parents from educating
-their daughters in Catholic nunneries than could the most labored and
-learned discourses on the dangers of Popery.” Though the book was
-replete with stupid fabrications and silly blunders, so grossly had
-the popular taste been perverted that fifty thousand copies were sold
-within a year after its publication. The demand was still increasing,
-when another contribution to Protestant literature appeared, before the
-broad, disgusting, and obscene fabrications of which the mendacity of
-“Sister Mary Agnes” paled its ineffectual fires. This latter candidate
-for popular favor, though it bore the name, destined for an immortality
-of infamy, of Maria Monk--a notoriously dissolute woman--was actually
-compiled by a few needy and unscrupulous adventurers, reverend and
-irreverend, who found a distinguished Methodist publishing house, not
-quite so needy, though still more unscrupulous, to publish the work for
-them, though very shame compelled even them to withhold their names from
-the publication. And it was only owing to a legal suit arising from this
-infamous transaction many years after that the fact was revealed that the
-publishers of this vilest of assaults on one of the holiest institutions
-of the Catholic Church was the firm of Harper Brothers. True to their
-character, they saw that the times were favorable for an assault on
-Catholicity, even so vile as this one; and true to their nature again,
-they refused to their wretched accomplice her adequate share in the wages
-of sin. Though bearing on its face all the evidences of diabolical malice
-and falsehood, condemned by the better portion of the press and by all
-reputable Protestants, the work had an unparalleled sale for some time.
-The demand might have continued to go on increasing indefinitely, but,
-in an evil hour for the speculators, its authors, under the impression
-that the prurient taste of the public was not sufficiently satiated with
-imaginary horrors, issued a continuation under the title of _Additional
-Awful Disclosures_. This composition proved an efficient antidote to
-the malignant poison of the first. Its impurity and falsehoods were so
-palpable that its originators were glad to slink into obscurity and their
-patrons into silence, followed by the contempt of all honest men.
-
-Just ten years after the Charlestown outrage the spirit of Protestant
-persecution began to revive. Premonitory symptoms of political
-proscription appeared in 1842, in the constitutional conventions of Rhode
-Island and Louisiana, and in the local legislatures of other States; but
-it was not till the early part of 1844 that it became evident that secret
-measures were being taken to arouse the dormant feeling of antipathy to
-the rights of Catholics, so rife in the hearts of the ignorant Protestant
-masses. New York, at first, was the principal seat of the disorder.
-Most of the newspapers of that period teemed with eulogistic reviews of
-books written against the faith; cheap periodicals, such as the Rev. Mr.
-Sparry’s _American Anti-Papist_, were thrust into the hands of all who
-would read them by the agents of the Bible and proselytizing societies;
-and a cohort of what were called anti-papal lecturers, of which a
-reverend individual named Cheever was the leader, was employed to attack
-the Catholic Church with every conceivable weapon that the arsenal of
-Protestantism afforded.
-
-The popular mind being thus prepared for a change, the various elements
-of political and social life opposed to Catholicity were crystallized
-into the “American Republican” party, better known as the Native
-Americans. On the 19th of March, 1844, the new faction nominated James
-Harper for mayor of the city of New York, and about the same time William
-Rockwell was named for a similar office in Brooklyn. The platform upon
-which these gentlemen stood was simple but comprehensive: the retention
-of the Protestant Bible and Protestant books in the public schools;
-the exclusion of Catholics of all nationalities from office; and the
-amendment of the naturalization laws so as to extend the probationary
-term of citizenship to twenty-one years. The canvass in New York was
-conducted with some regard to decency; but in the sister city, the
-Nativists threw off all respect for law, their processions invaded the
-districts inhabited mainly by adopted citizens, assailed all who did
-not sympathize with them, and riot and bloodshed were the consequence.
-In Brooklyn the Nativist candidate was defeated, but Harper was elected
-triumphantly by about twenty-four thousand votes. The ballots that placed
-such a man at the head of the municipality of the American metropolis
-were deposited by both Whigs and Democrats, though each party had a
-candidate in the field. The former contributed upwards of fourteen
-thousand, or three-fourths of their strength; their opponents somewhat
-less than ten thousand.
-
-But the action of the city politicians was quickly repudiated and
-condemned throughout the State. On the 13th of April the Whigs assembled
-in Albany and passed a series of resolutions denouncing in unequivocal
-terms the tenets of the Native Americans; and in two days after, at the
-same place, and in, if possible, a more forcible manner, the Democracy
-entered their protest against the heresies and evil tendencies of the
-persecuting faction. Still, the “American Republicans” showed such
-signs of popular strength in various municipal elections that year
-that the lower classes of politicians, of all shades of opinion, who
-dared not openly support them, were suspected of secretly courting
-their friendship. The nomination of Frelinghuysen with Henry Clay at
-the Whig presidential convention of May 1, 1844, was well understood at
-the time to be a bid for Nativist support, and eventually defeated the
-distinguished Kentucky orator.
-
-It is difficult to imagine how far the madness of the hour might have
-carried ambitious political leaders and timid conventions, had not the
-scenes of sacrilege and murder which soon after disgraced the city of
-Philadelphia, and stained its streets with innocent blood, sent a thrill
-of horror throughout the entire country.
-
-Philadelphia had followed, if not anticipated, the example of New York
-in sowing broadcast the seeds of civil strife. Early in the year secret
-Nativist societies were formed; sensational preachers like Tyng, in and
-out of place, harangued congregations and meetings; cheap newspapers were
-started for the sole purpose of vilifying Catholics and working upon the
-baser passions of the sectarian population of the country. The motives
-of those engineers of discord were the same as those of their New York
-brethren, and their method of attack equally treacherous and cowardly.
-One of the principal charges against their Catholic fellow-citizens was
-that they were hostile to free schools and education generally. To this
-unjust aspersion Bishop Kenrick, on the 12th of March, publicly replied
-in a short but lucid letter, in which he said:
-
-“Catholics have not asked that the Bible be excluded from the public
-schools. They have merely desired for their children the liberty of using
-the Catholic version, in case the reading of the Bible be prescribed by
-the controllers or directors of the schools. They only desire to enjoy
-the benefit of the constitution of the State of Pennsylvania, which
-guarantees the rights of conscience and precludes any preference of
-sectarian modes of worship. They ask that the school laws be faithfully
-executed, and that the religious predilections of the parents be
-respected.… They desire that the public schools be preserved from all
-sectarian influence, and that education be conducted in a way that may
-enable all citizens equally to share its benefits, without any violence
-being offered to their conscientious convictions.”
-
-So deliberate and emphatic a denial had no effect on the wretched men who
-tyrannized over the second city in the Union, except that it was resolved
-to substitute brute force for reason, and to precipitate a collision
-with their comparatively weak victims. Accordingly, on the 5th of May, a
-Nativist meeting was held in Kensington. The design of the managers of
-the meeting was evidently to provoke an attack; for, finding the place
-first selected for the gathering unmolested, they deliberately moved to
-the market-house, in the actual presence of several adopted citizens.
-This trick and the insulting speeches that followed had the desired
-effect. A riot took place, several shots were fired on both sides, and
-four or five persons were more or less seriously wounded. The Nativists
-retreated, and made an unsuccessful attempt to burn a nunnery.
-
-The most exaggerated reports of this affair were immediately circulated
-through Philadelphia. The next day the Nativists, fully armed, assembled
-and passed a series of resolutions of the most violent character.
-Preceded by an American flag, which bore an inscription as malicious as
-it was untrue, they attacked the Hibernian Hose Company, destroyed the
-apparatus, and broke the fire-bell in pieces. Twenty-nine dwellings were
-burned to the ground, their hapless occupants, mostly women and children,
-fleeing in all directions amid the insults and shots of their savage
-assailants. The citizens were now thoroughly aroused, the military, under
-Gen. Cadwalader, was called out, and Bishop Kenrick addressed a public
-admonition to his flock to preserve peace, and, notwithstanding the
-provocation, to exercise forbearance. But the demon of fanaticism, once
-let loose, could not be easily laid. Rioting continued throughout the day
-and far into the night. Early on Wednesday morning S. Michael’s Church,
-the female seminary attached to it, and a number of private houses in the
-neighborhood were ruthlessly plundered and destroyed. “During the burning
-of the church,” said one of the Philadelphia papers, “the mob continued
-to shout; and when the cross at the peak of the roof fell, they gave
-three cheers and a drum and fife played the ‘Boyne Water.’”
-
-The burning of S. Augustine’s Church took place on the evening of the
-same day. This building, one of the finest in the city, was peculiarly
-endeared to the Catholic inhabitants as having been one of their oldest
-churches in Philadelphia. Many of the contributors to its building fund
-were men of historic fame, such as Washington, Montgomery, Barry, Meade,
-Carey, and Girard. It had adjoining it extensive school-houses and a
-commodious parsonage, and the clock in its tower was the one which had
-struck the first tones of new-born American liberty. But the sacred
-character of the building itself, and the patriotic memories which
-surrounded it, could not save it from the torch of the Philadelphia mob.
-
-“The clock struck ten,” wrote an eye-witness, “while the fire was raging
-with the greatest fury. At twenty minutes past ten the cross which
-surmounted the steeple, and which remained unhurt, fell with a loud
-crash, amid the plaudits of a large portion of the spectators.” A very
-valuable library and several splendid paintings shared the fate of the
-church.
-
-But bad as was the conduct of the rioters, that of the authorities was
-even worse. The militia, when ordered out, did not muster for several
-hours after the time appointed, and when they did arrive they were only
-passive, if not gratified, spectators of the lawless scenes before them.
-When S. Michael’s was threatened, the pastor, Rev. Mr. Donohue, placed
-it under the charge of Capt. Fairlamb, giving him the keys; yet the mob
-was allowed to wreak its vengeance on it undisturbed. The basement of
-S. Augustine’s was occupied by some armed men who had resolved to defend
-it at all hazards; but on the assurance of Mayor Scott and the sheriff
-that they had troops and police enough to protect it, it was agreed, in
-the interests of peace, to evacuate it. This had scarcely been done when
-the militia and civic guard fell back before a thousand or more armed
-ruffians and left the church to its fate. For nearly sixty hours the
-rioters were left in undisputed possession of the city; everything the
-Catholics held sacred was violated; men were dragged out of their homes,
-half-hanged and brutally maltreated, when not murdered outright; the
-houses of adopted citizens were everywhere plundered, an immense amount
-of property was destroyed, and over two hundred families left desolate
-and homeless, without the slightest attempt being made to enforce the
-law. How many fell victims to Nativist hate and rage on this occasion has
-never been known, but the killed and wounded were counted by scores.
-
-An attempt to outrival Philadelphia in atrocity was made in New York
-a few days after, but the precautionary steps of the authorities, the
-firm attitude assumed by the late Archbishop Hughes, and the resolute
-stand taken by the Catholic population, headed by Eugene Casserly--who
-was at that time editor of the _Freeman’s Journal_--together with some
-young Irish-American Catholic gentlemen, so impressed the leaders of
-the Nativists that all attempts of an incendiary nature, and all public
-efforts to sympathize with the Philadelphia mob, were abandoned. Nativism
-staggered under the blow given it by its adherents in Philadelphia, and
-soon sank into utter insignificance as a political power.
-
-Another decade, however, passed, and we find it again rejuvenated.
-This time it assumed the name of the Know-nothing party, and extended
-its ramifications through every State in the Union. Its declaration of
-principles contained sixteen clauses, as laid down by its organs, of
-which the following were regarded as the most vital: 1st. The repeal of
-all naturalization laws. 2d. None but native Americans for office. 3d.
-A Protestant common-school system. 4th. Perpetual war on “Romanism.”
-5th. Opposition to the formation of military companies composed of
-“foreigners.” 6th. Stringent laws against immigration. 7th. Ample
-protection to Protestant interests. Though partly directed, apparently,
-against all persons of foreign birth, this new secret society was
-actually only opposed to Catholics; for many of the prominent members
-in its lodges were Irish Orangemen and Welsh, Scotch, and English
-unnaturalized adventurers who professed no form of belief.
-
-Like their predecessors of 1844, the Know-nothings employed a host of
-mendacious ministers and subsidized a number of obscure newspapers to
-circulate their slanders against Catholics, native as well as adopted
-citizens; but they also added a new feature to the crusade against
-morality and civil rights. This was street-preaching--a device for
-creating riots and bloodshed, for provoking quarrels and setting neighbor
-against neighbor, worthy the fiend of darkness himself. Wretched
-creatures, drawn from the very dregs of society, were hired to travel
-from town to town, to post themselves at conspicuous street-corners,
-if possible before Catholic churches, and to pour forth, in ribald and
-blasphemous language, the most unheard-of slanders against the church.
-As those outcasts generally attracted a crowd of idle persons, and were
-usually sustained by the presence of the members of the local lodge, the
-merest interruption of their foul diatribes was the signal for a riot,
-ending not unfrequently in loss of life or limb.
-
-The first outrage that marked the career of the Know-nothings of 1854
-was the attack on the Convent of Mercy, Providence, R. L., in April of
-that year. Instigated by the newspaper attacks of a notorious criminal,
-who then figured as a Nativist leader, the rowdy elements of that
-usually quiet city surrounded the convent, pelted the doors and windows
-with stones, to the great alarm of the ladies and pupils within, and
-would doubtless have proceeded to extremities were it not that the
-Catholics, fearing a repetition of the Charlestown affair, rallied for
-its protection and repeatedly drove them off. In June Brooklyn was the
-scene of some street-preaching riots, but in the following August St.
-Louis, founded by Catholics and up to that time enjoying an enviable
-reputation for refinement and love of order, acquired a pre-eminence in
-the Southwest for ferocious bigotry. For two days, August 7 and 8, riot
-reigned supreme in that city; ten persons were shot down in the streets,
-many more were seriously wounded, and a number of the houses of Catholics
-were wrecked.
-
-On the 3d of September of the same year the American Protestant
-Association of New York, an auxiliary of the Know-nothings, composed
-of Orangemen, went to Newark, N. J., to join with similar lodges of New
-Jersey in some celebration. In marching through the streets of that
-city they happened to pass the German Catholic church, and, being in a
-sportive mood, they did not hesitate to attack it. A _mêlée_ occurred,
-during which one man, a Catholic, was killed and several were seriously
-injured. The evidence taken by the coroner’s jury showed that the
-admirers of King William were well armed, generally intoxicated, and that
-the assault and partial destruction of the church were altogether wanton
-and unprovoked. Early in the same month news was received of a succession
-of riots in New Orleans, the victims, as usual, being Catholics.
-
-But the spirit of terrorism was not confined to one section or particular
-State. The virus of bigotry had inoculated the whole body politic. In
-October people of all shades of religious opinion were astounded to hear
-from Maine that the Rev. John Bapst, S. J., a clergyman of exemplary
-piety and mildness, had actually been dragged forcibly from the house
-of a friend by a drunken Ellsworth mob, ridden on a rail, stripped
-naked, tarred and feathered, and left for dead. His money and watch were
-likewise stolen by the miscreants. Father Bapst’s crime was that, when
-a resident of Ellsworth some time previously, he had entered into a
-controversy about public schools.
-
-Yet, in the face of all these lawless proceedings, the Know-nothing
-party increased with amazing rapidity. “Without presses, without
-electioneering,” said the New York _Times_, “with no prestige or power,
-it has completely overthrown and swamped the two old historic parties
-of the country.” This was certainly true of New England, and notably
-so of Massachusetts, where, in the autumn of 1854, the Know-nothings
-elected their candidate for governor and nearly every member of the
-legislature. In the State of New York Ullman, the standard-bearer of
-the new army of persecution, received over 122,000 votes, and, though
-defeated in the city, it was more than suspected that the Democrat who
-was chosen as mayor had been a member of the organization. In many other
-States and cities the power of the sworn secret combination was felt and
-acknowledged.
-
-Its influence and unseen grasp on the passions and prejudices of the
-lower classes of Protestants were plainly perceptible in the halls of
-Congress and in the executive cabinet. In the Senate William H. Seward
-was the first and foremost to denounce the so-called American party. As
-early as July, 1854, in a speech on the Homestead Bill, he took occasion
-to remark:
-
-“It is sufficient for me to say that, in my judgment, everything is
-un-American which makes a distinction, of whatever kind, in this country
-between the native-born American and him whose lot is directed to be cast
-here by an over-ruling Providence, and who renounces his allegiance to a
-foreign land and swears fealty to the country which adopts him.”
-
-The example of the great statesman was followed by such men as Douglas,
-Cass, Keitt, Chandler, and Seymour, while Senators Dayton and Houston,
-Wilson, the late Vice-President, N. P. Banks, and a number of other
-politicians championed the cause of intolerance as has since been
-confessed, for their own selfish aggrandizement as much as from inherent
-littleness of soul.
-
-Meanwhile, Massachusetts was completely controlled by the Know-nothings.
-Their governor, Gardiner, had not been well in the chair of state when
-he disbanded all the Irish military companies within his jurisdiction.
-These were the Columbian, Webster, Shields, and Sarsfield Guards of
-Boston, the Jackson Musketeers of Lowell, the Union Guard of Lawrence,
-and the Jackson Guard of Worcester. The General Court, too, not to be
-outdone in bigotry by the executive, passed a law for the inspection of
-nunneries, convents, and schools, and appointed a committee to carry
-out its provisions. The first--and last--domiciliary visit of this body
-was made to the school of the Sisters of Notre Dame in Roxbury. It is
-thus graphically described by the Boston _Advertiser_, an eminently
-Protestant authority: “The gentlemen--we presume we must call members of
-the legislature by this name--roamed over the whole house from attic to
-cellar. No chamber, no passage, no closet, no cupboard, escaped their
-vigilant search. No part of the house was enough protected by respect for
-the common courtesies of civilized life to be spared in the examination.
-The ladies’ dresses hanging in their wardrobes were tossed over. The
-party invaded the chapel, and showed their respect--as Protestants, we
-presume--for the One God whom all Christians worship by talking loudly
-with their hats on; while the ladies shrank in terror at the desecration
-of a spot which they believed hallowed.”
-
-Still, the work of proscription and outrage went on in other directions.
-Fifteen school-teachers had been dismissed in Philadelphia because
-they were Catholics; the Rev. F. Nachon, of Mobile, was assaulted and
-nearly killed while pursuing his sacred avocations; a military company
-in Cincinnati, and another in Milwaukee, composed of adopted citizens,
-were disbanded, and on the 6th and 7th of August, 1855, the streets of
-Louisville ran red with the blood of adopted citizens. In this last and
-culminating Know-nothing outrage eleven hundred voters were driven from
-the polls, numbers of men, and even women, were shot down in the public
-thoroughfares, houses were sacked and burned, and at least five persons
-are known to have been literally roasted alive.
-
-A reaction, however, had already set in. Men of moderate views and
-unbiassed judgments began to tire of the scenes of strife, murder, and
-rapine that accompanied the victories of the Know-nothings. The first
-to deal it a deadly blow, as a political body, was Henry A. Wise, of
-Virginia, in his noble canvass of that State against the combined Whig
-and Nativist elements in 1855; and to the late Archbishop of New York,
-in his utter discomfiture of State Senator Brooks, is justly due the
-merit of having first convinced the American people that the so-called
-American party was actually the most dangerous enemy of American laws and
-institutions, the advocate of spoliation and persecution under the guise
-of patriotism and reform.
-
-The decline of Nativism, though not so rapid as its growth, was equally
-significant, and its history as instructive. In 1856 a national
-convention was called by the wreck of the party to nominate Fillmore for
-the presidency, after overtures had been made in vain to the Republicans
-and Democrats. Fillmore was so badly defeated that he retired into
-private life and lost whatever little fame he had acquired in national
-affairs as Taylor’s successor. Four years later Bell and Everett appeared
-on the Know-nothing ticket, but so far behind were they in the race with
-their presidential competitors that very few persons cared to remember
-the paucity of their votes. Gradually, silently, but steadily, like
-vermin from a sinking ship, the leaders slunk away from the already
-doomed faction, and, by a hypocritical display of zeal, endeavored to
-obtain recognition in one or other of the great parties, but generally
-without success. Disappointed ambition, impotent rage, and, let us hope,
-remorse of conscience occasionally seized upon them, and the charity of
-silence became to them the most desired of blessings. Perhaps if the late
-civil war had not occurred, to swallow in the immensity of its operations
-all minor interests, we might have beheld in 1864 the spectre of Nativism
-arising from its uneasy slumber, to be again subjected to its periodical
-blights and curses.
-
-From present appearances many far-seeing persons apprehend the recurrence
-in this year of the wild exhibitions of anti-Catholic and anti-American
-fanaticism which have so often blotted and blurred the otherwise
-stainless pages of our short history; that the centennial year of
-American independence and republican liberty is to be signalized by a
-more concerted, better organized, and more ramified attack on the great
-principles of civil and religious freedom which underlie and sustain
-the fabric of our government. We trust, sincerely hope, that these men
-are mistaken. But if such is to be the case; if we Catholics are doomed
-once more to be subjected to the abuse of the vile, the slander of the
-hireling, and the violence of an armed mob, the sooner we are prepared
-for the contingency the better. If the scenes which have indelibly
-disgraced Boston and Philadelphia, Ellsworth and Louisville, are to be
-again rehearsed by the half-dozen sworn secret societies whose cabalistic
-letters disfigure the columns of so many of our newspapers, we must be
-prepared to meet the danger with firmness and composure. As Catholics,
-demanding nothing but what is justly our due under the laws, our position
-will ever be one of forbearance, charity, and conciliation; but as
-American citizens, proud of our country and zealous for the maintenance
-of her institutions, our place shall be beside the executors of those
-grand enactments which have made this republic the paragon and exemplar
-of all civil and natural virtues, no matter how imminent the danger or
-how great the sacrifice. In lands less favored Catholic rights may be
-violated by prince or mob with impunity, but we would be unworthy of
-our country and of its founders were we to shrink for a moment from the
-performance of our trust as the custodians of the fundamental ordinance
-which guarantees full and absolute religious liberty to all citizens of
-the republic.
-
-
-LOUISE LATEAU BEFORE THE BELGIAN ROYAL ACADEMY OF MEDICINE.[260]
-
-
-I.
-
-How is the name of Louise Lateau to be mentioned without immediately
-calling up all the tumulta which that name has provoked? Books of science
-and philosophy, official reports, academic discourses, reports of visits,
-_feuilletons_, conferences, pamphlets, articles in journals, every kind
-of literary production has been placed under contribution to keep the
-public informed about the _stigmatisée_ of Bois d’Haine. For a year,
-however, these studies have betaken themselves to a region that might be
-called exclusively scientific, and have even received a kind of official
-consecration from the recent vote of the Royal Academy of Medicine.
-
-It may be of service to the reader who cannot occupy himself with
-special studies to give a brief exposition of the affair of Bois d’Haine
-in itself, to show the different interpretations of it that have been
-attempted, and to indicate clearly the actual phase of the question from
-a scientific point of view.
-
-As early as about the middle of 1868 vague rumors were heard of strange
-events which were taking place in a little village of Hainault. Every
-Friday a young girl showed on the different portions of her body
-corresponding to the wounds of our Saviour Jesus Christ red stains from
-which blood flowed in greater or less abundance. It was also said that on
-every Friday this young girl, ravished in ecstasy, remained for several
-hours completely unconscious of all that was passing around her. Such
-were the principal facts. Over and above these rumor spread the story of
-certain accessory incidents, some of which, though true, were distorted,
-while others were pure fancy. Thanks to the daily press, the young girl
-soon became known to the general public, and the name of Louise Lateau
-passed from mouth to mouth. Here and there one read among “current
-events” that large crowds rushed from all sides, from Belgium and from
-without, to assist every Friday at the scenes which were being enacted in
-the chamber at Bois d’Haine. Some journals profited by the occasion to
-deliver themselves anew of declamations against “Catholic superstitions,
-the stupidity of the masses, and the intriguing character of the clergy”;
-while even many men of good faith were of opinion that the story told of
-Louise Lateau might indeed be true, but ought to be attributed to some
-trickery or another of which either the girl or her family was culpable.
-
-Happily for the public, a light came to clear up this chaos of versions,
-suppositions, and diverse and contradictory opinions. The _Revue
-Catholique_ of Louvain reproduced by instalments, beginning in 1869, a
-study by Prof. Lefebvre on these extraordinary events. Some time after,
-this study appeared in the form of a volume. Here is how the eminent
-physician expresses himself on the origin of his study:
-
-    “The story told by the first witnesses of these extraordinary
-    events produced a lively emotion in the public mind, and soon
-    crowds assembled every week around the humble house which was
-    their theatre. The ecclesiastical authorities took up the
-    facts. This was their right and duty. From the very beginning
-    they recognized that the different elements of the question
-    ought to pass through the crucible of science. The periodic
-    hemorrhage and the suspension of the exercise of the senses
-    were within the competence of physicians. I was asked to study
-    them, the desire being expressed that the examination of these
-    facts should be of the most thorough description, and that they
-    should not be allowed to escape any one of the exigencies and
-    severities of modern science.… I deemed it right, therefore,
-    to accept the mission which was offered me. As a physician, I
-    was only asked for what I could give--that is to say, a purely
-    medical study of the facts.”[261]
-
-After having examined the events of Bois d’Haine in all their phases;
-after having put to the proof the sincerity of the young girl in a
-thousand different ways and by means of a variety of tests, the eminent
-Louvain professor pronounced the facts of the stigmatization and ecstasy
-to be real and free from deception. Passing, then, to the interpretation
-of the events themselves, the author thus concludes:
-
-    “Studying first the question of hemorrhage, I have demonstrated
-    that the periodic bleedings of Louise Lateau belong to no
-    species of hemorrhage admitted in the regular range of science;
-    that they cannot be assimilated to any of the extraordinary
-    cases recorded in the annals of medicine; that, in fine, the
-    laws of physiology do not afford an explanation of their
-    genesis. Coming next to the question of ecstasy, I have
-    carefully gone over the characters of the standard nervous
-    affections which could offer certain traits of a resemblance,
-    however remote, to the ecstasy of Louise Lateau, and I believe
-    I have demonstrated that it is impossible to connect it with
-    any of the nervous affections known to-day. I have penetrated
-    the domain of occult sciences; those dark doctrines have
-    furnished us with no more data for an interpretation of the
-    events of Bois d’Haine than the free sciences which expand in
-    the full light of day.”
-
-I do not hesitate to say that the appearance of this book was a
-veritable event, and that it marked an important halting-place in the
-study of the question of Louise Lateau. By those who knew the calm and
-reflective spirit of M. Lefebvre, and the independence of his character
-and convictions, the fact of the real existence of the extraordinary
-events taking place at Bois d’Haine was no longer called in question;
-and if some doubt still remained, it regarded only the sense in which
-those events were to be interpreted. Was it, then, true that the union of
-stigmata and ecstasies belonged to no known malady? Was it true that they
-could find no place in the classification of diseases, under a new title,
-with physiological proofs to accompany them?
-
-Notwithstanding the immense credit allowed to the science of M. Lefebvre,
-doubt still hovered around this question, and I make bold to say, in the
-honor of the progress of science, that such doubt was legitimate. A loyal
-appeal was made to the _savants_ of the country and of foreign countries,
-urging them to go and study the facts at Bois d’Haine and publish their
-opinion. Soon a study on Louise Lateau, made by a French physician,[262]
-came to confirm still further the medical study of M. Lefebvre. Then a
-German _savant_, M. Virchow, seemed to accept as true the conclusions of
-the Belgian doctor by that famous phrase that the events of Bois d’Haine
-must be considered either as a trick or as a miracle.
-
-Meanwhile, certain persons seemed still reluctant to accept facts
-which a hundred different witnesses affirmed in the face of the world.
-Among the reluctant are to be ranked, first of all, those who are of
-bad faith--with whom there is no reason to trouble; others who, for
-philosophic motives, seemed to accuse the witnesses of those scenes
-of sacrificing the interest of science to that of their religious
-convictions. Nevertheless, M. Lefebvre’s book continued to make headway.
-I do not say that it did not meet with some attacks here and there, and
-certain objections in detail; but throughout the country no publication
-of any pretension to seriousness affected either to deny the facts or to
-give a natural explanation of them. This state of things continued up
-to July, 1874. At this epoch Dr. Charbonnier, a physician of Brussels,
-presented to the Belgian Royal Academy of Medicine a work entitled
-_Maladies et facultés diverses des mystiques. Louise Lateau._
-
-M. Boëns, on his part, submitted to the same learned body, in the session
-of October 3, 1874, a new production, entitled _Louise Lateau, ou les
-mystères de Bois d’Haine dévoilés_.
-
-
-II.
-
-The events of Bois d’Haine continued to occupy public attention.
-The scenes of the stigmatic flows of blood and of the ecstasies were
-presented every Friday. It was even stated that from the middle of 1871
-Louise Lateau had taken no sort of nourishment. The Belgian Royal Academy
-of Medicine, whether because it dreaded to enter upon a question which
-involved, beyond the scientific side, a side purely philosophic, or
-whether also because a fitting and favorable opportunity of taking up
-the question of Louise Lateau was not presented, remained mute as to the
-events of Bois d’Haine.
-
-The almost simultaneous presentation of two works treating on the very
-subject indicated clearly that the question was ripe. Moreover, in the
-session of October 3, 1874, the chief medical body of the country,
-conformably with usage, appointed a special committee to make a report on
-the works read in its sessions. This committee consisted of MM. Fossion,
-president; Mascart and Warlomont, colleagues.
-
-The important report of the committee was read in the session of the 13th
-of February by M. Warlomont. That gentleman to show how the study of M.
-Charbonnier’s work necessitated an examination into the affair at Bois
-d’Haine, said:
-
-    “Ought the committee to confine itself to examining the
-    memorial placed before it from the simple point of view of
-    its absolute scientific value, without occupying itself with
-    the fact which gives occasion for the memorial? It would be
-    easier to do so, perhaps, but an opportunity would thus be
-    neglected of putting the Academy in possession of an actual
-    medical observation, as complete as possible, relative to a
-    fact of which, whether we like it or not, the discussion can no
-    longer be eluded. It assumed, therefore the task of inquiring
-    into the affair forthwith; resolved, however arduous might be
-    the mission thus undertaken, to accept it without regret, to
-    pursue it without weakness as without bias, and to set before
-    the society such elements as its investigation--one altogether
-    official--should have procured. This is the trust which, in its
-    name, I this day fulfil.”[263]
-
-MM. Charbonnier and Boëns were the first in our country who undertook to
-find fault with the conclusions of M. Lefebvre’s book, and to explain by
-scientific data the events of Bois d’Haine. M. Boëns, almost immediately
-after the reading of a portion of his work, withdrew it, and was able
-by this means to escape the report of the committee. Was this disdain
-for the judgment of his _confrères_ on the part of the distinguished
-physician of Charleroi, or was it want of confidence in the solidity of
-his own arguments? I know not. I state a fact and continue.
-
-There remained, then, for the committee to examine the work of M.
-Charbonnier. This memoir is voluminous. The theory of the author is
-substantially as follows: The absence of aliment and the concentration of
-the faculties of the soul towards one object have been the primary and
-indispensable conditions of ecstasies and stigmata. As far as abstinence
-is concerned, it is perfectly compatible, if not with a state of health,
-at least with the maintenance of life. “The question of abstinence,” says
-the author, “is the most important, because without it nothing happens.
-It being well explained, there is no longer anything supernatural in any
-of the physiological and pathological phenomena of the mystics.”[264]
-
-But how is this abstinence compatible with life? By the law of the
-substitution of functions and organs.
-
-“The organs,” says the author, “are conjointly associated (_solidaires_)
-one with another, working for the common health; so that when an organ,
-for one cause or another, cannot adequately fulfil its functions, another
-immediately supplies its place.”
-
-Supposing all this admitted, here is what the author says of
-stigmatization:
-
-    “Abstinence and contemplation are the causes of stigmatization:
-    i. Abstinence, in suppressing the vegetative functions, frees
-    both the nervous influx and the blood which were distributed
-    among the digestive organs. 2. Contemplation gathers together
-    the contingent of pain dispersed through all the body, to fix
-    and concentrate it on certain points which it sees, admires,
-    loves, in Jesus Christ. It suppresses all the functions of
-    the life of relation to devote itself exclusively to the
-    object of its passion. The bloody flux, which has been drawn
-    to the surface of the skin by the great functional activity,
-    follows to the end the nervous influx which is constantly
-    directed towards certain points, and the stigmatization is
-    effected.”[265]
-
-Of the ecstasy, according to M. Charbonnier, “abstinence is the
-principal, contemplation the secondary, cause.” We cannot, indeed, enter
-into all the details furnished by the author of this strange theory. In
-order to arrive at a judgment regarding it, we know of nothing better
-than to cite the conclusions of the reader of the report on the work
-itself:
-
-    “All this,” says M. Warlomont, “forms a whole which must have
-    cost the author long and laborious research. As far as the
-    inquiries of physiology are concerned, the source, respectable
-    though it may be, on which he has relied, must be a cause for
-    regret. His principal, almost his only, authority is that of
-    Longet, who is now many years dead. But the questions relative
-    to nutrition--those precisely which are at stake--have, since
-    Longet, been placed in an absolutely new light. The work which
-    we have just analyzed is altogether a work of the imagination.
-    The demonstration of the _à priori_ thesis which the author
-    has set up he has pursued by every means, clearing out of
-    his road the obstacles of nature which embarrass it, and
-    creating at will new functions whereon to apply his organs;
-    all this written in a lively, imaginative style, and bearing
-    the impress of conviction. There is only one thing which is
-    sadly wanting--experimental proof. A few simple experiments on
-    animals, logically carried out, would have informed him how
-    they withstand a progressive abstinence, and what changes this
-    abstinence effects in their organs and functions. It is to be
-    regretted that he has not instituted these experiments.”[266]
-
-If the theory advanced by M. Charbonnier, based on such doubtful
-physiological facts, finds no weight with the learned representative
-of the Academy of Medicine, it is not because he himself admits the
-conclusions arrived at in the study of M. Lefebvre on Louise Lateau.
-For him, indeed, the events taking place at Bois d’Haine, apart from
-the question of fasting, which has not been positively established, and
-which, on that account, rightly passes beyond scientific discussion,[267]
-are exempt from all fraud and deception. But let M. Warlomont himself
-speak:
-
-    “After having analyzed,” he says, “the memoir which the
-    Academy has confided to our examination, and having refuted it
-    principally in the portions which concern Louise Lateau, it
-    remains for us in our turn to give our own ideas relative to
-    a fact of such interest which has formed the subject of the
-    memoir.
-
-    “And first of all, are the facts cited real? According to
-    our thinking, the simulation of the ecstasies is simply
-    impossible, accompanied as they are by functional troubles the
-    provocation for which would pass quite beyond the empire of the
-    will. As for the actual spontaneity of the stigmata, we have
-    demonstrated this experimentally.”
-
-And now for the chief part of the report. It is that in which the learned
-academician attempts to give a physiological explanation of the facts.
-For him ecstasies are a species of double life, of a second condition,
-such as may be presented in ordinary and extraordinary nervous states, as
-well as in others: (_a_) in consequence of material injury to the brain;
-(_b_) during the existence of well-determined neurotic disorders; (_c_)
-under the influence of certain special appliances (magnetism, hypnotism);
-(_d_) spontaneously, without the intervention of any external provocation
-(as somnambulism or extraordinary neurotic affections).
-
-After having examined each of these points in detail, the author thus
-continues:
-
-    “This point established, what of ecstasies? Well, whatever
-    we may do, it is impossible for us not to class them in the
-    same order of facts, not to see in them the influence of a
-    neurotic perturbation analogous to that which controls neurotic
-    diseases. It is in both cases the passage of a human being into
-    a state of second condition, characterized by the suspension,
-    more or less complete, of the exercise of the senses, with a
-    special concentration of all the cerebral powers towards a
-    limited object. Among the ecstatics, as among the hypnotics,
-    there prevails a perturbation, diminution, or abolition of
-    external sensibility. All is concentrated in a new cerebral
-    functional department.”
-
-So far for the ecstasies. Passing next to the production of stigmata,
-the report admits in principle the theory of Alfred Maury. That is to
-say, the imagination plays the principal _rôle_ in the production of
-these phenomena. But to meet the brilliant member of the Institute, he
-calls to his aid the physiological laws and most recent discoveries,
-in order to show how the imagination can, by the irritation of certain
-given parts, provoke a veritable congestion of those parts, and then a
-hemorrhage.
-
-    “In virtue of what mechanism,” he asks, “are blisters first
-    produced, and bleeding afterwards? We have established the
-    genesis of stigmatic angiomata.[268] The attention has given
-    place to pain, and pain to repeated touchings; from this
-    proceeds the congestion which has brought on the arrest of
-    the blood in the capillaries, and, as a consequence, their
-    enlargement. Then comes the rush of blood, giving place to
-    congestive motions, determined by a hemorrhagic diathesis, and
-    the phenomena disclose themselves in all their simplicity;
-    the leucocytes[269] will pass across the capillaries, will
-    discharge themselves under the skin, and the blister is the
-    result. The accumulation of blood continuing in proportion to
-    the enlargement of the capillaries, the fleshly tegument will
-    end by bursting; then the blood itself, whether by traversing
-    the channels created by the previous passage of the leucocytes,
-    or by the rupture of the vessels, the likelihood of which can
-    be sustained, ends by an external eruption, and the hemorrhage
-    follows.”
-
-But M. Warlomont goes still farther. He says that not only are stigmata
-and ecstasies capable of explanation when taken apart from one another,
-but that by their union they constitute what in pathology is called
-aggregate of symptoms. According to this, stigmata and ecstasies would
-constitute an altogether unique morbid state, to which the professor
-gives the following name and definition: “Stigmatic neuropathy is a
-nervous disease, having its seat in the base of the _medulla oblongata_,
-the first stage of which consists in the paralysis of the vaso-motor
-centre, and the second in its excitation.” Presented in this way, the
-report of the distinguished member of the Academy was not only a report,
-but a veritable original work. Thus this book, wherein the author had
-joined loyalty of procedure to elegance of style and deep erudition,
-produced a profound sensation. The theory which he advances might
-well leave certain doubts with the reader relative to the solidity of
-the bases on which it leans, but by its method it exercised a real
-fascination on the mind. M. Warlomont’s conclusions were, as far as the
-interpretation of the facts went, diametrically opposed to those of the
-book which M. Lefebvre had published several years before, and it was not
-without a very great curiosity that the public awaited the reply of the
-latter.
-
-The reply was not long in coming. M. Lefebvre’s discourse occupied, so
-to say, exclusively the sessions of May 29 and June 26. After having
-rendered due homage to the courtesy and science of the distinguished
-reader of the report, the Louvain professor hesitated not to sustain the
-first conclusions advanced in his book, and to demonstrate the small
-foundation of the theory of his adversary on this question. It is to be
-regretted that the limits at my disposal do not allow me to enter into
-all the physiological details and pathological considerations on which
-M. Lefebvre builds his conclusions. I regret it the more because the
-brilliant words of the orator exercise a very special impression by the
-clearness of their exposition, the logic of their reasoning, and the
-exquisite charm which they give to even the driest questions.
-
-First, as to the stigmatic hemorrhages, we cannot be astonished, after
-having followed the proofs which the learned orator gives us, to find him
-lay down the following conclusions:
-
-    “1. M. Warlomont is driven to admit a single vaso-motor centre;
-    the most recent researches are against this localization: the
-    vaso-motor centres are several and disseminated.
-
-    “2. The distinguished reader of the report constructs his
-    doctrine of the action of the imagination on a series of
-    hypotheses.
-
-    “The two chief ones are: that the imagination has the power,
-    every Friday morning, of completely paralyzing the vaso-motor
-    centre and the vaso-constrictor nerves; and after midday,
-    by a contradictory action, to excite violently this centre,
-    and consequently to close up the vaso-constrictors--pure
-    suppositions which have not only not been demonstrated by the
-    author, but which seem to me absolutely anti-physiological.
-
-    “3. Even admitting these hypotheses as well founded, it is an
-    established fact that the complete paralysis of the vaso-motor
-    centres and of the vaso-constrictor nerves is never followed
-    by bleeding on the surface of the skin; the experience of all
-    physiologists agrees on this point.
-
-    “4. This experience proves, on the contrary, that in such cases
-    there are sometimes produced suffusions of blood in the mucous
-    membranes; such suffusions never show themselves in Louise
-    Lateau.
-
-    “5. A series of hypotheses still more complicated than those
-    laid down as premises by the distinguished reader of the report
-    might be conceded--to wit, the paralysis of the arteries and
-    the simultaneous constriction of the veins. Experiment again
-    proves that even under these conditions bleeding on the surface
-    of the skin is not produced.
-
-    “6. M. Warlomont, in parting from the hypotheses which I
-    have just combated, admits that the bleeding produced by the
-    influence of the imagination is a bleeding by transudation.
-    But the characteristics of transudation, studied in the light
-    of modern physiology, are completely opposed to those of the
-    stigmatic bleeding of Louise Lateau.
-
-    “7. Finally--and this argument alone will suffice to overthrow
-    the thesis of the distinguished reader of the report--clinical
-    observation, in accordance with physiological induction, proves
-    that in circumstances where the imagination exercises its
-    greatest violence it never produces bleeding on the surface of
-    the skin.”
-
-Regarding ecstasies, the orator, after having examined the different
-states with which the reader of the report to the Academy compared the
-ecstasies of Louise Lateau, concludes by saying:
-
-    “I believe I have demonstrated that the analysis of second
-    conditions, brought out with so much skill by the distinguished
-    gentleman, does not give the key to the ecstasy of Louise
-    Lateau. But, setting aside these states of nervous disease,
-    should not the imagination be made to bear all the burden of
-    the ecstasy, as it does of the stigmatization?”
-
-After examining this question, the orator concludes in the negative. In
-finishing his beautiful discourse he says:
-
-    “Our honorable colleague, in studying the causes of the
-    stigmatization and ecstasy, has given to them a physiological
-    interpretation. On this ground I have separated from him, and
-    I believe I have demonstrated that that interpretation is not
-    only insufficient, but also erroneous. I believed for a moment
-    that M. Warlomont was about to offer an acceptable scientific
-    theory. I do not say a theory complete and adequate--I am
-    not so exacting; I know too well that we do not know the all
-    of anything. If our eminent colleague had proposed to us a
-    physiological interpretation, satisfying the most moderate
-    demands of science, I should have accepted it, not with
-    resignation, but with joy and eagerness; and believe me,
-    gentlemen, my religious convictions would have suffered no
-    shock thereby.
-
-    “Our learned colleague, whom you have charged with examining
-    the events of Bois d’Haine, has not, then, in my opinion,
-    given to them their physiological interpretation. Other
-    physicians have attempted the same task; I name two of them,
-    because their works have been produced within these walls.
-
-    “First of all, Dr. Boëns. In withdrawing his memoir from the
-    order of the day of the Academy, he has withdrawn it from
-    our discussion. Nevertheless, I believe I am not severe in
-    affirming that the considerations which claimed his attention,
-    and the irony of which he has been so prodigal in my own
-    regard, have thrown but little light on the events of Bois
-    d’Haine. Dr. Charbonnier has submitted to your appreciation a
-    work of a more scientific character. M. Warlomont has examined
-    it with the attention which it deserves, and has refuted it. I
-    am thus dispensed from returning to it.
-
-    “I maintain, then, purely and simply, the conclusions of my
-    study: The stigmatization and the ecstasies of Louise Lateau
-    are real and true facts, and science has not furnished their
-    physiological interpretation.”
-
-M. Crocq spoke after M. Lefebvre. Like M. Warlomont, the learned Brussels
-professor believes that the interpretation of the facts positively
-established about Louise Lateau belongs to pathological physiology. The
-theory of M. Crocq differs but little from that of M. Warlomont. He
-attaches more importance to abstinence than the learned reader of the
-report, and thus comes nearer to M. Charbonnier; he believes, also, that
-the bleeding is altogether caused by a rupture of the capillaries. Apart
-from these small distinctions, it may be said of him, as of M. Warlomont,
-that he is of opinion that the imagination, by its influence on the
-nervous system, is the principal cause of the ecstasies and stigmata.
-Here are the rest of his conclusions:
-
-    “I. The state of Louise Lateau is a complex pathological state,
-    characterized by the following facts:
-
-    “1. Anæmia and weakness of constitution, arising from
-    privations endured since childhood.
-
-    “2. Nervous exaltation produced by anæmia and directed in a
-    determined sense by the education and religious tendencies of
-    Louise.
-
-    “3. Ecstasies constituting the supreme degree of this
-    exaltation.
-
-    “4. Bleeding, having for its starting point anæmia and
-    exaltation of the vaso-motor nervous system.
-
-    “5. Relative abstinence, considerably exaggerated by the sick
-    girl, conformably to what is observed among many persons who
-    suffer from nervous disorders.
-
-    “II. This state offers nothing contrary to the laws of
-    pathological physiology; it is consequently useless to go
-    outside of that in search of explanation.
-
-    “III. It has the same characteristics as all the analogous
-    cases related by physicians and historians; mysticism
-    altogether, save cases of jugglery and mystification, ought to
-    enter into the province of pathology, which is vast enough to
-    contain it; and all the phenomena explain themselves perfectly
-    by taking as starting point the principles which I have laid
-    down.”
-
-If we had to advance our own opinion on this important question, we
-should say that, after the report in which M. Warlomont had treated his
-subject with so much method and science, there remained few new arguments
-which could be applied to the physiological theory of the phenomena of
-mystics. It should be considered, however, no small advantage for the
-latter physician to feel himself supported by M. Crocq, who had brought
-to the debates the weight of his profound erudition and vast experience.
-
-
-III.
-
-By all impartial judges the case might be regarded as understood. It
-was so in effect. The different orators who succeeded each other in the
-tribune of the Academy had brought to their respective discourses the
-strongest possible array of facts and of arguments. I shall astonish no
-one, then, by saying that M. Warlomont could not allow the victorious
-discourse of his colleague of Louvain to pass without some observations.
-It is impossible for us here to give a _résumé_ of his discourse. In the
-main it added no new proof to the substance of the debate, and confined
-itself to the criticism of certain details.
-
-It is enough for us to say that in this discourse the learned reader of
-the report to the Academy gave new proof of the brilliancy of his mind
-and the adroitness of his gifts.
-
-M. Lefebvre, on his side, felt himself to be too much master of the
-situation to need emphasizing his triumph any further. This is what he
-did in the session of October 9, 1875. Without precisely entering into
-the heart of the debate, he brought out more strongly certain of the
-arguments which he had already used; he employed them to refute some of
-the assertions made in the discourses of his adversaries, held up certain
-inaccuracies, and concluded, as he had the right to do, by the following
-words, which give an exact idea of the state of the question:
-
-    “Let us resume. M. Warlomont has studied with earnestness and
-    candor the events of Bois d’Haine. He has stated, as I have
-    done, the reality of the stigmatization and ecstasy; he has
-    demonstrated, as I have, that these phenomena are free from any
-    deception. M. Crocq, after having examined the facts on the
-    spot, has arrived at the same conclusions. The learned reader
-    of the committee’s report has built up a scientific theory of
-    the stigmatization and ecstasy; the eminent Brussels professor
-    has, in his turn, formulated an interpretation very nearly
-    approaching to that of M. Warlomont, but which differs from it,
-    nevertheless, on certain points. I have sought, on my side, a
-    physiological explanation of these extraordinary facts, and
-    I have arrived at the conclusion that science could furnish
-    no satisfactory interpretation of them. I have expounded at
-    length before the Academy the reasons which prevent me from
-    accepting the theories of my two honorable opponents; but my
-    position is perfectly correct. I confine myself to recognizing
-    my powerlessness to interpret the facts of Bois d’Haine. M.
-    Warlomont takes another attitude. He pretends that we have a
-    scientific explanation of these phenomena. We have not one--we
-    have had three or four; which is the true one? Is it that of M.
-    Boëns? Is it that of M. Charbonnier, to which, beyond doubt,
-    you attach some importance, since you have voted that it be
-    printed? Is it that of the learned reader of your report? Begin
-    by choosing. As for me, I hold fast to my first conclusions:
-    The facts of Bois d’Haine have not received a scientific
-    interpretation.”
-
-After certain remarks made at the same session by MM. Vleminckx, Crocq,
-Lefebvre, Masoin, Boëns, the general discussion closed. The printing
-of M. Charbonnier’s memoir was decided on and a vote of thanks to the
-author passed. With this should have ended the task of the Academy; and
-those who had hoped for a physiological interpretation of the facts of
-Bois d’Haine, as the outcome of these discussions, were in a position
-to felicitate themselves on the result; for by its absolute silence the
-Academy allowed a certain freedom of choice.
-
-But during the session of July 10, 1875, which a family affliction
-prevented M. Lefebvre from assisting at, two members proposed orders of
-the day on the discussion of Bois d’Haine. Nevertheless, by a very proper
-sentiment, which the distinguished president, M. Vleminckx, was the first
-to advance, those orders of the day were not carried at that date.
-
-That of M. Kuborn was thus conceived:
-
-    “The Academy, considering--
-
-    “That the phenomena really established about the young girl
-    of Bois d’Haine are not new and are explicable by the laws of
-    pathological physiology;
-
-    “That the prolonged abstinence which has been argued about has
-    not been observed by the committee;
-
-    “That no supervision, therefore, having been established, and
-    there having been no chance of establishing it, the proper
-    thing was not to pause on the consideration of this fact, but
-    to consider it as not having come up--
-
-    “The Academy follows its order of the day as far as concerns
-    the question of the stigmatization and exstasy.”
-
-Here is the order of the day proposed by M. Crocq:
-
-    “The Academy, considering--
-
-    “That the phenomena established about Louise Lateau are not
-    beyond a physiological explanation;
-
-    “That those which are not established ought no longer to occupy
-    our attention--
-
-    “Declares the discussion closed, and passes to the order of the
-    day.”
-
-The same resolutions, the small foundation for which, after the
-discourses which had been made, every impartial mind ought to recognize,
-were again brought up in the session of October 9.
-
-M. Vleminckx, having induced the authors of the orders of the day to
-modify their wording in such a manner as to render them acceptable, M.
-Fossion proposed the following form, more soothing than its predecessors:
-
-    “The Royal Academy of Medicine declares that the case of Louise
-    Lateau has not been completely scrutinized and cannot serve
-    as a base for serious discussion; consequently, it closes the
-    discussion.”
-
-M. Laussedat, after some preliminary remarks, finally proposed the order
-of the day pure and simple, which was adopted.
-
-The bearing of this vote will escape the mind of no one. In setting aside
-the orders of the day which pretended that what had been positively
-established in the question of Bois d’Haine might be solved by science,
-the Academy has fully confirmed the conclusions of M. Lefebvre’s book.
-
-Meanwhile, in ending, let us return to Bois d’Haine, to that young girl
-who has become more than ever the object of the veneration of some, the
-study of others, and the wonder of all.
-
-Since 1868 Louise Lateau presents the phenomena weekly of the bloody
-stigmata and the ecstasies, to which later on was added abstinence from
-food.
-
-Her first and chief historian, M. Lefebvre, after having watched the
-young girl, affirms since 1869: She, whom a certain portion of the public
-considers as a cheat or an invalid, really presents the phenomena which
-are reported of her. These phenomena are exempt from trickery, and it is
-impossible to explain them by the laws of physiology and pathology. We
-omit the question of fasting, which remains to be studied.
-
-Seven years after the appearance of the first phenomena, at the time when
-the commotion which they produced had, so to say, reached its height, the
-leading learned body in Belgium examined the mysterious scenes in the
-humble house of Bois d’Haine, and, through MM. Crocq and Warlomont, made
-an inquiry into the reality and sincerity of the facts, and brings in a
-verdict that the facts are real and free from all fraud.
-
-Finally, this same Belgian Royal Academy of Medicine, by its vote,
-avows in the face of the world that, if it ought not to recognize a
-supernatural cause in the facts about Louise Lateau, as little can it
-demonstrate their natural origin and physiological genesis.
-
-Such is the actual state of this extraordinary question.
-
-
-ST. JEAN DE LUZ.
-
-    “Il s’imagine voir, avec Louis le Grand,
-    Philip Quatre qui s’avance
-    Dans l’Ile de la Conférence.”
-
-                                 --_La Fontaine._
-
-Few towns are set in so lovely a frame as St. Jean de Luz, with its
-incomparable variety of sea, mountain, river, and plain. In front is the
-dark blue bay opening into the boundless sea. On the north are the cliffs
-of Sainte Barbe. At the south are the Gothic donjon and massive jetty of
-Socoa, behind which rises gradually a chain of mountains, one above the
-other, from wooded or vine-covered hills, dotted here and there with the
-red-and-white houses of the Basque peasantry and the summer residences
-of the wealthy merchants of St. Jean de Luz, till we come to the outer
-ramparts of La Rhune with its granite cliffs and sharp peaks, the Trois
-Couronnes with their jagged outline, and still farther on a long, blue
-line of mountains fading away into the azure sea. It is from La Rhune
-you can best take in all the features of the country. To go to it you
-use one of the modest barks that have replaced the sumptuous galleys of
-Louis Quatorze, and ascend to Ascain, a pretty hamlet, from which the
-summit of La Rhune is reached in two hours. It is not one of the highest
-in the Pyrenean chain, being only three thousand feet above the sea, but
-it is an isolated peak, and affords a diversified view of vast extent. To
-the north are the green valleys of Labourd, with the steeples of thirty
-parishes around; Bayonne, with the towers of its noble cathedral; and
-the vast pine forests of the mysterious Landes. To the west is the coast
-of Spain washed by the ocean. East and south are the mountains of Béarn
-and Navarre, showing peak after peak, like a sea suddenly petrified in a
-storm.
-
-Such is the magnificent frame in which is set the historic town of St.
-Jean de Luz. It is built on a tongue of land washed by the encroaching
-sea on one hand and the river Nivelle on the other. The situation is
-picturesque, the sky brilliant, the climate mild. It seems to need
-nothing to make it attractive. The very aspect of decay lends it an
-additional charm which renewed prosperity would destroy. The houses run
-in long lines parallel with the two shores, looking, when the tide is
-high, like so many ships at anchor. At the sight of this floating town
-we are not surprised at its past commercial importance, or that its
-inhabitants are navigators _par excellence_. Its sailors were the first
-to explore the unknown seas of the west, and to fish for the cod and
-whale among the icebergs of the arctic zone. In the first half of the
-XVIIth century thirty ships, each manned by thirty-five or forty sailors,
-left St. Jean de Luz for the cod-fisheries of Newfoundland, and as many
-for Spitzbergen in search of whales. The oaks of La Rhune were cut down
-for vessels. The town was wealthy and full of activity. Those were
-the best days of ancient Lohitzun. But though once so renowned for its
-fleets, it has fallen from the rank it then occupied. Ruined by wars, and
-greatly depopulated by the current of events, its houses have decayed
-one after another, or totally disappeared before the encroachments of
-the sea. Reduced to a few quiet streets, it is the mere shadow of what
-it once was. Instead of hundreds of vessels, only a fishing-smack or two
-enliven its harbor. And yet there is a certain air of grandeur about
-the place which bespeaks its past importance, and several houses which
-harmonize with its historic memories. For St. Jean de Luz was not only a
-place of commercial importance, but was visited by several of the kings
-of France, and is associated with some of the most important events of
-their reigns. Louis XI. came here when mediating between the kings of
-Aragon and Castile. The château of Urtubi, which he occupied, is some
-distance beyond. Its fine park, watered by a beautiful stream, and the
-picturesque environs, make it an attractive residence quite worthy of
-royalty. The ivy-covered wall on the north side is a part of the old
-manor-house of the XIIth century; the remainder is of the XVIIth. The
-two towers have a feudal aspect, but are totally innocent of feudal
-domination; for the Basque lords, even of the middle ages, never had
-any other public power than was temporarily conferred on them by their
-national assemblies.
-
-It was at St. Jean de Luz that Francis I., enthusiastically welcomed
-by the people after his deliverance from captivity in Spain, joyfully
-exclaimed: “_Je suis encore roi de France_--I am still King of France!”
-It likewise witnessed the exchange of the beautiful Elizabeth of France
-and Anne of Austria--one given in marriage to Louis XIII. and the other
-to Philip of Spain amid the acclamations of the people.
-
-Cardinal Mazarin also visited St. Jean de Luz in 1659 to confer with
-the astute Don Luis de Haro, prime minister of Philip IV., about the
-interests of France and Spain. The house he inhabited beside the sea
-still has his cipher on the walls, as it has also the old Gobelin
-tapestry with which his apartments were hung. He was accompanied by
-one hundred and fifty gentlemen, some of whom were the greatest lords
-in France. With them were as many attendants, a guard of one hundred
-horsemen and three hundred foot-soldiers, twenty-four mules covered with
-rich housings, seven carriages for his personal use, and several horses
-to ride. He remained here four months. His interviews with the Spanish
-minister took place on the little island in the Bidassoa known ever since
-as the Isle of Conference, which was never heard of till the treaty of
-the Pyrenees. All national interviews and exchanges of princesses had
-previously taken place in the middle of the river by means of _gabares_,
-or a bridge of boats.
-
-It was this now famous isle which Bossuet apostrophized in his _oraison
-funèbre_ at the burial of Queen Marie Thérèse:
-
-“Pacific isle, in which terminated the differences of the two great
-empires of which you were the limit; in which were displayed all the
-skill and diplomacy of different national policies; in which one
-statesman secured preponderance by his deliberation, and the other
-ascendency by means of his penetration! Memorable day, in which two
-proud nations, so long at enmity, but now reconciled by Marie Thérèse,
-advanced to their borders with their kings at their head, not to engage
-in battle, but for a friendly embrace; in which two sovereigns with their
-courts, each with its peculiar grandeur and magnificence, as well as
-etiquette and manners, presented to each other and to the whole universe
-so august a spectacle--how can I now mingle your pageants with these
-funeral solemnities, or dwell on the height of all human grandeur in
-sight of its end?”
-
-The marriage of Louis XIV. with the Spanish Infanta, to which the great
-orator refers, is still the most glorious remembrance of St. Jean de
-Luz. The visits of Louis XI., Francis I., and Charles IX. have left but
-few traces in the town compared with that of the _Grand Monarque_. The
-majestic presence of the young king surrounded by his gay, magnificent
-following, here brought in contrast with the dignity, gloom, and splendor
-of the Spanish court, impressed the imagination of the people, who have
-never forgotten so glorious a memory.
-
-Louis XIV. arrived at St. Jean de Luz May 8, 1660, accompanied by Anne of
-Austria, Cardinal Mazarin, and a vast number of lords and ladies, among
-whom was the _Grande Mademoiselle_. They were enthusiastically welcomed
-by the ringing of bells, firing of cannon, and shouts of joy. Garlands of
-flowers arched the highway, the pavement was strewn with green leaves,
-and Cantabrian dances were performed around the cortége. At the door of
-the parish church stood the clergy in full canonicals, with the _curé_
-at their head to bless the king as he went past. He resided, while
-there, in the château of Lohobiague, the fine towers of which are still
-to be seen on the banks of the Nivelle. It is now known as the House of
-Louis XIV. Here he was entertained by the widowed _châtelaine_ with the
-sumptuous hospitality for which the family was noted. A light gallery was
-put up to connect the château with that of Joanocnia, in which lodged
-Anne of Austria and the Spanish Infanta. Here took place the first
-interview between the king and his bride, described by Mme. de Motteville
-in her piquant manner. From the gallery the Infanta, after her marriage,
-took pleasure in throwing handfuls of silver coin to the people, called
-_pièces de largesses_, struck by the town expressly for the occasion,
-with the heads of the royal pair on one side and on the other St. Jean de
-Luz in a shower of gold, with the motto: _Non lætior alter_.
-
-The château of Joanocnia, frequently called since that time the château
-of the Infanta, was built by Joannot de Haraneder, a merchant of the
-place, who was ennobled for his liberality when the island of Rhé was
-besieged by the English in 1627, and about to surrender to the Duke
-of Buckingham for want of supplies and reinforcements. The Comte de
-Grammont, governor of Bayonne, being ordered by Richelieu to organize an
-expedition at once for the relief of the besieged, issued a command for
-every port to furnish its contingent. St. Jean de Luz eagerly responded
-by sending a large flotilla, and Joannot de Haraneder voluntarily gave
-the king two vessels, supplied with artillery, worthy of figuring in the
-royal navy. For this and subsequent services he was ennobled. His arms
-are graven in marble over the principal fire-place of the château--a
-plum-tree on an anchor, with the motto:
-
-    “Dans l’ancre le beau prunier
-    Est rendu un fort riche fructier.”
-
-This château, though somewhat devoid of symmetry, has a certain beauty
-and originality of its own, with its alternate rows of brick and
-cream-colored stone, after the Basque fashion, its Renaissance portico
-between two square towers facing the harbor, and the light arches of the
-two-story gallery in the Venetian style. Over the principal entrance is a
-marble tablet with the following inscription in letters of gold:
-
-    “L’Infante je reçus l’an mil six cent soixante.
-    On m’appelle depuis le chasteau de l’Infante.”
-
-The letter L and the _fleur-de-lis_ are to be seen as we ascend the grand
-staircase, and two paintings by Gérôme after the style of the XVIIth
-century, recalling the alliance of France and Spain and the well-known
-_mot_ of Louis XIV.:
-
-    “Il n’y a plus de Pyrénées!”
-
-All the details of the residence of the royal family here, as related
-by Mme. de Motteville and Mlle. de Montpensier, are full of curious
-interest. The former describes the beautiful Isle of Conference and the
-superb pavilion for the reunion of the two courts, with two galleries
-leading towards France and Spain. This building was erected by the
-painter Velasquez, who, as _aposentador mayor_, accompanied Philip IV.
-to the frontier. This fatiguing voyage had an unfavorable effect on the
-already declining health of the great painter, and he died a few weeks
-after his return.
-
-During the preliminary arrangements for the marriage Louis led a solemn,
-uniform life. Like the queen-mother, who was always present at Mass,
-Vespers, and Benediction, he daily attended public services, sometimes
-at the Recollects’ and sometimes at the parish church. He always dined
-in public at the château of Lohobiague, surrounded by crowds eager to
-witness the process of royal mastication. In the afternoon there were
-performances by comedians who had followed the court from Paris; and
-sometimes Spanish mysteries, to which Queen Anne was partial, were
-represented, in which the actors were dressed as hermits and nuns, and
-sacred events were depicted, to the downright scandal of the great
-mademoiselle. The day ended with a ball, in which the king did not
-disdain to display the superior graces of his royal person in a _ballet
-compliqué_. Everything, in short, was quite in the style of the _Grand
-Cyrus_ itself.
-
-The marriage, which had taken place at Fontarabia by procuration, was
-personally solemnized in the parish church of St. Jean de Luz by the
-Bishop of Bayonne in the presence of an attentive crowd. The door by
-which the royal couple entered was afterwards walled up, that it might
-never serve for any one else--a not uncommon mark of respect in those
-days. A joiner’s shop now stands against this Porta Regia. The king
-presented the church on this occasion with a complete set of sacred
-vessels and ecclesiastical vestments.
-
-The church in which Louis XIV. was married is exteriorly a noble building
-with an octagonal tower, but of no architectural merit within. There are
-no side aisles, but around the nave are ranges of galleries peculiar
-to the Basque churches, where the separation of the men from the
-women is still rigorously maintained. The only piece of sculpture is a
-strange _Pietà_ in which the Virgin, veiled in a large cope, holds the
-dead Christ on her knees. A rather diminutive angel, in a flowing robe
-with pointed sleeves of the time of Charles VII., bears a scroll the
-inscription of which has become illegible.
-
-Behind the organ, in the obscurity of the lower gallery of the church,
-hangs a dark wooden frame--short but broad--with white corners, which
-contains a curious painting of the XVIIth century representing Christ
-before Pilate. It is by no means remarkable as a work of art; for it is
-deficient in perspective, there is no grace in the drapery, no special
-excellence of coloring. The figures are generally drawn with correctness,
-but the faces seem rather taken from pictures than from real life. But
-however poor the execution, this painting merits attention on account of
-its dramatic character. The composition represents twenty-six persons.
-At the left is Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea, seated in a large
-arm-chair beneath a canopy, pointing with his left hand towards the
-Saviour before him. In his right hand he holds a kind of sceptre; his
-beard is trimmed in the style of Henri Quatre; he wears a large mantle
-lined with ermine, and on his head a _toque_, such as the old presidents
-of parliament used to wear in France.
-
-Below Pilate is the clerk recording the votes in a large register, and
-before him is the urn in which they are deposited.
-
-In front of the clerk, but separated from him by a long white scroll on
-which is inscribed the sentence pronounced by Pilate, is seated our
-Saviour, his loins girded with a strip of scarlet cloth, his bowed head
-encircled by luminous rays, his attitude expressive of humility and
-submission, his bound hands extended on his knees.
-
-In the centre of the canvas, above this group, is the high-priest
-Caiaphas standing under an arch, his head thrown back, and his hands
-extended in an imposing attitude. He wears a cap something like a mitre,
-a kind of stole is crossed on his breast, his long robe is adorned with
-three flounces of lace. His face is that of a young man. The slight black
-mustache he wears is turned up in a way that gives him a resemblance to
-Louis XIII. It is evidently a portrait of that age.
-
-At the side of Pilate, and behind Christ, are ranged the members of the
-Jewish Sanhedrim, standing or sitting, in various postures, with white
-scrolls in their hands, which they hold like screens, bearing their names
-and the expression of their sentiments respecting the divine Victim.
-Their dress is black or white, but varied in form. Most of them wear a
-_mosette_, or ermine cape, and the collar of some order of knighthood, as
-of S. Michael and the S. Esprit. They are all young, have mustaches, and
-look as if they belonged to the time of Louis Treize. On their heads are
-turbans, or _toques_.
-
-Through the open window, at the end of the pretorium, may be seen the
-mob, armed with spears, and expressing its sentiments by means of a
-scroll at the side of the window: “If thou let this man go, thou art not
-Cæsar’s friend. Crucify him! crucify him! His blood be on us and on our
-children.”
-
-The chief interest of the picture centres in these inscriptions, which
-are in queer old French of marvellous orthography. At the bottom of the
-painting, to the left, is the following:
-
-    “Sentence, or decree, of the sanguinary Jews against Jesus
-    Christ, the Saviour of the world.”
-
-Over Pilate we read:
-
-    “PONTIUS PILATE JUDEX.”
-
-The sentiments of the high-priests and elders, whose names we give in the
-original, are thus expressed:
-
-    “1. SIMON LEPROS. For what cause or reason is he held for
-    mutiny or sedition?
-
-    “2. RABAN. Wherefore are laws made, I pray, unless to be kept
-    and executed?
-
-    “3. ACHIAS. No one should be condemned to death whose cause is
-    not known and weighed.
-
-    “4. SABATH. There is no law or right by which one not proved
-    guilty is condemned; wherefore we would know in what way this
-    man hath offended.
-
-    “5. ROSMOPHIN. For what doth the law serve, if not executed?
-
-    “6. PUTÉPHARES. A stirrer-up of the people is a scourge to the
-    land; therefore he should be banished.
-
-    “7. RIPHAR. The penalty of the law is prescribed only for
-    malefactors who should be made to confess their misdeeds and
-    then be condemned.
-
-    “8. JOSEPH D’ARAMATHEA. Truly, it is a shameful thing, and
-    detestable, there be no one in this city who seeks to defend
-    the innocent.
-
-    “9. JORAM. How can we condemn him to death who is just?
-
-    “10. EHIERIS. Though he be just, yet shall he die, because by
-    his preaching he hath stirred up and excited the people to
-    sedition.
-
-    “11. NICODEMUS. Our law condemns and sentences to death no man
-    for an unknown cause.
-
-    “12. DIARABIAS. He hath perverted the people; therefore is he
-    guilty and worthy of death.
-
-    “13. SAREAS. This seditious man should be banished as one born
-    for the destruction of the land.
-
-    “14. RABINTH. Whether he be just or not, inasmuch as he will
-    neither obey nor submit to the precepts of our forefathers, he
-    should not be tolerated in the land.
-
-    “15. JOSAPHAT. Let him be bound with chains and be perpetually
-    imprisoned.
-
-    “16. PTOLOMÉE. Though it be not clear whether he is just or
-    unjust, why do we hesitate: why not at once condemn him to
-    death or banish him?
-
-    “17. TERAS. It is right he should be banished or sent to the
-    emperor.
-
-    “18. MESA. If he is a just man, why do we not yield to his
-    teachings: if wicked, why not send him away?
-
-    “19. SAMECH. Let us weigh the case, so he have no cause to
-    contradict us. Whatever he does, let us chastise him.
-
-    “20. CAÏPHAS PONTIFEX. Ye know not well what ye would have. It
-    is expedient for us that one man should die for the people, and
-    that the whole nation perish not.
-
-    “21. THE PEOPLE TO PILATE. If thou let this man go, thou art
-    not the friend of Cæsar. Crucify him! crucify him! His blood be
-    on us and on our children!”
-
-On the large scroll in the centre of the picture is the sentence of
-Pilate:
-
-    “I, Pontius Pilate, pretor and judge in Jerusalem under the
-    thrice powerful Emperor Tiberius, whose reign be eternally
-    blessed and prospered, in this tribunal, or judicial chair, in
-    order to pronounce and declare sentence for the synagogue of
-    the Jewish nation with respect to Jesus Christ here present, by
-    them led and accused before me, that, being born of father and
-    mother of poor and base extraction, he made himself by lofty
-    and blasphemous words the Son of God and King of the Jews, and
-    boasted he could rebuild the temple of Solomon, having heard
-    and examined the case, do say and declare on my conscience he
-    shall be crucified between two thieves.”
-
-This picture is analogous to the old mysteries of the Passion once so
-popular in this region, in which the author who respected the meaning of
-the sacred text was at liberty to draw freely on his imagination. It was
-especially in the dialogue that lay the field for his genius. However
-naïve these sacred dramas, they greatly pleased the people. A painting
-similar to this formerly existed in St. Roch’s Church at Paris, in which
-figured the undecided Pilate in judicial array, Caiaphas the complacent
-flatterer of the people, and the mob with its old _rôle_ of “Crucify him!
-crucify him!”
-
-We must not forget a work of art, of very different character, associated
-with the history of St. Jean de Luz. It is a curious piece of needle-work
-commemorating the conferences of the two great statesmen, Cardinal
-Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro, and evidently designed by an able artist,
-perhaps by Velasquez himself. It is a kind of _courte-pointe_ (it would
-never do to call it by the ignoble name of coverlet!) of linen of
-remarkable fineness, on which are embroidered in purple silk the eminent
-personages connected with the treaty of the Pyrenees, as well as various
-allegorical figures and accessory ornaments, which make it a genuine
-historic picture of lively and interesting character. This delicate piece
-of Spanish needle-work was wrought by the order of Don Luis de Haro as a
-mark of homage to his royal master. He presented it to the king on his
-feast-day, May 1, 1661, and it probably adorned the royal couch. But the
-better to comprehend this work of art--for such it is, in spite of its
-name--let us recall briefly the events that suggested its details.
-
-Philip IV. ascended the Spanish throne in 1621, when barely sixteen years
-of age. His reign lasted till 1665. He had successively two ministers of
-state, both of great ability, but of very different political views. In
-the first part of his reign the young monarch gave his whole confidence
-to the Count of Olivares, whose authority was almost absolute till 1648.
-But his ministry was far from fortunate. On the contrary, it brought
-such humiliating calamities on the country that the king at length awoke
-to the danger that menaced it. He dismissed Olivares and appointed the
-count’s nephew and heir in his place, who proved one of the ablest
-ministers ever known in Spain. He was a descendant of the brave Castilian
-lord to whom Alfonso VII. was indebted for the capture of Zurita, but
-who would accept no reward from the grateful prince but the privilege of
-giving the name of Haro to a town he had built. It was another descendant
-of this proud warrior who was made archbishop of Mexico in the latter
-part of the XVIIIth century, and was so remarkable for his charity and
-eloquence as a preacher.
-
-Don Luis not only had the military genius of his ancestor, but the
-prudence of a real statesman, and he succeeded in partially repairing
-the disasters of the preceding ministry. He raised an army and equipped
-a powerful squadron, by which he repulsed the French, checked the
-Portuguese, brought the rebellious provinces into subjection, and
-effected the treaty of Munster; which energetic measures produced such an
-effect on the French government as to lead to amicable relations between
-the two great ministers who, at this time, held the destiny of Europe in
-their hands, and to bring about a general peace in 1659.
-
-It was with this object Cardinal Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro agreed upon
-a meeting on the _Ile des Faisans_--as the Isle of Conference was then
-called--which led to the treaty of the Pyrenees.
-
-As a reward for Don Luis’ signal services, particularly the peace he had
-cemented by an alliance so honorable to the nation, Philip IV., in the
-following year, conferred on him the title of duke, and gave him the
-surname _de la Paz_.
-
-It was at this time Don Luis had this curious _courte-pointe_ wrought as
-a present to the king. He was the declared patron of the fine arts, and
-had established weekly reunions to bring together the principal artists
-of Spain, some of whom probably designed this memorial of his glory.
-It was preserved with evident care, and handed down from one sovereign
-to another, till it finally fell into the possession of the mother of
-Ferdinand VII., who, wishing to express her sense of the fidelity of one
-of her ladies of honor, gave her this valuable counterpane. In this way
-it passed into the hands of its present owner at Bayonne.
-
-On the upper part of this covering the power of Spain is represented by
-a woman holding a subdued lion at her feet. In the centre are Nuestra
-Señora del Pilar and S. Ferdinand, patrons of the kingdom, around whom
-are the eagles of Austria, so closely allied to Spain. And by way of
-allusion to the _Ile des Faisans_, where the recent negotiations had
-taken place, pheasants are to be seen in every direction. Cardinal
-Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro are more than once represented. In one
-place they are presenting an olive branch to the powers they serve; in
-another they are advancing, side by side, towards Philip IV., to solicit
-the hand of his daughter for Louis XIV. Here Philip gives his consent to
-the marriage, and, lower down, Louis receives his bride in the presence
-of two females who personify France and Spain. The intermediate spaces
-are filled up with allusions to commerce with foreign lands and the
-progress of civilization at home. Not only war, victory, and politics
-have their emblems, but literature, beneficence, and wealth. But there
-are many symbols the meaning of which it would require the sagacity of a
-Champollion to fathom.
-
-This is, perhaps, the only known instance of a prime minister directing
-his energies to the fabrication of a counterpane. Disraeli, to be sure,
-has woven many an extravagant web of romance with Oriental profusion of
-ornament, but not, to our knowledge, in purple and fine linen, like Don
-Luis de Haro. We have seen one of the gorgeous coverlets of Louis XIV.,
-but it was wrought by the young ladies of St. Cyr under the direction
-of Mme. de Maintenon; and there is another in the Hôtel de Cluny that
-once belonged to Francis I. The grand-daughter of Don Luis de Haro, the
-sole heiress of the house, married the Duke of Alba, carrying with her
-as a dowry the vast possessions of Olivares, Guzman, and Del Carpio. The
-brother-in-law of the ex-Empress Eugénie is a direct descendant of theirs.
-
-Opposite St. Jean de Luz, on the other side of the Nivelle, is Cibourre,
-with its solemn, mysterious church, and its widowed houses built along
-the quay and straggling up the hill of Bordagain. Prosperous once like
-its neighbor, it also participated in its misfortunes, and now wears
-the same touching air of melancholy. The men are all sailors--the
-best sailors in Europe--but they are absent a great part of the year.
-Fearless wreckers live along the shore, who brave the greatest dangers
-to aid ships in distress. In more prosperous days its rivalry with St.
-Jean de Luz often led to quarrels, and the islet which connects the two
-places was frequently covered with the blood shed in these encounters.
-The convent of Recollects, now a custom-house, which we pass on our way
-to Cibourre, was founded in expiation of this mutual hatred, and very
-appropriately dedicated to _Notre Dame de la Paix_--Our Lady of Peace.
-The cloister, with its round arches, is still in good preservation, and
-the cistern is to be seen in the court, constructed by Cardinal Mazarin,
-that the friars might have a supply of soft water.
-
-The Basques are famed for their truthfulness and honesty, the result
-perhaps of the severity of their ancient laws, one of which ordered
-a tooth to be extracted every time a person was convicted of lying!
-No wonder the love of truth took such deep _root_ among them. But had
-this stringent law been handed down and extended to other lands, what
-toothless communities there would now be in the world!
-
-
-THE ETERNAL YEARS.
-
-BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE DIVINE SEQUENCE.”
-
-II.
-
-THE PULSATIONS OF TIME.
-
-The deduction we arrive at from the argument which we have laid down is
-that the history of the world is a consistent one, and not a series of
-loose incidents strung together. It is as much this morally, it is as
-truly the evolution and unwinding of a high moral law and of a great
-spiritual truth, as the life of the plant from the seed to the ripe fruit
-is the development of a natural growth. This last is governed by laws
-with which we are only partially acquainted; whereas the moral law and
-the spiritual truth are revealed to us by the divine scheme of creation
-and redemption. There is nothing existing, either in the natural or in
-the spiritual law, and especially in this last, which is not more or
-less, in one way or in another, by assertion or by negation, a revelation
-of the divine Being.
-
-He reveals himself directly by his volitions and indirectly by his
-permissions. And we can only be one with him when we have learnt to
-accept both and to submit to both; not in the spirit of quietism or
-fatalism, but as actively entering into his intentions, accepting what
-he wills, and bearing what he permits. There is no harmony possible
-between the soul and God until we have arrived at this; and the history
-of the world is the history of man’s acquiescence in, or resistance to,
-the supreme will of God. The first disruption of the will of man from
-the will of God, in the fall of man, wove a dark woof into the web of
-time; and every act of ours which is not according to the will of God
-weaves the same into our own lives, because it is a rupture of the law
-of harmony which God has instituted between himself as creator and us
-as creatures. Were that harmony unbroken, man would rest in God as in
-his centre; for, being finite, he has no sufficiency in himself, but
-for ever seeks some good extrinsic to himself. The same applies to all
-creation, whose ultimate end and highest good must always be some object
-beyond, and above itself; and that object is none other than God, “quod
-ignorantes colitis,”[270]--the finite striving after the Infinite. Thus
-the whole divine government of the world is a gradual unfolding of the
-divine Will, according as we are able to receive it. And the degree
-of receptivity in mankind, at various periods of the world’s history,
-and in different localities, accounts for the variety in the divine
-dispensations, and for the imperfection of some as compared with others.
-The “yet more excellent way”[271] could not be received by all at all
-times. The promise was given to Abraham. But four hundred and thirty
-years elapsed before its fulfilment, for the express purpose of being
-occupied and spent in the institution of the law as a less perfect
-dispensation, and which was given because of transgressions--“propter
-transgressiones posita est”[272]--thus showing the adaptive government of
-God: the gradual building up of the city of the Lord, whose stones are
-the living souls of men, which are “hewed and made ready,”[273] but so
-that there shall be “neither hammer, nor axe, nor tool of iron heard”
-while it is building. For God does not force his creature. He pours not
-“new wine into old bottles,” but waits in patience the growth of his
-poor creatures, and the slow and gradual leavening of the great mass.
-A time had been when God walked with man “at the afternoon air”;[274]
-and whatever may be the full meaning of this exquisitely-expressed
-intercourse, at least it must have been intimate and tender. But when
-the black pall of evil fell on the face of creation, the light of God’s
-intercourse with man was let in by slow degrees, like single stars coming
-out in the dark firmament. The revelations, like the stars, varied in
-magnitude and glory, lay wide apart from each other, rose at different
-intervals of longer or shorter duration, and conveyed, like them, a
-flickering and uncertain light, until the “Sun of Justice arose with
-health in his wings,”[275] and “scattered the rear of darkness thin.” The
-degree of light vouchsafed was limited by the capacity of the recipient;
-and that capacity has not always been the same in all ages, any more than
-in any one age it is the same in all the contemporary men, or in each man
-the same at all periods of his life. It is thus that we arrive at the
-explanation of an apparent difference of tone, color, and texture, so to
-speak, in the various manifestations of God to man. The manifestation is
-limited to the capacity of the recipient; and not only is it limited,
-but to a certain extent it becomes, as it were, tinged by the properties
-of the medium through which it is transmitted to others. It assumes
-characteristics that are not essentially its own. For so marvellous is
-the respect with which the Creator treats the freedom of his creature
-that he suffers us to give a measure of our own color to what he reveals
-to us, so that it may be more our own, more on our level, more within
-our grasp; as though he poured the white waters of saving truth into
-glasses of varied colors, and thus hid from us a pellucidity too perfect
-for our nature. And thus it happens that to us who dwell in the light of
-God’s church, with the seven lamps of the seven sacraments burning in
-the sanctuary, the God of Abraham and of Isaac and of Jacob hardly seems
-to us the same God as our God. We see him through the prism of the past,
-amid surroundings that are strange to us, in the old patriarchal life
-that seems so impossible a mode of existence to the denizens of great
-cities in modern Europe.
-
-This is equally true throughout the history of the world. It is also true
-of every individual soul; and it is true of the same soul at different
-periods of its existence. He is the same God always and everywhere. But
-there is a difference in the kind of reception which each soul gives
-to that portion of divine knowledge and grace which it is capable of
-receiving and which it actually does receive. For they are “divers kinds
-of vessels, every little vessel, from the vessels of cups even to every
-instrument of music.”[276] They differ in capacity and they differ in
-material; and the great God, in revealing himself, does so by degrees.
-He has deposited, as it were, the whole treasure of himself in the bosom
-of his spouse, the church; but the births of new grace and further
-developed truth only come to us as we can bear them and when we can bear
-them. The body of truth is all there; but the dispensing of that truth
-varies in degree as time goes on. God governs in his own world; but he
-does so behind and through the human instruments whom he condescends
-to employ. And as, in the exercise of his own free-will, man chose the
-evil and refused the good, so has the Almighty accommodated himself to
-the conditions which man has instituted. Were he to do otherwise, he
-would force the will of his creature, which he never will do, because
-the doing it would have for result to deprive that creature of all moral
-status and reduce him to a machine. From the moment that we lose the
-power of refusing the good and taking the evil, from the moment that any
-force really superior to that which has been put into the arsenals of
-our own being robs us of the faculty of selection, we lose all merit and
-consequently all demerit. The Creator, when he made man, surrounded him
-with the respect due to a being who had the power of disposing of his own
-everlasting destiny. Nor has he ever done, nor will he do, anything which
-can entrench on this prerogative. The whole system of grace is a system
-divinely devised to afford man aid in the selection he has to make. There
-lies an atmosphere of grace all around our souls, as there lies the
-air we breathe around our senses. The one is as frequently unperceived
-by us as the other.[277] We are without consciousness as regards its
-presence, as we are without direct habitual consciousness of the act of
-breathing and of our own existence, except as from time to time we make a
-reflective modification in our own mind of the idea of the air and of the
-fact of our inhaling it. We are unconscious that it is the divine Creator
-who is for ever sustaining our physical existence. We are oblivious of
-it for hours together, unless we stop and think. It is the same with the
-presence of grace.
-
-And though “exciting” grace, as theology calls it, begins with the
-illustration of the intellect, it does not follow that we are always by
-any means conscious of this illustration. It is needless to carry out
-the theological statement in these pages. What we have said is enough to
-bring us round to our point, which is that the action of grace on the
-individual soul, and the long line of direct and indirect revelations
-of God’s will from the creation to the present hour, though always the
-same grace and always the same revelation, receive different renderings
-according to the vehicle in which they are held--much as a motive in
-music remains the same air, though transposed from one key to another.
-Not only, therefore, does man, as it were, give a color of his own to
-the revelation of God, but he has the sad faculty of limiting its flow
-and circumscribing its course, even where he cannot altogether arrest
-it. We are “slow of heart to believe,” and therefore is the time delayed
-when the still unfulfilled promises may take effect. Our Lord declares
-that Moses _permitted_ the Hebrews to put away their wives, because
-of the hardness of their hearts; “but from the beginning it was not
-so.”[278] God’s law had never in itself been other than what the church
-has declared it to be. The state of matrimony, as God had ordained it,
-was always meant to be what the church has now defined. But man was not
-in a condition to receive so perfect a law; and thus the condition of
-man--that is, the hardness of his heart--had the effect of modifying
-the apparent will of God, as revealed in what we now know to be one of
-the seven sacraments. The Hebrews were incapable of anything more than
-a mutilated, or rather a truncated, expression of the divine will, as
-it was represented to them in the law of Moses on the married state.
-Nor could we anywhere find a more perfect illustration of our argument.
-In the first place, it is given us by our Lord himself; and, in the
-second, it occurs on a subject which, taken in its larger sense, involves
-almost every other, lies at the root of the whole world of matter, and
-of being through matter, and may be called the representative idea of
-the creation. Now, if on such a question as this mankind, at some period
-of their existence, and that a period which includes ages of time, and
-covers, at one interval or another, the whole vast globe, could only
-_bear_ an imperfect and utterly defective rendering, how much more must
-there exist to be still further developed out of the “things new and
-old” which lie in the womb of time and in the treasures of the church,
-but which are waiting for the era when we shall be in a condition to
-receive them! The whole system of our Lord’s teaching was based on this
-principle. He seems, if we may so express it, afraid of overburdening
-his disciples by too great demands upon their capacity. He says with
-reference to the mission of S. John the Baptist: “_If_ you will receive
-it, he is Elias that is to come,”[279] and in the Sermon on the Mount he
-points out to them the imperfection of the old moral code, as regarded
-the taking of oaths and the law of talion. Now, the moral law, as it
-existed in the mind of God, could never have varied. It must always
-have been “perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect.” But it passed
-through an imperfect medium--the one presented by the then condition of
-mankind--and was modified accordingly.
-
-We hold, therefore, in what we have now stated, a distinct view of the
-way in which God governs the world; not absolutely, not arbitrarily,
-but _adaptively_. And where we see imperfection, and at times apparent
-retrogression, it is the free will of man forcing the will of God to his
-own destruction, “until he who hindereth now, and will hinder, be taken
-out of the way.”[280]
-
-If this be true of God’s direct revelations of himself, and of his
-moral law as given from time to time to mankind, according as, in
-their fallen state, they could receive it--if, in short, it be true of
-his direct volitions--it is also true of his permissions. If it hold
-good of the revelations of his antecedent will, it holds good of the
-instances (so far as we may trace them in the history of the world) of
-his consequent will; that is, of his will which takes into consideration
-the facts induced by man in the exercise of his own free will, which is
-so constantly running counter to the antecedent will of God. The divine
-permissions form the negative side of the revelation of God. They are
-his permissive government of the world, not his direct government. The
-direct government is the stream of revelation given to our first parents,
-to the patriarchs and lawgivers of Israel, and now, in a more direct
-and immediate way, through our Blessed Lord in his birth, death, and
-resurrection, by the church in the sacraments, and through her temporal
-head, the vicar of Christ.
-
-Even now, when he has consummated his union with his church, and that she
-is the true organ of the Holy Ghost, and thus the one true and infallible
-medium and interpreter of God’s direct government of the world, he also
-governs it by the indirect way of his overruling providence. The events
-which occur in history have ever a double character. They have their
-mere human aspect, often apparently for evil alone; and they have their
-ultimate result for good, which is simply the undercurrent of God’s will
-working upwards, and through the actions of mankind. Events which, on
-the face of them, bear the character of unmitigated evils, like war,
-have a thousand ultimate beneficial results. War is the rude, cruel
-pioneer of the armies of the Lord; for where the soldier has been the
-priest will follow. Persecutions kindle new faith and awake fresh ardor.
-Pestilence quickens charity and leads to improvements in the condition of
-the poor. Nor do we believe that it is only in this large and general,
-unsympathetic, and sweeping manner that God allows good to be worked out
-of evil. We have faith in the intercession of the Mother of Mercy; and
-as ultimate good may arise to whole races of mankind out of terrible
-calamities, so, we are persuaded, there is a more intimate, minute, and
-loving interference to individual souls wherever there is huge public
-calamity. The field of battle, the burning city, the flood, and the
-pestilence are Mary’s harvest fields, whither she sends her angels, over
-whom she is queen, with special and extraordinary graces, to gather and
-collect those who might otherwise have perished, and, in the supreme
-moment which is doubtless so often God’s hour, to win trophies of mercy
-to the honor and glory of the Precious Blood.
-
-Unless we believe in God’s essential, actual, and unintermittent
-government of the world, we cannot solve the riddle of the Sphinx, and
-her cruel, stony stare will freeze our blood as we traverse the deserts
-of life. If we believe only in his direct government, we shall find it
-chiefly, if not solely, in his church; and the area is sadly limited! If
-we acknowledge his essential providence in his permissions, if we make
-sure of his presence in what appears its very negation, then alone do
-we arrive at the solution of life’s problems; and even this, not as an
-obvious thing, but as a constant and ever-renewed act of faith in the
-under-flowing gulf-stream of divine love, which melts the ice and softens
-the rigor of the wintry epochs in the world’s history. If we admit of
-this theory, which is new to none of us, though dim to some, we let in a
-flood of light upon many of the incidents described in the Old Testament,
-and specially spoken of as done by the will of God, but which, to our
-farther-advanced revelation of God, read to us as unlike himself. The
-light of the later interpretation has been thrown over the earlier fact;
-but in the harmony of eternity, when we are freed from the broken chord
-of time, there will be no dissonant notes.
-
-There can be no more wonderful proof of God’s unutterable love than the
-way in which he has condescended to make the very sins of mankind work to
-his own glory and to the farther revelation of himself. From the first
-“_felix culpa_” of our first parents, as the church does not hesitate to
-call it, down to the present hour--down even to the secret depths of our
-own souls, where we are conscious of the harvests of grace sprung from
-repentant tears--it is still the great alchemist turning base metal in
-the crucible of divine love into pure gold.
-
-It is one of the most irrefragable proofs of the working of a perpetual
-providence that can be adduced.
-
-Granted that there are no new creations, but that creation is one act,
-evolving itself by its innate force into all the phenomena which we
-see, and into countless possible others which future generations of
-beings will see, nothing of this can prevent the fact that the moral
-development of the status of mankind, the revelations of divine truth,
-and consequently of the Deity, through the flow of ages, has ever
-been a bringing of good out of evil which no blind, irresponsible law
-could produce. There is no sort of reason why evil should work into
-its contrary good, except the reason that God is the supreme good,
-and directs all apparent evil into increments of his glory, thereby
-converting it into an ultimate good. We must remember, however, that
-this does not diminish our culpability, because it does not affect our
-free-will. It does not make evil another form of good. It is no pact with
-the devil. It is war and victory, opposition and conquest. It is justice
-and retribution, and it behooves us to see whether we are among those
-who are keeping ourselves in harmony with the eternal God in his direct
-government of the world; in harmony (so far as we know it) with his
-antecedent will; or whether we are allowing ourselves to drift away into
-channels of our own, working out only the things that he permits, but
-which he also condemns, and laying up for ourselves that swift devouring
-flame which will “try every man’s work of what sort it is.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-We have thus arrived at two different views of God’s government of the
-world--his direct government and his indirect or permissive government.
-We now come to what we may call his inductive teaching of the world--the
-way in which truths are partially revealed to us, and come to us
-percolating through the sands of time, as mankind needs them and can
-receive them.
-
-Our Lord himself gives us an example of this inductive process when he
-speaks of “the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob” as being “not the
-God of the dead, but of the living,” thus showing that the Jews held, and
-were bound to hold, the doctrine of immortality by an inductive process.
-The teaching of the old law was symbolic and inductive. The histories of
-the Old Testament are of the same character. They are written with no
-apparent design. They are the simple account of such incidents as the
-historian thought himself bound to record; acting, as he did, under the
-divine impulse, which underlay his statements without fettering his pen.
-He was not himself half conscious of the unspeakable importance of his
-work. Consequently, there is no effort, hardly even common precaution and
-foresight, in his mode of chronicling events. He glances at incidents
-without explaining them, because while he wrote they were present to his
-own experience, and would be to that of his readers. A writer in our day
-would allude to a person having performed a journey of fifty miles in an
-hour’s time without thinking it necessary to explain that people travel
-by steam. In another part he would advert to railroads, and the rapidity
-of locomotion as their result, equally without a direct reference to
-the individual who effected fifty miles in an hour. To the reader of
-three thousand years hence the one incidental allusion will explain
-and corroborate the other, and thus, by internal evidence, prove the
-authenticity and consistency of the history. Unintentional coincidences
-crop up as the pages grow beneath his hand, and to the careful student of
-Scripture throw light unlooked for on the exactitude and veracity of the
-narrative. And the substratum of the whole of the Old Testament history
-is the gradual growth of one family out of all the families of mankind,
-into which, as into a carefully prepared soil, the seed of divine truth
-was to be sown. Through all the variety of the Old Testament writers
-the same underlying design exists; and though this was a special stream
-of revelation unlike any that now exists or that is now required (for
-reasons which are obvious to every Catholic who knows what the church
-is), yet they form an indication of the way in which the divine Creator
-is for ever governing the world and preparing it with a divine foresight
-for his ultimate purpose. The Holy Ghost speaks now through a direct
-organ, which organ is the church. Formerly God spoke through historic
-events and multitudinous incidents in connection with one race of people.
-But this very fact authorizes us to believe that the same _character_
-of government exists throughout the whole universe in a greater or less
-degree, and that God is preparing the way for the ultimate triumph of
-the sacred Humanity and of his spouse the Church, on the far-off shores
-of sultry Africa, in the inner recesses of silent China, among the huge
-forests which skirt the Blue Mountains, or amid the glittering glories of
-the kingdoms of ice.
-
-There is nothing more depressingly sad, more deeply to be regretted, and
-more difficult to explain than the almost hopeless narrowness of most
-people in their appreciation of divinely-ordained facts. We live like
-moles. We throw up a mound of dusky earth above and around us, within
-which we grope and are content. The treasures of sacred lore, the depths
-of spiritual science, the infinite variety of Scriptural information,
-with the divinely-pointed moral of every tale, are things which most
-of us are content to know exist, and to think no more about. The very
-lavishness with which God has given us all that we want for the salvation
-of our souls seems to have stifled in our ungenerous natures the
-longing to know and to do more. When the Evangelist said that the world
-would not hold the books that might be written on the sacred Humanity
-alone, he must have had an intuition, not so much of the material world
-and material volumes, as of the world of narrowed minds and crippled
-hearts who would be found stranded on the shores of our much-vaunted
-civilization and progress.
-
-Few things are more remarkable in the tone and character of modern
-Catholic writers than the small amount of use they make of Scripture:
-so strangely in contrast with the old writers, and with even the great
-French spiritual authors of a century and a half ago. Their pages are
-rich with Scriptural lore. Their style is a constant recognition of the
-government and designs of God as shown to us in our past and present, and
-as we are bound to anticipate them in the future. In our time this has
-given place to emotional devotion; a most excellent thing in its way, but
-only likely to have much influence over our lives when it is grounded on
-solid theology and directed by real knowledge. No doubt it is so in the
-minds of the authors themselves; but we fear it is rare in those of their
-ordinary readers, who thus drink the froth off the wine, but are not
-benefited by the strengthening properties of the generous liquid itself.
-Nor will they be until they have made up their minds to believe and
-understand that conversion is not an isolated fact in their lives, but a
-progressive act involving all the intellect, all the faculties, be they
-great or small (for each one must be full up to his capacity), and all
-the heart, mind, and soul. The whole man must work and be worked upon in
-harmony; and we must remember that it _is_ work, and not merely feeling,
-consolation, emotion, prettiness, and ornament, but an intellectual
-growth, going on _pari passu_ with a spiritual growth, until the whole
-vessel is fitted and prepared for the glory of God.
-
-We think we may venture to say that few things will conduce more to this
-than the study of the divine Scriptures under the light and teaching
-of the Catholic Church. In them we find a profound revelation of the
-character of God. We are, as we read them interpreted to us by the lamp
-of the sanctuary, let down into awful depths of the divine Eternal Mind.
-We watch the whole world and all creation working up for the supreme
-moment of the birth of Jesus; while in the life of our Blessed Lord
-himself we find, condensed into those wonderful thirty-three years,
-the whole system of the church--the spiritual fabric which is to fill
-eternity, the one God-revealing system which is finally to supersede all
-others.
-
-Unhappily many persons are under the delusion that narrowness and
-ignorance are the same as Christian simplicity, and that innocence means
-ignorance of everything else, as well as of evil. These are the people
-who are afraid to look facts in the face, and to read them off as part
-of the God-directed history of the world. These are they to whom science
-is a bugbear. They hug their ignorance as being their great safeguard,
-and wear blinkers lest they should be startled by the events which cross
-their path. Grown men and women do it for themselves and attempt it for
-their children, and meanwhile those to whom we ought to be superior are
-rushing on with headlong daring, carrying intellectual eminence, and
-originality, and investigation of science, all before them; while we, who
-should be clad in the panoply of the faith, and afraid of nothing, are
-putting out the candles and shading the lamps, that we may idly enjoy a
-shadow too dense for real work.
-
-And yet is not the earth ours? Is not all that exists our heritage? To
-whom does anything belong if not to us, the sons of the church, the
-sole possessors of infallible truth, the only invulnerable ones, the
-only ever-enduring and ever-increasing children of the light? The past
-is ours; the present should be ours; the future is all our own. Our
-triumph may be slow (and it is slower because we are cowards), but it
-is certain. Are we not tenfold the children of the covenant, the sons
-of the Father’s house, the heirs of all? We alone are in possession of
-what all science and art must ultimately fall back upon and harmonize
-with. There is no success possible but what is obtained, and shall in the
-future be obtained, in union with the church of God. Have we forgotten,
-are we ever for a moment permitted to forget, that the church of God
-is not an accident, nor a cunningly-devised, tolerably able, partially
-infirm organization, but that she is the spouse of the God-Man, the one
-revelation of God, perfect and entire, though but gradually given forth;
-that all the harmonies of science are fragments of the harmony of God
-himself, of his pure being, of the _Qui Est_; and that the harmony of the
-arts is simply the human expression of the harmony of the _Logos_, the
-human utterances of the articulations of the divine Word, as they come to
-us in our far-off life-like echoes from eternity?
-
-Even the great false religions of the past, and of the present in the
-remote East, are but man’s discord breaking the harmony of truth while
-retaining the key-note: the immortality of the soul and the perfection
-of a future state in the deep thoughts of Egypt, the universality of
-God’s providential government of the world in Greek mythology, the union
-of the soul with God in Brahminism, and the One God of Mahometanism.
-Each has its kernel of truth, its ideal nucleus of supernatural belief,
-which it had caught from the great harmony of God in broken fragments,
-and enshrined in mystic signs. Even now, as we look back upon them all,
-we are bound to confess that they stand on a totally different ground
-from the multitudinous sects of our day, which break off from the one
-body of the church and drift off into negation or Protestantism. Far be
-it from us to insinuate that any, the lowest form of Christianity, the
-weakest utterance of the dear name of Jesus, is not ten thousand fold
-better than the most abstruse of the old Indian or Egyptian religions.
-Wherever the name of Jesus is uttered, no matter how imperfectly, there
-is more hope of light and of salvation than in the deepest symbols of
-heathen or pagan creeds. It may be but one ray of light, but still it is
-light--the real warming, invigorating light of the sun, and not the cold
-and deleterious light of the beautiful moon, who has poisoned what she
-has borrowed.[281] Nevertheless, and maintaining this with all the energy
-of which we are capable, it is still true that each one of the great
-false religions, which at various times and in divers places have swayed
-mankind, was rather the overgrowth of error on a substantial truth than
-the breaking up of truth into fragmentary and illogical negation, which
-is the characteristic of all forms of secession from the Catholic unity
-of the church. The modern aberrations from the faith are a mere jangle
-of sounds, while the old creeds were the petrifaction of truth. The
-modern forms of faith outside the church are a negation of truth rather
-than a distortion. Consequently, they are for ever drifting and taking
-Protean shapes that defy classification.
-
-They have broken up into a hundred forms; they will break up into a
-thousand more, till the whole fabric has crumbled into dust. They have
-none of the strong hold on human nature which the old religions had,
-because they are not the embodiment of a sacred mystery, but rather the
-explaining away of all mystery. They are a perpetual drifting detritus,
-without coherence as without consistency; and as they slip down the slant
-of time, they fall into the abyss of oblivion, and will leave not a trace
-behind, only in so far that, vanishing from sight, they make way for the
-fuller establishment of the truth--the eternal, the divine, spherical
-truth, absolute in its cohesion and perfect in all its parts.
-
-The hold which heathen and pagan creeds have had upon mankind conveys a
-lesson to ourselves which superficial thinkers are apt to overlook. It is
-certain they could not have held whole nations beneath their influence
-had not each in its turn been an embodiment of some essential truth
-which, though expressed through error, remains in itself essentially
-a part of truth. They snatched at fragments of the natural law which
-governs the universe, or they embodied in present expression the
-inalienable hopes of mankind. They took the world of nature as the
-utterance neither of a passing nor of an inexorable law, but of an
-inscrutable Being, and believed that the mystical underlies the natural.
-Untaught by the sweet revelations of Christianity, their religion could
-assume no aspect but one of terror, silent dread, and deep horror. Their
-only escape from this result was in the deterioration that necessarily
-follows the popularization of all abstract ideas, unless protected by
-a system at once consistent and elastic, like that which is exhibited
-in the discipline of the Catholic Church. They wearied of the rarefied
-atmosphere of unexplained mystery. They wanted the tangible and evident
-in its place. Like the Israelites, they lusted after the flesh-pots of
-Egypt; and their lower nature and evil passions rebelled against the
-moral loftiness of abstract truth. The multitude could not be kept up
-to the mark, and needed coarser food. The result was inevitable. But as
-all religion involves mystery, instead of working upward through the
-natural law to the spiritual and divine law, they inverted the process,
-and grovelled down below the natural law, with its sacramentalistic
-character, to the preternatural and diabolic. Mystery was retained, but
-only in the profanation of themselves and of natural laws, until they had
-passed outside all nature, and, making a hideous travesty of humanity,
-had become more vile and hateful than the devils they served.
-
-Thus the Romans vulgarized the Greek mythology; and that which had
-remained during a long period as a beautiful though purely human
-expression of a divine mystery, among a people whose religion consisted
-mainly in the worship of the beautiful, and who themselves transcended
-all that humanity has ever since beheld in their own personal perfection
-of beauty, became, when it passed through the coarser hands of the
-Romans, a degenerate vulgarity, which infected their whole existence, in
-art and in manners, quite as effectually as in religion. Then Rome flung
-open her gates to all the creeds of all the world, and the time-honored
-embodiments of fragmentary but intrinsic truth met together, and were all
-equally tolerated and equally degenerated. All!--except the one whole and
-perfect truth: the Gospel of Salvation. That was never tolerated. That
-alone could not be endured, because the instinct of evil foresaw its own
-impending ruin in the Gospel of peace.
-
-It was a new thing for mankind to be told that a part of the essence
-of religion was elevated morality and the destruction of sin in the
-individual. Whatever comparative purity of life had co-existed with the
-old religions was hardly due to their influence among the multitude,
-though it might be so with those whose educated superiority enabled them
-to reason out the morality of creeds. While the rare philosopher was
-reading the inmost secret of the abstract idea on which the religion
-of his country was based, and the common pagan was practising the most
-degraded sorcery and peering into obscene mysteries, without a single
-elevation of thought, suddenly the life of the God-Man was put before the
-world, and the whole face of creation was gradually changed.
-
-But as the shadows of the past in the old religions led up to the light,
-so shall the light of the present lead up to the “perfect day.”
-
-TO BE CONTINUED.
-
-
-SEARCH FOR OLD LACE IN VENICE.
-
-One is almost ashamed to mention Venice now, or any other of those
-thousand-and-one bournes of hackneyed travel and staples of hackneyed
-books. There is probably no one claiming a place in a civilized community
-who does not know Venice almost as well as do her own children, and
-who could not discourse intelligently of the Bridge of Sighs, the
-Doge’s Palace, and the Rialto Bridge, of St. Mark’s and the brazen
-horses. Still, when one has read multitudinous poems about gondolas and
-gondoliers, and any amount of descriptions of the Grand Canal, with its
-palaces of various styles of architecture, and some few dramas about the
-grand and gloomy, the secret and awful, doings of ancient Venetian life,
-even then there are nooks in the place and incidents in the doings which
-escape notice. A traveller arriving at Venice is hardly surprised at the
-water-street, with which pictures have already made him familiar, but the
-mode of entering a covered gondola--crab-fashion--is not so familiar, and
-he generally butts his head against the low ceiling, eliciting a laugh
-from his gondolier and the good-humored bystanders, before he learns the
-native and proper way of backing into his seat. So, too, in rowing slowly
-and dreamily about from church to church, full of artistic marvels or
-wonderful historical monuments, he feels to a certain degree at home. He
-has seen all this before; the present is but a dream realized. But there
-are now and then unexpected sights--though, it must be confessed, not
-many--and of course such are the most interesting, even if they are by
-no means on a level with those more famous and more beautiful.
-
-From Venice to Vicenza is but a short distance by rail, and Vicenza
-boasts of Roman ruins, and mediæval churches, and a Palladian theatre;
-but on our day’s trip there, in early spring, we certainly dwelt more on
-the aspect of the woods and plains, with their faint veil of yellow green
-already beginning to appear, the few flowers in the _osteria_ garden, and
-the box hedges and aloes in the cemetery. The beauty of the Venetian and
-Lombard plains lies more in their mere freshness than in their diversity;
-it is entirely a beauty of detail, a beauty fit for the minuteness of
-Preraphaelite art rather than for the sweeping brush of the great masters
-of conventional landscape painting. But coming from Venice every trace
-of verdure was grateful to the eye, and we felt as one who, having been
-confined in a beautiful, spacious room, filled with treasures and scented
-with subtle perfume, might feel on coming suddenly into the fresh air of
-a prairie. By contrast, the suggestion of fresh air and open space draws
-us at once to our subject--a search after old lace in one of the cities
-known to possess many treasures in that line.
-
-Like all other industries in Venice, the sale of lace thrives chiefly on
-the fancy of the foreign visitors. The natives are generally too poor to
-buy much of it, and, indeed, much of what is in the market is the product
-of forced sacrifices made by noble but impoverished families of Venetian
-origin. It is a sad thing to see the spoils of Italy still scattered
-over the world, as if the same fate had pursued her, with a few glorious
-intervals of triumph and possession, ever since the barbarian ancestors
-of her _forestieri_ rifled her treasure-houses under the banners of
-Celtic, Cimbrian, and Gothic chieftains. What Brennus, Alaric, and
-Genseric began the Constable of Bourbon and the great Napoleon continued
-by force; but what is still sadder is to see the daily disintegration
-of other treasure-houses whose contents are unwillingly but necessarily
-bartered away to rich Englishmen, Americans, and Russians. Pictures,
-jewelry, lace, goldsmith’s work, artistic trifles--precious through
-their material and history, but more so through the family associations
-which have made them heirlooms--too often pass from the sleepy, denuded,
-dilapidated, but still beautiful Italian palace to the cabinet or gallery
-or museum of the lucky foreign connoisseur, or even--a worse fate--into
-the hands of men to whom possession is much, but appreciation very little.
-
-While at Venice we were so lazy as never to go sight-seeing, which
-accounts for the fact that we missed many a thing which visitors of a few
-days see and talk learnedly about; and if the business activity of an old
-lace-seller had not brought her to the hotel, our search after lace might
-never have been made. She brought fine specimens with her, but her prices
-were rather high, and, after admiring the lace, she was dismissed without
-getting any orders. But she came again, and this time left her address.
-We wanted some lace for a present, and fancied that the proverbial
-facility for taking anything rather than nothing, which distinguishes
-the Italian seller of curiosities, would induce her to strike some more
-favorable bargain in her own house, where no other customer would be at
-hand to treasure up her weakness as a precedent.
-
-It was not easy to find the house. Many intricate little canals had to be
-traversed (for on foot we should probably have lost our way over and over
-again); and as we passed, many a quaint court, many a delicate window,
-many a sombre archway, and as often the objects which we, perhaps too
-conventionally, call picturesque--such as the tattered clothes drying
-on long lines stretched from window to window; heaps of refuse piled up
-against princely gateways; rotten posts standing up out of the water,
-with the remnants of the last coat of paint they ever had, a hundred
-years ago; gaudy little shrines calculated to make a Venetian _popolana_
-feel very pious and an “unregenerate” artist well-nigh frantic--met our
-sight. At last the house was reached, or at least the narrow quay from
-which a _calle_, or tiny, dark street, plunged away into regions unknown
-but inviting. Our gondolier was wise in the street-labyrinth lore of
-his old city, and up some curious outside stairs, and then again by
-innumerable inside ones, we reached the old woman’s rooms. Of these there
-were two--at least, we saw no more. Both were poor and bare, and the old
-lace seller was wrinkled, unclean, good-humored, and eager. She talked
-volubly, not being obliged to use a foreign tongue to help herself out,
-but going on with her soft, gliding, but quick Venetian tones. Travelling
-in Italy and coming in contact with all classes of the people is apt
-sadly to take down one’s scholarly conceit in knowing the language of
-Dante and Petrarch; for all the classicism of one’s school-days goes for
-very little in bargaining for lace, giving orders in a shop or market,
-or trying not to let boat-and-donkey-men cheat you to your face. There
-is this comfort: that if you often cannot understand the people, they
-can almost invariably understand you (unless your accent be altogether
-outrageous), which saves John Bull and his American cousin the ignominy
-of being brought an umbrella when they have asked for mushrooms, and
-actually taken the trouble to give a diagram of that vegetable.
-
-The prices were kept so obstinately above our means that all purchase of
-lace was impossible; but the old woman was untiring in displaying her
-stores of antique treasures, and we felt sufficiently rewarded for our
-expedition. She herself was worth a visit; for, like many ancient Italian
-matrons, and not a few nearer home, she was one of that generation of
-models whom you would have sworn has endured from the days of Titian
-and Vandyke, immortally old and unchangeably wrinkled. You see such
-faces in the galleries, with the simple title “Head of an old man”--or
-old woman, as the case may be--attributed to some famous painter; and
-these weird portraits attract you far more than the youth, and beauty,
-and health, and prosperity of the Duchess of Este, the baker’s handsome
-daughter, or the gorgeous Eastern sibyl. Again, you do not care to have
-any allegorical meaning tacked on to that intensely human face; you would
-be disgusted if you found it set down in the catalogue as “a Parca,”
-a magician, or a witch. You seem to know it, to remember one which
-was like it, to connect it with many human vicissitudes and common,
-though not the less pathetic, troubles. She is probably poor and has
-been hard-working; wifehood and motherhood have been stern realities
-to her, instead of poems lived in luxurious houses and earthly plenty;
-her youth’s romance was probably short, fervid, passionate, but soon
-lapsed into the dreary struggle of the poor for bare life. Chance and old
-age have made her look hard, though in truth her heart would melt at a
-tender love-tale like that of a girl of fifteen, and her brave, bright
-nature belies the lines on her face. Just as women live this kind of life
-nowadays, so they did three and five hundred years ago; so did probably
-those very models immortalized by great painters; so did others long
-before art had reached the possibility of truthful portraiture.
-
-Our old friend the lace-seller, though she has given occasion for this
-rambling digression, did not, however, at the time, suggest all these
-things to our mind.
-
-If she herself was a type of certain models of the old masters, her wares
-were also a reminder of famous people, scenes, and places of Venice.
-They were all of one kind, all of native manufacture, and, of course,
-all made by hand. In a certain degenerate fashion this industry is still
-continued, but the specimens of modern work which we saw were coarse
-and valueless in comparison with those of the old. There were collars
-and cuffs in abundance, such as both men and women wore--large, broad,
-Vandyked collars like those one sees in Venetian pictures; flounces,
-or rather straight bands of divers widths, from five to twenty inches,
-which had more probably belonged to albs and cottas. They suggested
-rich churches and gorgeous ceremonial in a time when nobles and people
-were equally devoted to splendid shows, prosperity and loftiness, and a
-picturesque blending of the religious and the imperial. Chasubles stiff
-with gems and altars of precious stones seem to harmonize well with
-these priceless veils, woven over with strange, hieroglyphic-looking,
-conventional, yet beautiful forms; intricate with tracery which, put into
-stone, would immortalize a sculptor; full of knots, each of which is a
-miniature masterpiece of embroidery; and the whole the evident product
-of an artist’s brain. This lace has not the gossamer-like beauty of
-Brussels. It is thick and close in its texture, and is of that kind
-which looks best on dark velvets and heavy, dusky cloths--just what one
-would fancy the grave Venetian signiors wearing on state occasions. It
-matches somehow with the antique XVth and XVIth century jewelry--the
-magnificent, artistic, heavy collars of the great orders of chivalry; it
-has something solid, substantial, and splendid about it. Such lace used
-to be sold to kings and senators, not by a paltry yard measure, but by at
-least twice its weight in gold; for the price was “as many gold pieces as
-would cover the quantity of lace required.” Now, although this princely
-mode of barter is out of fashion, old Venetian “point” is still one of
-the costliest luxuries in the world, and the rich foreigners who visit
-Venice usually carry away at least as much as will border a handkerchief
-or trim a cap, as a memento of the beautiful and once imperial city of
-the Adriatic. The modern lace--one can scarcely call it _imitation_,
-any more than Salviati’s modern Venetian glass and mosaic can be so
-called--seems to be deficient in the beauty and intricacy of design of
-the old specimens; it is so little sought after that the industry stands
-a chance of dying out, at least until after the old stock is exhausted
-and necessity drives the lace-makers to ply their art more delicately.
-
-Some modern lace, the English Honiton and some of the Irish lace, is
-quite as perfect and beautiful, and very nearly as costly, as the
-undoubted specimens the history of which can be traced back for two or
-three hundred years. But from what we saw of Venetian point, the new
-has sadly degenerated from the old, and exact copying of a few antique
-models would be no detriment to the modern productions. To the unlearned
-eye there is no difference between Venetian glass three or four hundred
-years old, carefully preserved in a national museum, and the manufactures
-of last month, sold in Salviati’s warerooms in Venice and his shop in
-London. Connoisseurs say they _do_ detect some inferiority in the modern
-work; but as to the lace, even the veriest tyro in such lore can see the
-rough, tasteless, coarse appearance of the new when contrasted with the
-old.
-
-
-NEW PUBLICATIONS.
-
-    SUPPOSED MIRACLES: AN ARGUMENT FOR THE HONOR OF CHRISTIANITY
-    AGAINST SUPERSTITION, AND FOR ITS TRUTH AGAINST UNBELIEF. By
-    Rev. J. M. Buckley. New York: Hurd & Houghton. 1875.
-
-Mr. Buckley is a Methodist minister, who seems to be a sensible,
-honest, and straightforward person, strong in his convictions, ardently
-religious, and yet abhorring the excesses of credulity and irrational
-enthusiasm. The substance of his pamphlet was delivered by him as an
-address before a meeting of Methodist ministers, and is principally
-directed against some pretences to miraculous powers and wonderful
-cure-working within his own denomination. So far as this goes, his
-effort is quite successful, particularly in regard to a certain Rev. Mr.
-Platt, who professes to have been cured of an obstinate infirmity by the
-prayers, accompanied by the imposition of hands, of a lady by the name
-of Miss Mossman. His particular object led him, however, to advance some
-general propositions respecting real and supposititious miracles, and
-to sustain these by arguments and appeals to so-called facts, real or
-assumed, having a much wider range and application than is embraced by
-his special and immediate purpose. As an _argumentum ad hominem_, his
-plea may have been quite sufficient and convincing to his particular
-audience; but as addressed to a wider circle in the form of a published
-pamphlet, it appears to be somewhat deficient in the quality and quantity
-of the proofs alleged in support of its great amplitude and confidence of
-assertion. It is also defective in respect to the definition and division
-of the subject-matter. To begin with his definition of miracle: “A true
-miracle is an event which involves the setting aside or contradiction of
-the established and uniform relations of antecedents and consequents;
-such event being produced at the will of an agent not working in the
-way of physical cause and effect, for the purpose of demonstration,
-or punishment, or deliverance.” This definition errs by excess and
-defect--by excess, in including the scope or end as a part of the
-essence; by defect, in excluding effects produced by an act of divine
-power which is above all established and uniform relations of antecedents
-and consequents. This last fault is not of much practical importance in
-respect to the question of the miracles by which a divine revelation is
-proved, or of ecclesiastical miracles; because those which are simply
-above nature, called by S. Thomas miracles of the first order--as the
-Incarnation and the glorification of the body of Christ--are very few in
-number, and are more objects than evidences of faith. The first error,
-however, confuses the subject, and opens the way to a summary rejection
-of evidence for particular miracles on the _à priori_ ground that they
-have not that scope which has been defined by the author as necessary to
-a true miracle. It is evident that God cannot give supernatural power
-to perform works whose end is bad or which are simply useless. But we
-cannot determine precisely what end is sufficient, in the view of God,
-for enabling a person to work a miracle, except so far as we learn this
-by induction and the evidence of facts which are proved. Mr. Buckley
-affirms positively that the end of miracles was solely the authentication
-of the divine legation of Christ and his forerunners in the mission of
-making known the divine revelation. Consequently from this assumption, he
-asserts that miracles ceased very early in the history of Christianity.
-He also professes to have “shown, by the proof of facts, that miracles
-have ceased. If the great Reformation in Germany, Switzerland, and
-Scotland, if Methodism, had no miracles; if the missionaries of the
-Cross [_i.e._, Protestant] are powerless to work them; and if the best
-men and women of all branches of the [Protestant] church are without
-this power, then indeed must they have ceased.” No one will dispute
-the logical sequence or material truth of this conclusion, so far as
-it does not extend beyond its own premises. He has made it, however,
-a general conclusion, and promises to prove it by “conclusive and
-irresistible proof.” He is therefore bound to prove that miracles had
-ceased from an early epoch in the universal church, including the whole
-period before the XVIth century, and in respect to all Christian bodies
-except Protestants from that time to the present. In respect to the
-former period, his whole proof consists in a statement that no person of
-candor and judgment who has read the ante-Nicene fathers will conclude
-it probable that miracles continued much beyond the beginning of the IId
-century, and in the assertion “that they have ceased we have proved to a
-demonstration.” In respect to supposed miracles during the latter period
-in the Catholic Church, the proof that none of them are true miracles is
-contained in the statement that “the opinion of the Protestant world is
-settled” on that head. Very good, Mr. Buckley! Such logical accuracy,
-united with the intuitive insight of genius, is a conclusive proof that
-the “assistances which our age enjoys” have amazingly shortened and
-simplified the tedious processes by which “that indigested heap and
-fry of authors which they call antiquity” were obliged to investigate
-truth and acquire knowledge. The reverend gentleman tells us that “I
-have for some years past been reading, as I have found leisure, that
-magnificent translation of the ante-Nicene fathers published by T. & T.
-Clark, of Edinburgh, in about twenty five volumes. To say that I have
-been astonished is to speak feebly.” Probably the astonishment of Origen,
-Justin Martyr, and Irenæus would be no less, and would be more forcibly
-expressed, if they could resume their earthly life and peruse the
-remarkable address before us. If its author will read the account of the
-miracles of SS. Gervasius and Protasius given by S. Ambrose, the _City
-of God_ of S. Augustine, the _Ecclesiastical History_ of Ven. Bede, and
-Dr. Newman’s _Essay on Ecclesiastical Miracles_, we can promise him that
-he will experience a still greater degree of astonishment than he did
-on the perusal of the ante-Nicene fathers. Mr. Buckley appears to be in
-_bona fide_, and is probably a much better man than many whose knowledge
-is more extensive. The hallucination of mind which produces in him the
-belief that he stands on a higher intellectual plane than Clement of
-Alexandria and Cyprian in ancient times, or Petavius, Kleutgen, Bayma,
-and “Jesuits” in general, is so simply astounding, and the credulity
-requisite to a firm assent to his own statements as “demonstrations” is
-so much beyond that which was, in the olden time, shown by believing
-in the “phœnix,” that he must be sincere, though very much in need of
-information. We cannot help feeling that he is worthy of knowing better,
-and would be convinced of the truth if it were set before him fairly.
-It is plain that he has no knowledge of the evidence which exists of
-a series of miracles wrought in the Catholic Church continuously from
-the times of the apostles to our own day, and which cannot be rejected
-without subverting the evidence on which the truth of all miracles
-whatsoever is based. The number of these which are considered by prudent
-Catholic writers to be quite certain or probable is beyond reckoning,
-though still very small in comparison with ordinary events and the
-experiences of the whole number of Catholics in all ages. Those of the
-most extraordinary magnitude are relatively much fewer in number than
-those which are less wonderful, as, for instance, the raising of the
-dead to life. Nevertheless, there are instances of this kind--_e.g._,
-those related of S. Dominic, S. Bernard, S. Teresa, and S. Francis
-Xavier--which, to say the least, have a _primâ facie_ probability. One
-of another kind is the perpetually-recurring miracle of the liquefaction
-of the blood of S. Januarius. The miraculous and complete cure of Mrs.
-Mattingly, of Washington, is an instance which occurred in our own
-country, and which, among many other intelligent Protestants, John C.
-Calhoun considered as most undoubtedly effected by miraculous agency. We
-mention one more only--the restoration of the destroyed vision of one eye
-by the application of the water of Lourdes, in the case of Bourriette,
-as related by M. Lasserre. We are rather more cautious in professing to
-have demonstrated the continuance of miracles than our reverend friend
-has been in respect to the contrary. We profess merely to show that his
-demonstration requires a serious refutation of the arguments in favor of
-the proposition he denies, and to bring forward some considerations in
-proof of the title which these arguments have to a respectful and candid
-examination. Moreover, though we cannot pretend to prove anything, _hic
-et nunc_, by conclusive evidence and reasoning, we refer to the articles
-on the miracle of S. Januarius, and to the translation of M. Lasserre’s
-book, in our own pages, as containing evidence for two of the instances
-alluded to, and to the works of Bishop England for the evidence in Mrs.
-Mattingly’s case.
-
-Besides those supernatural effects or events which can only be produced
-by a divine power acting immediately on the subject, there are other
-marvellous effects which in themselves require only a supermundane
-power, and are merely preternatural, using nature in the sense which
-excludes all beyond our own world and our human nature. Other unusual
-events, again, may appear to be preternatural, but may be proved, or
-reasonably conjectured, to proceed from a merely natural cause. Here is
-a debatable land, where the truth is attainable with more difficulty,
-generally with less certainty, and where there is abundant chance for
-unreasonable credulity and equally unreasonable scepticism to lose their
-way in opposite directions. Mr. Buckley summarily refers all the strange
-phenomena to be found among pagan religions to jugglery and fanaticism.
-Spiritism he dismisses without a word of comment, implying that he
-considers it to be in no sense preternatural. We differ from him in
-opinion in respect to this point also. We have no doubt that many alleged
-instances of preternatural events are to be explained by natural causes,
-and many others by jugglery and imposture. We cannot, for ourselves,
-find a reasonable explanation of a certain number of well-proved facts
-in regard to both paganism and spiritism, except on the hypothesis of
-preternatural agency. The nature of that agency cannot be determined
-without recurring to theological science. Catholic theology determines
-such cases by referring them to the agency of demons. Mr. Buckley is
-afraid to admit that the alleged “miracles were real and wrought by
-devils.” “If so,” he continues, “we may ask, in the language of Job,
-Where and what is God?” We answer to this that God does not permit demons
-to deceive men to such an extent as to cause the ruin of their souls,
-except through their own wilful and culpable submission to these deceits.
-It makes no difference whether the delusion produced is referred to
-jugglery or demonology in respect to this particular question.
-
-    THE FORMATION OF CHRISTENDOM. Part Third. By T. W. Allies.
-    London: Longmans & Co. 1875.
-
-Mr. Allies dedicates this volume, in very beautiful and appropriate
-terms, to Dr. Newman, who, he says in classic and graceful phrase,
-having once been “the Hector of a doomed Troy,” is now “the Achilles
-of the city of God.” The particular topic of the book is the relation
-of Greek philosophy to the Christian church. A remarkable chapter on
-the foundation of the Roman Church, in which great use is made of the
-discoveries of archæologists, precedes the treatment of the Neostoic,
-Neopythagorean, and Neoplatonic schools, with cognate topics. One of
-the most interesting and novel chapters is that on Apollonius of Tyana,
-whose wonderful life, as related by Philostratus, the author regards as
-a philosophic and anti-Christian myth invented by the above-mentioned
-pagan writer, with only a slight basis of historical truth. Mr. Allies
-has studied the deep, thoughtful works of those German authors who
-give a truly intelligent and connected history of philosophy, and his
-work is a valuable contribution to that branch of science, as well as
-to the history of Christianity. One of the most irresistible proofs of
-the divine mission and divine personality of Jesus Christ lies in the
-blending of the elements of Hellenic genius and culture, Jewish faith,
-and Roman law into a new composite, by a new form, when he founded his
-universal kingdom. A mere man, by his own natural power, and under the
-circumstances in which he lived, could not have conceived such an idea,
-much less have carried it into execution. The most ineffably stupid, as
-well as atrociously wicked, of all impostors and philosophical charlatans
-are those apostate Christians who strive to drag Christianity down to
-the level of the pagan systems of religion and philosophy, and reduce
-it to a mere natural phenomenon. Mr. Allies shows this in a work which
-combines erudition with a grace of style formed on classic models, and
-an enlightened, fervent Catholic spirit, imbibed from the fathers and
-doctors of the church. At a time when the popular philosophy is decked
-in false hair and mock-jewels, as a stage-queen, it is cheering to find
-here and there a votary of that genuine philosophy whose beauty is native
-and real, and who willingly proclaims her own subjection and inferiority
-by humbly saying, _Ecce ancilla Domini_.
-
-    THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC QUARTERLY REVIEW. Vol. I. No. 1. January,
-    1876. Philadelphia: Hardy & Mahony.
-
-A very large number of the most highly gifted and learned Catholics
-throughout Christendom, both clergymen and laymen, are at present
-employed in writing for the reviews of various classes which have existed
-for a greater or lesser period of time within the present century. Much
-of the very best literature of the age is to be found in their articles,
-and a very considerable part of this is of permanent value. In solid
-merit of matter and style, and in adaptation to the wants of the time,
-the best of these periodicals have improved steadily, and we may say
-of some of them that they hardly admit of any farther progress. The
-advantage of such periodicals is not only very great for their readers,
-but almost equally so for those who are engaged in contributing to their
-contents. The effort and practice of writing constantly for the public
-react upon the writers. Each one is encouraged and instructed in the
-most useful and effective method of directing his studies and giving
-verbal expression to their results, so as to attain the practical end
-he has in view--that of disseminating and diffusing knowledge over as
-wide an extent as possible. The combination of various writers, each
-having one or more specialties, under a competent editorial direction
-secures variety and versatility without prejudice to unity, and corrects
-the excesses or defects of individuality without checking originality,
-thus giving to the resulting work in some respects a superiority over
-that which is the product of one single mind, unless that mind possesses
-the gifts and acquisitions in _modo eminenti_ which are usually found
-divided among a number of different persons. To conduct a review alone
-is a herculean task, and Dr. Brownson has accomplished a work which is
-really astonishing in maintaining, almost by unaided effort, through so
-many years, a periodical of the high rank accorded by common consent to
-the one which bore his name and will be his perpetual monument. That, at
-the present juncture, a new review is necessary and has a fine field open
-before it; that in its management ecclesiastical direction and episcopal
-control are requisite for adequate security and weight with the Catholic
-public; and that full opportunity for efficient co-operation on the part
-of laymen of talent and education is most desirable, cannot admit of a
-moment’s doubt. It is therefore a matter of heart-felt congratulation
-that the favorable moment has been so promptly seized and the vacant
-place so quickly occupied by the gentlemen who have undertaken the
-editing and the publishing of the _American Catholic Quarterly_. It is
-probably known to most, if not all, of our readers that the editors are
-Dr. Corcoran, professor in the Ecclesiastical Seminary of Philadelphia;
-Dr. O’Connor, the rector of that institution; and Mr. Wolff, who has
-long and ably edited the Philadelphia _Catholic Standard_. It would be
-difficult to find in the United States an equally competent triad. The
-publishers, who have already the experience acquired by the management
-of a literary magazine and a newspaper, will, we may reasonably hope,
-be able to sustain the financial burden of this greater undertaking
-in a successful manner, if they receive the support which they have a
-right to expect, by means of their subscription list. The first number
-of the new review presents a typographical face which is quite peculiar
-to itself and decidedly attractive. Its contents, besides articles from
-each of the editors, are composed of contributions from three clergymen
-and two laymen, embracing a considerable variety of topics. The clerical
-contributors are the Right Reverend Bishops Lynch and Becker, and the
-Rev. Drs. Corcoran, O’Connor, and McGlynn. The lay contributors are Dr.
-Brownson, John Gilmary Shea, and Mr. Wolff. The names of F. Thébaud,
-Dr. Marshall, and General Gibbon are among those announced for the
-next number. We extend a cordial greeting with our best wishes to the
-_American Catholic Quarterly Review_.
-
-    MANUAL OF CATHOLIC INDIAN MISSIONARY ASSOCIATIONS.
-
-The Indian question continues to be one of the most troublesome in our
-national politics. Its only real solution--and we believe this to be
-President Grant’s opinion--is to Christianize the Indians. The task is
-undoubtedly a hard one, but it would be far less so if wolves in sheep’s
-clothing had not been sent among them. The only successful attempt at
-civilizing the Indians has been made by Catholic missionaries. But under
-the administration of the Indian Bureau, the utter rottenness of which
-has been so recently exposed, missions and reservations have been thrown
-to this religious agency and that without the slightest regard for the
-wishes of those who, it is to be supposed, were most to be benefited by
-the operation--the Indians themselves. In this way flourishing Catholic
-missions were turned over to the Methodist or other denominations, and
-the representations of the missionaries, as well as of the chiefs and
-tribes themselves, were of no avail whatever to alter so iniquitous
-a proceeding. This little manual gives a brief sketch of the status
-of Catholic Indians and working of the Bureau of Indian Missions. It
-contains also an earnest appeal to the Catholic ladies of the United
-States from the “Ladies’ Catholic Indian Missionary Association of
-Washington, D. C.,” urging contributions and the formation of similar
-associations throughout the country to aid in sustaining the Catholic
-Indian missions.
-
-
-A CORRECTION.
-
-TO THE EDITOR OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD:
-
-I have just received, through the Catholic Publication Society, the
-following card from Mr. Gladstone:
-
-    “Mr. Gladstone desires to send with his compliments his thanks
-    to the Society for a copy, which he has received, of Dr.
-    Clarke’s interesting paper on _Maryland Toleration_. Having
-    simply cited his authorities, and used them, as he thinks,
-    fairly, he will be glad to learn, if he can, the manner in
-    which they meet the challenge conveyed in the latter portion of
-    this paper. Mr. Gladstone’s present object is to say he would
-    be greatly obliged by a _reference_ to enable him to trace the
-    “irreverent words” imputed to him on page 6, as his _Vatican
-    Decrees_ have no page 83, and he is not aware of having penned
-    such a passage.
-
-    “4 CARLTON GARDENS, LONDON, Jan. 24, 1856.”
-
-Mr. Gladstone is right in disclaiming the words imputed to him in this
-instance. They are, on investigation, found to be the words of the
-Rev. Dr. Schaff. The Messrs. Harper, the American publishers of Mr.
-Gladstone’s tracts, are largely responsible for the mistake, by having
-inserted in their publication a tract of Dr. Schaff, paged in common, and
-all covered by the outside title of “_Rome and the Newest Fashions in
-Religion. Gladstone_,” and by the title-page giving the authorship “By
-the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone.” To a writer making selections as needed
-from different portions of this book the mistake was easy and natural;
-and though the authorship of Dr. Schaff’s _History of the Vatican
-Decrees_ containing the passage in question is given, it is not so given
-as easily to reach the eye, and is obscured by the introduction of Dr.
-Schaff’s tract into a volume under Mr. Gladstone’s name, and by paging
-Dr. Schaff’s _History_ in common with Mr. Gladstone’s _Vaticanism_. On
-page 83 of _this_ publication of the Messrs. Harper the “irreverent
-words” are found. I am only too much gratified at Mr. Gladstone’s
-disowning them, and hasten, on my part, to make this correction through
-your columns, in which my reply to Mr. Gladstone on _Maryland Toleration_
-first appeared, and to beg his acceptance of this _amende honorable_.
-
-                                                          RICH. H. CLARKE
-
-51 CHAMBERS STREET, NEW YORK, February 10, 1876.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In a notice, which appeared in last month’s CATHOLIC WORLD, of certain
-works published by Herder, Freiburg, it was stated that the publications
-of that house are imported by the firm of Benziger Bros. Mr. Herder has
-a branch house in St. Louis, Missouri, where all his publications may be
-procured.
-
-
-PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.
-
-    The First Annual Report of the New York Society for the
-    Prevention of Cruelty to Children.
-
-    Landreth’s Rural Register and Almanac, 1876.
-
-
-
-
-FOOTNOTES
-
-
-[1] _Queen Mary_: A Drama. By Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L. Boston: J. R.
-Osgood & Co. 1875.
-
-[2] It is proper to state that the present criticism is not by the writer
-of the article on Mr. Tennyson in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for May, 1868.
-
-[3] The preceding article was ready for the printers before a copy fell
-into our hands of _Mary Stuart_--a drama by Sir Aubrey de Vere--a poem
-which it had not been our good fortune to have read before. The public
-would seem to have exhibited an appreciation of this work we should
-scarcely have expected from them, for it is, we believe, out of print.
-For ourselves, we must say that for poetical conception, appreciation and
-development of the several personages of the drama, it appears to us to
-be very much superior to _Queen Mary_.
-
-[4] The title of captal (from _capitalis_) was formerly a common one
-among Aquitaine lords, but was gradually laid aside. The Captals de Buch
-and Trente were the last to bear it.
-
-[5] In the Journal of the Sisters of Charity of that time we read:
-
-“Jan. 22.--M. Vincent arrived at eleven o’clock in the evening, bringing
-us two children; one perhaps six days old, the other older. Both were
-crying.…”
-
-“Jan. 25.--The streets are full of snow. We are expecting M. Vincent.”
-
-“Jan. 26.--Poor M. Vincent is chilled through. He has brought us an
-infant.…”
-
-“Feb. 1.--The archbishop came to see us. We are in great need of public
-charity! M. Vincent places no limit to his ardent love for poor children.”
-
-And when their resources are exhausted, the saint makes the following
-pathetic appeal to the patronesses: “Compassion has led you to adopt
-these little creatures as your own children. You are their mothers
-according to grace, as their mothers by nature have abandoned them.
-Will you also abandon them in your turn? Their life and death are in
-your hands. I am going to take your vote on the point. The charity you
-give or refuse is a terrible decision in your hands. It is time to
-pronounce their sentence, and learn if you will no longer have pity on
-them.”--_Sermon of S. Vincent to the Ladies of Charity_ in 1648.
-
-[6] _The Earl of Castlehaven’s Review_; or, His Memoirs of His Engagement
-and Carriage in the Irish Wars. Enlarged and corrected. With an Appendix
-and Postscript. London: Printed for Charles Brome at the Gun in St.
-Paul’s Churchyard. 1684.
-
-[7] This was the title given at one time by the French courtiers to
-Frederick I.
-
-[8] Their first condition for a suspension of arms was a payment to
-them of £25,000 per month. These were in large part the same forces who
-afterwards sold their fugitive king for so many pounds sterling to the
-Parliament, violating the rights of sanctuary and hospitality, held
-sacred by the most barbarous races. It is curious to observe the supreme
-boldness with which Macaulay and the popular writers of the radical
-school essay to gloss over the dishonorable transactions affecting the
-parliamentary side in this contest between the King and Commons. The
-veriest dastards become heroes; and the first canting cut-throat is safe
-to be made a martyr of in their pages for conscience’ sake and the rights
-of man.
-
-[9] _Apol. vii._
-
-[10] _Fundam. Phil._ lib. vii. c. 7.
-
-[11] _Phil. Fundam._ lib. vii. c. 7.
-
-[12] Italian proverb: “If not true, it deserves to be true.”
-
-[13] Written during the Pope’s exile, 1848
-
-[14] _The Secret Warfare of Freemasonry against the Church and State._
-Translated from the German, with an Introduction. London: Burns, Oates &
-Co. 1875. (New York: The Catholic Publication Society.)
-
-[15] S. Mark xiii. 22.
-
-[16] “Vos ergo videte; ecce, prædixi vobis omnia.”--Ib. 23.
-
-[17] “Videte, vigilate, et orate: nescitis enim, quando tempus sit.”--Ib.
-33.
-
-[18] “Vigilate ergo … ne, cum venerit repente, inveniat vos
-dormientes.”--Ib. 35, 36.
-
-[19] “Quod autem vobis dico, omnibus dico: Vigilate!”--Ib. 37.
-
-[20] “Sine parabola autem non loquebatur eis; seorsum autem discipulis
-suis disserebat omnia.”--S. Mark iv. 34.
-
-[21] “Vobis datum est nosse mysterium regni Dei: illis autem, qui foris
-sunt, in parabolis omnia fiunt.”--Ib. 11.
-
-[22] “Nescitis parabolam hanc; et quomodo omnes parabolas
-cognoscetis.”--Ib. 13.
-
-[23] “Nisi venerit discessio primum, et revelatus fuerit homo peccati,
-filius perditionis, qui adversatur et extollitur supra omne, quod
-dicitur Deus, aut quod colitur ita ut in templo Dei sedeat, ostendens
-se, tamquam sit Deus.… Et nunc quid detineat, scitis, ut reveletur in
-suo tempore. Nam mysterium jam operatur iniquitatis, tantum ut qui tenet
-nunc, teneat, donec de medio fiat. Et tunc revelabitur ille iniquus (ὁ
-άνομος), quem Dominus Jesus interficiet spiritu oris sui, et destruet
-illustratione adventus sui cum; cujus est adventus secundum operationem
-Satanæ in omni virtute, et signis et prodigiis mendacibus, et in omni
-seductione iniquitatis iis, qui pereunt; eo quod caritatem veritatis non
-receperunt, ut salvi fierent. Ideo mittet illis Deus operationem erroris,
-ut credant mendacio, ut judicentur omnes, qui non crediderunt veritati,
-sed consenserunt iniquitati.”--2 Thess. ii. 3-11.
-
-[24] “Spiritus autem manifeste dicit, quia in novissimis temporibus
-discedent quidam a fide, attendentes spiritibus erroris et doctrinis
-dæmoniorum; in hypocrisi loquentium mendacium, et cauteriatam habentium
-suam conscientiam.”--1 Tim. iv. 1, 2.
-
-[25] “Hoc autem scito, quod in novissimis diebus instabunt tempora
-periculosa: erunt homines seipsos amantes, cupidi, elati, superbi,
-blasphemi, parentibus non obedientes, ingrati, scelesti, sine affectione,
-sine pace, criminatores, incontinentes, immites sine benignitate,
-proditores, protervi, timidi, et voluptatum amatores magis quam Dei,
-habentes speciem quidem pietatis, virtutem autem ejus abnegantes.”--2
-Tim. iii. 1-5.
-
-[26] “Venient in novissimis diebus in deceptione illusores, juxta
-proprias concupiscentias ambulantes.”--2 Peter iii. 3.
-
-[27] “In novissimo tempore venient illusores, secundum, desideria sua
-ambulantes in impietatibus. Hi sunt, qui segregant semetipsos, animales,
-Spiritum non habentes.”--S. Jud. 18, 19.
-
-[28] “Filioli, novissima hora est, et sicut audistis, quia Antichristus
-venit, et nunc Antichristi multi facti sunt: unde scimus, quia novissima
-hora est.… Hic est Antichristus qui negat Patrem et Filium.”--1 S. John
-ii. 18, 22.
-
-[29] “Et omnis spiritus qui solvit Jesum, ex Deo non est; et hic est
-Antichristus, de quo audistis, quoniam venit, et nunc jam in mundo
-est.”--Ib. iv. 3.
-
-[30] “Si quis habet aurem, audiat.”--Apoc. xiii. 9.
-
-[31] “Hic sapientia est. Qui habet intellectum computet numerum
-bestiæ.”--Ib. 18
-
-[32] _Histoire de la Révolution Française_, v. ii. c. 3.
-
-[33] _The Secret Warfare of Freemasonry_, p. 123.
-
-[34] Ibid. 124.
-
-[35] Those in this country who respect religion, law, and the peace of
-society should not be imposed upon by the aspect of Freemasonry here.
-The principles and modes of acting of the society are those we have
-described. The application of them depends wholly on time, place, and
-circumstances. The ordinary observer sees nothing in the members of
-the craft here but a number of inoffensive individuals, who belong to
-a _soi-disant_ benevolent association which, by means of secret signs,
-enables them to get out of the clutches of the law, procure employment
-and office, and obtain other advantages not possessed by the rest of
-their fellow-citizens. But then the innocent rank and file are the dead
-weight which the society employs, on occasion, to aid in compassing its
-ulterior designs. Here there are no civil or religious institutions
-which stand in their way, and their mode of action is to sap and mine
-the morals of the community, on which society rests, and with which it
-must perish. Of what it is capable, if it seems needful to compassing its
-ends, any one may understand by the fiendish murder of William Morgan.
-This murder was decided on at a lodge-meeting directed by Freemason
-officials, _in pursuance of the rules of the craft_, and was perpetrated
-by Freemasons bearing a respectable character, who had never before been
-guilty of a criminal action, who were known, yet were never punished
-nor even tried, but died a natural death, and who do not appear to have
-experienced any loss of reputation for their foul deed. (See Mr. Thurlow
-Weed’s recent letter to the New York _Herald_.)
-
-[36] Before we proceed to expose the even yet more hideous loathsomeness
-of this vile association, a few words of explanation are necessary.
-In all we write we have in view an organization--its constitution and
-motives--and that only. The individual responsibility of its several
-members is a matter for their own conscience; it is no affair of ours.
-We believe that the bulk of the association, all up to the thirtieth
-degree, or “Knights of the White Eagle,” or “Kadosch,” are in complete
-ignorance of the hellish criminality of its objects. Even the Rosicrucian
-has something to learn; although to have become that he must have
-stamped himself with the mark of Antichrist by the abandonment of his
-belief in Christ and in all revealed religion. But the vast majority,
-whose numbers, influence, and respectability the dark leaders use for
-the furtherance of their monstrous designs, live and die in complete
-ignorance of the real objects and principles of the craft. We ourselves
-know an instance of an individual, now reconciled to the church, who was
-once a Master Mason, and who to this moment is in utter ignorance of
-them. They are sedulously concealed from all who have not dispossessed
-themselves of the “prejudices of religion and morality.” The author
-of the work to which we are indebted for almost all our documentary
-evidence mentions the case of one who had advanced to the high grade
-of Rosicrucian, but who, not until he was initiated into the grade
-of Kadosch, was completely stunned and horrified by the demoniacal
-disclosures poured into his ears. Most of the Freemasons, however, have
-joined the body as a mere philanthropic institution, or on the lower
-motive of self-interest. Nor is it possible to convince these people of
-the fearful consequences to which they are contributing. Of course, but
-few of these, it is to be hoped, are involved in the full guilt of the
-“craft.” Every Catholic who belongs to it is in mortal sin. For the rest,
-we cannot but hope and believe that an overwhelming majority are innocent
-of any sinister motives. But it is impossible to exonerate them entirely.
-For, first, the “craft” is now pursuing its operations with such
-unblushing effrontery that it is difficult for any but illiterate people
-to plead entire ignorance; and next, no one can, without moral guilt,
-bind himself by terrible oaths, for the breaking of which he consents to
-be assassinated, to keep inviolable secrets with the nature of which he
-is previously unacquainted. It cannot but be to his everlasting peril
-that any one permits himself to be branded with this “mark of the beast.”
-
-[37] _Secret Warfare of Freemasonry_, pp. 51, 52.
-
-[38] Ib. p. 65.
-
-[39] Ib. 207.
-
-[40] Ib. pp. 196-8.
-
-[41] This journal, at the time of the first initiation of the Prince of
-Wales into the “craft,” in an article on that event, heaped contempt
-and ridicule on the whole affair. A recent article on the young man’s
-initiation as Master may satisfy the most exacting Mason.
-
-[42] The writer refers to the highest grades.
-
-[43] _Secret Warfare of Freemasonry_, pp. 232, 233.
-
-[44] _Utopia._ By Sir Thomas More.
-
-[45] A sort of divan, not unusual in the East at the present day. The
-sultan, when receiving a visit of ceremony, sits on a sort of sofa or
-post-bed. Traces of it were also found in the “palaces” of Ashantec.
-
-[46] “The new spirit made its appearance in the world about the XVIth
-century. Its end is to substitute a new society for that of the Middle
-Ages. Hence the necessity that the first modern revolution should be a
-religious one.… It was Germany and Luther that produced it.”--Cousin,
-_Cours d’hist. de la philos._, p. 7, Paris, 1841.
-
-[47] “Non a prætoris edicto, ut plerique nunc, neque a duo decim Tabulis,
-ut superiores, sed penitus ex intima philosophia haurienda est juris
-disciplina.”--Cic., _De legib._ lib. i.
-
-[48] Cic., _de fin. bon. et malor._ i. 11.
-
-[49] Plato, _Des lois_, liv. i.
-
-[50] “Illud stultissimum (est), existimare omnia justa esse, quæ scripta
-sint in populorum institutis et legibus.”--_De legibus._
-
-[51] “Neque opinione sed natura constitutum esse jus.”--Ibid.
-
-[52] “Sæculis omnibus ante nata est, (ante) quam scripta lex ulla, aut
-quam omnino civitas constituta.”--Ibid.
-
-[53] “Quidam corum quædam magna, _quantum divinitus adjuti sunt_,
-invenerunt.”--S. Aug., _Civit. Dei_, i. ii. c. 7.
-
-“Has scientias dederunt philosophi et illustrati sunt; Deus enim illis
-_revelavit_.”--S. Bonavent., _Lum. Eccl._, Serm. 5.
-
-[54] The two following paragraphs are taken freely from the treatise _De
-legibus_, passim.
-
-[55] The following paragraph is also taken from Cicero.
-
-[56] “Erat lux vera quæ illuminat omnem hominem venientem in hunc
-mundum.”--S. Joan., i. 9.
-
-[57] “Et vita erat lux hominum … in tenebris lucet, et tenebræ eam non
-comprehenderunt.”--Id.
-
-[58] _Cont. gent._ iv. 13.
-
-[59] V. Lassalle, _Das System der erworbenen Rechte_, i. 2, not. à la
-pag. 70.
-
-[60] _Considerat. sur la France._
-
-[61] _Arbeiter Programm._, v. Ferd. Lassalle.
-
-[62] _Du suffrage universel et de la manière de voter._ Par H. Taine.
-Paris: Hachette, 1872.
-
-[63] Bergier, after Tertullian.
-
-[64] De Maistre, _Princip. générat._
-
-[65] _Reflections on the Revolution in France._
-
-[66] _Corresp. entre le Comte de Mirabeau et le Comte de la Marck._
-Paris: Le Normant. 1851.
-
-[67] _Politique._ l. i. c.
-
-[68] _De civit. Dei._ 19.
-
-[69] _De rebus publ. et princip. institut._, l. iii. c. 9.
-
-[70] _Reflections on the French Revolution._
-
-[71] “Universa propter semetipsum operatus est Dominus.”--Proverbs xvi. 4.
-
-[72] _Polit._, vii. 2.
-
-[73] Id. ibid. c. 1.
-
-[74] Aristotle knew no other state than the city.
-
-[75] Isaias xxxiii. See also the words of Jesus to Pilate: “Tu dicis quia
-Rex ego sum.”
-
-[76] “Dabo legem in visceribus eorum.”--Jer. xxxi.
-
-[77] _Viri protestantici ad summum Pontificem appellatio._--Londini,
-Wyman et fil, 1869.
-
-[78] M. Em. Montaigut, in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_.
-
-[79] M. Le Play.
-
-[80] De Maistre, _Considerat. sur la France_.
-
-[81] _Fundam. Phil._, book vii. ch. 6.
-
-[82] Sicut punctum se habet ad lineam, ita se habet nunc ad tempus.
-Si imaginemur punctum quiescere, non poterimus imaginari ipsum esse
-causam lineæ: si vero imaginemur ipsum moveri, licet in ipso nulla sit
-dimensio, nec aliqua divisio per consequens, per naturam tamen motus sui
-relinquitur aliquid divisibile.… Illud tamen punctum non est de lineæ
-essentia; quia nihil unum et idem realiter omnimodis indivisibile potest
-simul in diversis partibus ejusdem continui permanentis esse.… Punctum
-ergo mathematice imaginatum, quod motu suo causat lineam, necessario
-nihil lineæ erit: sed erit unum secundum rem, et diversum secundum
-rationem; et hæc diversitas, quæ consistit in motu suo, realiter est in
-linea, non identitas sua secundum rem.… Eodem vero modo instans, quod est
-mensura mobilis sequens ipsum, est unum secundum rem, quum nihil pereat
-de substantia ipsius mobilis, cuius instans est mensura inseparabilis,
-sed diversum et diversum secundum rationem. Et hæc ejus diversitas est
-tempus essentialiter.
-
-[83] Quia motus primus unus est, tempus est unum, mensurans omnes motus
-simul actos.--Opusc. 44, _De tempore_, c. 2.
-
-[84] Stans et movens se non videntur differre secundum substantiam,
-sed solum secundum rationem. Nunc autem æternitatis est stans, et nunc
-temporis fluens; quare non videntur differre nisi ratione sola--_De
-tempore_, c. 4.
-
-[85] Ista non possunt habere veritatem secundum ea, quæ determinata sunt.
-Visum est enim, quod æternitas et tempus essentialiter differunt. Item
-quæcumque se habent ut causa et causatum, essentialiter differunt; nunc
-autem æternitatis, quum non differat ab æternitate nisi sola ratione,
-est causa temporis, et nunc ipsius, ut dictum est. Quare nunc temporis
-et nunc æternitatis essentialiter differunt. Præterea nunc temporis
-est continuativum præteriti cum futuro; nunc autem æternitatis non est
-continuativum præteriti cum futuro, quia in æternitate non est prius
-nec posterius, nec præteritum, nec futurum, sed tota æternitas est tota
-simul. Nec valet ratio in oppositum, quum dicitur quod stans et fluens
-non differunt per essentiam. Verum est in omni eo quod contingit stare
-et fluens esse; tamen stans quod nullo modo contingit fluere, et fluens,
-quod nullo modo contingit stare, differunt per essentiam. Talia autem
-sunt nunc æternitatis, et nunc temporis.--Ibid.
-
-[86] _Summa Theol._, p. 1, q. 46, a. 2.
-
-[87] Novitas mundi non potest demonstrationem recipere ex parte ipsius
-mundi. Demonstrationis enim principium est quod quid est. Unumquodque
-autem secundum rationem suæ speciei abstrahit ab hic et nunc; propter
-quod dicitur quod universalia sunt ubique et semper. Unde demonstrari non
-potest quod homo, aut cœlum, aut lapis non semper fuit.--Ibid.
-
-[88] Sicut enim si pes ab æternitate semper fuisset in pulvere, semper
-subesset vestigium, quod a calcante factum nemo dubitaret, sic et mundus
-semper fuit, semper existente qui fecit.--Ibid.
-
-[89] Et hoc utile est ut consideretur, ne forte aliquis quod fidei est
-demonstrare præsumens rationes non necessarias inducat, quæ præbeant
-materiam irridendi infidelibus existimantibus nos propter eiusmodi
-rationes credere quæ fidei sunt.--Ibid.
-
-[90] Uno modo dicitur æternitas mensura durationis rei semper similiter
-se habentis, nihil acquirentis in futuro et nihil amittentis in præterito
-et sic propriissime sumitur æternitas. Secundo modo dicitur æternitas
-mensura durationis rei habentis esse fixum et stabile, recipientis
-tamen vices in operationibus suis; et æternitas sic accepta propria
-dicitur ævum: ævum enim est mensura eorum, quorum esse est stabile,
-quæ tamen habent successionem in operibus suis, sicut intelligentiæ.
-Tertio modo dicitur æternitas mensura durationis successivæ habentis
-prius et posterius, carentis tamen principio et fine, vel carentis fine
-et tamen habentis principium; et utroque modo ponitur mundus æternus,
-licet secundum veritatem sit temporalis: et ista impropriissime dicitur
-æternitas; rationi enim æternitatis repugnat prius et posterius.--Opusc.,
-_De tempore_, c. 4.
-
-[91] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, May, 1875, page 234 et seq.
-
-[92] Deus aut prior est mundo natura tantum, aut et duratione. Si natura
-tantum; ergo quum Deus sit ab æterno, et mundus est ab æterno. Si autem
-est prior duratione, prius autem et posterius in duratione constituunt
-tempus; ergo ante mundum fuit tempus: quod est impossibile.--_Summa
-Theol._, p. 1, q. 46, a. 1.
-
-[93] Deus est prior mundo duratione: sed per prius non designat
-prioritatem temporis, sed æternitatis. Vel dicendum, quod designat
-prioritatem temporis imaginati, et non realiter existentis; sicut quum
-dicitur: supra cœlum nihil est, per _supra_ designat locum imaginarium
-tantum, secundum quod possibile est imaginari dimensionibus cælestis
-corporis dimensiones alias superaddi.--Ibid.
-
-[94] _Fundam. Philos._, book vii. ch. 10.
-
-[95] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, November, 1874, p. 272, and January, 1875,
-p. 487.
-
-[96] A new interest attaches to this church, in the eyes of American
-Catholics, since it has been made the Title of the Cardinal-Archbishop of
-New York.
-
-[97] There is a vague tradition among the Penobscot Indians in Maine
-that a Jesuit father crossed from the head-waters of the Kennebec to the
-valley of the Passumpsic, east of the Green Mountains, at an earlier date.
-
-[98] _Hist. Maryland_, vol. ii. p. 352.
-
-[99] _History United States_, vol. i. p. 238.
-
-[100] Id. p. 241.
-
-[101] Id. p. 244.
-
-[102] Id. p. 247.
-
-[103] _History United States_, vol. i. p. 248.
-
-[104] Chalmers’ _Annals_, vol. i. pp. 207, 208.
-
-[105] Story, _Com. on the Constitution_, sec. 107.
-
-[106] _Sketches of the Early History of Maryland_ by Thomas W. Griffith,
-pp. 3, 4.
-
-[107] Bancroft, _Hist. U. S._, vol. i. p. 238.
-
-[108] _The Brit. Emp. in America_, vol. i. pp. 4, 5.
-
-[109] _Hist. Md._, p. 232.
-
-[110] Father Andrew White’s _Narrative_, Md. Hist. Soc., 1874, p. 32.
-
-[111] _Sketches_, etc., p. 5.
-
-[112] Davis’ _Day-Star of Am. Freedom_, p. 149.
-
-[113] _History of Maryland_, p. 24.
-
-[114] Bozman’s _History of Maryland_, p. 109.
-
-[115] _History of United States_, vol. i. p. 241.
-
-[116] _History of Maryland_, p. 24.
-
-[117] _Maryland Toleration_, p. 36.
-
-[118] _History of Maryland_, p. 33.
-
-[119] _History of United States_, p. 257.
-
-[120] _Maryland Toleration_, p. 40.
-
-[121] _Day-Star of American Freedom_, p. 36.
-
-[122] _Day-Star of American Freedom_, p. 38.
-
-[123] _History of Maryland_, vol. ii. p. 85.
-
-[124] _History of the United States_, p. 252.
-
-[125] _Day-Star of American Freedom_, p. 138.
-
-[126] Rev. Ethan Allen says this continued until 1649, when Kent was
-erected into a county.--_Maryland Toleration_, p. 36.
-
-[127] _Day-Star of American Freedom_, p. 143.
-
-[128] Id. p. 160.
-
-[129] The document at length, with the signatures, is given in numerous
-histories of Maryland, and will be found in Davis’s _Day-Star of American
-Freedom_, p. 71.
-
-[130] Kent’s _Commentaries on Am. Law_, vol. ii. pp. 36, 37.
-
-[131] Reprinted from advance sheets of _The Prose Works of William
-Wordsworth_. Edited, with preface, notes, and illustrations, by the Rev.
-Alex. B. Grosart; now for the first time published, by Moxon, Son & Co.,
-London. These works will fill three volumes, embracing respectively the
-political and ethical, æsthetical and literary, critical and ethical,
-writings of the author, and, what will interest American readers
-especially, his Republican Defence.
-
-[132] Afterwards Father Faber of the Oratory. His “Sir Launcelot” abounds
-in admirable descriptions.
-
-[133] “For us the stream of fiction ceased to flow,” (dedicatory stanzas
-to “The White Doe of Rylstone”).
-
-[134] See his sonnet on the seat of Dante, close to the Duomo at Florence
-(_Poems of Early and Late Years_).
-
-[135] “Evening Voluntary.”
-
-[136] _A Song of Faith, Devout Exercises, and Sonnets_ (Pickering). The
-dedication closed thus: “I may at least hope to be named hereafter among
-the friends of Wordsworth.”
-
-[137] It may be well to remark here that in this century the word
-_domestic_ was familiarly used to designate one who was attached to the
-house and fortunes of another.
-
-[138] Mme. Louise, Duchess of Angoulême, and mother of Francis I.
-
-[139] By the statutes of præmunire, all persons were forbidden to hold
-from Rome any _provision_ or power to exercise any authority without
-permission from the king, under penalty of placing themselves beyond his
-protection and being severely punished.
-
-[140] Wolsey’s customary designation of Anne Boleyn.
-
-[141] This corresponded to the court of marshalsea in England.
-
-[142] During the memorable conclave at which Pius IX. was elected, this
-office was held by Monsignor Pallavicino, who caused to be struck,
-according to his right, a number of bronze and silver medals with
-his family arms quartering those of Gregory XVI. Above his prelate’s
-hat on the obverse were the words _Sede Vacante_, and on the reverse
-the inscription _Alerames ex marchionibus Pallavicino sacri palatii
-apostolici præfectus et conclavis gubernator_ 1846.
-
-[143] It dates from the year 1535, when Paul III. permitted his majordomo
-Boccaferri to assume on his coat-of-arms, as an additament of honor (in
-the language of blazonry), one of the lilies or _fleurs-de-lis_ of the
-Farnese family. If the subject prefer to do so, he may bear the Pope’s
-arms on a canton, carry them on an inescutcheon, or impale instead of
-quartering them.
-
-[144] While writing this, we hear of the elevation to the purple of the
-majordomo Monsignor Pacca, whom we have had the honor, when a private
-chamberlain to the Pope, of knowing and of serving under. He was one of
-the most popular prelates at the Vatican for his urbanity and attention
-to business. He is a patrician of the bluest blood of Beneventum and
-nephew to the celebrated Cardinal Pacca, so well known for his services
-to Pope Pius VII. and for his interesting _Memoirs_.
-
-[145] The grated prison for such offenders was a chamber deep down among
-the vaults of the Cellarium Majus of the Lateran.
-
-[146] This office still exists, and is one of the important charges at
-the papal court which is always held by a layman. It was hereditary in
-the famous Conti family until its extinction in the last century, when it
-passed, after a considerable interval, on the same condition into that of
-Ruspoli as the nearest representative of that ancient race.
-
-[147] Ambassadors and foreign ministers accredited to the Holy See claim
-the right of presentation or of access through the Cardinal Secretary of
-State.
-
-[148] It is well to observe that briefs are not sealed with the
-_original_ ring, which does not go out of the keeper’s custody except
-the Pope demand it, but with a fac-simile preserved in the _Secreteria
-de Brevi_. Since June, 1842, red sealing-wax, because too brittle and
-effaceable, is no longer used; but in its stead a thick red ink, or
-rather pigment, is employed.
-
-[149] In England, by a similar fiction, the king (or queen) is imagined
-to preside in the Court of King’s Bench.
-
-[150] The first convent of the Dominicans in Rome, at Santa Sabina on the
-Aventine, was in part composed of a portion of the Savelli palace, in
-which Honorius, who belonged to this family, generally resided, so that
-their founder could not help remarking the misbehavior of the loungers
-about the court. He did not go out of his way to find fault.
-
-[151] There was a somewhat similar office of very ancient institution
-at the imperial court of Constantinople, the holder of which was called
-_Epistomonarcha_.
-
-[152] Peter Filargo was a Greek from the island of Candia, which may
-account for his love of what at a pontiff’s table corresponded to the
-symposium of the ancients--a species of after-dinner enjoyment, when,
-wine being introduced, philosophical or other agreeable subjects were
-discussed.
-
-[153] The special significance of this title given to Cardinal McCloskey
-is that his predecessor in the see of New York and its first bishop, Luke
-Concanen, who was consecrated in Rome on April 24, 1808, was a Dominican,
-and had been for a long time officially attached to the convent and
-church of the _Minerva_, which was the headquarters of his order.
-
-[154] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, August, 1875, p. 625.
-
-[155] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, September, 1874, p. 729.
-
-[156] THE CATHOLIC WORLD, March, 1874, p. 766.
-
-[157] See the two articles on “Substantial Generations” in THE CATHOLIC
-WORLD, April and May, 1875.
-
-[158] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD for February, 1874, pp, 584. 585.
-
-[159] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, May, 1874, p. 178.
-
-[160] In the Aristotelic theory, a third kind of movement, _ratione
-termini_, was admitted--that is, movement towards dimensive quantity,
-as when an animal or a tree grows in bulk. But bodies acquire greater
-bulk by accession of new particles, and this accession is carried on by
-_local_ movement. Hence it seems to us that the _motus ad quantitatem_ is
-not a new kind of movement.
-
-[161] S. Thomas explains this point in the following words: Quum
-magnitudo sit divisibilis in infinitum, et puncta sint etiam infinita
-in potentia in qualibet magnitudine, sequitur quod inter quælibet duo
-loca sint infinita loca media. Mobile autem infinitatem mediorum locorum
-non consumit nisi per continuitatem motus; quia sicut loca media sunt
-infinita in potentia, ita et in motu continuo est accipere infinita
-quædam in potentia.--_Sum. Theol._, p. 1, q. 53, a. 2. This explanation
-is identical with our own, though S. Thomas does not explicitly mention
-the infinitesimals of time.
-
-[162] _Music of Nature._
-
-[163] This was an anachronism in costume which in our day would not be
-pardonable, but it was common enough until within half a century ago.
-The queen of James I., Anne of Denmark, insisted upon playing the part
-of Thetis, goddess of the ocean, in a “monstrous farthingale” (in modern
-speech, a very exaggerated crinoline.)
-
-[164] Puttenham, _Art of Poesie_, pub. in 1589, quoted in Ritson.
-
-[165] Probably some coarse lace or net
-
-[166] _The Complete Angler, or the Contemplative Man’s Recreation._
-
-[167] Harmless
-
-[168] Agnes Strickland’s _Lives of the Queens of England_.
-
-[169] _Penny Magazine_, 1834.
-
-[170] This word has no English equivalent; it means the casting out of
-the heart--a hyperbolical manner of expressing the most excessive nausea.
-
-[171] The Council of Trent decreed nothing on the subject of the
-authority of the church: that of the Vatican had to supply the omission.
-The struggle with Protestantism on this subject reached its last stage in
-the definition of the dogma of Papal Infallibility decreed by the church
-assembled at the Council of the Vatican.
-
-[172] In its numbers of April 22 and May 16 last the _Unità Cattolica_
-passed a high eulogium on the work of Father Hecker. “There is in this
-work,” says the Abbé Margotti, “a great boldness of thought, but always
-governed by the faith, and by the great principle of the infallible
-authority of the Pope.”
-
-[173] “A Song of Faith.” 1842. Besides that poem, my father published
-two dramatic works, viz. _Julian the Apostate_ (1823) and _The Duke of
-Mercia_, 1823. In 1847, his last drama, _Mary Tudor_, was published. He
-was born at Curragh Chase, Ireland, on the 28th of August, 1788, and died
-there on the 28th of July, 1846.--A. DE VERE.
-
-[174] Dr. Schenck said: “It had been a maxim that the fool of the family
-should go into the ministry, and he was sorry to say that there were many
-of those who had groped their way into it. It had been stated that a
-minister would often pay twice before he would be sued.… Rev. Dr. Newton
-said that he would stand a suit before he would pay twice. The speaker
-replied that he was glad there was some pluck in these matters” (_Report
-in the Philadelphia Press_).
-
-[175] Short for Frederika.
-
-[176] From the German.
-
-[177] Father Faber’s _Bethlehem_.
-
-[178] London: Pickering, 1875. This pamphlet has been already translated
-into German under the title _Anglicanismus, Altkatholicismus und die
-Vereinigung der christlichen Episcopal-Kirchen_. Mainz: Kirchheim. 1875.
-
-[179] Father Schouvaloff (Barnabite), April 2, 1859.
-
-[180] Gladstone, _Vaticanism_, p. 110.
-
-[181] Second Edition, with a Letter of Mgr. Mermillod, a Special Preface,
-and an Appendix. London: Washbourne.
-
-[182] Gladstone, _Vaticanism_, p. 94.
-
-[183] We are authorized by Father Tondini to remark that, for the purpose
-of his argument, he has confined himself to speaking of the non-popular
-election of _bishops_; but in case any one should say that Mr. Gladstone
-referred not to bishops only, but also, and very largely, to clergy,
-besides that Mr. Gladstone’s expressions do not naturally lead the reader
-to make any exception for himself, Father Tondini is able to show that
-even with respect to the inferior clergy Mr. Gladstone’s statement is
-inaccurate.
-
-[184] In the appendix to the second edition of _The Pope of Rome_, etc.,
-will be found a prayer composed of texts taken from the Greco-Sclavonian
-Liturgy, where are quoted some of the titles given by the Greco-Russian
-Church to S. Peter, and, in the person of the great S. Leo, even to the
-Pope. This appendix is also to be had separately, under the title of
-_Some Documents Concerning the Association of Prayers_, etc., London,
-Washbourne, 1875.
-
-[185] See “Future of the Russian Church” in THE CATHOLIC WORLD, 1875
-(amongst others).
-
-[186] _Expostulation_, p. 30.
-
-[187] “More than once,” says Father Tondini in a note on this
-subject--“more than once, in reading defences of the Catholic Church,
-written with the best intentions, we could not resist a desire that in
-the ‘Litanies of the Saints,’ or other prayers of the church, there might
-be inserted some such invocation as this: _A malis advocatis libera
-nos, Domine_.’--‘From mischievous advocates, O Lord! deliver us.’ We
-say this most earnestly, the more so that it applies also to ourselves.
-Many a time, when preparing our writings, we have experienced a feeling
-not unlike that of an advocate fully convinced of the innocence of the
-accused, but dreading lest, by want of clearness or other defect in
-putting forth his arguments, he might not only fail to carry conviction
-to the mind of the judges, but also prejudice the cause he wishes to
-defend. Never, perhaps, is the necessity of prayer more deeply felt.”
-
-[188] With regard to the powers of the sovereign over the episcopate we
-quote the following from the London _Tablet_ for March 27, 1875: “Among
-other tremendous stumbling-blocks against the claims for the Church (of
-England) by the High Church party a candid writer in the _Church Herald_
-is ‘sorely staggered by the oath of allegiance, according to which we
-have the chief pastors of the church declaring in the most solemn manner
-that they receive the spiritualities of their office _only_ from the
-queen, and are bishops by her grace only.’”
-
-In connection with the foregoing we cannot refrain from citing a passage
-from Marshall, which is as follows: “Any bishops can only obtain
-spiritual jurisdiction in one of two ways--either by receiving it from
-those who already possess it, in which case their (the English bishops’)
-search must extend beyond their own communion, or by imitating the two
-lay travellers in China of whom we have somewhere read, who fancied they
-should like to be missionaries, whereupon the one ordained the other, and
-was then in turn ordained by _him_, to the great satisfaction of both.”
-
-[189] See _Contemporary Review_ for July.
-
-[190] Since writing the above we happened to see the following case in
-point, in the _Church Times_ of September 10, 1875, in which a clergyman,
-signing himself “a priest, _not_ of the Diocese of Exeter,” writes a
-letter of remonstrance against the violent abuse heaped by “a priest
-of the Diocese of Exeter” against the late learned and venerable Vicar
-of Morwenstow, Mr. Hawker, who, on the day before his death, made his
-submission to the Catholic Church. From this letter, which contains many
-candid and interesting admissions, we quote the following: “In these
-days, when we have among us so many dignitaries and popular preachers
-of the Established Church who in their teaching deny all sacramental
-truth, while others cannot repeat the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds
-without a gloss, and others again boldly assert that ‘the old religious
-ideas expressed in the Apostles’ Creed must be thrown into afresh form,
-if they are to retain their hold on the educated minds of the present
-generation, it appears monstrous that a clergyman whose faithful adhesion
-to the Prayer Book during a ministry of forty years was notorious should
-be denounced as a ‘blasphemous rogue and a scoundrel’ _because_ he held
-opinions which are considered by some individual members of either church
-as denoting ‘a Roman at heart,’ or, in the exercise of a liberty granted
-to everyone, thought fit to correspond with influential members of the
-Church of Rome.”
-
-[191] _Expostulation_, page 21; iv. “The third proposition.”
-
-[192] “Cooks and controversialists seem to have this in common: that they
-nicely appreciate the standard of knowledge in those whose appetites they
-supply. The cook is tempted to send up ill-dressed dishes to masters who
-have slight skill in, or care for, cookery; and the controversialist
-occasionally shows his contempt for the intelligence of his readers by
-the quality of the arguments or statements which he presents for their
-acceptance. But this, if it is to be done with safety, should be done in
-measure.”--Gladstone, _Vaticanism_, pp. 82, 83.
-
-[193] In the German edition of Father Tondini’s pamphlet, the abstract of
-this document is given in the original German, as it is to be seen in the
-_Bonner Zeitung_ of June 15, 1871.
-
-[194] S. Cyprian (so confidently appealed to by the Old Catholics),
-speaking of Novatian, and, as it were, of Dr. Reinkens’ consecration,
-says: “He who holds neither the unity of spirit nor the communion
-of peace, but separates himself from the bonds of the church and
-the hierarchical body, cannot have either the power or the honor of
-a bishop--he who would keep neither the unity nor the peace of the
-episcopate.”--S. Cyprian, _Ep. 52_. Compare also _Ep. 76_, _Ad magnum de
-baptizandis Novationis_, etc., sect. 3.
-
-[195] “Je suis entré dans une de ces lignées ininterrompues par
-l’ordination que j’ai reçue des mains de Mgr. Heykamp, _évêque des vieux
-Catholiques de Deventer_.”--_Lettre Pastorale de Mgr. l’Evêque Joseph
-Hubert Reinkens, Docteur en Théologie._ Paris: Sandoz et Fischbacher,
-1874, p. 11.
-
-[196] _Programma of Old-Catholic Literature_, libr. Sandoz et
-Fischbacher. Paris.
-
-[197] “Pastoral Letter” (_Programma_, etc.), p. 7.
-
-[198] Silbernagl (Dr. Isidor), _Verfassung und gegenwärtiger Bestand
-sämmtlicher Kirchen des Orients_. Landshut, 1865, pp. 10, 11.
-
-[199] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, January-April, 1875.
-
-[200] See _The Pope of Rome and the Popes of the Orthodox Church_, 2d
-ed., pp. 97, 98. Washbourne, London.
-
-[201] King, _The Rites_, etc., p. 295. Quoted in _The Pope of Rome_,
-etc., p. 98. See also for what concerns the election of the Russian
-bishops the _Règlement ecclésiastique de Pierre le Grand_, avec
-introduction, notes, etc., par le R. P. Cæsarius Tondini. Paris: Libr. de
-la Soc. bibliographique.
-
-[202] “The idea,” says Polevoi, “that spiritual matters do not appertain
-to the authority of the sovereign was still so deeply rooted in men’s
-minds that, in the very first session of the Spiritual College, some
-members _dared_ (osmelilis) to ask the emperor: ‘Is then the Patriarchal
-dignity suppressed, although nothing has been said about it?’ ‘I am your
-Patriarch!’ (_Ya Vash Patriarkh!_) angrily (_gnevno_) exclaimed Peter,
-striking his breast. The questioners were dumb.”
-
-“This account of Peter’s _coup d’état_,” adds Father Tondini, “was
-printed at St. Petersburg in the year 1843, and, be it observed, not
-without the approbation of the censors.” See _Pope of Rome_, etc., p. 107.
-
-[203] “These principles have, by the constant aggression of curialism,
-been in the main effaced, or, where not effaced, reduced to the last
-stage of practical inanition. We see before us the pope, the bishops, the
-priesthood, and the people. The priests are _absolute_ over the people;
-the bishops over both; the pope over all.…”--_Vaticanism_, p. 24.
-
-[204] See French manifesto.
-
-[205] See London _Tablet_, August 21.
-
-[206] See _Annales Catholiques_, September 25.
-
-[207] See London _Tablet_, Aug. 21.
-
-[208] We wonder that it does not occur to Dr. von Döllinger’s disciples
-to make some calculation, from the number of changes his views have
-undergone during the last five years, as to how many they had better be
-prepared for, according to the ordinary _rule of proportion_, for the
-remaining term of his probable existence--_e.g._, four changes in five
-years should prepare them for eight in ten, and for a dozen should the
-venerable professor live fifteen years more. They should, further, not
-forget to ascertain, if possible, for how long _they themselves_ are
-_afterwards_ to continue subject to similar variations in their opinions;
-for one would suppose they hope to stop somewhere, some time.
-
-[209] _Echo Universel._
-
-[210] See _Annales Catholiques_, 23 Septembre, 1873. Paris: Allard.
-
-[211] Ernest Naville (a Protestant), _Priesthood of the Christian Church_.
-
-[212] The bell of S. Louis’ Church, Buffalo, N. Y.
-
-[213] Among the Spanish subjects in the colonies, there was a class
-corresponding to the Loyalists of the American Revolution. One of these
-was Don Miguel Moreno, a magistrate belonging to a most respectable
-colonial family, and the honored father of His Eminence the present
-Archbishop of Valladolid, who was born in Guatemala on Nov. 24, 1817, and
-is therefore, in a strict sense of the word, the first American who has
-been made a cardinal.
-
-[214] Message of December 2, 1823.
-
-[215] It is curious to contrast the tedious trials that Rome endured
-before being able to appoint bishops to independent Spanish America,
-with her ease in establishing the hierarchy in the United States.
-Yet the Spaniards and Loyalists, who sometimes forgot that political
-differences should never interfere with religious unity, might have found
-a precedent for this aversion in the case of their northern brethren.
-In a sketch of the church in the United States, written by Bishop
-Carroll in 1790, it is said that “during the whole war there was not the
-least communication between the Catholics of America and their bishop,
-who was the vicar-apostolic of the London district. To his spiritual
-jurisdiction were subject the United States; but whether he would hold no
-correspondence with a country which he, perhaps, considered in a state
-of rebellion, or whether a natural indolence and irresolution restrained
-him, the fact is he held no kind of intercourse with priest or layman in
-this part of his charge.”--B. U. Campbell “Memoirs, etc. of the Most Rev.
-John Carroll,” in the _U. S. Catholic Magazine_, 1845.
-
-[216] He was translated by Leo XII. in 1825 to the residential see of
-Città di Castello.
-
-[217] Cardinal Wiseman has made a slip in saying (_Last Four Popes_,
-p. 308) that the refusal to receive Mgr. Tiberi gave rise to “a little
-episode in the life of the present pontiff.” Tiberi went as nuncio to
-Madrid in 1827, consequently long after Canon Mastai had returned from
-Chili. It was in the case of the previous nuncio, Giustiniani that a
-“passing coolness,” occasioned the apostolic mission to South America.
-
-[218] Artand (_Vie de Léon XII._) indicates in a note to p. 129, vol. i.,
-the sources whence he obtained these views of the late Prime Minister,
-which are given in full.
-
-[219] In 1836 Mgr.--afterwards Cardinal--Gaetano Baluffi, Bishop of
-Bagnorea, was sent to this country as first internuncio and apostolic
-delegate. He published an interesting work on his return to Italy, giving
-an account of religion in South America from its colonization to his own
-time: _L’America un tempo spagnuola riguardata sotto l’aspetto religioso
-dall’ epoca del suo discoprimento, sino al 1843_. (Ancona, 1844.)
-
-[220] _Dublin Review_, vol. xxiv., June, 1848. The full title of this
-rare work (of which there is no copy even in the Astor Library) is as
-follows: _Storia delle Missioni Apostoliche dello stato del Chile, colla
-descrizione del viaggio dal vecchio al nuovo monde fatto dall’ autore_.
-Opera di Giuseppe Sallusti. Roma, 1827, pel Mauri.
-
-[221] This was Gen. Bernard O’Higgins, a gentleman of one of the
-distinguished Irish families which took refuge in Spain from the
-persecutions of the English government. He was born in Chili of a
-Chilian mother. His father had been captain-general of what was called
-the kingdom of Chili, and was afterwards Viceroy of Peru. The younger
-O’Higgins was a very superior man, taking a principal part in asserting
-the independence of his native land, of which he became the first
-president; but unfortunately he died in 1823, a few months before the
-arrival of the apostolic mission.
-
-[222] Palma boasts of its ancient title of _Muy insigne y leal ciudad_,
-and that its habitants have been distinguished “_en todos tiempos por su
-filantropia con los naufragos_”--a specimen of which we give.
-
-[223] In the southern hemisphere _January_ comes in summer.
-
-[224] Cordova was formerly the second city in the viceroyalty. It
-had an university, erected by the Jesuits, which was once famous. An
-ex-professor of this university wrote a book which has been called
-“most erudite,” but which is extremely rare. There is no copy in the
-Astor Library, although it is an important work for the information it
-gives about religion in South America under Spanish rule. The title is
-_Fasti Novi Orbis et ordinationum Apostolicarum ad Indias pertinentium
-breviarium cum adnotationibus_. Opera D. Cyriaci Morelli presbyteri, olim
-in universitate Neo-Cordubensi in Tucumania professoris. Venetiis, 1776.
-
-[225] _Pio IX._ Por D. Jaime Balmes, Presbitero, Madrid, 1847.
-
-[226] The _Annuario Pontificio_ of 1861 called it Americano
-Ispano-Portoghese, but the name was since changed to the present one.
-
-[227] This clergyman came to the notice of the Pope from the fact that
-an uncle of his, a very worthy man, had been one of Canon Mastai’s great
-friends in Chili, and was named and confirmed Archbishop of Santiago,
-but resigned the bulls. His nephew was made an apostolic prothonotary in
-1859. It was reported that Mgr. Eyzaguirre gave eighty thousand scudi to
-the South American College out of his own patrimony. We have enjoyed the
-pleasure of a personal acquaintance with him.
-
-[228] _Protestantism and Catholicism in their bearing upon the Liberty
-and Prosperity of Nations._ A study of social economy. By Emile de
-Laveleye. With an introductory letter by the Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone,
-M.P. London: 1875.
-
-[229] _The Old Faith and the New_, p. 86.
-
-[230] _Liberty, Equality, Fraternity_, p. 220.
-
-[231] _Minas_ in _Evangeline_, probably as a guide to the pronunciation.
-Haliburton also gives this spelling, but it is now abandoned for the old
-Acadian French form.
-
-[232] They even went so far as to deliberate whether these people could
-be considered human beings or not; but the church, always the true and
-faithful guardian of the rights of humanity, immediately raised her voice
-in their favor, and was first to render, by the mouth of Pope Paul III.,
-a decision which conferred on them, or rather secured them, all their
-rights.
-
-[233] Campeggio, before he became cardinal, had been married to
-Françoise Vastavillani, by whom he had several children. We are more
-than astonished at the ignorance or bad faith of Dr. Burnet, who takes
-advantage of this fact to accuse the cardinal of licentiousness.
-
-[234] This young man carried also the letters from Henry VIII. to
-Anne Boleyn, which had been referred to the cardinal during the
-course of the trial. They are still to be seen in the library of the
-Vatican.--Lingard’s _History of England_.
-
-[235] _Gentilism: Religion previous to Christianity._ By Rev. Aug. J.
-Thébaud, S.J. New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 1876.
-
-[236] It is, however, something more than a hypothesis. The confirmation
-it receives from the fact that since the prevalence amongst so large
-a portion of mankind of an uniformity of rite and dogma, and the
-universality of brotherhood occasioned thereby, what seemed to be
-obstacles have become means of intercommunion, to such an extent that the
-whole World has become, as it were, one vast city, gives it the force of
-a demonstration.
-
-[237] _Gentilism_, p. 67.
-
-[238] _Gentilism_, p. 65.
-
-[239] _Gentilism_, p. 110.
-
-[240] _Gentilism_, p. 124.
-
-[241] Ib. pp. 152, 153.
-
-[242] S. Matthew xvi. 4.
-
-[243] 3 Kings xix. 11, 12.
-
-[244] Deuteronomy xxxiii. 27.
-
-[245] In the _Cité Mystique_ of the Blessed Marie d’Agreda there are
-one or two passages which indicate a belief that the Blessed Virgin was
-more than once admitted to the Beatific Vision before her Assumption. Of
-course the assertion is not of faith. Possibly it may admit of a more
-modified explanation. On the other hand, Our Lady being equally free from
-original as from actual sin, it is more rash to attempt to limit her
-privileges than to suppose them absolutely exceptional.
-
-[246] Romans xi. 34.
-
-[247] In other words, theirs is a more imperfect being than ours; though
-whether its imperfection is to exclude all idea of their having a fuller
-development whereby and in which they will be indemnified for their
-sinless share in fallen man’s punishment is still an open question.
-
-[248] We say liberalism, but we might say Freemasonry; for, as we all
-know, Masonry is merely organized liberalism.
-
-[249] _The Idea of a University_, p. 469.
-
-[250] _Notes of a Traveller_, pp. 402, 403.
-
-[251] _Lay Sermons_, p. 61.
-
-[252] _The Social Condition_, etc., vol. i. p. 420.
-
-[253] The following language amply sustains our assertion: “Des Teufels
-Braut, Ratio die schöne Metze, eine verfluchte Hure, eine schäbige
-aussätzige Hure, die höchste Hure des Teufels, die man mit ihrer Weisheit
-mit Füszen treten, die man todtschlagen, der man, auf dass sie hässlich
-werde einen Dreck in’s Angesicht werfen solle, auf das heimliche Gemach
-solle sie sich trollen, die verfluchte Hure, mit ihrem Dünkel, etc, etc.”
-
-[254] “Aber die Wiedertaufer machen aus der Vernunft ein Licht des
-Glaubens, dass die Vernunft dem Glauben leuchten soll. Ja, ich meine, sie
-leuchtet gleich wie ein Dreck in einer Laterne.”
-
-[255] _Der Culturkampf in Preussen und seine Bedenken_--“Considerations
-on the Culture-Struggle in Prussia”--von J. H. von Kirchmann. Leipzig,
-1875.
-
-[256] _Culturkampf_, pp. 5-7. For an account of the Falk Laws and
-persecution of the church in Germany, see CATHOLIC WORLD for Dec., 1874,
-and Jan., 1875.
-
-[257] Page 9.
-
-[258] Tacit. _Annal._, xv. 44.
-
-[259] _Culturkampf_, pp. 16-19.
-
-[260] The above article is a translation of one which appeared in the
-_Revue Générale_ of Brussels, December, 1875, and was written by Dr.
-Dosfel. In THE CATHOLIC WORLD, November, 1871, a complete analysis of Dr.
-Lefebvre’s work on Louise Lateau, quoted so largely in the discussion
-before the Academy, was given. The article now presented to our readers
-gives a calm, impartial statement of the case of Louise Lateau as it
-stands to-day before the scientific investigation of the Academy.--ED.
-CATH. WORLD.
-
-[261] _Louise Lateau._ Etude médicale. Par Lefebvre. Louvain: Peeters.
-
-[262] Dr. Imbert-Gourbeyre, in his work, _Les Stigmatisées_.
-
-[263] _Bulletin of the Academy_ for the year 1875. Third series, Book
-ix., No. 2, p. 145.
-
-[264] _Maladies et facultés diverses des mystiques._ Par le Dr.
-Charbonnier, p. 10, et suiv.
-
-[265] The same work.
-
-[266] Report of M. Warlomont, _Mémoires de l’Académie de Médecine_, p.
-212.
-
-[267] Professor Lefebvre had himself declared that, to invest the matter
-with a rigorously scientific character, the question of abstinence ought
-to be the object of an inquiry analogous to that which has established
-the reality of the ecstasy and of the stigmatization.
-
-[268] Vascular tumors.
-
-[269] White blood corpuscles.
-
-[270] Acts xvii. 23.
-
-[271] 1 Cor. xii. 31.
-
-[272] Gal. iii. 19.
-
-[273] 3 Kings vi. 7.
-
-[274] Genesis iii. 8.
-
-[275] Malachias iv. 2.
-
-[276] Isaias xxii. 24; or, as it may be translated: “The vessels of small
-quality, from vessels of basins even to all vessels of flagons.”
-
-[277] Suarez holds that grace is not always perceptible. There are
-moments when we are conscious of the distinct action of grace, by the
-direct perception of its effects in our soul. These are the exceptions,
-which are multiplied with increasing holiness, until they become the
-rule, and heroic sanctity is perfected in all its parts.
-
-[278] S. Matthew xix. 8.
-
-[279] S. Matthew xi. 14.
-
-[280] “Tantum ut qui tenet nunc, teneat, donec de medic fiat.”--2
-Thessalonians ii. 7.
-
-[281] It is injurious to sleep in the light of the moon; and it produces
-rapid putrefaction in dead fish, etc.
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Vol. 22, October,
-1875, to March, 1876, by Various
-
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CATHOLIC WORLD, OCT 1875-MAR 1876 ***
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Vol. 22, October, 1875,
-to March, 1876, by Various
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
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-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Catholic World, Vol. 22, October, 1875, to March, 1876
-       A Monthly Magazine of General Literature and Science
-
-Author: Various
-
-Release Date: April 27, 2017 [EBook #54617]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CATHOLIC WORLD, OCT 1875-MAR 1876 ***
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-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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-
-
-<h1><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.</h1>
-
-<p class="titlepage">A<br />
-MONTHLY MAGAZINE<br />
-OF<br />
-<span class="smcap larger">General Literature and Science.</span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage">VOL. XXII.<br />
-OCTOBER, 1875, TO MARCH, 1876.</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage smaller">NEW YORK:<br />
-<span class="larger">THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION HOUSE,</span><br />
-9 Warren Street.<br />
-1876.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
-
-<ul>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Allegri’s Miserere, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Anglicans, Old Catholics, and the Conference at Bonn, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Anti-Catholic Movements in the United States, <a href="#Page_810">810</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Apostolic Mission to Chili, The, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Are You My Wife? <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_735">735</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Basques, The, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Birth-Place of S. Vincent de Paul, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Castlehaven’s Memoirs, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Chapter, A, in the Life of Pius IX., <a href="#Page_548">548</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Charities of Rome, The, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Christmas Vigil, A, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Colporteurs of Bonn, The, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Doctrinal Authority of the Syllabus, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Duration, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Early Persecutions of the Christians, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Eternal Years, The, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>, <a href="#Page_841">841</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Finding a Lost Church, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Freemasonry, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Friends of Education, The, <a href="#Page_758">758</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">From Cairo to Jerusalem, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Garcia Moreno, <a href="#Page_691">691</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Gladstone Controversy, Sequel of the, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>, <a href="#Page_721">721</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Grande Chartreuse, A Night at the, <a href="#Page_712">712</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Historical Romance, A, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_772">772</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Incident of the Reign of Terror, An, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Indian Legend, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Is She Catholic? <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">King of Metals, The, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Law of God, The, and the Regulations of Society, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Lord Castlehaven’s Memoirs, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Lost Church, Finding a, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Louise Lateau before the Belgian Royal Academy of Medicine, <a href="#Page_823">823</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Madame’s Experiment, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Message, A, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Midnight Mass in a Convent, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Missions in Maine from 1613 to 1854, <a href="#Page_666">666</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Nellie’s Dream on Christmas Eve, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">New Hampshire, Village Life in, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Night at the Grande Chartreuse, A, <a href="#Page_712">712</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Palatine Prelates of Rome, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Pious Pictures, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Power, Action, and Movement, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Precursor of Marco Polo, A. <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">President’s Speech at Des Moines, The, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">President’s Message, The, <a href="#Page_707">707</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Primitive Civilization, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Progress <i lang="la">versus</i> Grooves, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Protestant Episcopal Church Congress, The, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Prussia and the Church, <a href="#Page_678">678</a>, <a href="#Page_787">787</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Queen Mary, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Questions Concerning the Syllabus, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Recollections of Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Reign of Terror, An Incident of the, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Revival in Frogtown, A, <a href="#Page_699">699</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Rome, The Charities of, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Rome, The Palatine Prelates of, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">S. Agnes’ Eve Story, A, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">St. Jean de Luz, <a href="#Page_833">833</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Search for Old Lace in Venice, A, <a href="#Page_852">852</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sequel of the Gladstone Controversy, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>, <a href="#Page_721">721</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sir Thomas More, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_772">772</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Songs of the People, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Story of Evangeline in Prose, The, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Story with Two Versions, A, <a href="#Page_800">800</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Summary Considerations on Law, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Traces of an Indian Legend, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Tennyson’s Queen Mary, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Village Life in New Hampshire, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Vincent de Paul, S., Birth-Place of, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">William Tell and Altorf, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Wordsworth, Recollections of, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Year, The, of Our Lord 1875, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Yule Raps, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>.</li>
-
-</ul>
-
-<h3>POETRY.</h3>
-
-<ul>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Adelaide Anne Procter, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Æschylus, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Christmas Chimes, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Free Will, <a href="#Page_559">559</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Not Yet, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">“O Valde Decora!” <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Paraphrase from the Greek, A, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Patient Church, The, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">S. Philip’s Home, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">S. Louis’ Bell, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Seven Fridays in Lent, The, <a href="#Page_734">734</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sine Labe Concepta, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Song, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sonnets in Memory of the late Sir Aubrey de Vere, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Stars, The, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Suggested by a Cascade at Lake George, <a href="#Page_771">771</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Summer Storms, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sweet Singer, A, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">To-day and Yesterday, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Unremembered Mother, The, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
-
-</ul>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<ul>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Acta et Decreta Concilii Vaticani, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Alcott’s Eight Cousins, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Allibert’s Life of S. Benedict, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">American State and American Statesmen, <a href="#Page_719">719</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Allies’ Formation of Christendom, <a href="#Page_858">858</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">American Catholic Quarterly Review, The, <a href="#Page_859">859</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Baunard’s Life of the Apostle S. John, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Bégin’s Le Culte Catholique, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Bégin’s The Bible and the Rule of Faith, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Birlinger’s Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Boudon’s Holy Ways of the Cross, <a href="#Page_717">717</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Buckley’s Supposed Miracles, <a href="#Page_856">856</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Calderon’s Groesste Dramen religiösen Inhalts, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Clarke’s Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Coleridge’s Public Life of Our Lord, <a href="#Page_717">717</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Constable and Gillies, Personal Reminiscences of, <a href="#Page_720">720</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Cudmore’s Civil Government of the States, etc., <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Correction, A, <a href="#Page_860">860</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Dix’s The American State and American Statesmen, <a href="#Page_719">719</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Earle’s Light leading unto Light, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Eight Cousins, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Evidences of Catholicity, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Exposition of the Church, An, etc., <a href="#Page_419">419</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Exposition of the Epistles of S. Paul, etc., <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">First Annual Report of the Chaplain of the Albany Penitentiary, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Flowers from the Garden of the Visitation, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Formation of Christendom, The, <a href="#Page_858">858</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Full Course of Instruction in Explanation of the Catechism, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Garside’s The Sacrifice of the Eucharist, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Historical Scenes from the Old Jesuit Missions, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">History of the Protestant Reformation, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Holland’s Sevenoaks, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Holy Ways of the Cross, etc., <a href="#Page_717">717</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Indoors and Out; or, Views from the Chimney Corner, <a href="#Page_720">720</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Jannet’s Les Etats-Unis Contemporains, etc., <a href="#Page_716">716</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Kavanagh’s John Dorrien, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Kip’s Historical Scenes, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Knight and Raikes’ Personal Reminiscences, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Lamb, Hazlitt, and Others, Personal Recollection of, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Lehrbuch des Katholischen und Protestantischen Kirchenrechts, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Lonormant’s Madame Récamier and her Friends, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Life and Letters of Paul Seigneret, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Life of S. Benedict, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Life of the Apostle S. John, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Light leading unto Light, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Lynch’s (Bishop) Pastoral Letter, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">MacEvilly’s Exposition of S. Paul’s Epistles, etc., <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Manual of the Sisters of Charity, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Manual of Catholic Indian Missionary Associations, <a href="#Page_859">859</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Medulla Theologiæ Moralis, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Miller’s Ship in the Desert, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Miscellanea, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Moriarty’s Wayside Pencillings, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Morris’ The Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Noethen’s Report of the Albany Penitentiary, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Noethen’s Thirteen Sermons, etc., <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Pastoral Letter of Bishop Lynch, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Perry’s Full Course of Instruction, etc., <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Persecutions of Annam, The, <a href="#Page_719">719</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Personal Reminiscences by Knight and Raikes, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Personal Recollections of Lamb, Hazlitt, and Others, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Personal Reminiscences by Constable and Gillies, <a href="#Page_720">720</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Public Life of Our Lord, <a href="#Page_717">717</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Rohling’s Medulla Theologiæ Moralis, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Sacrifice of the Eucharist, etc., <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sadlier’s Excelsior Geography, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Sevenoaks, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Ship in the Desert, The, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Shortland’s The Persecutions of Annam, <a href="#Page_719">719</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Spalding’s Miscellanea, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Spalding’s Evidences of Catholicity, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Spalding’s History of the Reformation, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Story of S. Peter, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Supposed Miracles, <a href="#Page_856">856</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Thirteen Sermons preached in the Albany Penitentiary, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Three Pearls, The, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers, The, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Vering’s Lehrbuch des Katholischen und Protestantischen Kirchenrechts, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="indx">Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, <a href="#Page_718">718</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Wayside Pencillings, etc., <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.</li>
-
-<li class="ifrst">Young Catholic’s Illustrated Table Book, etc., <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li>
-
-</ul>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2 id="No127"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.<br />
-<span class="smaller">VOL. XXII., No. 127.&mdash;OCTOBER, 1875.</span></h2>
-
-<p class="center smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. <span class="smcap">I. T. Hecker</span>, in the Office of the
-Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>MR. TENNYSON’S QUEEN MARY.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h3>
-
-<p>Mr. Tennyson has achieved a
-great reputation as a lyric poet.
-He urges now a higher claim. In
-the sunset of a not inglorious life,
-when we should have expected his
-lute to warble with waning melodies
-and less impassioned strains, he
-lays it aside as too feeble for his maturer
-inspirations, and, as though renewed
-with the fire of a second
-youth, he draws to his bosom a
-nobler instrument, and awakes the
-echoes of sublimer chords. He
-has grown weary of the lyric</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“hœrentem multa cum laude coronam,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and with some confidence claims
-the dramatic bays. Nay, he even
-invites a comparison with Shakspere.
-True to the temper of the
-times, his prestige follows him in
-so hazardous a competition, the
-accustomed wreaths are showered
-upon him with unreflecting haste,
-and the facile representatives of
-the most incapable of critics&mdash;public
-opinion&mdash;have already offered
-him that homage as a dramatist
-which had already been too lavishly
-offered to his idyllic muse.</p>
-
-<p>It is an ungrateful task to go
-against the popular current, and it
-is an ungracious one to object to
-crowns which the multitude have
-decreed. But there is no help for it,
-unless we would stoop to that criticism
-of prestige which is so characteristic
-of the age, and would follow
-in the wake of the literary rabble,
-criticising the works by the
-author, instead of the author by his
-works.</p>
-
-<p>We may as well say, at once, that
-we have never felt it in our power
-to acknowledge the poetical supremacy
-of the English poet-laureate.<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>
-It has always appeared to
-us that there is, in his poetry, a
-lack of inspiration. To borrow a
-too familiar but expressive metaphor,
-the coin is highly burnished,
-glitters brightly, and has the current
-stamp, but one misses the ring of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
-the genuine metal. He sits patiently
-on the tripod, dealing forth
-phrases as musical as Anacreon’s
-numbers, and as polished as those
-of a Greek sophist, spiced with a
-refined humor, which has a special
-charm of its own. But his soul
-does not kindle at the sacred
-fire. We miss the divine frenzy.
-A passionateness of love of the
-beautiful does not appear to be the
-quickening inspiration of his creations.
-All alike show signs of extreme
-care and preparation. We
-do not forget the counsel of Horace.
-But that only refers to a
-distant revision of creations which
-an unchecked genius may have produced
-under the divine influence.
-Whereas, Mr. Tennyson’s poetry
-bears evidence of infinite toil
-in production. All his thoughts,
-ideas, and images, down to words
-and phrases, are too evidently, instead
-of the happy inspirations of
-genius, the labored workmanship
-of a polished, refined, and fastidious
-mind. They something resemble
-the <i lang="fr">tout ensemble</i> of a <i lang="fr">petit
-maître</i> who has succeeded in conveying
-to his dress an appearance
-of such consummate simplicity and
-unexceptionable taste that every
-one notices the result of hours before
-the mirror. His diction is
-pure and polished, his phrases simple
-and nervous, and the English
-language owes him much for what
-he has done towards neutralizing the
-injury inflicted on it by the gaudy
-phraseology of the “correct” poets,
-and the antithetical sesquipedalianism
-of such prose writers as Johnson
-and Gibbon, and for preserving it
-in its pure and nervous simplicity.
-But his soul is dull to the poetic
-meanings of nature. His natural
-scenery is rather descriptive than a
-creation, much as artists, of whom
-there are not a few, who reproduce
-with consummate skill of imitation
-objects in detail, and bestow infinite
-care upon color, shade, perspective,
-grouping, and all the other
-technical details of a picture, whilst
-comparatively indifferent to the
-subject, which ought to be the poetic
-meaning of creations of genius.
-And what are they but only fruitful
-manifestations of the love of
-the beautiful, and echoes of its
-creative word, not the mere manipulations
-of an artificer? Mr.
-Tennyson’s descriptions of nature
-owe their vividness to the brilliance
-of word-painting and a certain refined
-delicacy of touch; sometimes,
-even, and indeed very often, to a
-certain quaint humor which is inconsistent
-with the highest art&mdash;it
-is not a passionate love which regards
-the object beloved from a
-ridiculous point of view&mdash;as when
-he describes the willows living
-adown the banks of a streamlet as
-“shock-headed pollards <i lang="fr">poussetting</i>
-down the stream.”</p>
-
-<p>The sensations provoked by his
-poetry resemble those of one who
-has sauntered through a museum
-of precious stones of rare workmanship
-and purest water. Our
-æsthetic taste has been pleased by
-the glitter and the color and the
-brilliance, but our mind and heart
-have not been deeply moved. His
-poems are ablaze with detached
-thoughts of lofty meaning, and of
-a multitude of others whose meaning
-is not obvious, all alike expressed
-in vivid imagery, in the
-purest phraseology, and in rare
-melody of rhythm. But they are
-confused and cabalistic. He seems
-to be always laboring to be incomprehensible.
-He calls it “the riddling
-of the bards.” And he succeeds.
-The problem of the Sphinx,
-the emblematic warning sent by the
-Scythians to their Persian invader,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>
-the mute counsel sent by the Samian
-to the Corinthian tyrant, a Delphic
-oracle, all were clear and easy
-by comparison with Mr. Tennyson’s
-lyrics, alike in detached passages
-and in entire poems. None of woman
-born can fathom the meaning
-of the <cite>Idylls of the King</cite>.</p>
-
-<p>This defect alone is fatal to poetry.
-So keenly did Spenser feel it
-that although the meaning of his
-allegory, <cite>The Faerie Queene</cite>, is obvious
-enough to any ordinary intelligence,
-he is careful to explain it
-in full in a letter dedicated to Sir
-Walter Raleigh.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Tennyson, on the contrary,
-involves himself in the thickest
-mystery he can contrive, and expects
-his worshippers to take it for
-inspiration. Take the following,
-for example, from “The Coming
-of Arthur”:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Rain, rain, and sun, a rainbow in the sky!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">A young man will be wiser by-and-by,</div>
-<div class="verse">An old man’s wit may wander e’er he die.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Rain, rain, and sun, a rainbow on the lea!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And truth is this to me, and that to thee</div>
-<div class="verse">And truth, or clothed or naked, let it be.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?</div>
-<div class="verse">From the great deep to the great deep he goes.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>These are, no doubt, “riddling
-triplets,” as he himself calls them.
-The riddling of Shakspere’s fools,
-even the wanderings from the night
-of distraught Ophelia’s brain, are
-light itself by the side of them.
-We may well echo his invocation
-of “Sun, rain, and sun! and
-where is he who knows?” Whatever
-inspiration may be evident
-here, it is not that of the beautiful.
-And yet even this has snatches of
-meaning which many passages we
-might adduce have not; as the
-following, from “Gareth and Lynette”:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Know ye not, then, the riddling of the bards?</div>
-<div class="verse">Confusion, and illusion, and relation.</div>
-<div class="verse">Elusion, and occasion, and evasion?”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>It is almost a pity that the bard
-did not complete his “riddling”
-while he was about it. Another
-couplet:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Diffusion, and ablution, and abrasion.</div>
-<div class="verse">Ablution, expectation, botheration,</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">would have rendered still more impenetrable
-the bardic mystery.</p>
-
-<p>There is no resemblance in this
-studied concealment of meaning, if
-meaning there be, to that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent4">“Sacred madness of the bards</div>
-<div class="verse">When God makes music through them,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">of which he sings. It is more like
-the melodious confusion of the
-Æolian harp. Even if the poet
-have a definite meaning in his own
-mind, if he so express it that I
-cannot even guess it, to me it is
-nonsense; and nonsense, however
-melodious, although it may enchant
-my sense, cannot move my heart.
-Here and there, however, our poet
-sings snatches of real poetry, as
-Sir Bedivere’s answer to his king
-in “The Coming of Arthur”:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“I heard the water lapping on the craig</div>
-<div class="verse">And the long ripple washing in the reeds.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Upon the whole, Mr. Tennyson
-excels in a certain underlying vein
-of exquisitely refined humor. And
-when his subject admits of it, he
-is unrivalled. His is the poetry of
-humor. We would name as examples
-“The Northern Farmer” and
-the satirical poem, “Locksley Hall,”
-perhaps the most vigorous of all
-his productions; and, of his longer
-poems, <cite>The Princess</cite>. It is for this
-reason we think he is more likely
-to excel, as a dramatist, in comedy
-than in tragedy.</p>
-
-<p>If our readers would estimate the
-full force of our remarks, we would
-invite them to read the works of
-any of the principal of our earlier
-lyrical poets, as, for example, Collins.
-We name him because he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
-too excels in that melody of versification
-for which Mr. Tennyson is
-so distinguished. At times, as in his
-“Sonnet on Evening,” he surpasses
-the Laureate in that respect, although
-for sustained and unfailing
-rhythmical melody the latter bears
-away the palm from him, and perhaps
-from every other rival. But
-in profound sympathy with nature,
-in the fidelity of his creations, in
-the echoes of the beautiful which
-he provokes within the soul of the
-reader, the Poet-Laureate must
-yield to the Demy of Magdalen.
-Like Shakspere, he peopled inanimate
-nature with a fairy world, and
-amongst elves and genii and other
-dainty spirits he abandoned himself
-to that power of impersonation
-which is almost an attribute of
-a true poet.</p>
-
-<p>Our space does not admit of illustrative
-quotations, but we would
-refer the reader inclined to institute
-the comparison suggested to the
-elegy over Fidele, in the play of
-<cite>Cymbeline</cite>, and to his <cite>Eclogues</cite>.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Tennyson’s poetry has beauties
-of its own peculiar kind of so
-remarkable and striking a description
-that we might have hesitated
-to take any exceptions whatsoever
-to his poetical genius. But his new
-poem, his first effort in dramatic
-poetry, seems to us to set all doubt
-at rest. It convinces us that, for
-whatever reasons, of the highest
-flights of poetic inspiration Mr.
-Tennyson is incapable. We are
-convinced that he lacks that which
-constitutes a great poet. However
-beautiful his poetry, we feel that
-it wants something which, however
-keenly we may be sensible of it, it
-is not easy either to analyze or explain.</p>
-
-<p>For what is the inspiration of
-poetry but the echoes of the beautiful
-within the soul of man? The
-universe of things is the visible
-word of God. It is his essential
-beauty projected by an energy of
-creative love&mdash;the quickening spirit
-opening his wings over chaos&mdash;into
-an objective existence, on which
-its generator looked with complacency
-as “very good,” and which
-he generated in order that his
-creature, whom he had made in
-his own image, might, with himself,
-rejoice in its contemplation.
-He did not, at first, endow him
-with the power of beholding himself
-“face to face,” but only his
-reflex. We have the right to believe
-that, whilst in union with his
-Maker, he read at a glance the
-meaning of the word, he felt instantaneously
-the beauty of the
-image. His nature, into which no
-discord had as yet been introduced,
-uncondemned to the judgment of
-painful toil, did not acquire charity
-and knowledge by long and laborious
-processes, disciplinary and ratiocinative,
-but by intuition. Incapable
-as yet of the Beatific Vision,
-he comprehended the whole of
-the divine beauty as revealed in
-creation, and the comprehension itself
-was a transport of love. He
-saw, and knew, and loved, and the
-three were one simultaneous energy
-of the sonship of his nature.
-But, as now, “the greatest of these
-was charity.” It was the result
-and sum and end of the sight and
-knowledge. It was the feeling they
-inevitably and unremittingly occasioned.
-To speak as we can only
-speak in our actual condition, it
-was as those thuds of loving admiration
-with which our hearts throb
-when we look upon some surpassing
-embodiment of innocent and
-modest female loveliness. When
-the mind, jealous of pre-eminence,
-led captive, so to speak, the heart
-in revolt against the revealed law,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
-the human being was no longer in
-union with himself, a war of impulses
-and of energies was set up
-within him, the image of God was
-defaced, his perception of created
-beauty became more and more obscure
-as he went further away from
-his original abode of innocence,
-until, finally, it was all but lost.
-The emotion, if we may describe it
-as such, which it was of its nature
-to suggest, could not perish, for it is
-imperishable. But it had lost its
-true object, and surveyed knowledge
-in a form more or less degraded.</p>
-
-<p>Now out of this very faint and
-rapid sketch of a psychological
-theory which would require a volume
-for its development, we hope
-to be able to convey some idea,
-however vague, of the nature of the
-poetic spirit.</p>
-
-<p>It is certain that the remains of
-the divine image have not since
-been alike and equal in all the individuals
-of the race. It may be
-asserted, on the contrary, that there
-are no two human microcosms in
-which the elements of the confusion
-introduced into them by the original
-infidelity exist in the same proportion.
-Those in whom the intelligence
-is the quickest to see, and
-the mind, heart, and soul to love in
-unison, the image of divine beauty
-revealed in creation&mdash;those, that is,
-in whom the divine image remains
-the most pronouncedly&mdash;are the
-truest poets.</p>
-
-<p>When this echo of the soul to the
-beautiful does not go beyond the
-physical creation, the inspirations
-of love express themselves in lyric
-or idyllic poetry. The poet imitates
-the divine Creator in reproducing,
-even creating, images of his lower
-creation so faithful and suggestive
-that they who look upon them experience
-similar sensations and emotions
-to those provoked within them
-by the divine creation itself, nay, not
-unseldom, even profounder ones.
-He reveals the beautiful in similar
-images to those in which The Beautiful
-revealed himself to his creature;
-he is thus himself a ποιητὴς, or
-creator, and his work is a ποίησις,
-or creation. When his forms derive
-their inspiration only from the inferior
-creation, they are exclusively
-some form of idyls or lyrics. But
-when, soaring above the grosser
-medium of the merely material universe,
-and poising himself on wings
-tremulous with reverent joy at the
-confines of the invisible, his soul
-echoes the music of the beautiful
-issuing from that invisible creation;
-and that imitative energy which is
-of its essence, inspired by these reawakening
-inspirations, calls into
-being psychical individualities with
-their precise bodily expression and
-proper destinies&mdash;that is to say,
-with all the causes and results,
-ebb and flow, action and reaction,
-in human affairs, of every volition
-and energy, he reproduces the
-highest energy of the divine creative
-power, he evokes into sensible
-existence whole multitudes of fresh
-creatures made in the image of God,
-and, what is even yet more sublime,
-he evokes into equally sensible being
-the particular providence which
-overrules each and all&mdash;the one
-difference between the two creations
-being that one is original, the other
-imitative; one imaginary&mdash;that is,
-<em>merely</em> sensible; the other, not only
-sensible, but <em>real</em> also, and <em>essential</em>.
-Yet are the accidents of the former
-produced occasionally with such
-extraordinary fidelity that they
-have sometimes, as in the creations
-of Shakspere, for example, the same
-effect upon those who become acquainted
-with them as if they were
-in truth the latter.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Who that has ever studied the
-creations of that immortal dramatist
-has not them all, from high
-to low, treasured within his inner
-being as vividly as any other of his
-absent acquaintances, whom he has
-met in society, to whom he has been
-formally introduced, with whom he
-has eaten, drank, laughed, wept,
-walked, and conversed? Has not
-that remarkable genius transgressed
-even the imitative faculty&mdash;imitative,
-that is, of all the original creative
-energy that is known&mdash;produced
-original creations, and peopled
-the preter- rather than supernatural
-with beings which have no known
-existence, but whom nevertheless
-he surrounds with a distinct verisimilitude
-which ensures them easy
-admission into our minds and
-hearts, which presents them to our
-senses as concrete beings with as
-much positiveness, and even as
-clearly defined individuality, as if
-they were solid creatures of flesh
-and bone, and which makes us
-feel that if such beings did really
-exist, they would be none other
-than precisely those he has represented?</p>
-
-<p>Of such sort, we take it, is the
-highest, or dramatic, poetry. And
-of it there is a manifest deficiency
-in this work, which its author terms,
-indeed, a drama, but which is in
-fact a tragedy.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Tennyson has not enough of
-the divine afflatus to write tragedy.
-If he has not sufficient love of the
-beautiful in inanimate nature for
-his soul to echo to it, and his heart
-to throb with the sense of it, with
-the rapidity of an intuition, so as to
-make unattainable to him the highest
-excellence in lyric poetry, how
-much more out of his reach must be
-a first rank in the tragic drama;
-where, if anywhere, an intuition of
-the beautiful amounting to an inspiration
-is demanded in that supreme
-creation of God which, as
-the consummation of his “work”
-and word, he has embodied in
-his own substance! In that profound
-and intuitive perception of
-the workings of man’s inner being,
-of the passions, emotions, feelings,
-appetites, their action and reaction,
-ebb and flow; of the struggle of the
-two natures, its infinite variety and
-play of life, under all conceivable
-conditions and vicissitudes,
-with much more than can be
-detailed here included in these,
-Mr. Tennyson is strikingly deficient.</p>
-
-<p>In the tragedies of Shakspere,
-as in all his dramas, the distinct
-personality of every one of the
-characters, high and low, is impressed
-upon us with vivid distinctness.
-But the principal personages in the
-tragedies dilate before us in heroic
-proportions as the portentous struggle
-progresses. Whether it be
-King Lear, or King John, or King
-Richard, or Othello, or Lady Macbeth,
-or Lady Constance, or the
-widowed Princess of Wales, or
-Ophelia, or whoever else, we look
-on with bated breath, as did the
-spectators of the boat-race with
-which Æneas celebrated the suicide
-of his regal paramour, and we come
-away at its close a prey to the
-storm of emotions which the magic
-art of the island sorcerer has conjured
-up within us.</p>
-
-<p>But the drama, or tragedy, as we
-prefer to call it, we read with but languid
-interest. The psychical struggle
-is neither very obvious nor very
-critical, there is no very striking
-revelation of the sublime beauty or
-tragic overthrow of human nature,
-and although the canvas is crowded
-with figures, not one of them impresses
-any very distinct image of
-his or her individuality on our mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
-and heart. Instead of, as Shakspere’s
-creations, retaining every
-one of them as a distinct and intimate
-acquaintance, whom we may
-summon into our company at will,
-we rise from the perusal of <cite>Queen
-Mary</cite> without having received any
-very definite impression of any,
-even the principal, personages, and
-we forget all about them almost as
-soon as we have read the play.</p>
-
-<p>This vital defect in a drama the
-author has rendered doubly fatal
-through his having carried his imitation
-of Shakspere to the extent
-of adopting his simplicity of plot.
-Shakspere could afford to do this.
-The inspired verisimilitude of the
-struggle of the two natures in every
-one of his human creations, the
-profoundness of his development
-of the innermost working of the
-human microcosm, often by a few
-master-touches, surround every one
-of his <i lang="la">dramatis personæ</i> with all the
-rapt suspense and sustained interest
-of a plot. Every one of his characters
-is, as it were, a plot in itself.
-But it is quite certain that Mr. Tennyson&mdash;and
-it is no depreciation of
-him&mdash;has not this power. He has,
-therefore, every right to call to his
-aid the interest of an elaborate plot,
-which itself would also, we think,
-cause him to develop more vividly
-his characters. It is in this the
-late Lord Lytton, whose poetical
-pretensions are very much below
-Mr. Tennyson’s, achieved whatever
-success he had as a dramatist. Mr.
-Tennyson has not to depend on
-this solely, as was very nearly the
-case with Lord Lytton, but it would
-contribute very much to a higher
-success. The great dramatist he is
-unwise enough so avowedly to imitate
-peoples the simplest plot with
-a whole world of stirring destinies.
-He moves his quickening wand,
-and lo! as by the master-will of a
-creator, appear a Hamlet or a
-Malvolio, a Lady Macbeth or a
-Goneril or Miranda, an Ariel or a
-Caliban, contribute their precise
-share to the history, which would
-not have been complete without
-them, and then disappear from the
-scene, but never from our memory.
-A magic word or two has smitten
-them into <em>it</em>, and they live for aye
-in our mind and heart. His heroes
-and his heroines he clothes with
-such a majesty of poetry that we
-watch anxiously with bated breath
-their every gesture, word, or look;
-we cannot bear their absence, until,
-entranced into their destiny, and
-half unconscious, we watch them
-disappear in the catastrophe, our
-ears are blank, all voices mute, the
-brilliant theatre is the chamber of
-death, and they who, to us, were
-but now living flesh and blood, in
-whose destinies our innermost soul
-was rapt, have passed away, amidst
-a tempest of emotions, and are no
-more.</p>
-
-<p>But Thucydides’ <cite>History of the
-Peloponnesian War</cite>, either of the two
-great classic epics, or any striking
-historic passage in even so ungraphic
-a writer as Lingard, is more
-dramatic than this drama. The
-feeble plot gives birth to feebler
-impersonations. They come and
-go without making any deep impression
-upon us, or seizing our attention
-by any striking originality.
-Their features are indistinct, their
-actions insignificant. They are
-bloodless and colorless. They are
-ghosts, things of air, whom a feeble
-incantation has summoned from
-their slumber, who mutter a few
-laborious Spartanisms in a renewed
-life in which they seem to have no
-concern, and vanish without provoking
-a regret, nor even an emotion.
-We observe in them such an
-absence of verisimilitude, so marked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
-a want of truth to nature, as very
-much to weaken, when it does not
-entirely destroy, the dramatic illusion.
-Nowhere is this more observable
-than where he intends
-most manifestly a rivalry of Shakspere.
-Shakspere not unseldom
-introduces the multitude into his
-poetic history. But when he does
-so, it seizes our interest as forcibly
-as his more important personages.
-With a few rapid touches he dashes
-in a few typical individuals, who
-reveal to us vividly what the whole
-kind of thing is of which they are
-prominent units. They are the
-mob of the very time and place to
-which they belong. Whether at
-Rome in the time of Julius Cæsar,
-or at Mantua or Verona in the Middle
-Ages, or in England during the
-time of the Tudors, we feel that
-they act and speak just as then and
-there they might have said and
-done. Every one, too, has his or
-her distinct individuality. And
-such a verisimilitude have they that
-even an occasional anachronism,
-such as, in <cite>Troilus and Cressida</cite>,
-making a Trojan servant talk of
-<em>being in the state of grace</em>, does not
-dispel the charm. But Mr. Tennyson’s
-mob-types have no more striking
-features to seize our interest
-than his more exalted creations,
-whilst his anachronisms are of a
-kind which send all verisimilitude
-to the winds. Joan and Tib, and the
-four or five citizens, have nothing
-in them for which they should be
-singled out of the very ordinary condition
-of life to which they belong.
-And we are tempted to sneer when
-we hear an Elizabethan mob talking
-like Hampshire or Yorkshire peasants
-of the present day.</p>
-
-<p>For all that, Mr. Tennyson’s
-cockneys and rustics are not his
-most ineffective portraiture. We
-experience a slight sensation of their
-having been lugged in, perhaps because
-of the inevitable comparison
-with Shakspere they provoke, and
-we feel them to be too modern;
-but the poet’s sense of humor here
-serves him in good stead, and although,
-in this respect, immeasurably
-below Shakspere, he gives a
-kind of raciness to his plebeians
-which saves them from being an
-absolute failure.</p>
-
-<p>It is, however, in the principal
-personages of the drama that we
-most miss the Promethean fire,
-and pre-eminently in the hero, if
-Cranmer is intended for such a
-dignity, and the heroine. Amongst
-these, the most lifelike are Courtenay
-and Sir Thomas Wyatt; because,
-in their creation, the peculiar
-vein of quaint irony and exceedingly
-refined humor, which is
-Mr. Tennyson’s most eminent distinction,
-comes to his aid. For the
-rest, up to the heroine herself and
-the canting and recanting Cranmer,
-they are colorless and bloodless.
-We scarcely know one from the
-other. And we do not care to.
-Noailles and Renard are but poor
-specimens of diplomatists. Their
-sovereigns, were the time the present,
-might pick up a dozen such
-any day in Wall Street. If the
-poet could embody no greater conception
-of two such men as Bonner
-and Gardiner than a couple
-of vulgar, self-seeking, blood-thirsty
-knaves, he should have dispensed
-altogether with their presence. He
-should have given to them some
-elevation, whatever history may say
-about it. A drama is a poem, not
-a history; and the poet may take
-the names of historic personages
-and, within certain limits, fit to
-them creations of his own. In Cardinal
-Pole he had an opportunity
-for a noble ideal. But all we have
-is an amiable dummy, an old gentleman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
-as ordinary and ineffective
-as the rest.</p>
-
-<p>Facts have been so distorted by
-the influence which for so long had
-sole possession of literature, that
-there is plenty of room for taking
-great liberties with history. Mr.
-Tennyson has slightly availed himself
-of this, but in the wrong direction.
-Shakspere himself could not
-have made a saint of Cranmer. For
-poetry, there was nothing for it but
-to make him a more splendid sinner.
-To retain all his littlenesses
-and to array them in seductive virtues,
-is to present us with some
-such figure as the dusky chieftains
-decked in gaudy tinsel that solicit
-our admiration in front of the tobacconists’
-shops. To attempt to
-give heroic proportions to a man
-whose profession of faith followed
-subserviently his self-interest until
-no hope remained, and then place
-in the hands of the burning criminal
-the palm of martyrdom, is to
-invite the love within us of the
-beautiful and the true to echo to
-a psychical impossibility, and
-that without an element of greatness.</p>
-
-<p>Yet had the front figure of the
-history been a noble conception
-grandly executed all this might have
-been condoned. One might well
-have looked at them as a few rough
-accessories to heighten by their
-contrast the beauty of the central
-form. There was place for a splendid
-creation. No more favorable
-material for a tragic heroine exists
-than Mary Tudor&mdash;with the single
-exception of that other Mary who
-fell beneath the Puritans like a lily
-before the scythe of the destroyer.
-Around her history and person circle
-all the elements of the tenderest
-pathos, which is of the very essence
-of tragedy. That Shakspere did
-not use them is a proof he thought
-so. For “the fair vestal throned in
-the west” would have resented such
-a creation as his quickening genius
-would have called to life. A queen
-of noble nature gradually swept
-away by a resistless current of untoward
-circumstances, is a history
-capable of the sublimity of a Greek
-catastrophe, with the added pathos
-of Christian suffering. But who
-have we here? A silly woman, devoutly
-pious, and endowed with a
-conspicuous share of the family
-courage. But she is so weak that
-her piety has the appearance of superstition,
-and her fits of courage
-lose their royalty and fail to rescue
-her from contempt. Unattractive
-in person, she falls desperately in
-love with a man much younger than
-herself, and her woman’s love, ordinarily
-so quick to detect coldness
-in a lover, is blind to the grossest
-neglect; and yet not so blind but
-that a few words scrawled on a rag
-of paper, dropped in her way, could
-open her eyes on the spot. The
-tenderness of her love and the
-importunity of cruel-minded men,
-transform her almost suddenly from
-a gentle-natured woman to an unrelenting
-human tigress. And she,
-who would not allow the law to
-take its course on her most dangerous
-enemies, can exclaim of her
-sister Elizabeth,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent6">“To the Tower with <em>her</em>!</div>
-<div class="verse">My foes are at my feet, and I am queen.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Afterwards of Guilford Dudley, the
-Duke of Suffolk, and Lady Jane
-Grey&mdash;</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“They shall die.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>And again of her sister&mdash;</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent12">“She shall die.</div>
-<div class="verse">My foes are at my feet, and Philip king.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This is not the grandness of crime,
-as in Richard III., or even in Lady
-Macbeth. It is the petty despotism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
-of a weak and silly woman.
-There is no greatness of any kind
-about it. It is the mere triumphant
-chuckle of an amorous queen, wooing
-a more than indifferent husband.
-It is little&mdash;little enough for a
-comedy. There is something approaching
-the tragic in the desolation
-of her last moments. Calais is
-lost, her husband hates her, her
-people hate her. But the poet has
-already robbed her of the dignity
-of her position. She has forfeited
-our esteem. We experience an ordinary
-sympathy with her. But her
-fate is only what was to be expected.
-And the highest pathos is
-out of the question. When, following
-the example of her injured mother
-in the play of <cite>Henry VIII.</cite>,
-she betakes herself to lute and song,
-the author insists on a comparison
-with Shakspere, and beside the full
-notes of the Bard of Avon the
-petty treble of the Laureate pipe
-shrinks to mediocrity.</p>
-
-<p>But the most unpardonable of
-Mr. Tennyson’s imitations of Shakspere
-are those in which he rings
-the changes on the celebrated passage
-about “no Italian priest shall
-tithe nor toll in our dominions,”
-which inevitably provokes the applause
-of those amongst a theatrical
-audience who do not know what it
-means&mdash;unpardonable, because it
-makes even Shakspere himself as
-ridiculous as a poor travesty cannot
-fail to do. He was content
-with one such passage throughout
-his many plays. If Terence
-had filtered the noble sentiment
-of his celebrated passage,
-“Ego homo sum, et nihil humanum
-a me alienum,” through a variety
-of forms, it would have excited the
-laughter instead of the plaudits of
-the Roman “gods.” But the author
-of <cite>Queen Mary</cite> is not afraid to
-pose <em>his</em> sentiment, itself borrowed
-in no less than three different attitudes
-in one play; committing
-the additional absurdity of thrusting
-it, like a quid of tobacco, into
-the cheek of two different personages.
-Gardiner uses it twice, Elizabeth
-once:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent4">“Yet I know well [says the former]</div>
-<div class="verse">Your people …</div>
-<div class="verse">Will brook nor Pope nor Spaniard here to play</div>
-<div class="verse">The tyrant, or in commonwealth or church”;</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and again, with questionable taste:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“And see you, we shall have to <em>dodge</em> again,</div>
-<div class="verse">And let the Pope trample our rights, and plunge</div>
-<div class="verse">His <em>foreign fist</em> into our island church,</div>
-<div class="verse">To plump the leaner pouch of Italy”;</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">whilst Elizabeth is made to vulgarize
-it beyond hope of redemption
-into a mere petty ebullition of
-splenetic womanly vanity:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Then, Queen indeed! No foreign prince or priest</div>
-<div class="verse">Should fill my throne, myself upon the steps.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>It must be owned, indeed, that
-this play lacks the highest poetry
-in its expression as much as in its
-conception. We occasionally come
-across passages of vivid and vigorous
-limning, as Count Feria’s reply
-to Elizabeth towards the end of the
-play, and Howard’s description to
-the Lord Mayor of the state of
-mind of the citizens. But even the
-force of this latter passage is not
-dramatic. There is none of the
-rush and movement of an excited
-populace. There are a few striking
-groups. But they are inactive.
-Theirs is a kind of dead life, if we
-may be pardoned such an expression.
-Rather, they are mere <i lang="fr">tableaux
-vivants</i>. They inspire us with
-no fear for Mary’s throne. More
-near to dramatic power and beauty
-is Elizabeth’s soliloquy at Woodstock,
-suddenly lowered in the
-midst of its poetry, even to nursery
-familiarity, by the introduction of
-such a phrase as “catch me who
-can.”</p>
-
-<p>But for one single effort of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
-highest poetic flight we look in
-vain.</p>
-
-<p>Even the few snatches of his lyre
-which he introduces fail to woo us.
-They are not natural. If they are
-poetry, it is poetry in a court-dress.
-It is rich with brocade, and the
-jewels glitter bravely; it treads
-delicately, but its movements are artificial
-and constrained. Compare,
-for example, the song of the Woodstock
-milkmaid, wherein labor is
-visible in every line, with those
-gushes of nature with which the
-poet’s soul would seem to be bubbling
-over the brim of the visible in
-the various lyrical snatches of Ariel
-or with the song of Spring at the
-end of <cite>Love’s Labor Lost</cite>.</p>
-
-<p>But what has more surprised us
-than the lack of the poetic inspiration
-in this drama is the occasional
-want of correct taste in a writer of
-such exceeding polish as Mr. Tennyson.
-Such a speech as</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“And God hath blest or cursed me with a nose&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Your boots are from the horses,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">should not have been put in the
-mouth of a lady, still less a lady of
-the rank of Elizabeth, and that the
-less when she appeals to our sympathies
-from a kind of honorable
-imprisonment.</p>
-
-<p>Lady Magdalen Dacres may have
-beat King Philip with a staff for insulting
-her, and have remained a
-lady, but we do not want to be
-told, in the midst of dramatic pathos,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“But by God’s providence a good stout staff</div>
-<div class="verse">Lay near me; and you know me strong of arm;</div>
-<div class="verse">I do believe I lamed his Majesty’s.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Is our poet, again, so barren of
-invention that he could find no
-other way of portraying Philip’s indifference
-to his Queen than the
-following:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent6">“By S. James, I do protest,</div>
-<div class="verse">Upon the faith and honor of a Spaniard,</div>
-<div class="verse">I am vastly grieved to leave your Majesty.</div>
-<div class="verse">Simon, is supper ready?”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent1">“<span class="smcap">Renard</span>&mdash;Ay, my liege,</div>
-<div class="verse">I saw the covers laying.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent1">“<span class="smcap">Philip</span>&mdash;Let’s have it.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Whatever may be the character
-he may have wished to depict in
-Philip, we expect a Spanish king
-to be a gentleman. And such an
-ending of a scene susceptible of the
-tenderest pathos, where the heroine
-and another of the principal personages
-of the drama are in presence,
-argues a wonderful dulness
-of perception of the beautiful.</p>
-
-<p>Worse than all, however, is his
-treatment of Cardinal Pole.</p>
-
-<p>Shakspere puts a few words of
-Latin into the mouth of Cardinal
-Wolsey in a scene in <cite>Henry VIII.</cite>,
-in which he and Cardinal Campeggio
-are endeavoring to bend the
-queen to the king’s will. But it is
-a wonderful touch of nature. It is
-one of those profound intuitions for
-which the great dramatist is so distinguished.
-So seemingly simple
-an incident reveals, at a touch, as
-it were, the preoccupation of
-Wolsey’s mind, and the hollowness
-at once and difficulty of the duty
-he had suffered to be imposed upon
-him. They had paid her ostensibly
-a private visit, as friends. But
-Wolsey, oppressed with the difficulty
-of his undertaking, and meditating
-how he should set about it,
-forgets himself, the old habit crops
-up, and he begins as if he were beginning
-a formal ecclesiastical document:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>It is a slip. The queen stops him.
-He recollects himself, and we hear
-no more Latin.</p>
-
-<p>But in this drama the poet literally
-makes a cardinal, and such a
-cardinal as Pole, address Queen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
-Mary with the angelic salutation to
-the Blessed Virgin, and in Latin:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Ave Maria, gratia plena, benedicta tu in mulieribus!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Upon the whole, the defects of
-this drama are so many and so serious,
-so radical and fundamental,
-that no competent criticism can
-pronounce it other than a failure;
-and a failure more complete than
-would have been thought possible
-to a poet of so great a reputation as
-Mr. Tennyson.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>“O VALDE DECORA!”</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Could I but see thee, dear my love!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That face&mdash;but once! Not dazzling bright&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Not as the blest above</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Behold it in God’s light&mdash;</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">But as it look’d at La Salette;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Or when, in Pyrenean wild,</div>
-<div class="verse">It beam’d on Bernadette,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The favor’d peasant child.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Once seen&mdash;a moment&mdash;it would blind</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">These eyes to beauty less than thine:</div>
-<div class="verse">And where could poet find</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Such theme for song as mine?</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">But if I ask what may not be,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">So spell me with thy pictur’d face</div>
-<div class="verse">That haunting looks from thee</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">May hold me like a grace.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ARE YOU MY WIFE?</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,”
-“PIUS VI.,” ETC.</p>
-
-<h4>CHAPTER IX.</h4>
-
-<p>And now a new life began for
-Franceline.</p>
-
-<p>“You must fly from idleness as
-from sin,” Father Henwick said;
-“you must never let a regret settle
-on your mind for an instant.
-It will often be hard work to resist
-them; but we are here to fight.
-You must shut the door in the face
-of idle thoughts by activity and
-usefulness. I will help you in this.
-You must set to work amongst the
-poor; not so as to fatigue yourself,
-or interfere with your duties and
-occupations at home, but enough
-to keep you busy and interested.
-At first it will be irksome enough, I
-dare say; but never mind that. By
-and by the effort will bring its own
-reward, and be a pleasure as well as
-a duty.”</p>
-
-<p>He sat down and wrote out a
-time-table for her which filled up
-every hour of the day, and left not
-one moment for brooding. There
-were visits to the cottages and a
-class for children in the morning;
-the afternoon hours were to be devoted
-to helping her father, writing
-and copying for him, sometimes
-copying MSS. for Father Henwick,
-with no other purpose than to keep
-her mind and her fingers occupied.</p>
-
-<p>But when the excitement caused
-by this change in her daily routine
-subsided, something of the first
-heart-sinking returned. Do what
-she would, thought would not be
-dumb. The external activity could
-not silence the busy tongues of her
-brain or deafen her to their ceaseless
-whisperings. It was weary
-work staggering on under her load,
-while memory tugged at her heart-strings
-and dragged its longings
-the other way. It was hard not to
-yield to the temptation now and
-then of sitting down by the wayside
-to rest and look back towards
-the Egypt that was for ever out of
-sight. But Franceline very seldom
-yielded to the treacherous allurement.
-When she caught herself
-lapsing into dreams, she would rise
-up with a resolute effort, and shake
-off the torpor, and set to work at
-something. When the torpor
-changed to a sting of anguish, she
-would steep her soul in prayer&mdash;that
-unfailing opiate of the suffering
-spirit, its chloroform in pain.</p>
-
-<p>One day, about three weeks after
-Father Henwick’s return, she was
-coming home through the wood
-after her morning’s round amongst
-the cottages. She was very tired
-in mind and body. It was dull
-work dinning the multiplication-table
-into Bessy Bing’s thick skull,
-and teaching her unnimble fingers
-to turn the heel of a stocking; to
-listen to the widow’s endless lamentations
-over “the dear departed”
-and the good old times when they
-killed a pig every year, and always
-had a bit of bacon on the rack.
-Franceline came to the old spot
-where she used to sit and listen to
-the concert of the grove. The songsters
-were nearly all silent now, for
-the green was turning gold; but
-the felled tree was lying in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
-same place, and tempted her to rest
-a moment and watch the sun shooting
-his golden shafts through the wilderness
-of stems all round. Another
-moment, and she was in dreamland;
-but the spell had scarcely fallen
-on her when it was broken by
-the sound of footfalls crushing the
-yellow leaves that made a carpet
-on every path. She started to her
-feet, and walked on. A few steps
-brought her face to face with Father
-Henwick. He greeted her
-with a joyous exclamation.</p>
-
-<p>“Here comes my little missionary!
-What has she been doing
-to-day?”</p>
-
-<p>“She has achieved a great conquest;
-she has arrived at making
-Bessy Bing apprehend the problem
-that seven times nine and nine
-times seven produce one and the
-same total,” replied Franceline with
-mock gravity.</p>
-
-<p>Father Henwick laughed; but
-the tired expression of her face did
-not escape him.</p>
-
-<p>“I am afraid you will be growing
-too conceited if this sort of thing
-goes on,” he said. “But you must
-not overdo it, my dear child; it
-won’t do to wear yourself out in
-gaining arithmetical triumphs.”</p>
-
-<p>“Better wear out than rust out.”
-And Franceline shrugged her shoulders;
-she had learned the expressive
-French trick from her father.</p>
-
-<p>The priest bent his clear eyes on
-her for a second without speaking.
-She read, disappointment, and perhaps
-mild reproach, in them.</p>
-
-<p>“I am sorry I said that, father;
-I did not mean to complain.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why are you sorry?”</p>
-
-<p>“Because it was cowardly and
-ungrateful.”</p>
-
-<p>“To whom?”</p>
-
-<p>“To you, who are so kind and
-so patient with me!”</p>
-
-<p>“And who bids me be kind?
-Who teaches me to be patient with
-you?&mdash;poor little bruised lamb!”</p>
-
-<p>“I know it, father; I feel it in
-the bottom of my heart; but one
-can’t always be remembering.”
-There was the slightest touch of
-impatience in her tone.</p>
-
-<p>“How if God were some day to
-grow tired of remembering us, and
-bearing with us, and forgiving us?”</p>
-
-<p>“I know. But I am not rebelling;
-only sickening and suffering.
-You have told me there was no sin
-in that?” The words came tremulous,
-as if through rising tears; but
-Franceline raised her head with a
-defiant movement, and forced the
-briny drops down. “I cannot help
-it!” she continued impetuously;
-“I have tried my best, and I cannot
-help it!”</p>
-
-<p>Father Henwick heaved an almost
-inaudible sigh before he
-said: “What cannot you help,
-Franceline? Suffering?”</p>
-
-<p>“No! I don’t care about that!
-Remembering I cannot forget.”</p>
-
-<p>“My poor child! would to God
-I could help you! I would suffer
-willingly in your place!” The
-words came like a gush from his
-inmost heart. They broke down
-the sufferer’s proud resistance and
-let the tears have vent. He turned
-to walk back with her. For some
-time neither spoke; only the soft
-sobs that came unchecked from
-Franceline broke the temple-like
-stillness of the wood. Suddenly
-she cried out in a tone of passionate
-desperation: “O father! it is
-dreadful. It will kill me if it lasts
-much longer! The humiliation is
-more than I can bear! To feel
-that I am harboring a feeling that
-my whole soul rebels against, that
-is revolting in the eyes of God and
-of my conscience! And I cannot
-master it!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“You will never master it by
-pride, Franceline; that very pride
-is your greatest hindrance in setting
-your heart free. Try and think
-more of God and less of yourself.
-There is no sin, as you say, in the
-suffering, any more than, if you
-strayed to the edge of a precipice
-in the dark, and fell over and were
-killed, you would be guilty of suicide.
-The sinfulness now is in
-your rebellion against the suffering
-simply because it wounds your
-pride.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is not all pride, father,” she
-said meekly. Presently she turned
-and looked up at him through wet
-lashes. “Father, I must tell you
-something,” she said, speaking with
-a sort of timidity that was unusual
-with her towards him&mdash;“a thought
-that came to me this morning that
-never came to me before.…”</p>
-
-<p>“What was it?”</p>
-
-<p>“If his wife should die … he
-would be free?”</p>
-
-<p>A dark shadow fell now on Father
-Henwick’s large, smooth brow.
-Franceline read his answer in the
-frown and the averted gaze; but he
-spoke soon, though he did not look
-at her.</p>
-
-<p>“That was a sinful thought! You
-should have cast it behind you with
-contempt. Has it come to that with
-you, that you could look forward to
-the death of any one as a thing to
-be longed for?”</p>
-
-<p>“I did not long for it. The
-thought came to me.”</p>
-
-<p>“You should have hunted it out
-of your mind like an evil spirit, as
-it was. You must never let it near
-you again. <em>He</em> should be to you as
-if he were already dead. Whether
-his wife dies or not should not, and
-does not, concern you. Besides,
-how do you know whether she is not
-as young as yourself, and stronger?
-My child, such a thought as that
-would lead you to the brink of an
-abyss, if you listened to it.”</p>
-
-<p>“I never will again, father,” she
-answered promptly. “I hardly
-know now whether I listened to it
-or not; only I could not help telling
-you.”</p>
-
-<p>“You were right to tell me; and
-now banish it, and never let it approach
-you again.”</p>
-
-<p>After a pause he resumed:</p>
-
-<p>“You are sure that silence is
-best with M. de la Bourbonais?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! yes. How can you ask me,
-father?” And Franceline looked up
-in surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“Yet it cannot remain a secret
-from him for ever; he is almost
-certain to hear of it sooner or later,
-and it might save him a severe shock
-if he heard it from you. It would
-set his mind at rest about you?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is quite at rest at present on
-that score. He has no idea that
-the discovery would be likely to
-affect me.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are better able to judge
-of that, of course, than I am. But it
-grieves me to see you have a secret
-from your father; I wish it could
-be avoided.”</p>
-
-<p>“But it cannot; indeed it cannot!”
-she repeated emphatically.
-“You may trust me to speak, if I
-thought it could be done without
-injury to both of us. It is much
-better to wait; perhaps by the time
-it comes to his ears I may be able
-to hear him speak of it without betraying
-myself and paining him.”</p>
-
-<p>Father Henwick acquiesced, but
-reluctantly. He hoped she was
-right in supposing M. de la Bourbonais
-quite blind to what had
-been so palpable to a casual observer.
-But, making even the fullest
-allowance for the absent-minded
-habits of the studious man, this
-seemed scarcely probable. Franceline
-had affirmed it herself more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
-confidently, perhaps, than was warranted.
-She had, however, succeeded
-in lulling her father into forgetfulness
-of his former conjectures
-and impressions; she was certain
-of this. It had been done at a terrible
-price of endurance and self-control;
-but she had succeeded,
-and it would be doubly cruel now
-to revive his suspicions and let him
-know the truth.</p>
-
-<p>“I will trust you,” said Father
-Henwick; “it is indeed a mercy
-that he is not called upon to bear
-such a trial while he is yet so unprepared.”</p>
-
-<p>There was an earnestness about
-him as he said this that would have
-caused Franceline a deeper emotion
-than curiosity if her mind
-were not fixed wide of the mark.
-She replied after a moment’s reflection:
-“If anything should occur
-to make it necessary to tell him,
-will you break it to him, father?”</p>
-
-<p>“I will,” said the priest simply.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline had not the least fear
-of Father Henwick. The severity
-of his passionless brow did not
-frighten her; it never checked the
-outflow of the thoughts and emotions
-that came surging up from
-her own perturbed heart. He seemed
-too far removed from strife himself
-to be affected by it, except as
-a pitying angel might, looking down
-from his calm heaven on poor mortals
-struggling and striving in the
-smoke and din of their earthly battle-field.</p>
-
-<p>“Father,” said Franceline suddenly,
-“I wish I cared more for
-the poor! I wish I could love
-them and pity them as you do; but
-I don’t. I’m so shy of going
-amongst them. I’m sure I don’t
-do them any good, and they don’t
-do me any good, they’re so prosy
-and egotistical&mdash;most of them, at
-least.”</p>
-
-<p>He turned an amused, indulgent
-smile on her.</p>
-
-<p>“There was a time when I
-thought so too; but persevere, and
-the love will come after a little
-while. All that is worth having is
-bought with sacrifice. Oh! if we
-could only understand the blessedness
-of sacrifice! Then we should
-find the peace passing all understanding
-that comes of passion
-overcome, of sorrow generously accepted!”</p>
-
-<p>He held out his hand to say good-by.
-Franceline laid hers in it; but
-did not remove it at once. “Father,”
-she said, with her eyes lifted
-in childlike fearlessness to his,
-“one would think, to hear you
-speak of passion overcome and sorrow
-accepted, that you knew something
-about them! I sometimes
-wish you did. It would make it
-easier to me to believe in the possibility
-of overcoming and accepting.”</p>
-
-<p>A change came over Father Henwick’s
-face for one moment; it was
-not a cloud nor a tremor, but the
-shadow of some deep emotion that
-must pass away before he could answer.
-Then the words came with
-grave simplicity, and low, as if they
-were a prayer:</p>
-
-<p>“Believe, then, my child, and
-take courage; I have gone through
-it all!”</p>
-
-<p>He turned and walked back into
-the wood. Franceline stood looking
-after him through gathering
-tear-drops. Never had he seemed
-so far above her, so removed from
-human weakness, as at this moment,
-when he so humbly acknowledged
-kindred with it.</p>
-
-<p class="break">A pleasant surprise met Franceline
-on her return home. Sir Simon
-was at The Lilies, and loudly
-expressing his indignation at not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
-finding her there to greet him. She
-arrived, however, before he had
-quite divested himself of a cargo
-of small boxes which he had carried
-down himself in order to have
-the delight of witnessing her curiosity
-and pleasure in their contents.
-There was hardly any event which
-could have given her so much pleasure
-in her present frame of mind as
-the sight of her kind old friend;
-and she satisfied him to the full by
-her affectionate welcome and her
-delight in all his presents. He had
-not forgotten her favorite <i lang="fr">friandise</i>&mdash;chocolate
-bonbons&mdash;and she set to
-nibbling them at once, in spite of
-Angélique’s protest against such a
-proceeding close on dinner-time.</p>
-
-<p>“Va, petite gourmande!” exclaimed
-the <i lang="fr">bonne</i>, tramping off to
-her kitchen, in high glee to see
-Franceline’s gayety and innocent
-greediness over the dainty.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon was, if possible, in
-brighter spirits than ever; like Job’s
-friends, he was “full of discourse,”
-so that there was nothing to do but
-listen and laugh as the current
-rippled on. He had a deal to tell
-about his rambles in the Pyrenees,
-and a whole budget of adventures
-to retail, and anecdotes about odd
-people he had come across in all
-sorts of out-of-the-way places. Nothing
-checked the pleasant flow
-until M. de la Bourbonais had the
-unlucky inspiration to inquire for
-Lady Rebecca’s health; whereupon
-the baronet raised his right hand
-and let it fall again with an emphatic
-gesture, shook his head, and
-compressed his lips in ominous silence.
-Raymond, who held the key
-of the pantomime, gathered therefrom
-that Lady Rebecca had for
-the six-and-thirtieth time rallied
-from the jaws of death, and plunged
-her long-suffering heir once
-more into dejection and disappointment.
-He knew what was in store
-for his private ear, and heaved a
-sigh. “But the present hour shall
-be a respite,” Sir Simon seemed to
-say; and he quitted the subject
-abruptly, and proceeded to catechise
-Franceline on her behavior
-since his departure. He was surprised
-and annoyed to find that she
-had been to no parties; that nothing
-more exciting than that short visit
-to Rydal had come of his deep-laid
-scheme with the dowager; and that
-there had been no rivalry of gallant
-suitors attacking the citadel of The
-Lilies. He had been rather nervous
-before meeting her; for, though
-it had been made quite clear to
-him by Raymond’s letters that <em>he</em>
-had received no crushing blow of
-any description, Sir Simon had a
-lurking fear that recent events
-might have left a deeper shadow
-on his daughter’s existence than he
-was conscious of. Her aspect, however,
-set him at ease on this score.
-He could hardly have lighted on a
-more favorable moment for the
-confirmation of his sanguine hopes
-regarding Franceline’s heart-wholeness.
-True, she had been crying,
-only half an hour ago, bitter, burning
-tears enough; but her face retained
-no trace of them, and it still
-held the glow of inward triumph
-that Father Henwick’s last words
-had called up into her eyes, and
-her cheeks had got a faint color
-from the rapid walking. Sir Simon
-breathed freely as he took note of
-these outward signs; he could indulge
-in a little chaffing without remorse
-or <i lang="fr">arrière-pensée</i>. He wanted
-to know, merely as a matter of
-curiosity, how many hearts she had
-broken in his absence&mdash;how many
-unfortunates had been mortally
-struck as they passed within reach
-of her arrows on the wayside. Franceline
-protested that she carried no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
-quiver, and had not inflicted a
-scratch on any one. Humph! Sir
-Simon invited her to convey that
-answer to the marines.</p>
-
-<p>“And how about Ponsonby
-Anwyll? Has he been here lately?”</p>
-
-<p>“No; he called twice, but papa
-and I were out.”</p>
-
-<p>“Poor devil! so much the better
-for him! But he won’t have
-the sense to keep out of harm’s
-way; he’ll be at it again before
-long.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline gave one of her merry
-laughs&mdash;she was in a mood to enjoy
-the absurdity of the joke&mdash;and went
-to take off her things; for Angélique
-put in her head to say that dinner
-was ready.</p>
-
-<p>Things fell quickly into their old
-course at the Court. There was a
-procession of morning callers every
-day, and pleasant friendly dinners,
-and a few men down in relays to
-shoot. Sir Simon insisted on M.
-de la Bourbonais coming to join
-them frequently, and bringing Franceline;
-he had established a precedent,
-and he was not going to let it
-drop. Franceline, on the whole,
-was glad of the excitement; she
-was determined to use everything
-that could help her good resolutions;
-and the necessity for seeming
-to enjoy soon led to her doing so
-in reality. After the stillness of her
-little home-life, filled as it was with
-restless voices audible to no ear but
-hers, the gay stir of the Court was
-welcome. It was a pleasurable
-sensation, too, to feel herself the object
-of admiring attentions from a
-number of agreeable gentlemen, to
-be deferred to and made much of,
-as if she were a little queen amongst
-them all. Sir Simon was more indulgent
-than ever, and spoiled her
-to his heart’s content. Father Henwick,
-who was kept <i lang="fr">au courant</i> of
-what was going on, could not find
-it in his heart to oppose what seemed
-to be an innocent diversion of
-her thoughts.</p>
-
-<p>It was, therefore, anything but a
-welcome break when Lady Anwyll
-came down one morning, accompanied
-by Sir Simon, to announce
-her intention of carrying off her
-friend the next day to Rydal.
-Franceline fought off while she
-could, but Sir Simon pooh-poohed
-her excuses about not liking to
-leave her father, and so forth; <em>he</em>
-was there now to look after him,
-and she must go. So she went.
-Rydal had a dreadful association
-in her mind, and she shrank from going
-there as from revisiting the
-scene of some horrible tragedy.
-She shrank, too, from leaving her
-father. Of late they had been more
-bound up in their daily life than
-ever; she had coaxed him into accepting
-her services as an amanuensis,
-and he had quickly grown so
-used to them that he was sure to
-miss her greatly at his work.</p>
-
-<p>There was nothing, moreover, in
-the inmates of Rydal to compensate
-her for the sacrifice; they were not
-the least interesting. It was always
-the same good-natured petting from
-Lady Anwyll, as if she were a kitten
-or a baby. She knew exactly
-what the conversation would be&mdash;gossip
-about local trifles, about
-the family, especially Ponce, his
-boots, his eccentricities, his pet
-dishes, his pranks in the regiment;
-the old tune played over and over
-again on the same string. As to
-Ponce himself, Franceline knew the
-big hussar already by heart; he
-would do his best to be entertaining,
-and would only be awkward
-and commonplace. Nothing at
-Rydal, in fact, rose above the dead-level
-of Dullerton.</p>
-
-<p>The dowager had some few young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
-people in for a carpet-dance, in
-which Franceline had to take her
-part, and did without any repugnance.
-Dancing brought back certain
-memories that pierced her like
-steel blades; but her heart was
-proof against the thrusts, and she
-defied them to wound her. Lord
-Roxham was invited, and showed
-himself cordial and friendly, but
-nothing more. He said he had
-been called away to London soon
-after they last met, or else he would
-have profited by M. de la Bourbonais’
-permission to call at The
-Lilies; he hoped that the authorization
-might still hold good.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! yes; do come. I shall be
-so glad to see you,” was the frank
-and unaffected reply.</p>
-
-<p>Lady Anwyll had meantime felt
-rather aggrieved at Lord Roxham’s
-behavior. Her little scheme had
-gone off so swimmingly at first she
-could not understand why it had
-suddenly collapsed in its prosperous
-course, and come to a dead
-halt. At any rate, she would give
-him one more chance. The young
-legislator seemed in no violent hurry
-to improve it. He danced a
-couple of times with Franceline,
-and once with two other young
-girls, and then subsided to dummy
-whist with the rector of Rydal and
-his wife, leaving Franceline to the
-combined fascinations of Mr. Charlton
-and Ponce, who usurped her
-between them. The latter bestowed
-such an unequal share of a
-host’s courtesy on the young French
-girl, indeed, that his mother felt it
-incumbent on her to explain to the
-other young ladies that Mlle. de la
-Bourbonais was a foreigner; therefore
-Ponce, being so good-natured,
-paid her particular attention. And
-he certainly did&mdash;not only on that
-occasion, but while she remained.
-He was continually hovering about
-her like a huge overshadowing
-bird whose wings were always in
-the way of its movements. He tripped
-over footstools in attempting
-to place them under her feet; but
-then he was always so thankful that
-it was himself, not her, he nearly
-upset! He spilt several cups of
-tea in handing them to her, and
-was nearly overcome with gratitude
-when he saw the carpet had got the
-contents, and that her pretty muslin
-frock was safe! He <em>would</em> hold an
-umbrella open over her because it
-looked so uncommonly like rain;
-and it was such a mercy to have
-only spoiled her bonnet and made
-a hole in her veil, when he might
-so easily have run the point into
-her eye. Ponce, like many wiser
-men, had endless satisfaction in the
-contemplation of the blunders he
-might have committed and did not.
-Yet, with all his boyish awkwardness,
-Franceline was growing very
-fond of him. He was so thoroughly
-kind-hearted, and so free from
-the taint of conceit; and then
-there was an undeniable enjoyment
-in the sense of being cared for,
-and thought of, and watched over;
-and it was all done in a naïve, boyish
-way, and with a brotherly absence
-of compliment or constraint
-that left her free to accept it without
-any sense of undue obligation,
-or the fear of being called upon to
-repay it except by being pleased
-and grateful. When he followed
-her into the conservatory with a
-shawl and wrapped it round her
-unceremoniously, she looked up at
-his fresh, honest face, and said, almost
-as if he had been a woman:
-“I wish I had you for a brother,
-Captain Anwyll!” He got very
-red, and was fumbling somewhere
-in his mind for an answer, when
-his mother called to him for the
-watering-pot; Ponce seized it, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
-dashing out a sudden shower-bath
-upon the dowager’s dress, narrowly
-escaped drenching Franceline’s.
-But it did escape. What a lucky
-dog he was!</p>
-
-<p>How pleasant it was riding home
-in the fresh afternoon! Lady Anwyll
-came in the carriage, while
-Franceline and Capt. Anwyll cantered
-on before. Nothing was likely
-to have happened at The Lilies
-during her absence; but as they
-drew near she grew impatient and
-rode at a pace, as if she expected
-wonderful tidings at the ride’s end.
-The air was so clear that Dullerton,
-yet a mile off, sent its hum of
-life towards the riders with sharp
-distinctness. The panting of the
-train, as it moved out of the station,
-sounded close by; every street cry
-and tinkling cart-bell rang out like
-a chime. Soon the soft cooing of
-the doves came wafted above the
-distant voice of the town; and when
-the travellers came within sight of
-The Lilies, the flock flew to greet
-Franceline, wheeling round high
-up in the air several times before
-alighting on her shoulders and outstretched
-wrist. Then came her
-father’s delighted exclamation, as
-he hurried down the little garden-walk,
-and Angélique’s affectionate
-embrace. And once more the
-small, still home-life, that was so
-sweet and so rich in a restored joy,
-recommenced. Franceline devoted
-hours every day now to working
-with her father, and soon she became
-almost as much absorbed in
-the work as he was. Sometimes,
-indeed, she hindered rather than
-helped, stopping him in the midst
-of his dictation to demand an explanation;
-but Raymond never
-chided her or grudged the delay.
-Her fresh young eyesight and diligent,
-nimble hand were invaluable
-to him, and he wondered
-how he had got on so long without
-them.</p>
-
-<p class="break">Lord Roxham redeemed his
-promise of calling at The Lilies.
-He talked a good deal to Raymond
-about politics and current events,
-saying very little to Franceline, who
-sat by, stitching away at some bit
-of plain sewing. This was just
-what she liked. Her father was entertained
-and interested. A breeze
-from the outer world always refreshed
-him, though he was hardly
-conscious of it, still less of needing
-any such reviving incident in
-his quiet, monotonous existence;
-but Franceline always hailed it with
-thankfulness for him, and was well
-content to remain in the shade now
-while the visitor devoted himself to
-amusing her father. Was it fancy,
-or did she, on glancing up suddenly
-from her needle-work, detect an expression,
-half compassionate, half
-searching, in Lord Roxham’s face,
-as he looked fixedly at her? Whether
-it was fancy or not, her eyes fell
-at once, and the blood mantled her
-cheek; she did not venture to let
-her gaze light on him again, and it
-was with a sense of shyness that she
-shook hands with him at parting.</p>
-
-<p>Ponsonby Anwyll was now a frequent
-visitor at The Lilies, sometimes
-coming alone, sometimes with
-Sir Simon; and it was a curious
-coincidence, if quite accidental,
-that he generally made his appearance
-as Franceline was on the point
-of starting for her ride; and as he
-was always on horseback, there was
-no conceivable reason why he should
-not join the party. The burly hussar
-was a safer companion in the
-saddle than in the drawing-room;
-he rode with the masterly ease of
-a cavalryman, and, the road being
-free from the disturbing influence
-of tea-trays and chairs, he spilt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
-nothing and upset nobody, and
-Franceline was always glad of his
-company. She was too inexperienced
-and too much absorbed in
-other thoughts to forecast any possible
-results from this state of
-things. Ponsonby continued the
-same familiar, kind, brother-like
-manner to her; was mightily concerned
-in keeping her out of the
-bad bits of road, and out of the
-way of the cattle that might be
-tramping to market and prove offensive
-to her mettlesome pony.
-He never aimed at making himself
-agreeable, only useful. But the
-eyes of Dullerton looked on at all
-this brotherly attention, and drew
-its own conclusion. The Langrove
-young ladies, of whom somehow
-she had of late seen less than ever,
-grew excited to the highest pitch
-about it, and were already discussing
-how many of them would be
-bridemaids at the wedding, if
-bridemaids there were. Most likely
-Sir Simon would settle that
-and probably give the dresses.
-Even discreet Miss Merrywig could
-not forbear shaking her finger and
-her barrel curls at Franceline one
-day when the latter hurried off to
-get ready for her ride, with the excuse
-that Sir Simon and Capt.
-Anwyll were due at three o’clock.
-But Franceline knew by this time
-what Dullerton was, and what it
-could achieve in the way of gossip;
-spinning a yarn a mile long
-out of a thread the length of your
-finger. She only laughed, and mentally
-remarked how little people
-knew. They would be marrying
-her to Sir Simon next, when Ponsonby
-rejoined his regiment and
-was seen no more at her saddle-bow.</p>
-
-<p>The three had set out for a ride
-one afternoon, when, as they were
-dashing along at full tilt, Sir Simon
-pulled up with a strong formula of
-exclamation.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s the matter?” cried Sir
-Ponsonby, plunging back heavily,
-while Franceline reined in Rosebud,
-and turned in some alarm to see
-what had occurred.</p>
-
-<p>“If I have not actually forgotten
-all about Simpson, who comes down
-from London by appointment this
-afternoon! I dare say he’s waiting
-for me by this, and he must return
-by the 5:20. I must leave you,
-and post home as quick as Nero
-will carry me.” And with a “by-by”
-to Franceline and a nod to
-Capt. Anwyll, coupled with an injunction
-not to let her ride too
-fast and to keep her out of mischief,
-the baronet turned his horse’s
-head and galloped away, desiring
-the groom to follow on with the
-others.</p>
-
-<p>They went on at a good pace
-until they reached the foot of a
-gentle ascent, when both of one accord
-fell into a walk. For the first
-time in their intercourse Franceline
-was conscious of a certain vague
-awkwardness with Capt. Anwyll;
-of casting about for something to
-say, and not finding anything. The
-place was perfectly solitary, the
-woods on one side, the fields sloping
-down to the river on the other.
-The groom lagged respectfully a
-long way behind, quite out of ear-shot,
-often out of sight; for the road
-curved and wheeled abruptly every
-now and then, and hid the foremost
-riders from his view. Ponsonby
-broke the silence:</p>
-
-<p>“Miss Franceline”&mdash;he would
-call her Miss Franceline, because it
-was easier and shorter&mdash;“I have
-something on my mind that I want
-badly to say to you. I’ve been
-wanting to say it for some time. I
-hope it won’t make you angry?”</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t say till I hear it; but if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
-you are in doubt about it, perhaps
-it would be safer not to say it,” remarked
-Franceline, beginning to
-tremble ominously.</p>
-
-<p>“I wouldn’t vex you for anything
-in the world! ’Pon my honor I
-wouldn’t!” protested Ponce warmly.
-“But, you see, I don’t know
-whether what I’m going to say will
-vex you or not.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then don’t say it; you are
-sure not to vex me then,” was the
-encouraging advice, and she devoutly
-hoped he would take it.
-But he was not so minded.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s true,” he assented; “but
-then, you see, it might please you.
-I’m half afraid it won’t, though,
-only I can’t be sure till I try.”
-After musing a moment, in obvious
-perplexity, he resumed, speaking
-rapidly, as if he had made up his
-mind to bolt it all out and take the
-consequences. “I’m not a puppy&mdash;my
-worst enemy won’t accuse me
-of that; but I’m not a bad fellow
-either, as my mother and all the
-fellows in the Tenth will tell you;
-and the fact is, I’ve grown very fond
-of you, Miss Franceline, and if
-you’ll take me as I am I’ll do my
-best to be a good husband to you
-and to make you happy.”</p>
-
-<p>He said it quickly, as if he were
-reciting a lesson got by heart, and
-then came to a dead halt and
-“paused for a reply.” He might
-have paused long enough, if he had
-not at last turned round and read
-his fate in Franceline’s scared,
-white face and undisguised agitation.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! now, don’t say no before
-you think it over!” entreated the
-young man. “I know you’re ten
-times too good for me; but, for
-that matter, you’re too good for the
-best fellow that ever lived. I said
-so myself to Sir Simon only this
-morning. But I do love you with
-all my heart, Franceline; and if
-only you could care for me ever so
-little to begin with, I’d be satisfied,
-and you’d make me the happiest
-man alive!”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline had now recovered
-her self-possession, and was able to
-speak, though she still trembled.</p>
-
-<p>“I am so sorry!” she exclaimed.
-“I never dreamed of this; indeed
-I did not! I dare say I have been
-very selfish, very thoughtless; but
-it was not wilful. I am very unhappy
-to have given you pain!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! don’t say that. You’ll make
-me miserable if you say that!” pleaded
-Ponsonby. “Of course you never
-thought of it. It’s great impudence
-of me to think of it, I have so little
-to offer you! But if you don’t
-quite hate the sight of me, I’m sure
-I could make you a devoted husband,
-and love you better than
-many a cleverer fellow. I’ve been
-fond of you from the first, and so
-has my mother.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are both very good to me;
-I am very, very grateful!” The
-tears rose to her eyes, and with a
-frank, impulsive movement she
-held out her hand to him. Ponsonby
-bent from the saddle and
-raised it to his lips, although it
-was gloved. If he had not been
-over-sanguine at heart and a trifle
-stupid, poor fellow, he would have
-felt that it was all over with him.
-The little hand lay with cold, sisterly
-kindness in his grasp, and
-Franceline looked at him with eyes
-that were too kind and pitying to
-promise anything more than sisterly
-pity and gratitude.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot, I cannot. You must
-never think of it any more. Do
-you not see that it is impossible?
-I am a Catholic!”</p>
-
-<p>“Pshaw! as if that mattered a
-whit! I mean as if it need make
-any difference between us! I don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
-mind it a pin&mdash;’pon my honor I
-don’t! I said so to the count.
-We’ve settled all that, in fact, and
-if he’s satisfied to trust me why
-will not you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Then you have spoken to my
-father?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! yes; that was the right
-thing, Sir Simon told me, as he was
-a Frenchman.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what did he say to you?”</p>
-
-<p>“He said that if you said yes, he
-was quite willing to give you to me.
-I wanted to come to settlements at
-once&mdash;I only wish I was ten times
-better off!&mdash;but he would not hear
-a word about that until I had consulted
-you. Only, he said he would
-be glad to receive me as his son;
-he did indeed, Franceline!” She
-was looking straight before her,
-her eyes dilated, her whole face
-aglow with some strong emotion
-that his words seemed to have stirred
-in her.</p>
-
-<p>“You remember,” continued
-Ponsonby, “that you said to me
-once you would like to have me for
-a brother? Well, it will be nearly
-the same thing. You would get
-used to me as a husband after a
-while; you would, Franceline!”</p>
-
-<p>“Never, never, never!” she repeated,
-not passionately, but with a
-calm emphasis that made Ponsonby’s
-heart die within him. He
-could not find a word to oppose
-to the strong, quiet protest.</p>
-
-<p>“No, it is all a mistake,” said
-Franceline. “I don’t know who is
-to blame&mdash;I suppose I am. I should
-not have let you come so often;
-but you were so kind, and I have
-so few people to care for me; and
-when one is sad at heart, kindness is
-so welcome! But I should have
-thought of you; I have been selfish!”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no, you have not been selfish
-at all; it’s all my doing and
-my fault,” affirmed the young
-man. “I wish I had held my
-tongue a little longer. My mother
-will come and see you to-morrow;
-she will explain it all, and how it
-sha’n’t make any trouble to you, my
-being a Protestant.”</p>
-
-<p>“She must not come,” said Franceline
-with decision; “there is nothing
-to explain. I am sincerely
-grateful to her and to you; but I
-have only gratitude to give you. I
-hope with all my heart that you
-may soon forget me and any pain
-I am causing you, and that you
-may meet with a wife who will
-make you happier than I could have
-done.”</p>
-
-<p>Ponsonby was silent for a few moments,
-and then he said, speaking
-with a certain hesitation and diffidence:</p>
-
-<p>“I could be satisfied to wait and
-to go on hoping, if I were sure of
-one thing:… that you did not
-care for anybody else. Do you?”</p>
-
-<p>She flashed a glance of indignant
-pride at him.</p>
-
-<p>“What right have you to put
-such a question to me? I tell you
-I do not care for you, and that I
-will never marry you! You have
-no right to ask me any more.”</p>
-
-<p>Ponsonby recoiled as if a flash
-of lightning had forked out of the
-cold, gray sky. “Good heavens! I
-did not mean to offend you. I
-declare solemnly I did not!”</p>
-
-<p>But he had touched a vibrating
-chord unawares, and set every fibre
-in her heart thrilling and every
-pulse throbbing; and the disturbance
-was not to be laid by any
-words that he could utter. Franceline
-turned homewards, and they
-did not exchange a word until they
-reached The Lilies and Ponsonby
-was assisting her to alight.</p>
-
-<p>“Say you forgive me!” he said,
-speaking very low and penitently.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>She had already forgiven him
-but not herself.</p>
-
-<p>“I do, and I am sorry for being
-so impetuous. Good-by!”</p>
-
-<p>“And my mother may come and
-see you to-morrow?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no! It is no use; it is no
-use! I say again I wish you were
-my brother, Sir Ponsonby, but, as
-you care to remain my friend, never
-speak to me again of this.”</p>
-
-<p>He pressed the hand she held
-out to him; the groom backed up
-to take the reins of her horse, and
-Ponsonby rode away with a thorn
-in his honest heart.</p>
-
-<p>Miss Merrywig was within, chatting
-and laughing away with the
-count. Franceline was not in a
-mood to meet the garrulous old
-lady or anybody; so she went
-straight to her room, and only came
-down when the visitor was gone.</p>
-
-<p>“Father,” she said, going up behind
-him and laying a hand on
-each shoulder, “what is this Sir
-Ponsonby tells me? That you are
-tired of your <i lang="fr">clair-de-lune</i>, and
-want to get rid of her?”</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais drew down
-the two trembling hands, and clasped
-them on his breast, and lifted
-his head as if he would look at her.</p>
-
-<p>“It would not be losing her, but
-gaining a son, who would take care
-of her when I am gone! She has
-not thought of that!”</p>
-
-<p>“No; and she does not wish to
-think of it! I will live with you
-while I live. I don’t care to look
-beyond that; nor must you, petit
-père. But I am very sorry for Sir
-Ponsonby. You must write and
-tell him so, and that he must not
-come any more&mdash;until he has forgotten
-me; that you cannot give
-me up.”</p>
-
-<p>“My cherished one! Let us
-talk about this matter; it is very
-serious. We must not do anything
-rashly.” He tried to unclasp her
-hands and draw her to his side;
-but she locked them tighter, and
-laid her cheek on his head.</p>
-
-<p>“Petit père, there is nothing to
-talk about; I will never marry him
-or anybody!”</p>
-
-<p>“My child, thou speakest without
-reflection. Captain Anwyll is a
-good, honorable man, and he loves
-thee, and it would be a great comfort
-to me to see thee married to
-him, and not to leave thee friendless
-and almost penniless whenever
-God calls me away. I understand
-it has taken thee by surprise, and
-that thou canst not accept the idea
-without some delay and getting
-used to it; but we must not decide so
-important a matter hastily. Come,
-sit down, and let us discuss it.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, father,” she answered in
-a tone of determination that was
-quite foreign to her now, and reminded
-him of the wilful child of
-long ago; “there is no use in discussing
-what is already decided.
-I will never marry Ponsonby&mdash;or
-anybody. Why, petit père, do you
-forget that he is a Protestant?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, I have forgotten nothing;
-that has been all arranged. He is
-most liberal about it; consents to
-leave you to … to have everything
-your own way in that respect,
-and assures me that it shall make
-no difference whatever to you, his
-not being of your religion.”</p>
-
-<p>“No difference, father! No difference
-to a wife that her husband
-should be a heretic! You
-cannot be in earnest. What blessing
-could there be on such a marriage?”</p>
-
-<p>“But you would soon convert
-him, my little one; you would
-make a good Catholic of him before
-the year was out,” said M. de
-la Bourbonais. “Think of that!”</p>
-
-<p>“And suppose it were the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
-way, and that he made a good Protestant
-of me? It is no more than
-I should deserve for my presumption.
-You know what happens to
-those who seek the danger.…”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that is a different thing;
-that warning applies to those who
-seek it rashly, from vain or selfish
-motives,” protested Raymond, moving
-his spectacles, as he always did
-instinctively when his argument
-was weak; and he knew right well
-that now it was slipping into sophistry.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot see anything but a
-selfish motive in marrying against
-the express prohibition of the
-church and without any affection
-for the person, but simply because
-he could give you a position and
-the good things of this life,” said
-Franceline.</p>
-
-<p>“The prohibition is conditional,”
-persisted Raymond, “and those
-conditions would be scrupulously
-fulfilled; and as to there not being
-the necessary affection, there is
-enough on his side for both, and
-his love would soon beget thine.”</p>
-
-<p>“Father, it is no use. I am grieved
-to contradict you; but I cannot,
-cannot do this to please you. You
-must write and say so to Capt.
-Anwyll; you must indeed.”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond heaved a sigh. He
-felt as powerless as an infant before
-this new wilfulness of his <i lang="fr">clair-de-lune</i>;
-it was foolish as well as imprudent
-to yield, but he did not
-know how to deal with it. There
-was honest truth on her side; no
-subterfuges could baffle the instinctive
-logic of her childlike faith.</p>
-
-<p>“We will let things remain as
-they are for a few days, and then,
-if thou dost still insist, I will write
-and refuse the offer,” he said, seeking
-a last chance in temporizing.</p>
-
-<p>“No, petit père; if you love me,
-write at once. It is only fair to
-Sir Ponsonby, and it will set my
-mind at rest. Here, let me find
-you a pen!” She chose one out
-of a number of inky goose-quills on
-the little Japan tray, and thrust it
-playfully between his fingers.</p>
-
-<p>The letter was written, and Angélique
-was forthwith despatched
-with it to the pillar at the park
-gate.</p>
-
-<p>During the remainder of the afternoon
-Franceline worked away
-diligently at the Causes of the
-French Revolution, and spent the
-evening reading aloud. But M. de
-la Bourbonais could not so lightly
-dismiss the day’s incident from his
-thoughts. He had experienced a
-moment of pure joy and unutterable
-thankfulness when Ponsonby
-had come in and stammered out
-his honest confession of love, and
-pleaded so humbly with the father
-to “take his part with Miss Franceline.”
-The pleasure was all the
-greater for being a complete surprise.
-Sir Simon had cautiously
-resolved to have no hand in negotiating
-between the parties; he had
-let things take their course from
-the first, determined not to interfere,
-but clearly foreseeing the issue.
-Raymond was bewildered by Franceline’s
-rejection of the proposed
-marriage. He did not try much
-to explain it to himself; it was a
-puzzle that did not come within the
-rule and compass of his philosophy&mdash;a
-young girl refusing to be married
-when an eligible husband presented
-himself for her father’s acceptance.
-He heaved many a deep
-sigh over it, as his anxious gaze
-rested on the golden-haired young
-head bent over the desk. But he
-did not ask any questions.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon came down next morning
-in high displeasure. He was
-angry, disappointed, aggrieved.
-Here he had been at considerable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
-pains of ingenuity and forethought
-to provide a model husband for
-Franceline, a young fellow whom
-any girl ought to jump at&mdash;high-principled,
-unencumbered rent-roll,
-good-looking, good-tempered&mdash;and
-the little minx turns up her nose at
-him, and sends him to the right-about!
-Such perverseness and folly
-were not to be tolerated. What
-did she mean by it? What did she
-see amiss in Anwyll? Sir Simon
-was for having her up for a round
-lecture. But Raymond would not
-allow this. He might groan in his
-inmost heart over Franceline’s refusal,
-but he was not going to let
-her be bullied by anybody; not
-even by Sir Simon. He stood up
-for his child, and defended her as
-if he had fully approved of her conduct.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll tell you what it is, Bourbonais,
-you’re just as great a fool as
-she is; only she is a child, and
-knows nothing of life, and can’t see
-the madness of what she is doing.
-But you ought to know better. I
-have no patience with you. When
-one thinks of what this marriage
-would do for both of you&mdash;lifting
-you out of penury, restoring your
-daughter to her proper position in
-the world, and securing her future,
-so that, if you were called away to-morrow,
-you need have no care or
-anxiety about her! And to think
-of your backing her up in rejecting
-it all!”</p>
-
-<p>“I did not back her up in it. I
-deplore her having done so,” replied
-Raymond. “But I will not
-coerce her; her happiness is dearer
-to me than her interest or my
-own.”</p>
-
-<p>“What tomfoolery! As if her
-interest and her happiness were not
-identical in this case! A man who
-is fond of her, and rich enough to
-give her everything in life a girl
-could wish for! What does she
-want besides?” demanded Sir Simon
-angrily.</p>
-
-<p>“I believe she wants nothing, except
-to be left with her old father.
-She does not care for Capt. Anwyll,”
-said Raymond; but his French
-mind felt this was very weak argument.</p>
-
-<p>“The devil she doesn’t! Who
-does she care for?” retorted the
-baronet. But he had no sooner
-uttered the words than he regretted
-them; they seemed to recoil on
-him like a stone flung too near. He
-seized his hat, and, muttering impatiently
-something about the nonsense
-of giving into childish fancies,
-etc., strode out of the cottage,
-and did not show himself there for
-several days.</p>
-
-<p>He was pursued by that question
-of his own, “Who did Franceline
-care for?” and made uncomfortable
-by the persistency with which
-it kept dinning in his ears. He had
-made up his mind long ago that the
-failure of his first matrimonial plot
-had had no serious effect on her
-heart or spirits. She was looking
-very delicate when he came back,
-but that was the dulness of the life
-she had been leading during his absence.
-She had picked up considerably
-since then. It was plain to
-everybody she had; her spirits were
-better. There was certainly nothing
-wrong in that direction. How
-could there be when he, Sir Simon,
-so thoroughly desired the contrary,
-and did so much to cheer up the
-child&mdash;and himself into the bargain&mdash;and
-make her forget any impression
-that unlucky Clide might have
-made? Still, no matter how emphatically
-he answered it, the tiresome
-question kept sounding in his
-ears day after day. He could stand
-it no longer. He must go and see
-them at The Lilies&mdash;see Franceline,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
-and read on her innocent young
-face that all was peace within, and
-cheer up his own depressed spirits
-by a talk with Raymond. Nobody
-listened to him and sympathized
-with him as Raymond did. He
-had no worries of his own to distract
-him, for one thing; and if he
-had, he was such a philosophical
-being he would carry them to the
-moon and leave them there. Sir
-Simon was blessed with no such
-happy faculty. He could forget
-his troubles for a while under the
-stimulating balm of cheerful society
-and generous wine; but as soon as
-he was alone they were down on
-him like an army of ants, stinging
-and goading him. Things were
-very gloomy just now, and he could
-less than ever dispense with the
-opiate of sympathetic companionship.
-Lady Rebecca had taken a
-fresh start, and was less likely to
-depart than she had been for the
-last ten years. The duns, who
-watched her ladyship’s fluctuations
-between life and death with almost
-as sincere and breathless an interest
-as her heir, had got wind of this,
-and were up and at him again,
-hunting him like a hare&mdash;the low,
-grasping, insolent hounds! His
-revived money annoyances made
-him the more irascible with Franceline
-for throwing away her chance
-of being for ever saved and protected
-from the like. But he would
-harp no more on that string.</p>
-
-<p>He had been into Dullerton on
-horseback, and, overtaking the postman
-on his way home, he stopped
-to take his letters, and then asked
-if there were any for The Lilies.
-He was going there, and would save
-the postman the walk that far.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, sir! There is one
-for the count.” And the man held
-up a large blue envelope, like a
-lawyer’s letter, which Sir Simon
-thrust into his pocket. He left his
-horse at the Court, and walked on
-through the park, reading his letters
-as he went. Their contents
-were not of the most agreeable, to
-judge by the peevish and angry
-ejaculations that the reader emitted
-in the course of their perusal. He
-had not done when he reached the
-cottage.</p>
-
-<p>“Here’s a letter for you, Bourbonais;
-I’ll finish mine while you’re
-reading it.” He handed the blue
-envelope to his friend, and, flinging
-himself into a chair, became again
-absorbed and ejaculatory.</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais, meanwhile,
-proceeded to open his official-looking
-communication. He surveyed
-it with uplifted eyebrows, examined
-well the large red seal, and scrutinized
-the handwriting of the address,
-before he tore it open. His
-eye ran quickly over the page. A
-nervous twitch contracted his features;
-his hand shook as if a string
-at his elbow had been rudely pulled;
-but he controlled all further
-sign of emotion, and, after reading
-the contents twice over, silently
-folded the letter and replaced it in
-the envelope. Sir Simon had seen
-nothing; he was deep in suppressed
-denunciations of some rascally
-dun.</p>
-
-<p>“Hang me if I know what’s to
-be the end of it, or the end of
-me&mdash;an ounce of lead in my skull,
-most likely!” he burst out, ramming
-the bundle of offending documents
-into his coat-pocket. “The
-brutes are in league to drive me
-mad!”</p>
-
-<p>“Has anything new happened?”
-inquired the count anxiously. “I
-hoped things had arranged themselves
-of late?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not they! How can they when
-these vampires are sucking the
-blood of one? It’s pretty much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
-like sucking a corpse!” he laughed
-sardonically. “The fools! If they
-would but have sense to see that it
-is their own interest not to drive
-me to desperation! But they will
-goad me to do something that will
-make an end of their chance of
-ever being paid!”</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais ought to
-have been hardened to this sort of
-thing; but he was not. The vague
-threats and dark innuendoes always
-alarmed him. He never knew but
-that each crisis which called them
-out might be the supreme one that
-would bring about their fulfilment.
-At such moments he had not the
-heart to rebuke Sir Simon and add
-the bitterness of self-reproach to
-his excited feelings. His look of
-keen distress struck Sir Simon with
-compunction.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! it will blow off, as it has
-done so often before, I suppose,” he
-said, tossing his head. “Here’s a
-letter from L&mdash;&mdash; to say he is coming
-down next week with a whole
-houseful of men to shoot. I’ve not
-seen L&mdash;&mdash; for an age. He’s a delightful
-fellow; he’ll cheer one up.”
-And the baronet heaved a sigh
-from the very depths of his afflicted
-spirit.</p>
-
-<p>“Mon cher, is it wise to be asking
-down crowds of people in this
-way?” asked Raymond dubiously.</p>
-
-<p>“I did not ask them! Don’t I
-tell you they have written to invite
-themselves?”</p>
-
-<p>It was true; but Sir Simon forgot
-how often he had besought his
-friends to do just what they were
-now doing&mdash;to write and say when
-they could come, and to bring as
-many as they liked with them.
-That had always been the way at
-the Court; and he was not the man
-to belie its old traditions. But
-Raymond, who had also his class of
-noble traditions, could not see it.</p>
-
-<p>“Why not write frankly, and,
-without explaining the precise motive,
-say that you cannot at present
-receive any one?”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon gave an impatient
-pshaw!</p>
-
-<p>“Nonsense, my dear Bourbonais,
-nonsense! As if a few fellows
-more or less signified that”&mdash;snapping
-his fingers&mdash;“at the end of
-the year! Besides, what the deuce
-is the good of having a place at all,
-if one can’t have one’s friends
-about one in it? Better shut up at
-once. It’s the only compensation
-a man has; the only thing that
-pulls him through. And then the
-pheasants are there, and must be
-shot. I can’t shoot them all. But
-it’s no use trying to make you take
-an Englishman’s view of the case.
-You simply can’t do it.”</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais agreed, and
-inwardly hoped he never might
-come to see the case as his friend
-did. But, notwithstanding this, Sir
-Simon went on discussing his own
-misfortunes, denouncing the rascality
-and rapacity of the modern
-tradesman, and bemoaning the good
-old times when the world was a fit
-place for a gentleman to live in.
-When he had sufficiently relieved
-his mind on the subject, and drew
-breath, M. de la Bourbonais poured
-what oil of comfort he could on his
-friend’s wounds. He spoke confidently
-of the ultimate demise of
-Lady Rebecca, and expressed equal
-trust in the powers of Mr. Simpson
-to perform once again the meteorological
-feat known to Sir Simon as
-“raising the wind.” Under the influence
-of these soothing abstractions
-the baronet cheered up, and
-before long Richard was himself
-again. He overhauled Raymond’s
-latest work; read aloud some notes
-on Mirabeau which Franceline had
-taken down at his dictation the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
-previous evening, and worked himself
-into a frenzy of indignation at
-the historian’s partiality for that
-thundering demagogue. Raymond
-waxed warm in defence of his hero;
-maintained that at heart Mirabeau
-had wished to save the king; and
-almost lost his philosophical self-control
-when Sir Simon called him
-the master-knave of the Revolution,
-a traitor and a bully, and other hard
-names to the same effect.</p>
-
-<p>“I wash my hands of you, if you
-are going to play panegyrist to that
-pock-marked ruffian!” was the baronet’s
-concluding remark; and he
-flung out his hands, as if he were
-shaking the contamination from his
-fingers. Suddenly his eye fell upon
-the great blue letter, and, abruptly
-dismissing Mirabeau, he said: “By
-the way, what a formidable document
-that is that I brought you
-just now! Has it anything to do
-with the Revolution?”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond shook his head and
-smothered a rising sigh.</p>
-
-<p>“It has been as good as a revolution
-to me, at any rate.”</p>
-
-<p>“My dear Bourbonais, what is
-it? Nothing seriously amiss, I
-hope?” exclaimed Sir Simon, full
-of alarmed interest.</p>
-
-<p>The count took up the letter and
-handed it to him.</p>
-
-<p>“Good heavens! Bankrupt! Can
-pay nothing! How much had you
-in it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nearly two hundred&mdash;the savings
-of the last fourteen years,”
-replied M. de la Bourbonais calmly.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear fellow, I’m heartily
-sorry!” exclaimed his friend in an
-accent of sincere distress; “with
-all my heart I’m sorry! And to
-think of you having read this and
-said nothing, and I raving away
-about my own troubles like a selfish
-dog as I am! Why did you not
-tell me at once?”</p>
-
-<p>“What good would it have done?”
-Raymond shrugged his shoulders,
-and with another involuntary sigh
-threw the letter on the table. “It’s
-hard, though. I was so little prepared
-for it; the house bore such a
-good name.…”</p>
-
-<p>“I should have said it was the
-safest bank in the country. So it
-was, very likely; only one did not
-reckon with the dishonesty of this
-scheming villain of a partner&mdash;if it
-be true that he is the cause of it.”</p>
-
-<p>“No doubt it is; why should
-they tell lies about it? The whole
-affair will be in the papers one of
-these days, I suppose.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you can stand there and
-not curse the villain!”</p>
-
-<p>“What good would cursing him
-do? It would not bring back my
-poor scrapings.” Raymond laughed
-gently. “I dare say his own conscience
-will curse him before long&mdash;the
-unhappy man! But who knows
-what terrible temptation may have
-driven him to the deed? Perhaps
-he got into some difficulty that nothing
-else could extricate him from,
-and he may have had a wife and
-children pulling at his conscience
-by his heart-strings! Libera nos a
-malo, Domine!” And looking upwards,
-Raymond sighed again.</p>
-
-<p>“What a strange being you are,
-Raymond!” exclaimed Sir Simon,
-eyeing him curiously. “Verily, I
-believe your philosophy is worth
-something after all.”</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais laughed outright.
-“Well, it’s worth nearly the
-money to have brought you to
-that!”</p>
-
-<p>“To see you stand there coolly
-and philosophize about the motives
-that may possibly have led an unprincipled
-scoundrel to rob you of
-every penny you possessed! Many
-a man has got a fit from less.”</p>
-
-<p>“Many a fool, perhaps; but it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
-would be a poor sort of man that
-such a blow would send into a fit!”
-returned the count with mild contempt.
-“But I must not be forgetful
-of the difference of conditions,”
-he added quickly. “It all depends
-on what the money is worth to one,
-and what its loss involves. I don’t
-want it at present. It was a little
-hoard for the rainy day; and&mdash;qui
-sait?&mdash;the rainy day may never
-come!”</p>
-
-<p>“No; Franceline may marry a
-rich man,” suggested the baronet,
-not with any intent to wound.</p>
-
-<p>“Just so! I may never want the
-money, and so never be the poorer
-for losing it.”</p>
-
-<p>“And supposing there was at
-this moment some pressing necessity
-for it&mdash;that your child was in
-absolute need of it for some reason
-or other&mdash;what then?” queried Sir
-Simon.</p>
-
-<p>Raymond winced and started
-imperceptibly, as if a pain went
-through him.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank heaven there is no necessity
-to answer that,” he said.
-“We were taught to pray to be delivered
-from temptation; let us be
-thankful when we are, and not set
-imaginary traps for ourselves.”</p>
-
-<p>“Some men are, I believe, born
-proof against temptation; I should
-say you are one of them, Bourbonais,”
-said his friend, looking steadily
-at him.</p>
-
-<p>“You are mistaken,” replied Raymond
-quietly. “I don’t know
-whether any human being may be
-born with that sort of fire-proof
-covering; but I know for certain
-that I was not.”</p>
-
-<p>“Can you, then, conceive yourself
-under a pressure of temptation so
-strong as that your principles, your
-conscience, would give way? Can
-you imagine yourself telling a deliberate
-lie, for instance, or doing a
-deliberate wrong to some one, in
-order to save yourself&mdash;or, better,
-your child&mdash;from some grievous
-harm?”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond thought for a moment,
-as if he were poising a balance in
-his mind before he answered; then
-he said, speaking with slow emphasis,
-as if every word was being
-weighed in the scales: “Yes, I
-can fancy myself giving way, if, at
-such a crisis as you describe, I were
-left to myself, with only my own
-strength to lean on; but I hope I
-should not be left to it. I hope I
-should ask to be delivered from it.”</p>
-
-<p>The humility of the avowal went
-further to deepen Sir Simon’s faith
-in his friend’s integrity and in the
-strength of his principles than the
-boldest self-assertion could have
-done. It informed him, too, of the
-existence of a certain ingredient in
-Raymond’s philosophy which the
-careless and light-hearted man of
-the world had not till then suspected.</p>
-
-<p>“One thing I know,” he said,
-taking up his hat, and extending a
-hand to M. de la Bourbonais: “if
-your conscience were ever to play
-you false, it would make an end of
-my faith in all mankind&mdash;and in
-something more.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>QUESTIONS CONCERNING THE SYLLABUS.<br />
-<span class="smaller">DOCTRINAL AUTHORITY OF THE SYLLABUS.<br />
-FROM LES ETUDES RELIGIEUSES, ETC.</span></h3>
-
-<p>We enter on a work whose practical
-usefulness no one, we suspect,
-will dispute, since it concerns perhaps
-the most memorable act of
-the reign of Pius IX.&mdash;the Syllabus.
-There has been a great deal of discussion
-about the Syllabus&mdash;much
-has been written on it in the way
-both of attack and defence&mdash;but
-it is remarkable that it has scarcely
-been studied at all. The remark
-was made by one of the editors of
-this review, Father Marquigny, in
-the General Congress of Catholic
-Committees at Paris; and, so true
-was it felt to be, that it provoked
-the approving laughter of the whole
-assembly. But to pass by those
-who busy themselves about this
-document without having read it,
-how many are there, even among
-Catholics, who, after having read it,
-have only the most vague and confused
-notions about it&mdash;how many
-who, if they were asked, “What
-does the Syllabus teach you;
-what does it make obligatory on
-you?” would not know what to answer!
-Thus is man constituted. He
-skims willingly over the surface of
-things; but he has no fancy for stopping
-awhile and digging underneath.
-If he is pleased with looking at a
-great many things, he does not
-equally concern himself to gain
-knowledge; because there is no
-true science without labor, and labor
-is troublesome. Yet nothing
-could be more desirable for him
-than to come by this luminous
-entrance from the knowledge to
-the possession of truth. Christian
-faith, when it is living and active,
-necessarily experiences the desire
-of it; for, according to the beautiful
-saying of S. Anselm, it is, by its
-very nature, a seeker of science&mdash;of
-knowing: <i lang="la">Fides quærens intellectum</i>.</p>
-
-<p>But, not to delay ourselves by
-these considerations, is it possible
-to exaggerate the importance of
-the study of the Syllabus in the critical
-circumstances in which we are
-placed? The uncertainty of the
-future; the impossibility of discovering
-a satisfactory course in the
-midst of the shadows which surround
-us; the need of knowing
-what to seize a firm hold of in
-the formidable problems whose obscurity
-agitates, in these days, the
-strongest minds; above all, the furious
-assaults of the enemies of the
-church, and the authority belonging
-to a solemn admonition coming
-to us from the chair of truth&mdash;all
-these things teach us plainly enough
-how culpable it must be for us to
-remain indifferent and to neglect
-the illumination offered to us. The
-teachings of the Vicar of Jesus
-Christ deserve to be meditated on
-at leisure. It is this which inspires
-us with a hope that our work
-will be favorably received. Truth,
-moreover, claims the services of all,
-even of the feeblest, and we must
-not desert her cause for fear our
-ability may not suffice for her defence.</p>
-
-<p>Certainly, no one will expect us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
-here, to give an analytical exposition
-of the eighty propositions condemned
-by Pius IX. Several numbers
-of the <cite>Etudes</cite> would scarcely
-suffice for that. General questions
-dominate all others; it is to the
-careful solution of these that we
-shall devote ourselves. They have
-always appeared to us to need clear
-and decisive explanation. Often
-they are incorrectly proposed, oftener
-still they are ill-defined. The
-object of our efforts will be to
-point out with precision the limits
-within which they must be restrained,
-the sense in which they
-must be accepted, and their necessary
-import; then, to give them, as
-clearly as we are able, a solution
-the most sure and the most
-conformable to first principles. If
-it should be objected that in this
-we are entering on a wide theological
-field, we shall not deny it.
-Proudhon, who desired anarchy in
-things, in principles&mdash;everywhere,
-in fact, except in reasoning&mdash;averred
-that rigorous syllogism lands us inevitably
-at theology. How, then,
-would it be possible not to find it
-in the Syllabus? They, on the
-other hand, who are unceasing in
-their violent attacks on this pontifical
-act, are they not the first to
-provoke theological discussions?
-We are compelled to take their
-ground. As Mgr. Dupanloup judiciously
-observed, in his pamphlet
-on the Encyclical of the 8th December:
-“It is needful to recur to
-first principles in a time when thousands
-of men, and of women even,
-in France talk theology from morning
-to night without knowing much
-about it.”</p>
-
-<p>The first and fundamental question
-to be determined is: What
-is the precise weight to be ascribed
-to the Syllabus, or, rather, what is its
-doctrinal authority? On the manner
-in which we reply to this depends
-the solution of numerous
-practical difficulties which interest
-consciences, and which have more
-than once been the subject of the
-polemic of the journals themselves.
-For example, are the decisions of
-the Syllabus unchangeable; is it
-not possible that they should be
-modified some day; is it certain
-they will never be withdrawn; are
-Catholics obliged to accept them as
-an absolute rule of their beliefs, or
-may they content themselves with
-doing nothing exteriorly in opposition
-to them? It is understood, in
-fact, that if we are in presence of
-an act wherein the successor of S.
-Peter exercises his sovereign and
-infallible authority, the doctrine is
-irrevocably, eternally, fixed without
-possible recall; and, by an inevitable
-corollary, the most complete
-submission, not of the heart only,
-but also of the intelligence, becomes
-an obligation binding on the
-conscience of the Catholic which
-admits of no reserve or subterfuge.
-If, on the contrary, the step taken
-by the Pope is merely an act of
-good administration or discipline,
-the door remains open for hopes
-of future changes, the constraint
-imposed on the minds of men in
-the interior forum is much less rigorous;
-a caviller would remain in
-Catholic unity provided that, with
-the respectful silence so dear to
-the Jansenists, he should also practise
-proper obedience. Now, the
-question, in the terms in which we
-have stated it, although treated of
-at various times by writers of merit,
-has not always been handled in a
-complete manner. Writers have
-been too often contented with generalities,
-with approaching only the
-question, and nothing has been precisely
-determined.</p>
-
-<p>Some have asserted, with much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
-energy, the necessity of this submission,
-but they have not sufficiently
-defined its extent and nature.
-Others have dwelt upon the
-deference and profound respect with
-which every word of the Holy Father
-should be received, but, not having
-given any further explanation, they
-have left us without the necessary
-means for ascertaining what precisely
-they intended. Others have
-ventured to insinuate that the Syllabus
-was perhaps merely an admonition,
-a paternal advice benevolently
-given to some rash children,
-to which such as are docile are happy
-to conform, without feeling themselves
-under the absolute necessity
-of adopting it. Others, more adventurous
-still, have been unwilling
-to see more in it than a mere piece
-of information, an indication. According
-to these, Pius IX., wishing
-to notify to all the bishops of Christendom
-his principal authoritative
-acts since the commencement of his
-pontificate, had caused a list of
-them to be drawn out, and to be
-forwarded to them. The Syllabus
-was this illustrious catalogue, neither
-more nor less.</p>
-
-<p>Is there any excuse to be found
-for this indecision on one hand,
-presumption on the other? We do
-not think so; but they do, we must
-confess, admit of a plausible explanation.
-And here, let it be observed,
-we come to the very marrow
-of the difficulty. The Syllabus was
-drawn out in an unusual form. It
-resembles no pontifical documents
-hitherto published. When, in other
-times, the sovereign pontiffs wished
-to stigmatize erroneous propositions,
-they did not content themselves
-with reproducing the terms
-of them, in order to mark them out
-for the reprobation of the people.
-They were always careful to explain
-the motives of the judgment
-they delivered, and above all to
-formulate with clearness and precision
-the judgment itself. Invariably,
-the texts they singled out for
-condemnation were preceded by
-grave and weighty words, wherein
-were explained the reasons for and
-the nature of the condemnation. In
-the Syllabus, there is nothing of the
-kind. The propositions, stated
-without commentary, are classified
-and distributed under general titles;
-at the end of each of them we read
-the indication of the Encyclical
-Letter, or pontifical Allocution, in
-which it had been previously rebuked.
-For the rest, there is no
-preamble, no conclusion, no discourse
-revealing the mind or intention
-of the pontiff, unless it be the
-following words, inscribed at the
-head of the document, and which
-we here give both in the Latin and
-in English: <i lang="la">Syllabus complectens
-præcipuos nostræ ætatis errores, qui
-notantur in Allocutionibus consistorialibus,
-in Encyclicis, aliisque Apostolicis
-Litteris sanctissimi Domini
-Papæ Pii IX.</i>&mdash;Table, or synopsis,
-containing the principal errors of
-our epoch, noted in the consistorial
-Allocutions, the Encyclicals, and
-other Apostolic Letters of our most
-Holy Father, Pope Pius IX.</p>
-
-<p>We may add, that nowhere does
-the Pope formally express an intention
-of connecting the Syllabus with
-the bull <cite>Quanta cura</cite>, although he
-issued them both on the same day,
-at the same hour, under the same
-circumstances, and upon the same
-subjects. He left it to the public
-common sense and to the faith of
-Christians to decide whether these
-two acts are to be taken together,
-or whether they are to be considered
-as isolated acts having no
-common tie between them.</p>
-
-<p>Such are the facts. Minds, either
-troubled or prejudiced, or, may be,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
-too astute, have drawn from them
-consequences which, if we lay aside
-accessory details of not much importance
-here, we may reduce to
-two principal ones.</p>
-
-<p>It has been stated&mdash;and they
-who hold this language form, as it
-were, the extreme group of opposers&mdash;that
-the Apostolic Letters
-mentioned in the Syllabus are the
-only documents which have authoritative
-force; that the latter, on
-the contrary, has no proper weight
-of its own&mdash;absolutely none, whether
-as a dogmatic definition, or as a
-disciplinary measure, or even as a
-moral and intellectual direction.
-To these assertions, not a little
-hazardous, have been added others
-whose rashness would fain be hidden
-under the veil of rhetorical
-artifices. We will lift the veil, and
-expose the naked assertions. The
-meaning of the Syllabus, it is stated,
-must not be looked for in the Syllabus,
-but in the pontifical letters
-whence it is drawn. The study of
-the letters may be useful; not only
-is that of the Syllabus not so, but it
-is dangerous, because it often leads
-to lamentable exaggerations. To
-know the true doctrines of Rome,
-we must search the letters for them,
-not the Syllabus. In fact, to sum
-up all in a few words, as a condemnation
-of error and a manifestation
-of truth, the letters are all, the Syllabus
-nothing.</p>
-
-<p>The other group, which we may
-describe as the moderates, knows
-how to guard itself against excess.
-It does not diminish the authority
-of the Syllabus to the extent of annihilation.
-Very far from it&mdash;it
-recognizes it and proclaims it aloud;
-but, struck with the peculiar form
-given to the act, it asserts that it is
-impossible to discover in it the
-marks of a dogmatic definition, and,
-to borrow a stock expression, of a
-definition <i lang="la">ex cathedra</i>. The Syllabus,
-it is said, is undoubtedly something
-by itself&mdash;to deny it would
-be ridiculous and absurd. It has a
-weight of its own; who would venture
-to dispute it? It may be
-termed, if you please, an universal
-law of the church, so only that its
-pretensions be not carried further,
-and that it does not claim to be
-considered an infallible decision of
-the Vicar of Jesus Christ.</p>
-
-<p>What, then, have we to do but to
-demonstrate that the Syllabus is by
-itself, and independently of the pontifical
-acts which supply the matter
-of it, a veritable teaching; that this
-teaching obliges consciences because
-it issues from the infallible
-authority of the head of the church?
-We shall not have omitted, it seems
-to us, any of the considerations calculated
-to throw light on this important
-subject if, after having thus
-followed it through all its windings
-and discussed all its difficulties, we
-succeed in illustrating the triple
-character of the pontifical act&mdash;its
-doctrinal character, its obligatory
-character, and its character of infallibility.</p>
-
-<p>To assert that Pius IX., when he
-denounced with so much firmness
-to the Christian world the errors of
-our time, did not propose to teach
-us anything, that he had no intention
-of instructing us, was, even at
-the time of the appearance of the
-Syllabus, to advance a sufficiently
-hardy paradox; but to state it, to
-maintain it, at this time of day,
-when we are the fortunate witnesses
-of the effects produced by that immortal
-act, is to speak against evidence.
-Undoubtedly&mdash;we stated it
-at the commencement&mdash;the Syllabus
-is not sufficiently known nor sufficiently
-studied. Little known as it
-may be, however, it cannot be denied
-that it has already set right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
-many ideas, and corrected and enlightened
-many minds. Thanks to
-it, not learned men only and those
-who are close observers of events,
-but Catholics generally, perceive
-more clearly the dangers with which
-certain doctrines threaten their
-faith. They have been warned,
-they keep themselves on their guard,
-they see more distinctly the course
-they must follow and the shoals
-they must avoid. Pius IX. has
-lighted a torch and placed it in their
-hands.</p>
-
-<p>That being the case, what is the
-use of playing with words, as if vain
-subtleties could destroy the striking
-evidence of this fact? Let them
-say, as often as they please, “The
-Syllabus is only a list, a catalogue,
-a table of contents, a memorial of
-previously condemned propositions”&mdash;what
-good will they have
-done? What matter these denominations,
-more or less disrespectful,
-if it be otherwise demonstrated that
-this list, catalogue, or table of contents
-explains to us exactly what
-we must believe or reject, and is
-imposed upon us as a rule to which
-we owe subjection. The imprudent
-persons who speak thus would
-seem never to have studied the
-monuments of our beliefs. Had
-they considered their nature more
-attentively, would they have allowed
-themselves to indulge in such intemperance
-of language? If they
-would more closely examine them,
-their illusions would soon be dissipated.
-Are not all the series of
-propositions condemned by the
-Popes, veritable lists? Did not Martin
-V. and the Council of Constance,
-Leo X. and S. Pius V., when they
-smote with their anathemas the
-errors of Wycliffe, John Huss,
-Luther, Baïus, draw out catalogues?
-Are not the canons of our councils
-tables in which are inscribed an
-abridgment, summary, or epitome
-of the impious doctrines of heretics?
-Is not every solemn definition,
-every symbol of the faith, a memorial
-designed to remind the Christian
-what he is obliged to believe?
-It is, then, useless to shelter one’s
-self behind words of doubtful meaning,
-and which can only perplex the
-mind without enlightening it. It is
-to assume gratuitously the air of
-men who wish to deceive others and
-to deceive themselves. What is the
-use of it?</p>
-
-<p>They are much mistaken who imagine
-themselves to be proposing a
-serious difficulty when they demand
-how the Syllabus, which, before its
-publication, existed already in the
-letters of the Holy Father, can possibly
-teach us anything new? Let
-us, for the sake of argument, since
-they ask it, reduce it to the humble
-<i lang="fr">rôle</i> of echo or reverberator, if we
-may be pardoned such expressions.
-Let us suppose that its whole action
-consists in repeating what has been
-already said. We ask if an echo
-does not often convey to the ear
-a sound which, without it, would
-not have been heard&mdash;if it does not
-sometimes send back the sound
-stronger, more resounding, and
-even more distinct than the original
-voice? It is not a new voice it
-brings to us. Be it so. But it does
-bring it to us in fact, and is able to
-give it to us again fuller and more
-sonorous.</p>
-
-<p>Comparison, it is true, is not reason.
-We will therefore abandon
-the redundancy of figurative language,
-and reply directly to the
-question put to us. What is wanted
-is to know what the Syllabus is
-in itself, independently of the pontifical
-letters which are its original
-sources. It is as follows:</p>
-
-<p>It is, at least, a new promulgation,
-more universal, more authentic, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
-therefore more efficacious, of previous
-condemnations. Now, it is
-well known, it is a maxim of law,
-that a second promulgation powerfully
-confirms and, in case of need,
-supersedes the first. The history
-of human legislation is full of instances
-of this. When, by reason
-of the negligence of men, of the difficulty
-of the times, of the inconstancy
-or waywardness of peoples, a
-law has fallen into partial neglect
-and oblivion, they in whom the sovereign
-power resides re-establish its
-failing authority by promulgating
-it anew. It revives thus, and if it
-has been defunct it receives a second
-life. What can the greater
-number of Christians know of so
-many scattered condemnations,
-buried, one may say, in the voluminous
-collection of pontifical encyclicals,
-if the Syllabus had not
-revealed them? How could they
-respect them, how obey them?
-It was necessary that they should
-hear them resound, in a manner, a
-second time, in the utterance of the
-great Pontiff, in order to be able
-to submit anew to their authority,
-and to resume a yoke of which many
-of them did not know the very
-existence. The salvation of the
-church required this.</p>
-
-<p>The Syllabus is, however, not
-only a new promulgation, it is often
-a luminous interpretation of the
-original documents to which it relates;
-an interpretation at times so
-necessary that, should it disappear,
-from that moment the meaning of
-those documents would become, on
-many points, obscure or at least
-doubtful. It is worthy of remark
-that in order to deny the doctrinal
-value of the Syllabus the following
-fact is relied on&mdash;that it is unaccompanied
-with any explanation,
-with any reflections. “It is a dry
-nomenclature,” it has been said,
-“of which we cannot determine
-either the character or the end.”
-Now, it happens to be exactly here
-that brevity has brought forth light.
-The eighty-four propositions, in
-fact, isolated from their context,
-appear to us more exact, in stronger
-relief, more decidedly drawn.
-One may perceive that in the bulls
-their forms were, as yet, slightly indistinct;
-here they detach themselves
-vividly, and with remarkable
-vigor. And we wish that all our
-readers were able to judge of this
-for themselves. They would better
-understand, possibly, wherefore
-certain men insist with so much
-energy on our abandoning the
-Syllabus and applying ourselves
-exclusively to the sources&mdash;an excellent
-mode of preventing certain
-questions from becoming too clear.</p>
-
-<p>We will cite a few examples in illustration
-of our argument.</p>
-
-<p>The second paragraph of the
-Syllabus has for its object the condemnation
-of <em>moderate rationalism</em>.
-Some of the seven propositions
-contained in it reproduce the doctrine
-of a man little known in
-France, but much thought of in
-Germany&mdash;a kind of independent
-Catholic, who, before he opposed
-himself to the church, from which
-he is now, we believe, quite separated,
-having transferred his allegiance
-to the pastoral staff of the
-aged Reinkens, wrote some works
-destined to sow among the students
-of the university of Munich the
-damaged grain of infidel science.
-We allude to M. Froschammer, a
-canon who has lost his hood, professor
-of misty philosophy, as befits
-a doctor on the other side of the
-Rhine. Pius IX. rebuked his errors
-in a letter addressed to the
-Archbishop of Munich the 12th
-December, 1862. We will lay aside
-the Syllabus, and take merely the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
-letter. We shall find in it only the
-condemnation of M. Froschammer
-and his works; nothing whatever
-else. But who, in this our country,
-France, has ever opened the works
-of M. Froschammer? The Catholic
-Frenchman who might read the
-letter of Pius IX. knowing nothing
-of the condemned works, would say
-to himself: “This Munich professor
-has doubtless written according
-to his own fancy; he must have
-been rash, as every good German is
-bound to be who loses himself in
-the shadowy mazes of metaphysics.
-After all, there is nothing to show
-that he has written exactly my
-opinions. Why should I trouble
-myself about the letter of Pius
-IX.? It does not concern me.”</p>
-
-<p>Another example. In Paragraph
-X. we find the same principle of
-modern liberalism enunciated in
-the following manner: “In this our
-age, it is no longer expedient that
-the Catholic religion should be
-considered as the only religion of
-the state, to the exclusion of
-all others.” “Ætate hac nostra,
-non amplius expedit religionem
-Catholicam haberi, tanquam unicam
-status religionem, cæteris quibuscumque
-cultibus exclusis.” The
-document to which we refer is a
-consistorial Allocution pronounced
-the 26th July, 1855, and it commences
-with these words, <i lang="la">Nemo
-vestrum</i>. What is this Allocution?
-A solemn protest against the criminality
-of the Spanish government,
-which, in contempt of its word and
-oath, of the rights of the church
-and the eternal laws of justice, had
-dared to perjure itself by abrogating,
-of its own single authority,
-the first and second articles of the
-concordat. Pius IX., full of grief,
-speaks in these terms: “You know,
-venerable brethren, how, in this
-convention, amongst all the decisions
-relative to the interests of the
-Catholic religion, we have, above
-all, established that this holy religion
-should continue to be the only
-religion of the Spanish nation, to
-the exclusion of every other worship.”
-The proposition of the Syllabus
-is not expressed in any other
-way in the Allocution. A man of
-great ability, or a scientific man,
-taking into account the facts, and
-weighing carefully the expressions
-of the Pontiff, might perhaps detect
-it therein. But how many others
-would it wholly escape! How many
-would not perceive it, or, if they
-should chance to catch sight of it,
-would remain in suspense, uncertain
-which was rebuked, the application
-of the doctrine or the doctrine
-itself! How many, in short,
-would be unwilling to recognize, in
-these words, aught but the sorrowful
-complaint of the Vicar of
-Jesus Christ outraged in his dearest
-rights! Return, however, to the
-Syllabus, and that which was obscure
-comes to light and manifests
-itself clearly. The two propositions
-we have cited do not appear,
-in it, confused or uncertain. Detached,
-on the contrary, from the
-particular circumstances which were
-calculated to weaken their meaning,
-and clad in a form more lofty,
-more universal, more abstract, they
-receive an unspeakable signification.
-No hesitation is possible.
-It is no longer the doctrine of M.
-Froschammer, nor the sacrilegious
-usurpations of the Spanish government,
-which are rebuked; it is but
-the doctrine considered in itself
-and in its substance. And since
-the Roman Pontiff, after having isolated
-it, fixes on it a mark of reprobation
-by declaring it erroneous,
-he denounces it to all ages and all
-people as deserving the everlasting
-censure of the church.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>It is for this reason, as far as ourselves,
-at least, are concerned, we
-shall never accept without restriction
-a phrase which we find, under
-one form or other, in all directions,
-even from the pen of writers for
-whom we entertain, in other respects,
-the highest esteem: “The
-Syllabus has only a relative value, a
-value subordinate to that of the
-pontifical documents of which it is
-the epitome.” No! We are unable
-to admit an appreciation of
-it, in our opinion, so full of danger.
-We must not allow ourselves
-to weaken truth if we would maintain
-its salutary dominion over
-souls. They talk of the value of
-the Syllabus. What is meant by
-this? Its authority? It derives
-that most undoubtedly from itself,
-and from the sovereign power of
-him who published it. It is as
-much an act of that supreme authority
-as the letters or encyclicals
-to which it alludes. The meaning
-of the propositions it contains?
-Doubtless many of these, if we
-thus refer to their origin, will receive
-from it a certain illustration.
-Others, and they are not the fewest,
-will either lose there their precision,
-or will rather shed more light upon
-it than they receive from it.
-Between the two assertions&mdash;The
-pontifical letters explain the Syllabus,
-and, The Syllabus explains the
-pontifical letters&mdash;the second is, with
-a few exceptions, the most rigorously
-true. A very simple argument
-demonstrates it. Suppose that, by
-accident or an unforeseen catastrophe,
-one or other of these documents
-were to perish and not leave
-any trace of its existence, which
-is the one whose preservation we
-should most have desired, in order
-that the mind of Pius IX. and the
-judgment of the church concerning
-the errors of our age might be
-transmitted more surely to future
-generations?</p>
-
-<p>Most fertile in subtleties is the
-mind of man when he wishes to escape
-from a duty that molests him.
-We must not, consequently, be astonished
-if many opponents of the
-Syllabus have lighted on ingenious
-distinctions which allow of their almost
-admitting, in theory, the doctrines
-we have just explained, whilst
-contriving to elude their practical
-consequences. For that, what have
-they done? They have acknowledged
-the real authority of this
-grand act in so far as it is a doctrinal
-declaration, or, if it is preferred,
-a manifestation of doctrine;
-adding, nevertheless, that the Pope
-has not imposed it on us in the way
-of obligation, but <em>only in the way
-of guidance</em>. The expression, only
-in the way of guidance, would have
-been a happy enough invention,
-had it been possible, in matter so
-important, and in an act so solemn,
-to imagine a guidance truly efficacious&mdash;such,
-for instance, as the
-Pope could not but wish it to be&mdash;which
-would not be an obligation.
-But we ourselves must avoid reasoning
-with too much subtlety, and
-content ourselves with opposing a
-difficulty more specious than solid
-with a few positive proofs.</p>
-
-<p>We interpose, in the first place,
-the very title of the Syllabus:
-“Table, or abridgment, of the principal
-errors of our time, pointed
-out in consistorial Allocutions,”
-etc. To which we add the titles
-of various paragraphs: “Errors in
-relation to the church”; “Errors
-in relation to civil society”; “Errors
-concerning natural and Christian
-morals,” etc. For the Pope,
-the guardian and protector of truth,
-obliged by the duty of his office to
-hinder the church from suffering
-any decline or any alteration, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
-denounce to the Christian world a
-doctrine by inflicting on it the
-brand of error, is evidently to forbid
-the employment of it, and to
-command all the faithful to eschew
-it. What communion is there between
-light and darkness, between
-life and death? There can be no
-question about guidance or counsel
-when the supreme interest is at
-stake. The duty speaks for itself.
-It is imposed by the nature of
-things. When Pius IX. placed at
-the head of his Syllabus the word
-“error,” and intensified it by adding
-words even more significant,
-when he expressed himself thus,
-“Principal errors of this our age,”
-he as good as said, “Here is death!
-Avoid it.” And if, in order still to
-escape from the consequences, a
-distinction is attempted to be drawn
-between an obligation created by
-the force of circumstances and an
-obligation imposed by the legislator,
-we would wish it to be remembered
-that the same Pius IX. uttered, in
-reference to the Syllabus, the following
-memorable sentence: “When
-the Pope speaks in a solemn act, it
-is to be taken literally; what he
-has said, he intended to say.” For
-our part, we would say, “What the
-Pope has done, he intended to do.”</p>
-
-<p>But what need is there of so
-much discussion? The proof of
-what we have urged is written in
-express terms in the letter accompanying
-the Syllabus&mdash;a letter signed
-by his eminence Cardinal Antonelli,
-secretary of state, and intended
-to make known to the bishops
-the will of His Holiness. It
-is sufficient to quote this decisive
-document, which we do in full, on
-account of its importance:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Most Reverend Excellency</span>:</p>
-
-<p>“Our Holy Father, Pope Pius IX., profoundly
-solicitous for the safety of souls
-and of holy doctrine, has never ceased,
-since the commencement of his pontificate,
-to proscribe and to condemn by his
-encyclicals, his consistorial Allocutions,
-and other apostolic letters already published,
-the most important errors and
-false doctrines, above all, those of our unhappy
-times. But since it may come to
-pass that all the political acts reach not
-every one of the ordinaries, it has seemed
-good to the same sovereign Pontiff that a
-Syllabus should be drawn out of these same
-errors, to be sent to all the bishops of
-the Catholic world, <em>in order that these
-same bishops may have before their eyes all
-the errors and pernicious doctrines which
-have been reproved and condemned by him</em>.
-He has therefore commanded me to see
-that this printed Syllabus be sent to your
-most reverend excellency, on this occasion,
-and at this time. When the same
-sovereign Pontiff, in consequence of his
-great solicitude for the safety and well-being
-of the Catholic Church, and of the
-whole flock which has been divinely committed
-to him by the Lord, has thought
-it expedient to write another encyclical
-letter to all the Catholic bishops, thus
-executing, as is my duty, with all befitting
-zeal and respect, the orders of the same
-Pontiff, I hasten to send to your excellency
-this Syllabus with this letter.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This Syllabus, placed by the order
-of the Holy Father “before the eyes
-of all the bishops,” what else is it,
-we ask, than the text of the law
-brought under the observation of
-the judges charged with the duty
-of causing it to be executed? What
-is it except a rule to which they owe
-allegiance, and from which they
-must not swerve? They must not
-lose sight of it. Wherefore? Because
-it is their duty to be careful
-to promulgate its doctrine in their
-own teaching, because it is their
-duty to repress every rash opinion
-which should dare to raise itself
-against and contradict it. It is
-thus that all have understood the
-commandment given to them. The
-fidelity and unconquerable courage
-of their obedience prove it. What
-has taken place in France? In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
-the midst of the universal emotion
-produced by the appearance of the
-Syllabus, the government, abusing
-its power, had the sad audacity to
-constitute itself judge of it. Through
-the instrumentality of the keeper of
-the seals, minister of justice and of
-public worship, it forbade the publication
-of the pontifical document
-in any pastoral instruction, alleging
-that “it contained propositions
-contrary to the principles on which
-the constitution of the empire rests.”
-What was the unanimous voice of
-the episcopate? Eighty-four letters
-of bishops are in existence to bear
-witness to it. All, united in the
-same mind, opposed to the ministerial
-letter the invincible word of
-the apostles, <i lang="la">Non possumus</i>. All declared
-that they must obey God
-rather then man; and two amongst
-them, ascending courageously their
-cathedral thrones, braved the menaces
-of a susceptible government
-by reading before the assembled
-people that which they had been
-forbidden to print. Could they
-have acted all alike with this
-power truly episcopal, if they had
-not been inspired by the conviction
-that they were fulfilling a duty, and
-putting into practice the adage of
-the Christian knights, “I do my
-duty, happen what may”?</p>
-
-<p>We will insist no further on this
-point. We approach, lastly, the
-question which might well supersede
-all the others. Let us enquire
-whether the Syllabus is an infallible
-decision of the Vicar of Jesus
-Christ.</p>
-
-<p>It appears to us that, in reality,
-we have already settled this question.
-Can a definition <i lang="la">ex cathedra</i>
-be anything else than an instruction
-concerning faith and morals addressed
-to, and imposed on, the
-whole church by her visible head
-upon earth? How can we recognize
-it except by this mark, and is
-not that the idea given to us of it
-by the Council of the Vatican?
-Read over the words, so weighty
-and selected with so much care by
-the fathers of that august assembly,
-and you will find that nothing
-could express more accurately the
-exact and precise notion of it.
-After that, all doubts ought to disappear.
-The Syllabus emanates
-from him who is the master and sovereign
-doctor of Catholic truth. It
-belongs exclusively to faith and
-morals by the nature of the subjects
-of which it treats. It has received
-from the circumstances which have
-accompanied its publication the
-manifest character of an universal
-law of the church. What is wanting
-to it to be an irreformable decision,
-an act without appeal, of the
-infallible authority of Peter?</p>
-
-<p>We know the objection with
-which we shall be met. Peter may
-speak, it will be urged, and not
-wish to exert the plenitude of his
-doctrinal power. Yes; but when
-he restrains thus within voluntary
-limits the exercise of his authority,
-he gives us to understand it clearly.
-He is careful, in order not to
-overtax our weakness, to apprise
-us that, notwithstanding the obligation
-with which he binds consciences,
-it is not in his mind, as
-yet, to deliver a definitive sentence
-upon the doctrine. Frankly, does
-the Syllabus offer to us an indication,
-however faint, of any such reserve?
-What more definitive than
-a judgment formulated in these
-terms: “This is error, that is truth”?
-Is any revision possible of such a
-judgment? Is it possible to be revoked
-or abrogated? Does it not
-settle us necessarily in an absolute
-conclusion which excludes all possibility
-of diminution or of change?
-In a word, can the assertion be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
-ever permissible&mdash;“Error in these
-days, truth in others”? It may be
-added that, by the admission of all,
-friends and enemies&mdash;an admission
-confirmed by the declaration of the
-cardinal secretary of state, the Syllabus
-is an appendix to, and as it
-were a continuation of, the bull
-<cite>Quanta cura</cite>, to which no one can
-reasonably refuse the character of a
-definitive and irreformable decree;
-and it will be understood how unreasonable
-it would be to despise
-the evidence of facts, in order to
-cling to an objection without consistency,
-and which falls of itself for
-want of a solid foundation.</p>
-
-<p>For the rest, the mind of the
-Holy Father is not concealed, as
-has been at times suggested, under
-impenetrable veils. It appears the
-moment we look for it; and we
-find it, for example, in the preparation
-of the Syllabus. It should be
-known that the Syllabus was not
-the work of a day. Pius IX. has
-often asserted this. He had early
-resolved to strike a signal blow, and
-to destroy from top to bottom the
-monstrous edifice of revolutionary
-doctrines. To this end, immediately
-after the proclamation of the
-dogma of the Immaculate Conception,
-he transformed the congregation
-of cardinals and theologians
-who had aided him in the accomplishment
-of that work into a congregation
-charged with the duty of
-singling out for the Apostolic See
-the new errors which, for a century,
-had been ravaging the church of
-God. Ten years passed away;
-encyclicals were published, allocutions
-pronounced; the theologians
-multiplied their labors. At
-length, on the 8th of December, 1864,
-the moment of action appearing to
-have arrived, Pius IX. addressed
-to the world that utterance whose
-prolonged echoes we all have heard.
-The bull <cite>Quanta cura</cite> and the Syllabus
-were promulgated. It is obvious
-that an act so long prepared,
-and with so much anxiety, cannot
-be likened to an ordinary act. The
-object of the Pontiff was not simply
-to check the evil&mdash;it was to uproot
-it. The object of such efforts
-could not have been to determine
-nothing. Who is there, then, who
-will venture to assert that the whole
-thought of an entire reign, and of
-such a reign as that of Pius IX.,
-should miserably collapse in a
-measure without authority and
-without effectiveness? To believe
-it would be an outrage; to affirm
-it would be an insult to the wisdom
-and prudence of the most glorious
-of pontiffs.</p>
-
-<p>But what need is there for searching
-for proofs? A single reflection
-banishes every difficulty. We have
-in the church two means for ascertaining
-whether a pontifical act is,
-or is not, a sovereign definition, an
-infallible decision. We have to
-enquire of the pontiff who is the
-author of it, or the people who subordinate
-themselves to his teaching.
-Neither one nor the other can deceive
-us in the answer they give.
-The divine promise continues equally
-assured in both: in the former,
-when he teaches; in the latter, when
-they listen and obey. It is what
-the theologians call active and passive
-infallibility. Admit that Pius
-IX. had left us in ignorance; that
-he published the Syllabus, but did
-not tell us what amount of assent
-he required of us. Well, none of
-us are in any doubt as to that.
-How many times has not this people
-said, how many times has it not
-repeated with an enthusiasm inspired
-by love, that this Syllabus,
-despised, insulted by the enemies
-of the church, they accept as the
-rule of their beliefs, as the very word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
-of Peter, as the word of life come
-down from heaven to save us. Is
-it not thus that have spoken, one
-after the other, bishops, theologians,
-the learned and the ignorant, the
-mighty and the humble? Who
-amongst us has not heard this language?
-A celebrated doctor, Tanner,
-has said that in order to distinguish
-amongst the teachings of
-the church those which belong to
-its infallible authority, we must
-listen to the judgment of wise men,
-and above all consult the universal
-sentiment of Christians. If we adhere
-to this decision, it reveals to
-us our duties in regard to the
-sovereign act by which Pius IX.
-has withdrawn the world from the
-shadow in which it was losing its
-way, and has prepared for it a future
-of better destinies.</p>
-
-<p>We have the more reason for
-acting thus as hell, by its furious
-hatred, gives us, for its part, a similar
-warning, and proclaims, after its
-fashion, the imperishable grandeur
-of the Syllabus. Neither has it,
-nor have those who serve it, ever
-been under any illusion in this respect.
-They have often revealed
-their mind both by act and word.
-What implacable indignation! what
-torrents of insults! what clamor
-without truce or mercy! And
-when importunate conciliators interfered
-to tell them they were mistaken,
-that the Syllabus was nothing
-or next to nothing, and need not
-provoke so much anger, how well
-they knew how to reply to them
-and to bury them under the weight
-of their contempt! At the end of
-1864, at the moment when the
-struggle occasioned by the promulgation
-of the Encyclical and Syllabus
-was the most furious, an agency
-of Parisian publicity, the agency
-Bullier, could insert the following
-notice: “The Encyclical is not a
-dogmatic bull, but only a doctrinal
-letter. It is observable that the
-Syllabus does not bear the signature
-of the Pope. This Syllabus
-has besides been published in a
-manner to allow us to believe that
-the Holy Father did not intend to
-assign to it a great importance.
-One may conclude, therefore, that
-the propositions which do not attack
-either the dogma or morals of
-Catholics, and do not at all impeach
-faith, are not condemned,
-but merely blamed.” To these
-words, poor in sense, but crafty
-and treacherous in expression, the
-journal <cite>Le Siècle</cite> replied as follows:</p>
-
-<p>“There are now people who tell
-us that the Encyclical is not a dogmatic
-bull, but a doctrinal letter;
-that the eighty propositions are not
-condemned, because they do not
-figure in the Encyclical, but only
-in the Syllabus; that this Syllabus
-does not bear the signature of the
-Pope; that it has been composed
-only by a commission of theologians,
-etc. These people would do
-better to be silent. Encyclical or
-Syllabus, the fact is that the theocracy
-has just hurled as haughty a
-defiance against modern ideas as it
-was possible for it to do. We shall
-soon see what will be the result.”</p>
-
-<p>We will leave them to settle their
-quarrels between themselves. For
-ourselves, listening to these voices
-of heaven and of hell, of the church
-and of the world, which coincide
-in exalting the work eternally blessed
-by Pius IX., we repeat with profounder
-conviction than ever: “Yes,
-the Syllabus is the infallible word
-of Peter; and if our modern society
-is within the reach of cure, it is by
-the Syllabus that it is to be saved!”</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SIR THOMAS MORE.<br />
-<i>A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.</i></h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.</p>
-
-<h4>I.</h4>
-
-<p>In a sumptuous apartment,
-whose magnificent furniture and
-costly adornings announced it as
-the abode of kings, in a large
-Gothic arm-chair&mdash;whose massive
-sides were decorated with carvings
-in ebony and ivory of exquisite
-delicacy, and which was in itself,
-altogether, a model of the most
-skilful workmanship&mdash;there reclined
-the form of a stately and elegant
-woman.</p>
-
-<p>Her small feet, but half-concealed
-beneath the heavy folds of a
-rich blue velvet robe, rested on a
-footstool covered with crimson
-brocade, embroidered with golden
-stars. Bands of pearls adorned her
-beautiful neck, contrasted with its
-dazzling whiteness, and were profusely
-twined amid the raven
-tresses of her luxuriant hair. An
-expression of profound melancholy
-was imprinted upon her noble features;
-her eyes were cast down,
-and the long, drooping lashes
-were heavy with tears which she
-seemed vainly endeavoring to repress,
-as she sat absorbed in
-thought, and nervously entwining
-her snowy fingers with the silk and
-jewelled cord which, according to
-the fashion of that day, she wore
-fastened at her girdle and hanging
-to her feet. This royal personage
-was Catherine of Aragon, daughter
-of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain,
-wife of Henry VIII., and queen of
-England.</p>
-
-<p>The king himself was hurriedly
-pacing to and fro in the apartment,
-with contracted brow, a
-deeply troubled expression gleaming
-from his dark eyes and obscuring,
-with a shade of gloomy fierceness,
-the naturally fine features of
-his face. The ordinary grace of
-his carriage had disappeared; his
-step was hurried and irregular; and
-every movement denoted a man
-laboring under some violent excitement.
-From time to time he approached
-the window, and gazed
-abstractedly into the distance;
-then, returning to Catherine, he
-would address her abruptly, with a
-sharp expression or hurried interrogation,
-neither waiting for nor
-seeming to desire a reply.</p>
-
-<p>While this strange scene was being
-enacted within the palace at
-Greenwich, one of an entirely different
-nature was occurring in the
-courtyard. From the road leading
-from Greenwich a cavalcade approached,
-headed by a personage
-invested with the Roman purple,
-and apparently entitled to and surrounded
-by all the “pomp and
-circumstance” of royalty. He
-was mounted on a richly caparisoned
-mule with silver-plated harness,
-adorned with silver bells
-and tufted with knots of crimson
-silk. This distinguished personage
-was no other than the Archbishop
-of York, the potent minister, who
-united in his person all the dignities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
-both of church and state&mdash;the
-Cardinal Legate, the king’s acknowledged
-favorite, Wolsey. To
-increase his already princely possessions,
-to extend his influence
-and authority, had been this man’s
-constant endeavor, and the sole
-aim of his life. And so complete
-had been his success that he was
-now regarded by all as an object
-of admiration and envy. But how
-greatly mistaken was the world in
-its opinion!</p>
-
-<p>In his heart, Wolsey suffered the
-constant agony of a profound
-humiliation. Compelled to yield
-in all things, and bow with servile
-submission to the haughty will of his
-exacting and imperious master&mdash;who
-by a word, and in a moment,
-could deprive him of his dignities
-and temporalities&mdash;he lived in a
-state of constant dread, fearing to
-lose the patronage and favor to secure
-which he had sacrificed both
-his honor and his conscience.</p>
-
-<p>He was accompanied on this
-journey by a numerous retinue,
-composed of gentlemen attached to
-his household and young pages
-carrying his standard, all of
-whom were eagerly pressing upon
-him the most obsequious attentions.
-They assisted him to dismount, and
-as he approached the palace the
-guards saluted and received him
-with the utmost military deference
-and respect; and with an air of
-grave dignity Wolsey passed on, and
-disappeared beneath the arch of the
-grand stairway.</p>
-
-<p>Let us again return to the royal
-apartments. The king, seeing
-Wolsey arrive, immediately turned
-from the window and, confronting
-Catherine, abruptly exclaimed:</p>
-
-<p>“Come, madam, I wish you to
-retire; the affairs of my kingdom
-demand instantly all my time and
-attention.” And hastily turning to
-the window, he looked eagerly into
-the courtyard.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine arose without uttering
-a word, and approaching the centre
-of the apartment she took from the
-table a small silver bell, and rang
-it twice.</p>
-
-<p>On this table was a magnificent
-cloth cover that she had embroidered
-with her own hands. The
-design represented a tournament,
-in which Henry, who was devoted
-to chivalrous amusements, had borne
-off the prize over all his competitors.
-In those days her husband
-received such presents with grateful
-affection and sincere appreciation,
-and, as the souvenir recalled
-to her mind the joy and happiness
-of the past, tears of bitterness flowed
-afresh from the eyes of the unhappy
-princess.</p>
-
-<p>In answer to her signal, the door
-soon opened, the queen’s ladies in
-waiting appeared, and, arranging
-themselves on either side, stood in
-readiness to follow their royal mistress.
-She passed out, and was
-slowly walking in silence through
-the vast gallery leading to the king’s
-apartments, when Wolsey appeared,
-advancing from the opposite
-end of the gallery, followed by his
-brilliant retinue.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine, then, instantly understood
-why the king had so abruptly
-commanded her to retire. Suddenly
-pausing, she stood transfixed
-and immovable, her soul overwhelmed
-with anguish; but, with a
-countenance calm and impassible,
-she awaited the approach of the
-cardinal, who advanced to salute
-her. In spite of all her efforts,
-however, she could no longer control
-her feelings.</p>
-
-<p>“My lord cardinal,” she exclaimed
-in a low voice, trembling with
-emotion, “go, the king waits for
-you!” And as she uttered these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
-words, the unhappy woman fell
-senseless to the floor.</p>
-
-<p>The hardened soul of the ambitious
-Wolsey was moved to its very
-depths with compassion as he silently
-gazed on the noble woman
-before him, who possessed the unbounded
-love and grateful esteem
-of all her household, not only as
-their sovereign, but also as their
-beneficent mother.</p>
-
-<p>The cloud of ambition that forever
-surrounded him, darkening his
-soul and obscuring his perceptions,
-was for the moment illuminated,
-and for the first time he realized
-the enormity of Henry’s proceedings
-against the queen.</p>
-
-<p>As this sudden light flashed on
-him, he felt remorse for having encouraged
-the divorce, and resolved
-that henceforward all his influence
-should be used to dissuade his sovereign
-from it.</p>
-
-<p>At the approach of the royal favorite
-the ushers hastily made their
-salutations (although the queen
-had been permitted to pass them
-with scarcely the slightest mark of
-respect), and seemed to consider
-the most humble and servile attitude
-they could assume before him
-as only sufficiently respectful. They
-hastened to throw open the doors
-before him as he advanced, and
-Wolsey soon found himself in the
-presence of the king, who awaited
-his arrival in a state of almost
-angry impatience.</p>
-
-<p>“Well! what do you come to
-tell me?” he cried. “Do you bring
-me good news?”</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey, whose opinions had so
-recently undergone a very great
-change, for a moment hesitated.
-“Sire,” he at length replied, “Campeggio,
-the cardinal legate, has arrived.”</p>
-
-<p>“Has he indeed?” said Henry,
-with an ironical smile. “After so
-many unsuccessful applications, we
-have then, at last, obtained this favor.
-Well, I hope now this affair
-will proceed more rapidly; and,
-Wolsey, remember that it is your
-business so entirely to compromise
-and surround this man, that he
-shall not be able even to <em>think</em>
-without my consent and sanction.
-And, above all, beware of the intrigues
-of the queen. Catherine is
-a Spaniard, with an artful, unyielding
-nature and fierce, indomitable
-will. She will, without doubt, make
-the most determined and desperate
-effort to enlist the legate in favor
-of her cause.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is the decision of your majesty
-irrevocable on the subject of this
-divorce?” replied Wolsey, in a hesitating
-and embarrassed manner.
-“The farther we advance, the more
-formidable the accumulating difficulties
-become. I must acknowledge,
-sire, I begin myself to doubt
-of success. Campeggio has already
-declared that, if the queen
-appeals to Rome, he will not refuse
-to present her petition, and defend
-her cause; that he himself will decide
-nothing, and will yield to nothing
-he cannot conscientiously approve.”</p>
-
-<p>On hearing Wolsey express these
-sentiments, Henry’s face flushed
-with rage, and a menacing scowl
-contracted his brow.</p>
-
-<p>“Can it be possible,” he cried,
-“that you dare address me in this
-manner? I will castigate the Pope
-himself if he refuses his sanction.
-He shall measure his power with
-mine! He trembles because
-Charles V. is already on his
-frontier. I will make him tremble
-now, in my turn! I will marry
-Anne Boleyn&mdash;yes, I will marry her
-before the eyes of the whole world!”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you say, sire? Anne
-Boleyn!” cried Wolsey.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Yes, Anne Boleyn!” replied the
-king, regarding Wolsey with his
-usual haughty and contemptuous
-expression. “You know her well.
-She is attached to the service of
-Catherine.”</p>
-
-<p>“Lady Anne Boleyn!” again
-cried Wolsey after a moment’s silence,
-for astonishment had almost
-for the time rendered him
-speechless and breathless. “Lady
-Anne Boleyn! The King of
-England, the great Henry, wishes,
-then, to marry Anne Boleyn!
-Why, if contemplating such a marriage
-as that, did you send me to
-seek the alliance of France, and to
-offer the hand of your daughter in
-marriage to the Duke of Orleans?
-And why did you instruct me to
-declare to Francis I. that your desire
-was to place on the throne of
-England a princess of his blood?
-It was only by these representations
-and promises that I succeeded in
-inducing him to sign the treaty
-which deprived Catherine of all assistance.
-You have assured me of
-your entire approval of these negotiations.
-This alliance with France
-was the only means by which to
-secure for yourself any real defence
-against the Pope and the Emperor.
-Do you suppose that Charles V.
-will quietly permit you to deprive
-his aunt of her position and title
-as queen of England?” Here Wolsey
-paused, wholly transported with
-indignation.</p>
-
-<p>“Charles!” replied the king,
-“Charles? I can easily manage
-and pacify him by fine promises
-and long negotiations. As to our
-Holy Father, I will stir up strife
-enough to fill his hands so full that
-he will not be able to attend to anything
-else. The quarrels of Austria
-and France always end by recoiling
-on his head, and I imagine
-he will not soon forget the sacking
-Rome and his former imprisonment.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, but you forget,” said Wolsey,
-“that the King of France will
-accuse you of flagrant bad faith:
-and will you bring on yourself their
-abhorrence in order to espouse
-Anne Boleyn?”</p>
-
-<p>The minister pronounced these
-last words with an expression and
-in a tone of such contemptuous
-scorn as to arouse in a fearful degree
-the indignation of the king,
-accustomed only to the flattery and
-servile adulation of his courtiers.
-At the same time, he was compelled
-to feel the force of the cardinal’s
-reasoning, although the truth only
-served still more to irritate and
-enrage him.</p>
-
-<p>“Cease, Wolsey!” cried Henry,
-fixing his flashing eyes fiercely upon
-him; “I am not here to listen
-to your complaints. I shall marry
-whom I please; and your head
-shall answer for the fidelity with
-which you assist me in executing
-my will.”</p>
-
-<p>“My head, sire,” replied Wolsey
-courageously, “has long belonged
-to you; my entire life has been devoted
-to your service; and yet I
-shall most probably, in the end,
-have bitter cause to repent having
-always made myself subservient to
-your wishes. But your majesty
-will surely reflect more seriously on
-the dishonor you will necessarily
-incur by such a choice as this.
-The queen’s party will grow stronger
-and stronger, and I tell you
-frankly, I fear lest the legate be inflexible.”</p>
-
-<p>“Wolsey,” cried Henry, elevating
-his voice in a threatening manner,
-“I have already declared my
-intentions&mdash;is that not sufficient?
-As to the legate, I repeat, he must be
-gained over to my cause. Gold and
-flattery will soon secure to us that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
-tender conscience whose scruples
-you now so sorely apprehend.
-Bring him to me to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>“He is suffering too much, sire.
-The cardinal is aged and very infirm;
-I have no idea he will be in a
-condition to see your majesty for
-several days yet.”</p>
-
-<p>“Too long, entirely too long to
-wait!” replied the king. “I must
-see him this very day; he shall be
-compelled to make his appearance.
-I wish you to be present also, as
-we shall discuss affairs of importance,
-and then I shall depart.”</p>
-
-<p>With these words Henry withdrew
-and went to look for a casket,
-of which he alone carried the key,
-and in which he usually kept his
-most valuable and important papers.</p>
-
-<p>During his absence, Wolsey remained
-leaning on the table, before
-which he was seated, absorbed in
-deep and painful reflections. He
-feared Henry too much to oppose
-him long in any of his designs; besides,
-he saw no possible means
-to induce him to change his resolution.
-He had felt, as we have
-seen, a momentary compassion for
-the misfortunes of the queen, but
-that impression had been speedily
-effaced by considerations of far
-greater moment to himself.</p>
-
-<p>As a shrewd diplomatist, he regretted
-the alliance with France;
-besides, he was really too much interested
-in the welfare of the king
-not to deplore his determination to
-contract such a marriage.</p>
-
-<p>But the cause of his deepest
-anxiety was the knowledge he possessed
-of Anne’s great dislike for
-him, and the consciousness that her
-family and counsellors were his rivals
-and enemies; in consequence
-of which he clearly foresaw they
-would induce her to use all the influence
-she possessed with the
-king in order to deprive him of
-Henry’s favor and patronage. He
-was suffering this mental conflict
-when the king reappeared, bearing
-a bronze casket carved with rare
-perfection. Placing it on the table,
-he unlocked it. Among a great
-many papers which it contained
-was a very handsome book, the
-printing beautifully executed, and
-every page ornamented with arabesques
-exquisitely tinted and shaded.
-The cover, formed of two
-metal plates, represented in bass-relief
-the figures of Faith, Hope,
-and Charity as young virgins, bearing
-in their hands and on their foreheads
-the allegorical emblems of
-those sublime Christian virtues.
-Emeralds of immense value, surrounded
-by heavy gold settings,
-adorned the massive gold clasps,
-and also served to hold them firmly
-in their places.</p>
-
-<p>On the back of this book, deeply
-engraven in the metal, were the
-following words: <cite>The Seven Sacraments</cite>.
-Henry had written this work
-in defence of the ancient dogmas of
-the Catholic Church, when first attacked
-by the violent doctrines of
-a monk named Luther. Whether
-the king had really composed it
-himself, or whether he had caused
-it to be secretly done by another,
-and wished to enjoy the reputation
-of being the author, he certainly attached
-great importance to the
-work. Not only had he distributed
-it throughout his own kingdom, but
-had sent it to the Pope and to all
-the German princes, through the
-Dean of Windsor, whom he instructed
-to say that he was ready to defend
-the faith, not only with his
-pen but, if need be, with his sword
-also. It was at that time that he
-asked and obtained from the court
-of Rome the title of “Defender of
-the Faith.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Now he was constantly busy
-with a manuscript, which he took
-from the mysterious casket, containing
-a Treatise on Divorce, and to
-which he every day devoted several
-hours. Greatly pleased with a number
-of arguments he had just found,
-he came to communicate them to
-Wolsey. The latter, after urging
-several objections, at length reminded
-him of the fraudulent and persistent
-means that had been employed
-to extract from the University
-of Oxford an opinion favorable
-to divorce. “And yet,” added the
-cardinal, “it has been found impossible
-to prevent them from increasing
-the number of most important
-restrictions, and thus rendering
-your case exceedingly difficult,
-if not entirely hopeless.”</p>
-
-<p>“What!” said the king, “after
-the good example of the University
-of Cambridge, are we still to encounter
-scruples? Consider it
-well, cardinal, in order not to forget
-the recompense, and, above all,
-the punishment, for that is the
-true secret of success! You will
-also take care to write to the
-Elector Frederick, and say that
-I wait to receive the humble apologies
-of that man Luther, whom he
-has taken so entirely under his protection.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” replied the cardinal, “I
-have received frequent intelligence
-with regard to that matter
-which I have scarcely dared communicate
-to you.”</p>
-
-<p>“And why not?” demanded the
-king. “Do you presume, my lord
-cardinal, that the abuse of an obscure
-and turbulent monk can affect
-me? And besides, to tell you
-the truth, I do not know but
-this man may, after all, be useful to
-me. He has attracted the attention
-of the court of Rome, and may yet
-have to crave my protection.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, sire, since you compel me
-to speak, I will tell you that, far
-from making humble apologies, his
-violence against you has redoubled.
-I have just received a tract he has recently
-published. In it I find many
-passages where, in speaking of you,
-he employs the most abusive epithets
-and expressions. For instance,
-he repeatedly declares that
-your majesty ‘is a fool, an ass, and
-a madman,’ that you are ‘coarser
-than a hog, and more stupid than a
-jackass.’ He speaks with equal
-scurrility of our Holy Father the
-Pope, addressing him, in terms of
-the most unparalleled effrontery,
-this pretended warning, which is
-of course intended simply as an insult:
-‘My petit Paul, my petit
-Pope, my young ass, walk carefully&mdash;it
-is very slippery&mdash;you may fall
-and break your legs. You will
-surely hurt yourself, and then people
-will say, “What the devil does
-this mean? The petit Pope has hurt
-himself.”’ Further on, I find this
-ridiculous comparison, which could
-only emanate from a vile and shameless
-pen: ‘The ass knows that he
-is an ass, the stone knows that it is
-a stone, but these asses of popes
-are unable to recognize themselves
-as asses.’ He concludes at length
-with these words, which fill the
-measure of his impiety and degradation:
-‘If I were ruler of an empire,
-I would make a bundle of the
-Pope and his cardinals, and throw
-them altogether into that little
-pond, the Tuscan Sea. I pledge
-my word that such a bath would
-restore their health, and I pledge
-Jesus Christ as my security!’”</p>
-
-<p>“What fearful blasphemy!” cried
-Henry. “Could a Christian possibly
-be supposed to utter such absurd,
-blasphemous vulgarities? I
-trow not! This pretended ‘reformer’
-of the ‘discipline and abuses of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
-the church’ seems to possess any
-other than an evangelical character.
-No one can doubt his divine
-mission and his Christian charity!
-A man who employs arguments
-like these is too vile and too contemptible
-to be again mentioned in
-my presence. Let me hear no more
-of this intolerable apostate! Proceed
-now with business.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” then continued the cardinal,
-presenting a list to the king,
-“here are the names of several
-candidates I wish you to consider
-for the purpose of appointing
-a treasurer of the exchequer.
-Thomas More has already filled,
-most honorably, a number of offices
-of public trust, and is also a
-man of equal ability and integrity.
-I recommend him to your majesty
-for this office.”</p>
-
-<p>“I approve your selection most
-unhesitatingly,” replied the king.
-“I am extremely fond of More,
-and perfectly satisfied with the
-manner in which he has performed
-his official duties heretofore. You
-will so inform him from me. What
-next?”</p>
-
-<p>“I would also petition your majesty
-that Cromwell be confirmed
-as intendant-general of the monasteries
-latterly transformed into colleges.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who is this Cromwell?” inquired
-Henry. “I have no recollection
-of him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” replied Wolsey, “he is
-of obscure birth, the son of a fuller
-of this city. He served in the
-Italian wars in his youth; afterwards
-he applied himself to the
-study of law. His energies and
-abilities are such as to entitle him
-to the favorable consideration of
-your majesty.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let him be confirmed as you
-desire,” replied the king very graciously,
-as he proceeded to sign the
-different commissions intended for
-the newly appointed officials.</p>
-
-<p>“I wish,” he added, regarding
-Wolsey with a keen, searching
-glance, “that you would find some
-position for a young ecclesiastic
-called Cranmer, who has been
-strongly recommended to me for
-office.”</p>
-
-<p>The brow of the cardinal contracted
-into a heavy frown as he
-heard the name of a man but too
-well known to him. He immediately
-divined that it was from Anne
-Boleyn alone the king had received
-this recommendation.</p>
-
-<p class="break">In the meantime, the queen had
-been carried to her apartments.
-The devoted efforts of the ladies
-of her household, who surrounded
-her with the tenderest ministrations,
-soon recalled her to the consciousness
-and full realization of
-her misery.</p>
-
-<p>Now the night has come, and
-found Catherine still seated before
-the grate, absorbed in deep
-thought. Born under the soft
-skies of Spain, she had never become
-acclimated, nor accustomed
-to the humid, foggy atmosphere of
-England. Like a delicate plant
-torn from its native soil, she sighed
-unceasingly for the balmy air and
-the golden sunlight of her own
-genial southern clime. Such regrets,
-added to the sorrows she had experienced,
-had thrown her into a state
-of habitual melancholy, from which
-nothing could arouse her, and which
-the slightest occurrence sufficed to
-augment. For a long time her
-firmness of character had sustained
-her; but her health beginning to
-fail, and no longer able to arouse the
-energy and courage which had before
-raised her above misfortune, she
-sank beneath the burden and abandoned
-herself to hopeless sorrow.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>As she sat all alone in her chamber,
-she held in her hand a letter
-but recently received from her native
-country. Reading it slowly,
-she mused, dreaming of the days
-of her happy childhood, when suddenly
-the door was opened, and a
-young girl, apparently ten or twelve
-years of age, ran in and threw her
-arms around the neck of the
-queen. The figure of the child
-was slight and graceful; around
-her waist was tied a broad sash of
-rose-colored ribbon, with long ends
-floating over her white muslin
-dress; her beautiful blonde hair
-was drawn back from her forehead
-and fastened with bows of ribbon,
-leaving exposed a lovely little face
-glowing with animation and spirit,
-and a frank, ingenuous expression,
-at once prepossessing and charming.
-This was the Princess Mary,
-the daughter of Henry, the future
-consort of a Spanish prince, to
-whom the shrewd diplomatist Wolsey
-had promised her hand, in
-order to deprive the unfortunate
-mother of this her only remaining
-consolation.</p>
-
-<p>“Why is it, my dearest mamma,”
-she exclaimed, “that you are again
-in tears?” And, laughingly, she
-took the handkerchief from the
-queen and put it to her own eyes,
-pretending to weep.</p>
-
-<p>“See now, this is the way I shall
-do when I am grown up, for it
-seems to me grown-up people are
-always weeping. Oh! I wish I
-could always remain a child, and
-then I should never be miserable!
-Listen, my dear mamma,” she continued,
-again twining her arms
-around her mother’s neck, “why is
-it that you are always weeping and
-so sad? It must surely do you
-harm. Everybody is not like you,
-constantly sighing and in tears, I
-do assure you. Only this morning,
-I was at St. James’ Park with
-Alice, and there I met Lady Anne
-Boleyn; she was laughing gaily as
-she promenaded with a number of
-her friends. I ran immediately to
-her to say good morning, for I was
-really very glad to see her. How
-is it, mamma&mdash;I thought you told
-me she had gone to Kent to visit
-her father?”</p>
-
-<p>“My child,” replied the queen,
-her tears flowing afresh, “what I
-told you was true; but she has
-since returned without my being informed.”</p>
-
-<p>“But, mamma, since this is your
-own house, why has she not yet presented
-herself? I am very sorry she
-has acted so, for I love her better
-than any of the other ladies. She
-told me all she saw in France when
-she travelled with my aunt, the
-Duchess of Suffolk. Oh! how I
-would love to see France. Lady
-Anne says it is a most beautiful
-country. She has described to me
-all the magnificent entertainments
-that King Louis XII. gave in honor
-of my aunt. Mamma, when I
-marry, I want the King of France
-to be my husband.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you&mdash;you also love Anne
-Boleyn?” replied the queen.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! yes, mamma, <em>very</em> much,
-very much indeed!” innocently answered
-the child. “I am very sorry
-she is no longer to be here, she is
-so amiable, and when she plays
-with me she always amuses me so
-much!”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my dear child,” replied
-the queen, “I will tell you now why
-people weep when they are grown
-up, as you say: it is because they
-very often love persons who no
-longer return their affection.”</p>
-
-<p>“And do you believe she no
-longer loves me?” replied the impulsive
-little Mary with a thoughtful
-expression. “And yet, mamma,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
-I kissed her this morning and embraced
-her with all my heart.
-However, I now remember that she
-scarcely spoke a word to me; but
-I had not thought of it before.
-She seemed to be very much embarrassed.
-But why should she no
-longer love me when I still love her
-so dearly?”</p>
-
-<p>As Mary uttered these words, a
-woman entered the room and, whispering
-a moment in the ear of the
-queen, placed a note in her hand.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine arose and approached
-the light; after reading the note,
-she called the young princess and
-requested her to retire to her chamber,
-as she had something to write
-immediately that was very important.</p>
-
-<p>Mary ran gaily to her mother,
-and, after kissing and embracing
-her fondly and tenderly again and
-again, she at last bade her good-night,
-and with a smiling face bounded
-from the room in the same light
-and buoyant manner that she had
-entered it.</p>
-
-<p>“Leonora,” said the queen, “my
-dear child, you have left for my
-sake our beautiful Spain, and have
-ever served me with faithful devotion.
-Listen, now, to the request I
-shall make&mdash;go bring me immediately
-the dress and outer apparel
-belonging to one of the servant
-women.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why so, my lady?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ask no questions&mdash;I have use
-for them; you will accompany me;
-I must go to London this night.”</p>
-
-<p>“Good heaven! my dear mistress,
-what are you saying?” cried
-Leonora in great alarm. “Go to
-London to-night? It is five miles;
-you will never be able to walk it,
-and you well know it would be impossible
-to attempt the journey in
-any other way&mdash;they would detect
-us.”</p>
-
-<p>“Leonora,” answered the queen,
-“I am resolved to go. Faithful
-friends inform me that the legate
-has arrived. Henry will now redouble
-his vigilance. I have but
-one day&mdash;if I lose this opportunity,
-I shall never succeed. My last remaining
-hope rests upon this. If
-you refuse to accompany me, I shall
-go alone.”</p>
-
-<p>“Alone!&mdash;oh! my beloved mistress,”
-cried Leonora, her hands
-clasped and her eyes streaming
-tears, “you can never do this!
-Think of what you are going to
-undertake! If you were recognized,
-the king would be at once
-informed, and we would both be
-lost.”</p>
-
-<p>“Even so, Leonora; but what
-have I to lose? Is it possible for
-me to be made more wretched?
-Shall I abandon this, my last hope?
-No, no, Leonora; I am accountable
-to my children for the honor of
-their birth. Go now, my good girl!
-fly&mdash;there is not a moment to lose.
-Fear nothing; God will protect us!”</p>
-
-<p>Leonora, shrewd and adroit like the
-women of her country, was very soon
-in possession of the desired habiliments.
-Her actions might have
-excited suspicion, perhaps; but entirely
-devoted to the queen as she
-was she felt no fear, and would,
-without hesitation, have exposed
-herself to even greater danger, had
-it been necessary, in the execution
-of her mistress’ wishes.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine feigned to retire; and,
-after her attendants had been dismissed,
-she left the palace, closely
-enveloped in a long brown cloak,
-such as was habitually worn by
-the working-women of that period.
-The faithful Leonora tremblingly
-followed the footsteps of her mistress.
-They breathed more freely
-when they found themselves at
-last beyond the limits of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
-castle. Leonora, however, when
-they entered the road leading
-to London, anxiously reflected on
-the danger of meeting some one who
-would probably recognize them.
-Her excited imagination even began
-to conjure up vague apprehensions
-of the dead, to blend with
-her fears of the living. She also
-dreaded lest the strength of the
-queen should prove unequal to the
-journey&mdash;in fine, she feared everything.
-The sighing winds, the rustling
-leaves, the sound of her own
-footsteps as she walked over the
-stones, startled and filled her with
-apprehension. Very soon there was
-another cause for alarm. The wind
-suddenly arose with violence; dark
-clouds overspread the heavens; the
-moon disappeared; large drops of
-rain began to fall, and soon poured
-in torrents, deluging the earth
-and drenching their garments.</p>
-
-<p>In vain they increased their
-speed; the storm raged with such
-fury they were compelled to take
-refuge under a tree by the roadside.</p>
-
-<p>“My poor Leonora,” said the
-queen, supporting herself against
-the trunk of the tree, whose wide-spread
-branches were being lashed
-and bent by the fury of the storm,
-“I regret now having brought you
-with me. I am already sufficiently
-miserable without the additional
-pain of seeing my burdens laid
-upon others.”</p>
-
-<p>“My beloved lady and mistress,”
-cried Leonora, “I am not half so
-unhappy at this moment as I was
-when I feared my brothers would
-prevent me from following you to
-England. It seems to me I can
-see the vessel now, with its white
-sails unfurled, bearing you away,
-whilst I, standing on the shore, with
-frantic cries, entreated them to let
-me rejoin you. That night, I remember,
-being unable to sleep, I
-went down into the orange-grove,
-the perfume of whose fruits and
-flowers embalmed the air of the
-palace gardens. Wiping away the
-sad tears, I fixed my eyes upon
-your windows, which the light of
-our beautiful skies rendered distinctly
-visible even at night. In
-Spain, at that hour, we can walk
-by the light of the stars; but in
-this land of mud and water, this
-horrid England, one has to be wrapped
-to the ears in furs all the year
-round, or shiver with cold from
-morning till night. This is doubtless
-the reason why the English are
-so dull and so tiresome to others.
-In what a condition is this light
-mantle that covers our heads!” said
-Leonora, shaking the coarse woollen
-cloak dripping with water, that enveloped
-Catherine. “These Englishwomen,”
-she resumed, “know
-no more about the sound of a
-guitar than they do about the
-rays of the sun; they are all just
-as melancholy as moles. There is
-not one of them, except the Princess
-Mary, who seems to have the
-slightest idea of our beautiful
-Spain.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” sighed the queen, “she is
-just as I was at her age. God forbid
-that her future should resemble
-that of her mother!”</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime the storm had
-gradually abated; time pressed,
-and Catherine again resumed her
-journey with renewed courage and
-accelerated speed. In spite of the
-mud, in which she sank at every
-step, she redoubled her efforts.
-For what cannot the strong human
-will accomplish, when opposed to
-feeble, physical strength alone, or
-even when the obstacles interposed
-proceed from the elements themselves?
-She at length arrived at
-the gate of the palace of Lambeth,
-situated on the banks of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
-Thames, where the cardinal Campeggio,
-according to the intelligence
-conveyed to her, would hold
-his court.</p>
-
-<p>The courtyards, the doors, the
-ante-chambers, were thronged with
-servants and attendants, eager and
-active in the performance of their
-duties, for Henry had ordered that
-the cardinal should be entertained
-in a style of princely munificence,
-and entirely free from personal expense.
-All these valets, being
-strangers to their new masters, and
-unaccustomed to their new employments,
-permitted the queen to pass
-without question or detention, not,
-however, without a stare of stupid
-curiosity at her muddy boots and
-draggled garments.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine, being perfectly familiar
-with the interior of the palace,
-had no difficulty in finding the
-legate’s cabinet.</p>
-
-<p>The venerable prelate was slightly
-lame, and in a feeble and precarious
-state of health. She found
-him seated before the fire in a
-large velvet arm-chair, engaged in
-reading his Breviary. His face was
-pale and emaciated; a few thin
-locks of snow-white hair hung
-about his temples. Hearing the
-door open, he rested the book on
-his knee, casting upon the queen,
-as she entered, a keen, penetrating
-glance.</p>
-
-<p>Without hesitation, Catherine advanced
-towards him. “My lord
-cardinal,” she exclaimed, removing
-the hood from her face, “you see
-before you the queen of England,
-the legitimate spouse of Henry
-VIII.”</p>
-
-<p>Hearing these words, Campeggio
-was unable to suppress an exclamation
-of surprise. He arose
-at once to his feet, and, perceiving
-the extraordinary costume in which
-Catherine was arrayed, he cast upon
-her a look of incredulous astonishment.
-He was about to speak
-when she, with great vehemence,
-interrupted him.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she cried, raising her
-hands towards heaven, “I call upon
-God to witness the truth of what I
-say&mdash;I am Queen Catherine! You
-are astonished to see me here at
-this hour, and in this disguise.
-Know, then, that I am a prisoner in
-my own palace; my cruel husband
-would have prevented me from coming
-to you. They tell me you are
-sent to sit in judgment on my case.
-Surely, then, you should be made acquainted
-with my bitter woes and
-grievances. Lend not your aid to
-the cause of injustice and wrong,
-but be the strength of the weak,
-the defence of the innocent. A
-stranger in this country, I have no
-friends; fear of the king drives
-them all from me. I cannot doubt it&mdash;no,
-you will not refuse to hear my
-appeal. You will defend the cause
-of an injured mother and her
-helpless children. What! would
-you be willing to condemn me
-without first hearing my cause&mdash;I,
-the daughter of kings? Have I been
-induced to marry Henry of Lancaster
-to enjoy the honors of royalty,
-when all such honors belong
-to me by my birthright? Catherine
-of Aragon has never been
-unfaithful to her husband; but to-day,
-misled by a criminal passion,
-he wishes to place upon the throne
-of England a shameless woman, to
-deny his own blood, and brand his
-own children with the stigma of
-illegitimacy! Yes, I solemnly
-declare to you that nothing can
-shake my resolution or divert me
-from my purpose! Strong in my
-innocence and in the justice of my
-cause, I will appeal to the whole
-world&mdash;aye, even to God himself!”</p>
-
-<p>The cardinal stood motionless,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
-regarding Catherine with reverence,
-as an expression of haughty indignation
-lighted up her noble features.
-He was struck with admiration
-at her courage and filled with
-compassion for her woes.</p>
-
-<p>“No, madam,” he replied, “I am
-not to be your judge. I know that
-it is but too true that you are surrounded
-by enemies. But let me
-assure you that in me, at least, you
-will not find another. I shall esteem
-myself most happy if, by my
-counsel or influence, I may be of
-service to your cause, and it is from
-the depths of my heart that I beg
-you to rely upon this assurance.”</p>
-
-<p>Catherine would have thanked
-him, but a noise was that moment
-heard of the ushers throwing the
-doors violently open and announcing,
-in a loud voice, “His Eminence
-Cardinal Wolsey!”</p>
-
-<p>“Merciful heaven!” cried Catherine,
-“must this odious man pursue
-me for ever?” She hurriedly
-lowered her veil, and took her place
-at the left of the door, and the moment
-he entered passed out behind
-him. Wolsey glanced at her sharply,
-the appearance of a woman arousing
-instantly a suspicion in his mind,
-but, being compelled to respond
-with politeness to the legate’s salutations,
-he had no time to scrutinize,
-and Catherine escaped without
-being recognized.</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey was passionately fond of
-pomp and pageant. The principal
-positions in his house were filled
-by barons and chevaliers. Among
-these attendants were numbered the
-sons of some of the most distinguished
-families, who, under his
-protection and by the aid of his
-all-powerful patronage and influence,
-aspired to civil or military
-preferment.</p>
-
-<p>On this occasion, he considered
-it necessary to make an unusual
-display of luxurious magnificence.
-It was with great difficulty and
-trepidation that the queen threaded
-her way through the crowd of prelates,
-noblemen, and young gentlemen
-who awaited in the ante-chambers
-the honor of being presented
-by the king’s favorite to the
-cardinal-legate.</p>
-
-<p>The courtyard was filled with
-their brilliant equipages, conspicuous
-among which were observed a
-great number of mules, richly caparisoned,
-and carrying on their
-backs immense chests, covered with
-crimson cloth, trimmed with fringe
-and embroidered with gold.</p>
-
-<p>A crowd of idle valets were engaged
-in conversation at the foot
-of the stairs. The queen, in passing
-them, attracted their attention, exciting
-their ridicule and coarse
-gibes, and she heard them also indulge
-in the most insolent conjectures
-regarding her.</p>
-
-<p>“Who is that woman?” said one.
-“See how dirty she is.” “She
-looks like a beggar, indeed,” cried
-another, addressing himself to one
-of the new-comers engaged to attend
-the legate. “Your master
-receives strange visitors; we, on
-the contrary, have nothing to do
-with people like that, except quickly
-to show them the door.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! ha! you will have your
-hands full,” exclaimed the most insolent
-of the crowd, “if your master
-gives audience to such rabble as
-that.” Emboldened by these remarks,
-one of the porters approached
-the queen, and, rudely
-pushing her, exclaimed with an
-oath: “Well, beldame, what
-brought you here? Take yourself
-off quickly. My lord is rich,
-but his crowns were not made for
-such as you.” These words excited
-the loudest applause from the
-whole crowd, who clapped their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
-hands and cheered vociferously.
-Catherine trembled with mortification.</p>
-
-<p>“It is thus,” she mentally exclaimed,
-“that the poor are received
-in the palaces of the rich.
-And I myself have probably more
-than once, without knowing it, permitted
-them to sigh in vain at the
-gates of my own palace&mdash;mothers
-weeping for their children, or men,
-old and helpless, making a last appeal
-for assistance.”</p>
-
-<p>The queen, entirely absorbed in
-these reflections, together with the
-impression made upon her by the
-appearance of the venerable legate,
-the sudden apparition of Wolsey,
-the snares that had been laid for
-her, and the temptations with which
-they had surrounded her, mechanically
-followed Leonora, to whom
-the fear that her mistress might be
-pursued and arrested seemed to
-have given wings.</p>
-
-<p>“Leonora,” at length cried the
-queen, “I feel that I can go no farther.
-Stop, and let us rest for a
-moment; you walk too quickly.”
-Exhausted with fatigue, she seated
-herself on a rock by the roadside.</p>
-
-<p>She had scarcely rested a moment
-when a magnificent carriage
-passed. The silken curtains were
-drawn back, and the flaming
-torches, carried by couriers, who
-surrounded the carriage, completely
-illuminated the interior. Seated in
-this princely equipage was a young
-girl, brilliant in her youthful beauty
-and the splendor of her elegant
-dress and jewelled adornings. At
-a glance, Catherine recognized
-Anne Boleyn, who was returning
-from a grand entertainment given
-her by the Lord Mayor of London.</p>
-
-<p>She passed like the light; the carriage
-rapidly whirling through the
-mud and water, that flew from the
-wheels and covered anew the already
-soiled garments of the hapless
-queen.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine, completely overcome
-by painful emotions, felt as though
-she were dying.</p>
-
-<p>“Leonora, listen!” she said in a
-faint voice, scarcely audible&mdash;“Leonora,
-come near me&mdash;give me your
-hand; I feel that I am dying! You
-will carry to my daughter my last
-benediction!”</p>
-
-<p>She sought in the darkness the
-hand of Leonora; the film of death
-seemed gathering over her eyes;
-she did not speak, her head sank
-on her shoulder, and poor Leonora
-thought the queen had ceased to
-breathe. She at first held her in
-her arms; but at length, overcome
-by fatigue, she sank upon the earth
-as she vainly endeavored to revive
-her by breathing into her mouth
-her own life-breath. But seeing all
-her efforts to restore animation useless,
-she came to the terrible conclusion
-that Catherine was indeed
-dead.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear mistress,” she cried
-wildly, wringing her hands, “my
-good mistress is dead! What will
-become of me? It is my fault: I
-should have prevented her from
-going. Ah! how miserable I am!”
-And her tears and cries redoubled.
-At length she heard in the distance
-the sound of approaching footsteps,
-and was soon able to distinguish a
-litter, borne by a number of men.
-“Help!” she cried, her hopes reviving
-at the sight, and very soon
-they were near her&mdash;“help! come
-to my assistance; my mistress is
-dying!” Seeing two women, one
-lying on the ground supported in
-the arms of another, who appeared
-half-deranged, the person who occupied
-the litter commanded the
-men to stop immediately, and he
-quickly alighted. It was the king!
-He also was going to London to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
-see the legate; to prevent his
-anxious haste from being known,
-and commented on, he had adopted
-this secret conveyance. When
-she saw him, Leonora was paralyzed
-with apprehension and alarm.
-The king instantly recognized the
-queen and the unhappy Leonora.
-In a furious voice, he demanded
-what she was doing there and
-where she had been. But in vain
-she endeavored to reply&mdash;her
-tongue clove to the roof of her
-mouth&mdash;she was unable to articulate
-a word. Transported with
-rage at her silence, and by what he
-suspected, he immediately had the
-queen placed in the litter, and ordering
-the men to walk slowly, he
-followed them on foot to the palace.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine was carried to her own
-apartment, and soon restored to
-consciousness; but on opening her
-eyes she looked around, vainly
-hoping to behold her faithful Leonora.
-She never saw her again!
-She had been taken away, and the
-punishment that was meted out to
-her, or the fate that befel the unfortunate
-girl, was for ever involved in
-mystery.</p>
-
-<p>While discord filled the royal
-palace with perplexity and sorrow
-a statesman, simple and peaceful,
-awaited, with happiness mingled with
-impatience, the arrival of a friend.
-In his house, all around him seemed
-possessed of redoubled activity.
-The family table was more elegantly
-spread, fresh flowers decorated all
-the apartments, the children ran
-to and fro in the very excess of
-their joy and delight, until at
-length, in every direction, the glad
-announcement was heard, “He has
-come! he has come!” The entire
-family eagerly descended to the
-court-yard to meet and welcome
-the visitor, and Sir Thomas, with
-feelings of inexpressible joy, folded
-in his embrace the Bishop of
-Rochester, the wise and virtuous
-Fisher, whom he loved with the
-purest and tenderest sentiments of
-friendship.</p>
-
-<p>“At last you are here,” he exclaimed;
-“how happy I am to see
-you once more!”</p>
-
-<p>While the good bishop was ascending
-the stairs, surrounded by a
-troop of Sir Thomas’ youngest
-children, Margaret, the eldest
-daughter, came forward and saluted
-him, accompanied by Lady
-More, her step-mother, and young
-William Roper, her affianced husband.
-They all entered the drawing-room
-together, and, after engaging
-a short time in general conversation,
-Sir Thomas bade the children
-retire, that he might converse with
-more freedom.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear friend,” he exclaimed,
-taking the bishop’s hand again in
-his own, “I cannot express the joy
-I feel at your return. I have been
-so long deprived of your presence,
-and I have so many things to say to
-you. But my heart is too full at
-this moment to permit me to express
-all I feel or would say! But
-why have you not answered my
-letters?”</p>
-
-<p>“Your letters!” replied the bishop.
-“Why, it has been more than
-a month since I received one from
-you.”</p>
-
-<p>“How can that be possible unless
-they have been intercepted?”
-replied More. “The king every day
-becomes more and more suspicious.
-If this continues, it will soon be
-considered high treason for a man
-to think.”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot tell what has become
-of your letters. I only know I have
-not received them, and it has caused
-me a great deal of anxiety and apprehension.
-But my friend, since I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
-find you full of life and health, I am
-quite satisfied and happy. Now, let
-me hear all that has happened at
-court; but let me begin by first
-telling you that the king has sent
-me, through Cardinal Wolsey, a
-document he has written on the
-subject of divorce, asking my opinion
-and advice. I have answered
-him with all frankness and candor,
-expressing myself strongly against
-his views. Certainly, there is nothing
-more absurd than the idea of the
-king’s wishing to repudiate, after so
-many years of marriage, a princess
-so virtuous and irreproachable, to
-whom he can find no other objection
-than that she was betrothed to
-his brother, Prince Arthur. Besides,
-a dispensation was obtained
-on that account at the time of his
-marriage, therefore it would seem
-his conscience ought to be perfectly
-satisfied.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, yes, his conscience should
-be entirely at rest,” replied Sir
-Thomas. “And if he sincerely believes
-the marriage has been void
-until this time, why does he not
-make the effort to have it rendered
-legitimate, instead of endeavoring
-to annul it entirely? It is because
-he wishes to marry one of the
-queen’s ladies&mdash;the young Anne
-Boleyn!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! horrible,” cried Fisher.
-“Are you sure, my friend, of what
-you say? Gracious heaven! If I
-had only suspected it! But I assure
-you I have had entire confidence in
-him. I have, therefore, examined the
-subject conscientiously and with the
-greatest possible diligence before
-giving him my reply. Had I suspected
-any such scheme as this, I
-should never have had the patience
-to consider the arguments he has
-presented with so much duplicity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my dear Fisher,” replied
-Sir Thomas, “such is the sad truth,
-and such are the ‘scruples’ that
-disturb the tender conscience of
-the king. To repudiate the queen
-and the Princess Mary, his daughter,
-is his sole aim, his only desire.
-I also have received an order to
-read and give my opinion on the
-divorce question; but I have asked
-to be excused, on the ground of my
-very limited knowledge of theological
-matters. Moreover, all these
-debates and hypocritical petitions
-for advice are entirely absurd and
-unnecessary. Cardinal Campeggio,
-the Pope’s legate, has already arrived
-from Rome, and the queen
-will appear before a court composed
-of the legate and Wolsey,
-together with several other cardinals.”</p>
-
-<p>“The queen brought to trial!”
-cried the Bishop of Rochester.
-“The queen arraigned to hear her
-honor and her rank disputed?
-What a shame upon England!
-Who will speak for her? I would
-give my life to be called to defend
-her! But how is it that Wolsey&mdash;the
-all-powerful Wolsey&mdash;has not
-diverted the king from his unworthy
-purpose?”</p>
-
-<p>“He is said to have tried; but he
-stands in awe of the king. You
-know an ambitious man never opposes
-him to whom he owes his
-power. Nevertheless,” added More,
-“I cannot believe he will dare to
-pronounce the Princess Mary illegitimate.
-For, all laws aside, supposing
-even that the marriage were
-annulled, the good faith in which it
-was contracted invests her birth
-with an inalienable right.”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope it may be so,” said
-Fisher; “but what immense calamities
-this question will bring on our
-unhappy country!”</p>
-
-<p>“I fear so, my friend,” replied
-More. “At present, the people
-are pledged to the queen’s cause;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
-it could not be otherwise, she is so
-much beloved and esteemed; and
-they declare, if the king does succeed
-in repudiating Catherine, that
-he will find it impossible to deprive
-his daughter of her right to reign
-over them.”</p>
-
-<p>“And Wolsey,” replied the bishop
-thoughtfully, “will be called to
-sit in judgment on his sovereign!
-He will be against her! And this
-Campeggio&mdash;what says he in the
-matter?”</p>
-
-<p>“We believe,” replied More,
-“that he will sustain the queen; he
-seems to possess great firmness and
-integrity of character. His first
-interview with the king gave us
-great hopes. Henry has overwhelmed
-him with protestations of
-his entire submission, but all his
-artifices have been frustrated by
-the discernment and prudence of
-the Italian cardinal. His impenetrable
-silence on the subject of his
-own personal opinions has plunged
-the king into despair. Since that
-day he has honored him with incessant
-visits, has offered him the
-rich bishopric of Durham, and
-worked unceasingly to corrupt his
-integrity by promises and flattery.”</p>
-
-<p>“How keenly the queen must
-suffer,” said Fisher&mdash;“she that I
-saw, at the time of her arrival in the
-kingdom, so young, so beautiful,
-and so idolized by Henry!”</p>
-
-<p>“Alas! I think so,” said More.
-“For some time I have found
-it impossible to approach her.
-However, she appears in public as
-usual, always gracious and affable;
-there is no change in her appearance.
-The queen is truly a most
-admirable woman. During your
-absence, an epidemic made its
-appearance called the ‘sweating
-sickness,’ which made terrible ravages.
-Wolsey fled from his palace,
-several noblemen belonging to his
-household having died very suddenly
-of the disease. The king
-was greatly alarmed; he never left
-the queen for a moment, and united
-with her in constant prayers to
-God, firmly believing that her petitions
-would avail to stay the pestilence.
-He immediately despatched
-Anne Boleyn to her father, where
-she was attacked by the disease,
-and truly we would have felt no
-regret at her loss if the Lord in
-taking her had only deigned to
-show mercy to her soul. At one
-time we believed the king had entirely
-reformed, but, alas! the danger
-had scarcely passed when he
-recalled Anne Boleyn, and is again
-estranged from the queen.”</p>
-
-<p>“Death gives us terrible lessons,”
-replied the Bishop of Rochester.
-“In his presence we judge
-of all things wisely. The illusions
-of time are dissipated, to give place
-to the realities of eternity!” As
-the bishop said these words, several
-persons who had called to see Sir
-Thomas entered the room. Conspicuous
-among them was Cromwell, the
-protégé of Wolsey. This man was
-both false and sinister, who made
-use of any means that led to the acquisition
-of fortune. He possessed
-the arts of intrigue and flattery.
-To a profound dissimulation he
-added an air of politeness and a
-knowledge of the world that, in
-general, caused him to be well
-received in society. A close
-scrutiny of his character, however,
-made it evident that there was
-something in the depths of this
-man’s soul rendering him unworthy
-of any confidence. To him, vice
-and virtue were words devoid of
-any meaning. When he found a
-man was no longer necessary to
-his designs, or that he could not in
-some manner use him, he made no
-further effort to conciliate or retain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
-his friendship. He saluted Sir
-Thomas and the Bishop of Rochester
-with a quiet ease, and seated himself
-beside young Cranmer&mdash;“with
-whom I am very well acquainted,”
-he remarked. For Cromwell, like all
-other intriguers, assumed intimacy
-with all the world.</p>
-
-<p>Scarcely had he uttered the
-words when a Mr. Williamson was
-ushered in, who had returned to
-London a few days before, after a
-long absence on the Continent.</p>
-
-<p>“And so you are back, Mr. Williamson,”
-cried More, taking his
-hand. “You are just from Germany,
-I believe? Well, do tell us
-how matters stand in that country.
-It seems, from what we hear,
-everything is in commotion there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your supposition is quite correct,
-sir,” replied Williamson in
-a half-serious, half-jesting manner.
-“The emperor is furious against
-our king, and has sent ambassadors
-to Rome to oppose the divorce.
-But the empire is greatly disturbed
-by religious dissensions, therefore I
-doubt if he will be able to give the
-subject as much attention as he desires.
-New reformers are every
-day springing up. The foremost
-now is Bacer, a Dominican monk;
-then comes Zwingle, the curate
-of Zürich&mdash;where he endeavored
-to abolish the Mass, to the great
-scandal of the people&mdash;and there
-is still another, named Œcolampadius,
-who has joined Zwingle.
-But strangest of all is that these
-reformers, among themselves, agree
-in nothing. The one admits a
-dogma, the other rejects it; to-day
-they think this, to-morrow that.
-Every day some new doctrine is
-promulgated. Luther has a horror
-of Zwingle, and they mutually
-damn each other. The devil
-is no longer able to recognize
-himself. They occasionally try to
-patch up a reconciliation, and agree
-altogether to believe a certain doctrine,
-but the compact is scarcely
-drawn up before the whole affair is
-upset again.”</p>
-
-<p>Cranmer, while listening to this
-discourse, moved uneasily in his
-chair, until at length, unable to restrain
-himself longer, he interrupted
-Williamson in a sharp, cutting
-manner that he endeavored to
-soften.</p>
-
-<p>“In truth, sir, you speak very
-slightingly of these learned and
-distinguished men. And only, it
-seems, because they demand a reform
-in the morals of the clergy,
-and preach against and denounce
-the abuses of the church in the
-matter of indulgences.”</p>
-
-<p>“Beautiful reformers!” cried
-Williamson. “They protest to-day
-against an abuse which they alone
-have felt as such, and that but for
-a very short time. And permit me
-to insist on your observing a fact,
-which it is by no means necessary
-or expedient to forget, that this
-quarrel originated in the displeasure
-felt by Luther because it
-was not to his own order, but to
-that of the Dominicans, to whom
-the distribution of indulgences was
-entrusted.”</p>
-
-<p>“That may be possible, sir,” interrupted
-Cranmer, “but at least
-you will not deny that the immorality
-of the German clergy imperatively
-demanded a thorough reformation.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is quite possible, my dear
-sir, that I may not be ready at once
-to agree with you in your opinions.
-But if the German church has become
-relaxed in morals, it is the
-fault of those only who before
-their elevation to the holy office
-had not, as they were bound to
-have, the true spirit of their vocation.
-But I pray you, on this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
-point of morals, it will not do to
-boast of the severity of these
-new apostles. The disciples of
-Christ left their wives, when called
-to ‘go into all the world and
-preach the Gospel,’ but these men
-begin by taking wives. Luther
-has married a young and beautiful
-nun, an act that has almost
-driven his followers to despair, and
-scandalized and excited the ridicule
-of the whole city. As to
-Bucer, he is already married to his
-second wife!”</p>
-
-<p>“What!” cried the bishop,
-“these men marry! Marry&mdash;in
-the face of the holy church! Do
-they forget the solemn vows of chastity
-they have made?&mdash;for they are
-all either priests or monks.”</p>
-
-<p>“Their vows! Oh! they <em>retract</em>
-their vows, they say. These
-‘vows’ are what they call <em>abuses</em>;
-and the priests of this so severely
-reformed church will hereafter enjoy
-the inestimable privilege of marrying.”</p>
-
-<p>Whilst this conversation had been
-going on, Sir Thomas kept his eyes
-closely fixed on Cranmer, trying to
-discover, from the expression of his
-pale, meagre face, the impression
-made on him by the conversation.
-He was well convinced that latterly
-Cranmer, although he had already
-taken orders, maintained the
-new doctrines with all the influence
-he possessed. And the reason
-why he had so thoroughly espoused
-them was because of a violent
-passion conceived for the daughter
-of Osiander, one of the chief reformers.</p>
-
-<p>Born of a poor and obscure
-family, he had embraced the ecclesiastical
-state entirely from motives
-of interest and ambition, and
-without the slightest vocation, his
-sole aim being to advance his own
-interests and fortunes by every
-possible means, and he had already
-succeeded in ingratiating
-himself with the Earl of Wiltshire,
-who, together with all the family of
-Anne Boleyn, were his devoted patrons
-and friends. It was by these
-means that he was afterwards elevated
-to the archiepiscopal see of
-Canterbury, where we will find him
-servilely devoting himself to the interests
-of Henry VIII., and at last
-dying the death of a traitor.</p>
-
-<p>Influenced by such motives,
-Cranmer warmly defended the new
-doctrines, bringing forward every
-available argument, and ended by
-declaring he thought it infinitely
-better that the priests should be allowed
-to marry than be exposed
-to commit sin.</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing obliges them to commit
-sin,” cried the Bishop of Rochester,
-who was no longer able to maintain
-silence. “On the contrary,
-sir, every law and regulation of
-the discipline and canons of the
-church tends to inspire and promote
-the most immaculate purity
-of morals. These rules may seem
-hard to those who have embraced
-the ecclesiastical state from motives
-of pride and an ambitious self-interest,
-and without having received
-from God the graces necessary for
-the performance of the duties of so
-exalted and holy a ministry. This
-is why we so often have to grieve
-over the misconduct of so many of
-the clergy. But if they complain
-of their condition now, what will
-it be when they have wives and
-families to increase their cares and
-add to their responsibilities? The
-priest!” continued the bishop,
-seeming to penetrate the very
-depths of Cranmer’s narrow, contracted
-soul, “have you ever reflected
-upon the sublimity of his
-vocation? The priest is the father
-of the orphan, the brother of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
-poor, the consoler of the dying, the
-spiritual support of the criminal on
-the scaffold, the merciful judge of
-the assassin in his dungeon. Say,
-do you not think the entire human
-race a family sufficiently large, its
-duties sufficiently extended, its responsibilities,
-wants, and cares sufficiently
-arduous and pressing?
-How could a priest do more, when
-his duty now requires him to devote,
-and give himself entirely to,
-each and every one of the human
-family? No; a priest is a man who
-has made a solemn vow to become
-an angel. If he does not intend to
-fulfil that vow, then let him never
-pronounce it!”</p>
-
-<p>“O Rochester!” cried Sir Thomas
-More, greatly moved, “how I
-delight to hear you express yourself
-in this manner!”</p>
-
-<p>And Sir Thomas spoke with all
-sincerity, for the bishop, without
-being conscious of it, had faithfully
-described his own life and character,
-and those who knew and loved
-him found no difficulty in recognizing
-the portrait.</p>
-
-<p>As Sir Thomas spoke, the door
-again opened, and all arose respectfully
-on seeing the Duke of Norfolk
-appear&mdash;that valiant captain,
-to whom England was indebted for
-her victory gained on the field of
-Flodden. He was accompanied
-by the youngest and best-beloved
-of his sons, the young Henry,
-Earl of Surrey. Even at his very
-tender age, the artless simplicity
-and graceful manners of this beautiful
-child commanded the admiration
-of all, while his brilliant intellect
-and lively imagination announced
-him as the future favorite
-and cherished poet of the age.</p>
-
-<p>Alas! how rapidly fled those
-golden years of peace and happiness.
-Later, and Norfolk, this
-proud father, so happy in being the
-parent of such a son, lived to behold
-the head of that noble boy
-fall upon the scaffold! The crime
-of which Henry VIII. will accuse
-him will be that of having united
-his arms with those of Edward the
-Confessor, whose royal blood mingled
-with that which flowed in his
-own veins.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Thomas approached the duke
-and saluted him with great deference.
-The Bishop of Rochester
-insisted on resigning him his chair,
-but the duke declined, and seated
-himself in the midst of the company.</p>
-
-<p>“I was not aware,” said he, turning
-graciously towards the bishop,
-“that Sir Thomas was enjoying
-such good company. I congratulate
-myself on the return of my
-Lord of Rochester. He will listen,
-I am sure, with lively interest to
-the recital I have come to make;
-for I must inform you, gentlemen, I
-am just from Blackfriars, where the
-king summoned me this morning
-in great haste, to assist, with some
-of the highest dignitaries of the
-kingdom, at the examination of the
-queen before the assembly of cardinals.”</p>
-
-<p>He had scarcely uttered these
-words when an expression of profound
-amazement overspread the
-features of all present. More was
-by no means the least affected.</p>
-
-<p>“The queen!” he cried. “Has
-she then appeared in person? And
-so unexpectedly and rudely summoned!
-They have done this in
-order that she might not be prepared
-with her defence!”</p>
-
-<p>“I know not,” replied the duke;
-“but I shall never be able to forget
-the sad and imposing scene. When
-we entered, the cardinals and the
-two legates were seated on a platform
-covered with purple cloth;
-the king seated at their right. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
-were arranged behind his chair in
-perfect silence. Very soon the
-queen entered, dressed in the deepest
-mourning. She took her seat
-on the left of the platform, facing
-the king. When the king’s name
-was called he arose, and remained
-standing and in silence. But when
-the queen was in her turn summoned,
-she arose, and replied, with
-great dignity, that she boldly protested
-against her judges for three
-important reasons: first, because
-she was a stranger; secondly, because
-they were all in possession of
-royal benefices, which had been bestowed
-on them by her adversary;
-and, thirdly, that she had grave and
-all-important reasons for believing
-that she would not obtain justice
-from a tribunal so constituted. She
-added that she had already appealed
-to the Pope, and would not
-submit to the judgment of this
-court. Having said these words,
-she stood in silence, but when she
-heard them declare her appeal
-should not be submitted to the
-Pope, she passed before the cardinals,
-and, walking proudly across
-the entire hall, she threw herself at
-the feet of the king.</p>
-
-<p>“It would be impossible,” continued
-Norfolk, “to describe the
-emotion excited by this movement.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Sire,’ she cried, with a respectful
-but firm and decided tone,
-‘I beg you to regard me with compassion.
-Pity me as a woman, as
-a stranger without friends on whom
-I can rely, without a single disinterested
-adviser to whom I can turn
-for counsel! I call upon God to
-witness,’ she continued, raising her
-expressive eyes towards heaven,
-‘that I have always been to you a
-loyal, faithful wife, and have made
-it my constant duty to conform in
-all things to your will; that I
-have loved those whom you have
-loved, whether I knew them to be
-my enemies or my friends. For
-many years I have been your wife;
-I am the mother of your children.
-God knows, when I married you,
-I was an unsullied virgin, and since
-that time I have never brought reproach
-on the sanctity of my marriage
-vows. Your own conscience
-bears witness to the truth of what I
-say. If you can find a single fault
-with which to reproach me, then
-will I pledge you my word to bow
-my head in shame, and at once
-leave your presence; but, if not, I
-pray you in God’s holy name to
-render me justice.’</p>
-
-<p>“While she was speaking, a low
-murmur of approbation was heard
-throughout the assembly, followed
-by a long, unbroken silence. The
-king grew deadly pale, but made no
-reply to the queen, who arose, and
-was leaving the hall, when Henry
-made a signal to the Duke of Suffolk
-to detain her. He followed
-her, and made every effort to induce
-her to return, but in vain.
-Turning haughtily round, she said,
-in a tone sufficiently distinct to be
-heard by the entire assembly:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Go, tell the king, your master,
-that until this hour I have never
-disobeyed him, and that I regret
-being compelled to do so now.’</p>
-
-<p>“Saying these words, she immediately
-turned and left the hall,
-followed by her ladies in waiting.</p>
-
-<p>“Her refusal to remain longer in
-the presence of her judges, and the
-touching, unstudied eloquence of
-the appeal she had made, cast the
-tribunal into a state of great embarrassment,
-and the honorable
-judges seemed to wish most heartily
-they had some one else to decide
-for them; when suddenly the
-king arose, and, turning haughtily
-towards them, spoke:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“‘Sirs,’ he said, ‘most cheerfully
-and with perfect confidence do I
-present my testimony, bearing witness
-to the spotless virtue and unsullied
-integrity of the queen. Her
-character, her conduct, in every
-particular, has been above reproach.
-But it is impossible for
-me to live in the state of constant
-anxiety this union causes me to
-suffer. My conscience keeps me
-in continual dread because of having
-married this woman, who was
-the betrothed wife of my own brother.
-I will use no dissimulation,
-my lords; I know very well that
-many of you believe I have been
-persuaded by the Cardinal of York
-to make this appeal for a divorce.
-But I declare in your presence this
-day, this is an entirely false impression,
-and that, on the contrary,
-the cardinal has earnestly contended
-against the scruples which have
-disturbed my soul. But, I declare,
-against my own will, and in spite of
-all my regrets, his opinions have not
-been able to restore to me the tranquillity
-of a heart without reproach.
-I have, in consequence, found it
-necessary to confer again with the
-Bishop of Tarbes, who has, unhappily,
-only confirmed the fears I already
-entertain. I have consulted
-my confessor and many other prelates,
-who have all advised me to
-submit this question to the tribunal
-of our Holy Father, the Sovereign
-Pontiff. To this end, my lords, you
-have been invested by him with his
-own supreme authority and spiritual
-power. I will listen to you as I
-would listen to him&mdash;that is to say,
-with the most entire submission.
-I wish, however, to remind you again
-that my duty towards my subjects
-requires me to prevent whatever
-might have the effect in the future
-of disturbing their tranquillity; and,
-unfortunately, I have but too strong
-reasons for fearing that, at some
-future day, the legitimacy of the
-right of the Princess Mary to the
-throne may be disputed. It is with
-entire confidence that I await your
-solution of a question so important
-to the happiness of my subjects and
-the peace of my kingdom. I have
-no doubt that you will be able
-to remove all the obstacles placed
-in my way.’</p>
-
-<p>“Saying these words, the king retired,
-and started instantly for his
-palace at Greenwich. The noblemen
-generally followed him, but I
-remained to witness the end of what
-proved to be a tumultuous and
-stormy debate. Nevertheless, after
-a long discussion, they decided to
-go on with the investigation, to
-hear the advocates of the queen,
-and continue the proceedings in
-spite of her protest.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who is the queen’s advocate?”
-demanded the Bishop of Rochester.</p>
-
-<p>“He has not yet been appointed,”
-replied Norfolk. “It seems to me
-it would only be just to let the
-queen select her own counsel.”</p>
-
-<p>“But she will refuse, without a
-doubt,” replied Cromwell, “after
-the manner she has adopted to defend
-herself.”</p>
-
-<p>They continued to converse for
-a long time on this subject, which
-filled with anxious apprehension
-the heart of Sir Thomas, as well as
-that of his faithful friend, the good
-Bishop of Rochester.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE BIRTH-PLACE OF S. VINCENT DE PAUL</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent12">“I love all waste</div>
-<div class="verse">And solitary places where we taste</div>
-<div class="verse">The pleasure of believing what we see</div>
-<div class="verse">Is boundless as we wish our souls to be:</div>
-<div class="verse">And such was this wide ocean and the shore</div>
-<div class="verse">More barren than its billows.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;<cite>Shelley.</cite></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The Landes&mdash;that long, desolate
-tract on the western coast of France
-between the Gironde and the
-Adour, with its vast forests of melancholy
-pines, its lone moors and
-solitary deserts, its broad marshes,
-and its dunes of sand that creep
-relentlessly on as if they had life&mdash;appeal
-wonderfully to the imagination,
-that <i lang="fr">folle du logis</i>, as Montaigne
-calls it, but which, in spite
-of him, we love to feed. One may
-travel for hours through these vast
-steppes covered with heather without
-discovering the smoke of a single
-chimney, or anything to relieve
-the monotonous horizon, unless a
-long line of low sand-hills that look
-like billows swayed to and fro in
-the wind; or some low tree standing
-out against the cloudless heavens,
-perhaps half buried in the
-treacherous sands; or a gaunt peasant,
-the very silhouette of a man,
-on his stilts, “five feet above contradiction,”
-like Voltaire’s preacher,
-perhaps with his knitting-work
-in his hands, or a distaff under his
-arm, as if fresh from the feet of Omphale,
-driving his flock before him&mdash;all
-birds of one feather, or sheep
-of one wool; for he is clad in a
-shaggy sheepskin coat, and looks as
-if he needed shearing as much as
-any of them. Or perhaps this
-Knight of the Sable Fleece&mdash;for the
-sheep of the Landes are mostly
-black&mdash;is on one of the small, light
-horses peculiar to the region, said
-to have an infusion of Arabian
-blood&mdash;thanks to the Saracen invaders&mdash;which
-are well adapted to
-picking their way over quaking
-bogs and moving sands, but unfortunately
-are fast degenerating
-from lack of care in maintaining
-the purity of the breed.</p>
-
-<p>During the winter season these
-extensive heaths are converted by
-the prolonged rains into immense
-marshes, as the impermeable <i lang="fr">alios</i>
-within six inches of the surface prevents
-the absorption of moisture.
-The peasant is then obliged to shut
-himself up with his beasts in his
-low, damp cottage, with peat for his
-fuel, a pine torch for his candle,
-brackish water relieved by a dash
-of vinegar for drink, meagre broth,
-corn bread, and perhaps salt fish
-for his dinner. Whole generations
-are said to live under one roof in
-the Landes, so thoroughly are the
-people imbued with the patriarchal
-spirit. Woman has her rights here&mdash;at
-least in the house. The old
-<i lang="fr">dauna</i> (from <i lang="la">domina</i>, perhaps) rules
-the little kingdom with a high hand,
-including her sons and her sons’
-wives down to the remotest generation,
-with undisputed sway. It is
-the very paradise of mothers-in-law.
-The <i lang="la">paterfamilias</i> seldom
-interferes if his soup is ready at
-due time and she makes both ends
-meet at the end of the year, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
-trifle over for a barrel of <i lang="fr">pique-pout</i>
-to be indulged in on extraordinary
-occasions. From La Teste to the
-valley of the Gave this old house-mother
-is queen of the hive, active,
-thrifty, keen of eye, and sharp of
-tongue. The slightest murmur is
-frozen into silence beneath the arctic
-ray of her Poyser-like glance.
-She is a hawk by day and an owl
-by night. She directs the spinning
-and weaving of the wool and flax,
-orders the meals, and superintends
-the wardrobe of the whole colony.
-The land is so poor that it is seldom
-divided among the children.
-The oldest heir becomes head of
-the family, and they all fare better
-by sharing in the general income. In
-unity there is safety&mdash;and economy.</p>
-
-<p>At every door is the clumsy machine
-for breaking the flax that is
-spun during the long winter evenings
-for the sail-makers of Bayonne
-or the weavers of Béarn, whose
-linen, if not equal to that of Flanders,
-is as good as that of Normandy.
-Before every house is also the
-huge oven where the bread is baked
-for general consumption. Flocks
-of geese paddle from pool to pool
-in the marshes, and wild ducks
-breed undisturbed in the fens. In
-the villages on the borders of the
-Landes you hear in the morning a
-sharp whistle that might serve for
-a locomotive. It is the swineherd
-summoning his charge, which issue
-in a gallop, two or three from each
-house, to seek their food in the
-moors. They all come back in the
-evening, and go to their own pens
-to get the bucket of bran that
-awaits them. Feeding thus in the
-wild, their meat acquires a peculiar
-flavor. Most of these animals
-go into the market. The hams of
-Bayonne have always been famous.
-We might say they are historic, for
-Strabo speaks of them.</p>
-
-<p>When the rainy season is at an
-end, these bogs and stagnant pools
-give out a deadly miasma in the
-burning sun, engendering fevers,
-dysentery, and the fatal pellagra.
-The system is rapidly undermined,
-and the peasant seldom attains to
-an advanced age. He marries at
-twenty and is old at forty.</p>
-
-<p>A kind of awe comes over the
-soul in traversing this region, and
-yet it has a certain mysterious attraction
-which draws us on and on,
-as if nature had some marvellous
-secret in store for us. The atmosphere
-is charged with a thin vapor
-that quivers in the blazing sun.
-Strange insects are in the air. A
-sense of the infinite, such as we
-feel in the midst of the ocean,
-comes over us. We grow breathless
-as the air&mdash;grow silent as the
-light that gilds the vast landscape
-before us. One of the greatest of
-the sons of the Landes&mdash;the Père
-de Ravignan&mdash;says: “Solitude is
-the <i lang="fr">patrie des forts</i>: silence is their
-prayer.” One feels how true it is
-in these boundless moors. It is
-the only prayer fit for this realm
-of silence, where one is brought
-closer and closer to the heart of
-nature, and restored, as it were, at
-least in a degree, to the primeval
-relation of man with his Creator.</p>
-
-<p>Carlyle says the finest nations in
-the world, the English and the
-American, are all going away into
-wind and tongue. We recommend a
-season in the Landes, where one
-becomes speedily impressed that
-“silence is the eternal duty of man.”</p>
-
-<p>We wonder such a region should
-be inhabited. The <i lang="fr">daunas</i>, we
-hope, never have courage enough
-to raise their still voices in the open
-air. We fancy wooing carried on
-in true Shaksperian style:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“O Imogen! I’ll speak to thee in silence.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">&mdash;“What should Cordelia do? Love and be silent.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>However this may be, the Landes
-are peopled, though thinly. Here
-and there at immense distances we
-come to a cottage. The men are
-shepherds, fishermen, or <i lang="fr">résiniers</i>,
-as the turpentine-producers are
-called. Pliny, Dioscorides, and
-other ancient writers speak of the
-inhabitants as collecting the yellow
-amber thrown up by the sea, and
-trafficking in beeswax, resin, and
-pitch. The Phœnicians and Carthaginians
-initiated them into the
-mysteries of mining and forging.
-The Moors taught them the value
-of their cork-trees. They still keep
-bees that feed on the purple bells
-of the heather, and sell vast quantities
-of wax for the candles used in
-the churches of France&mdash;<i lang="fr">cierges</i>, as
-they are called, from <i lang="fr">cire vierge</i>&mdash;virgin
-wax, wrought by chaste bees,
-and alone fit for the sacred altars
-of Jesus and Mary.</p>
-
-<p>Ausonius thus speaks of the pursuits
-of the people:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Mercatus ne agitas leviore numismate captans,</div>
-<div class="verse">Insanis quod mox pretiis gravis auctio vendat,</div>
-<div class="verse">Albentisque sevi globulos et pinguia ceræ</div>
-<div class="verse">Pondera, Naryciamque picem, scissamque papyrum</div>
-<div class="verse">Fumantesque olidum paganica lumina tœdas.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>They are devoting more and
-more attention to the production
-of turpentine by planting the maritime
-pine which grew here in the
-days of Strabo, and thereby reclaiming
-the vast tracts of sand thrown
-up by the sea. A priest, the Abbé
-Desbiez, and his brother are said
-to have first conceived the idea of
-reclaiming their native deserts and
-staying the progress of the quicksands
-which had buried so many
-places, and were moving unceasingly
-on at the rate of about twenty-five
-yards a year, threatening the
-destruction of many more. That
-was about a hundred years ago. A
-few years after M. Brémontier, a
-French engineer, tested the plan by
-planting, as far as his means allowed,
-the maritime pine, the strong,
-fibrous roots of which take tenacious
-hold of the slightest crevice
-in the rock, and absorb the least
-nutriment in the soil. But this experiment
-was slow to lead to any
-important result, as the <i lang="fr">pinada</i>, or
-pine plantations, involve an outlay
-that makes no return for years. It
-was not till Louis Philippe’s time
-that the work was carried on with
-any great activity. Napoleon III.
-also greatly extended the plantations&mdash;the
-importance of which became
-generally acknowledged&mdash;not
-only to arrest the progress of the
-sands, but to meet the want of turpentine
-in the market, so long dependent
-on imports.</p>
-
-<p>In ten years the trees begin to yield
-an income. Each acre then furnishes
-twelve or fifteen thousand poles for
-vineyards or the coalman. The prudent
-owner does not tap his trees till
-they are twenty-five years old. By
-that time they are four feet in circumference
-and yield turpentine to
-the value of fifty or sixty francs a
-year. Then the <i lang="fr">résinier</i> comes
-with his hatchet and makes an incision
-low down in the trunk, from
-which the resin flows into an earthern
-jar or a hollow in the ground.
-These jars are emptied at due intervals,
-and the incision from time
-to time is widened. Later, others
-are made parallel to it. These are
-finally extended around the tree.
-With prudence this treatment may
-be continued a century; for this
-species of pine is very hardy if not
-exhausted. When the poor tree is
-near its end, it is hacked without
-any mercy and bled to death. Then
-it is only fit for the sawmill, wood-pile,
-or coal-pit.</p>
-
-<p>Poor and desolate as the Landes
-are, they have had their share of
-great men. “Every path on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
-globe may lead to the door of a
-hero,” says some one. We have
-spoken of La Teste. This was the
-stronghold of the stout old Captals
-de Buch,<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> belonging to the De
-Graillys, one of the historic families
-of the country. No truer specimen
-of the lords of the Landes could
-be found than these old captals,
-who, poor, proud, and adventurous,
-entered the service of the English,
-to whom they remained faithful as
-long as that nation had a foothold
-in the land. Their name and
-deeds are familiar to every reader
-of Froissart. The nearness of
-Bordeaux, and the numerous privileges
-and exemptions granted the
-foresters and herdsmen of the
-Landes, explain the strong attachment
-of the people to the English
-crown. The De Graillys endeavored
-by alliances to aggrandize
-their family, and finally became
-loyal subjects of France under
-Louis XI. They intermarried with
-the Counts of Foix and Béarn, and
-their vast landed possessions were
-at length united with those of the
-house of Albret. Where would
-the latter have been without them?
-And without the Albrets, where the
-Bourbons?</p>
-
-<p>And this reminds us of the Sires
-of Albret, another and still more
-renowned family of the Landes.</p>
-
-<p>Near the source of the Midou,
-among the pine forests of Maremsin,
-you come to a village of a
-thousand people called Labrit, the
-ancient Leporetum, or country of
-hares, whence Lebret, Labrit, and
-Albret. Here rose the house of
-Albret from obscurity to reign at
-last over Navarre and unite the
-most of ancient Aquitaine to the
-crown of France. The history of
-these lords of the heather is a marvel
-of wit and good-luck. Great
-hunters of hares and seekers of
-heiresses, they were always on the
-scent for advantageous alliances,
-not too particular about the age
-or face of the lady, provided they
-won broad lands or a fat barony.
-Once in their clutches, they seldom
-let go. They never allowed a
-daughter to succeed to any inheritance
-belonging to the <i lang="fr">seigneurie</i> of
-Albret as long as there was a male
-descendant. Always receive, and
-never give, was their motto. Their
-daughters had their wealth of
-beauty for a dowry, with a little
-money or a troublesome fief liable
-to reversion.</p>
-
-<p>The Albrets are first heard of in
-the XIth century, when the Benedictine
-abbot of S. Pierre at Condom,
-alarmed for the safety of
-Nérac, one of the abbatial possessions,
-called upon his brother,
-Amanieu d’Albret, for aid. The
-better to defend the monk’s property,
-the Sire of Albret built a castle
-on the left bank of the Baïse,
-and played the <i lang="fr">rôle</i> of protector so
-well that at last his descendants
-are found sole lords of Nérac, on
-the public square of which now
-stands the statue of Henry IV., the
-most glorious of the race. The
-second Amanieu went to the Crusades
-under the banner of Raymond
-of St. Gilles, and entered
-Jerusalem next to Godfrey of Bouillon,
-to whom an old historian
-makes him related, nobody knows
-how. Oihenard says the Albrets
-descended from the old kings of
-Navarre, and a MS. of the XIVth
-century links them with the Counts
-of Bigorre; but this was probably
-to flatter the pride of the house
-after it rose to importance. We
-find a lord of Albret in the service
-of the Black Prince with a thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
-lances (five thousand men),
-and owner of Casteljaloux, Lavazan,
-and somehow of the abbey of
-Sauve-Majour; but not finding the
-English service sufficiently lucrative,
-he passed over to the enemy.
-Charles d’Albret was so able a captain
-that he quartered the lilies of
-France on his shield, and held the
-constable’s sword till the fatal battle
-of Agincourt. Alain d’Albret
-made a fine point in the game by
-marrying Françoise de Bretagne,
-who, though ugly, was the niece
-and only heiress of Jean de Blois,
-lord of Périgord and Limoges.
-His son had still better luck. He
-married Catherine of Navarre. If
-he lost his possessions beyond the
-Pyrenees, he kept the county of
-Foix, and soon added the lands of
-Astarac. Henry I. of Navarre, by
-marrying Margaret of Valois, acquired
-all the spoils of the house
-of Armagnac. Thus the princely
-house of Navarre, under their
-daughter Jeanne, who married Antoine
-de Bourbon, was owner of all
-Gascony and part of Guienne. It
-was Henry IV. of France who
-finally realized the expression of
-the blind faith of the house of Albret
-in its fortune, expressed in the
-prophetic device graven on the
-Château de Coarraze, where he
-passed his boyhood: “<i lang="es">Lo que ha de
-ser no puede faltar</i>”&mdash;That which
-must be will be!</p>
-
-<p>But we have not yet come to the
-door of our hero. There is another
-native of the Landes whose fame
-has gone out through the whole
-earth&mdash;whose whole life and aim
-were in utter contrast with the
-spirit of these old lords of the
-heather. The only armor he ever
-put on was that of righteousness;
-the only sword, that of the truth;
-the only jewel, that which the old
-rabbis say Abraham wore, the light
-of which raised up the bowed down
-and healed the sick, and, after his
-death, was placed among the stars!
-It need not be said we refer to S.
-Vincent de Paul, the great initiator
-of public charity in France, who
-by his benevolence perhaps effected
-as much for the good of the kingdom
-as Richelieu with his political
-genius. He was born during the
-religious conflicts of the XVIth century,
-in the little hamlet of Ranquine,
-in the parish of Pouy, on the
-border of the Landes, a few miles
-from Dax. It must not be supposed
-the <i lang="fr">particule</i> in his name is indicative
-of nobility. In former times
-people who had no name but that
-given them at the baptismal font
-often added the place of their birth
-to prevent confusion. S. Vincent
-was the son of a peasant, and spent
-his childhood in watching his
-father’s scanty flock among the
-moors. The poor cottage in which
-he was born is still standing, and
-near it the gigantic old oak to the
-hollow of which he used to retire
-to pray, both of which are objects
-of veneration to the pious pilgrim
-of all ranks and all lands. Somewhere
-in these vast solitudes&mdash;whether
-among the ruins of Notre
-Dame de Buglose, destroyed a little
-before by the Huguenots, or in his
-secret oratory in the oak, we cannot
-say&mdash;he heard the mysterious voice
-which once whispered to Joan of
-Arc among the forests of Lorraine&mdash;a
-voice difficult to resist, which decided
-his vocation in life. He resolved
-to enter the priesthood. The
-Franciscans of Dax lent him books
-and a cell, and gave him a pittance
-for the love of God; but he finished
-his studies and took his degree at
-Toulouse, as was only discovered
-by papers found after his death, so
-unostentatious was his life. He
-partly defrayed his expenses at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
-Toulouse by becoming the tutor of
-some young noblemen of Buzet.
-Near the latter place was a solitary
-mountain chapel in the woods, not
-far from the banks of the Tarn,
-called Notre Dame de Grâce. Its
-secluded position, the simplicity of
-its decorations, and the devotion
-he experienced in this quiet oratory,
-attracted the pious student, and he
-often retired there to pray before
-the altar of Our Lady of Grace.
-It was there he found strength to
-take upon himself the yoke of the
-priesthood&mdash;a yoke angels might
-fear to bear. It was there, in solitude
-and silence, assisted by a
-priest and a clerk, that he offered
-his first Mass; for, so terrified was he
-by the importance and sublimity of
-this divine function, he had not the
-courage to celebrate it in public.
-This chapel is still standing, and is
-annually crowded with pilgrims on
-the festival of S. Vincent of Paul.
-It is good to kneel on the worn
-flag-stones where the saint once
-prayed, and pour out one’s soul
-before the altar that witnessed the
-fervor of his first Mass. The superior-general
-of the Lazarists visited
-this interesting chapel in 1851, accompanied
-by nearly fifty Sisters
-of Charity. They brought a relic
-of the saint, a chalice and some
-vestments for the use of the chaplain,
-and a bust of S. Vincent for
-the new altar to his memory.</p>
-
-<p>Every step in S. Vincent’s life is
-marked by the unmistakable hand
-of divine Providence. Captured
-in a voyage by Algerine pirates, he
-is sold in the market-place of Tunis,
-that he might learn to sympathize
-with those who are in bonds;
-he falls into the hands of a renegade,
-who, with his whole family,
-is soon converted and makes his
-escape from the country. S. Vincent
-presents them to the papal
-legate at Avignon, and goes to
-Rome, whence he returns, charged
-with a confidential mission by Cardinal
-d’Ossat. He afterwards becomes
-a tutor in the family of the
-Comte de Gondi&mdash;another providential
-event. The count is governor-general
-of the galleys, and
-the owner of vast possessions in
-Normandy. S. Vincent labors
-among the convicts, and, if he cannot
-release them from their bonds,
-he teaches them to bear their sufferings
-in a spirit of expiation. He
-establishes rural missions in Normandy,
-and founds the College of
-Bons-Enfants and the house of S.
-Lazare at Paris.</p>
-
-<p>A holy widow, Mme. Legros, falls
-under his influence, and charitable
-organizations of ladies are formed,
-and sisters for the special service
-of the sick are established at S.
-Nicolas du Chardonnet. Little
-children, abandoned by unnatural
-mothers, are dying of cold and hunger
-in the streets; S. Vincent opens
-a foundling asylum, and during the
-cold winter nights he goes alone
-through the most dangerous quarters
-of old Paris in search of these
-poor waifs of humanity.<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Clerical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
-instruction is needed, and Richelieu,
-at his instance, endows the
-first ecclesiastical seminary. The
-moral condition of the army excites
-the saint’s compassion, and the cardinal
-authorizes missionaries among
-the soldiers. The province of
-Lorraine is suffering from famine.
-Mothers even devour their own
-children. In a short time S. Vincent
-collects sixteen hundred thousand
-livres for their relief. Under
-the regency of Anne of Austria he
-becomes a member of the Council
-of Ecclesiastical Affairs. In the wars
-of the Fronde he is for peace, and
-negotiates between the queen and
-the parliament. The foundation
-of a hospital for old men marks the
-end of his noble, unselfish life. The
-jewel of charity never ceases to
-glow in his breast. It is his great
-bequest to his spiritual children.
-How potent it has been is proved
-by the incalculable good effected
-to this day by the Lazarists, Sisters
-of Charity, and Society of S. Vincent
-of Paul&mdash;beautiful constellations
-in the firmament of the
-church!</p>
-
-<p>In the midst of his honors S.
-Vincent never forgot his humble
-origin, but often referred to it with
-the true spirit of <i lang="la">ama nesciri et pro
-nihilo reputari</i>. Not that he was
-inaccessible to human weakness, but
-he knew how to resist it. We read
-in his interesting <cite>Life</cite> by Abbé
-Maynard that the porter of the
-College of Bons-Enfants informed
-the superior one day that a poorly-clad
-peasant, styling himself his
-nephew, was at the door. S. Vincent
-blushed and ordered him to be
-taken up to his room. Then he
-blushed for having blushed, and,
-going down into the street, embraced
-his nephew and led him into the
-court, where, summoning all the
-professors of the college, he presented
-the confused youth: “Gentlemen,
-this is the most respectable
-of my family.” And he continued,
-during the remainder of his visit, to
-introduce him to visitors of every
-rank as if he were some great lord,
-in order to avenge his first movement
-of pride. And when, not
-long after, he made a retreat, he
-publicly humbled himself before his
-associates: “Brethren, pray for
-one who through pride wished to
-take his nephew secretly to his
-room because he was a peasant and
-poorly dressed.”</p>
-
-<p>S. Vincent returned only once to
-his native place after he began his
-apostolic career. This was at the
-close of a mission among the convicts
-of Bordeaux. During his visit
-he solemnly renewed his baptismal
-vows in the village church where
-he had been baptized and made his
-First Communion, and on the day
-of his departure he went with bare
-feet on a pilgrimage to Notre
-Dame de Buglose, among whose
-ruins he had so often prayed in his
-childhood, but which was now rebuilt.
-He was accompanied, not
-only by his relatives, but by all the
-villagers, who were justly proud of
-their countryman. He sang a solemn
-Mass at the altar of Our
-Lady, and afterwards assembled
-the whole family around the table
-for a modest repast, at the end of
-which he rose to take leave of
-them. They all fell at his feet and
-implored his blessing. “Yes, I
-give you my blessing,” replied he,
-much affected, “but I bless you
-poor and humble, and beg our
-Lord to continue among you the
-grace of holy poverty. Never
-abandon the condition in which
-you were born. This is my earnest
-recommendation, which I beg
-you to transmit as a heritage to
-your children. Farewell for ever!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>His advice was religiously kept.
-By mutual assistance his family
-might have risen above its original
-obscurity. Some of his mother’s
-family were advocates at the parliament
-of Bordeaux, and it would
-have been easy to obtain offices
-that would have given them, at
-least, prominence in their own village;
-but they clung to their rural
-pursuits. The advice of their
-sainted relative was too precious a
-legacy to be renounced.</p>
-
-<p>Not that S. Vincent was insensible
-to their condition or unambitious
-by nature, but he knew the
-value of the hidden life and the
-perils of worldly ambition. We
-have on this occasion another
-glimpse of his struggles with nature.
-Hardly had he left his relatives
-before he gave vent to his
-emotion in a flood of tears, and he
-almost reproached himself for leaving
-them in their poverty. But let
-us quote his own words: “The
-day I left home I was so filled
-with sorrow at separating from my
-poor relatives that I wept as I
-went along&mdash;wept almost incessantly.
-Then came the thought of
-aiding them and bettering their
-condition; of giving so much to
-this one, and so much to that.
-While my heart thus melted within
-me, I divided all I had with them.
-Yes, even what I had not; and I
-say this to my confusion, for God
-perhaps permitted it to make me
-comprehend the value of the evangelical
-counsel. For three months
-I felt this importunate longing to
-promote the interests of my brothers
-and sisters. It constantly
-weighed on my poor heart. During
-this time, when I felt a little relieved,
-I prayed God to deliver me
-from this temptation, and persevered
-so long in my prayer that at
-length he had pity on me and took
-away this excessive tenderness for
-my relations; and though they have
-been needy, and still are, the good
-God has given me the grace to
-commit them to his Providence,
-and to regard them as better off
-than if they were in an easier condition.”</p>
-
-<p>S. Vincent was equally rigid as
-to his own personal necessities, as
-may be seen by the following
-words from his own lips: “When
-I put a morsel of bread to my
-mouth, I say to myself: Wretched
-man, hast thou earned the bread
-thou art going to eat&mdash;the bread
-that comes from the labor of the
-poor?”</p>
-
-<p>Such is the spirit of the saints.
-In these days, when most people
-are struggling to rise in the world,
-many by undue means, and to an
-unlawful height, it is well to recall
-this holy example; it is good to get
-a glimpse into the heart of a saint,
-and to remember there are still
-many in the world and in the cloister
-who strive to counterbalance all
-this ambition and love of display
-by their humility and self-denial.</p>
-
-<p>Immediately after S. Vincent’s
-canonization, in 1737, the inhabitants
-of Pouy, desirous of testifying
-their veneration for his memory,
-removed the house where he
-was born a short distance from its
-original place, without changing its
-primitive form in the least, and
-erected a small chapel on the site,
-till means could be obtained for
-building a church. The great
-Revolution put a stop to the plan.
-In 1821 a new effort was made, a
-committee appointed, and a subscription
-begun which soon amounted
-to thirty thousand francs; but
-at the revolution of 1830 material
-interests prevailed, and the funds
-were appropriated to the construction
-of roads.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>The ecclesiastical authorities at
-length took the matter in hand, and
-formed the plan, not only of building
-a church, but surrounding it
-with the various charitable institutions
-founded by S. Vincent&mdash;a
-hospital for the aged, asylums for
-orphans and foundlings, and perhaps
-a <i lang="fr">ferme modèle</i> in the Landes.</p>
-
-<p>In 1850 the Bishop of Aire appealed
-to the Catholic world for
-aid. Pius IX. blessed the undertaking.
-On the Festival of the
-Transfiguration, 1851, the corner-stone
-was laid by the bishop, assisted
-by Père Etienne, the superior-general
-of the Lazarists. Napoleon
-III. and the Empress Eugénie
-largely contributed to the work, and
-in a few years the church and hospice
-were completed. The consecration
-took place April 24, 1864, in
-the presence of an immense multitude
-from all parts of the country.
-From three o’clock in the morning
-there were Masses at a dozen altars,
-and the hands of the priests were
-fatigued in administering the holy
-Eucharist. Among the communicants
-were eight hundred members
-of the Society of S. Vincent de
-Paul, from Bordeaux, who manifested
-their joy by enthusiastic hymns.
-At eight in the forenoon Père
-Etienne, surrounded by Lazarists
-and Sisters of Charity, celebrated
-the Holy Sacrifice at the newly-consecrated
-high altar, and several
-novices made their vows, among
-whom was a young African, a cousin
-of Abdel Kader. A <i lang="fr">châsse</i> containing
-relics of S. Vincent was
-brought in solemn procession from
-the parish church of Pouy, where
-he had been held at the font and
-received the divine Guest in his
-heart for the first time. The road
-was strewn with flowers and green
-leaves. The weather was delightful
-and the heavens radiant. At
-the head of the procession was
-borne a banner, on which S. Vincent
-was represented as a shepherd,
-followed by all the orphans of the
-new asylum and the old men of
-the hospice. Then came a long
-line of <i lang="fr">Enfants de Marie</i> dressed in
-white, carrying oriflammes, followed
-by the students of the colleges
-of Aire and Dax. Behind were
-fifteen hundred members of the
-Society of S. Vincent de Paul, and
-a file of sisters of various orders, including
-eight hundred Sisters of
-Charity, with a great number of
-Lazarists in the rear. Then came
-thirty relatives of S. Vincent, wearing
-the peasant’s costume of the
-district, heirs of his virtues and
-simplicity&mdash;<i lang="fr">Noblesse oblige</i>. Then
-the Polish Lazarists with the flag
-of their nation, beloved by S. Vincent,
-and after them the clergy of
-the diocese and a great number
-from foreign parts, among whom
-was M. Eugène Boré, of Constantinople,
-now superior-general of the
-two orders founded by the saint.
-The shrine came next, surrounded
-by Lazarists and Sisters of Charity.
-Behind the canons and other dignitaries
-came eight bishops, four
-archbishops, and Cardinal Donnet
-of Bordeaux, followed by the civil
-authorities and an immense multitude
-of people nearly two miles in
-extent, with banners bearing touching
-devices.</p>
-
-<p>This grand procession of more
-than thirty thousand people proceeded
-with the utmost order, to
-the sound of chants, instrumental
-music, and salutes from cannon
-from time to time, to the square in
-front of the new church, where, before
-an altar erected at the foot of
-S. Vincent’s oak, they were addressed
-by Père Etienne in an eloquent,
-thrilling discourse, admirable
-in style and glowing with imagery,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
-suited to the fervid nature of
-this southern region. He spoke of
-S. Vincent, not only as the man of
-his age with a providential mission,
-but of a type suited to all ages.</p>
-
-<p>The man who loved his brethren,
-reconciled enemies, brought the
-rich and poor into one common
-field imbued with a common idea
-of sacrifice and devotion, fed the
-orphan, aided the needy, and wiped
-away the tears of the sufferer, is
-the man of all times, and especially
-of an age marked by the fomentation
-of political passions.</p>
-
-<p>The old oak was gay with streamers,
-the hollow was fitted up as an
-oratory, before which Cardinal Donnet
-said Mass in the open air, after
-which thousands of voices joined
-in the solemn <cite>Te Deum Laudamus</cite>,
-and the thirteen prelates terminated
-the grand ceremony by giving their
-united benediction to the kneeling
-crowd.</p>
-
-<p>A whole flock of Sisters of Charity,
-with their dove-like plumage
-of white and gray, took the same
-train as ourselves the pleasant September
-morning we left Bayonne
-for the birth-place of S. Vincent of
-Paul. They seemed like birds of
-good omen. They were also going
-to the <i lang="fr">Berceau</i> (cradle), as they
-called it, not on a mere pilgrimage,
-but to make their annual retreat.
-What for, the saints alone know;
-for they looked like the personification
-of every amiable virtue, and
-quite ready to spread their white
-wings and take flight for heaven.
-It was refreshing to watch their
-gentle, unaffected ways, wholly devoid
-of those demure airs of superior
-sanctity and repulsive austerity
-so exasperating to us worldly-minded
-people. They all made the
-sign of the cross as the train moved
-out of the station&mdash;and a good honest
-one it was, as if they loved the
-sign of the Son of Man, and delighted
-in wearing it on their breast.
-Some had come from St. Sebastian,
-others from St. Jean de Luz, and
-several from Bayonne; but they
-mingled like sisters of one great
-family of charity. Some chatted,
-some took out their rosaries and
-went to praying with the most
-cheerful air imaginable, as if it were
-a new refreshment just allowed
-them, instead of being the daily
-food of their souls; and others
-seemed to be studying with interest
-the peculiar region we were now
-entering. For we were now in the
-Landes&mdash;low, level, monotonous,
-and melancholy. The railway lay
-through vast forests of dusky-pines,
-varied by willows and cork-trees,
-with here and there, at long distances,
-an open tract where ripened
-scanty fields of corn and millet
-around the low cottages of the peasants.
-The sides of the road were
-purple with heather. The air was
-full of aromatic odors. Each pine
-had its broad gash cut by some
-merciless hand, and its life-blood
-was slowly trickling down its side.
-Passing through this sad forest, one
-could not help thinking of the drear,
-mystic wood in Dante’s <cite>Inferno</cite>,
-where every tree encloses a human
-soul with infinite capacity of suffering,
-and at every gash cut, every
-branch lopped off, utters a despairing
-cry:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent6">“Why pluck’st thou me?</div>
-<div class="verse">Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side,</div>
-<div class="verse">These words it added: Wherefore tear’st me thus?</div>
-<div class="verse">Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast?</div>
-<div class="verse">Men once were we that now are rooted here.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Though the sun was hot, the
-pine needles seemed to shiver, the
-branches swayed to and fro in the
-air, and gave out a kind of sigh
-which sometimes increased into an
-inarticulate wail. We look up, almost
-expecting to see the harpies
-sitting</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Could we stop, we might question
-these maimed trees and learn
-some fearful tragedy from the imprisoned
-spirits. Perhaps they recount
-them to each other in the
-wild winter nights when the peasants,
-listening with a kind of fear
-in their lone huts, start up from
-their beds and say it is Rey Artus&mdash;King
-Arthur&mdash;who is passing by
-with his long train of dogs, horses,
-and huntsmen, from an old legend
-of the time of the English occupation
-which says that King Arthur,
-as he was hearing Mass on Easter-day,
-attracted by the cries of his
-hounds attacking their prey, went
-out at the elevation of the Host.
-A whirlwind carried him into the
-clouds, where he has hunted ever
-since, and will, without cessation or
-repose, till the day of judgment,
-only taking a fly every seven years.
-The popular belief that he is passing
-with a great noise through space
-when the winds sweep across the
-vast moors on stormy nights probably
-embodies the old tradition of
-some powerful lord whose hounds
-and huntsmen ruined the crops of
-the poor, who, in their wrath, consigned
-them to endless barren hunting-fields
-in the spirit-land&mdash;a legend
-which reminds us of the <i lang="sv">Aasgaardsreja</i>
-of whom Miss Bremer
-tells us&mdash;spirits not good enough
-to merit heaven, and yet not bad
-enough to deserve hell, and are
-therefore doomed to ride about till
-the end of the world, carrying fear
-and disaster in their train.</p>
-
-<p>In a little over an hour we arrived
-at Dax, a pleasant town on
-the banks of the Adour, with long
-lines of sycamores, behind which is
-a hill crowned with an old château,
-now belonging to the Lazarists.
-The place is renowned for its thermal
-springs and mud-baths, known
-to the Romans before its conquest
-by the Cæsars. It was from Aquæ
-Augustæ, the capital of the ancient
-Tarbelli (called in the Middle
-Ages the <i lang="fr">ville d’Acqs</i>, or <i lang="fr">d’Acs</i>,
-whence Dax), that the name of
-Aquitaine is supposed to be derived.
-Pliny, the naturalist, speaking
-of the Aquenses, says: <i lang="la">Aquitani
-indè nomen provinciæ</i>. The Bay of
-Biscay was once known by the
-name of Sinus Tarbellicus, from
-the ancient Tarbelli. Lucan says:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent5">“Tunc rura Nemossi</div>
-<div class="verse">Qui tenet et ripas Aturri, quo littore curvo</div>
-<div class="verse">Molliter admissum claudit Tarbellicus æquor.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>S. Vincent of Saintonge was the
-first apostle of the region, and fell a
-martyr to his zeal. Dax formed
-part of the dowry of the daughter
-of Henry II. of England when she
-married Alfonso of Castile, but it
-returned to the Plantagenets in the
-time of Edward III. The city was
-an episcopal see before the revolution
-of 1793. François de Noailles,
-one of the most distinguished of its
-bishops, was famous as a diplomatist
-in the XVIth century. He
-was sent to England on several important
-missions, and finally appointed
-ambassador to that country
-in the reign of Mary Tudor.
-Recalled when Philip II. induced
-her to declare war against France,
-he landed at Calais, and, carefully
-examining the fortifications, his
-keen, observant eye soon discovered
-the weak point, to which, at his
-arrival in court, he at once directed
-the king’s attention, declaring it
-would not be a difficult matter to
-take the place. His statements
-made such an impression on King
-Henry, who had always found him
-as judicious as he was devoted to
-the interests of the crown, that he
-resolved to lay siege to Calais, notwithstanding
-the opposition of his
-ministers, and the Duke of Guise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
-began the attack January 1, 1558.
-The place was taken in a week. It
-had cost the English a year’s siege
-two hundred and ten years before.
-Three weeks after its surrender
-Cardinal Hippolyte de Ferrara,
-Archbishop of Auch (the son of
-Lucretia Borgia, who married Alphonso
-d’Este, Duke of Ferrara)
-wrote François de Noailles as follows:
-“No one can help acknowledging
-the great hand you had in
-the taking of Calais, as it was actually
-taken at the very place you
-pointed out.” French historians
-have been too forgetful of the hand
-the Bishop of Dax had in the taking
-of a place so important to the interests
-of the nation, which added so
-much to the glory of the French
-arms, and was so humiliating to
-England, whose anguish was echoed
-by the queen when she exclaimed
-that if her heart could be opened
-the very name of Calais would be
-found written therein!</p>
-
-<p>This great churchman was no
-less successful in his embassy to
-Venice, where he triumphed over
-the haughty pretensions of Philip
-II., and, as Brantôme says, “won
-great honor and affection.” After
-five years in Italy he returned to
-Dax, where he devoted most of his
-revenues to relieve the misery that
-prevailed at that fearful time of religious
-war. Dax, as he said, was
-“the poorest see in France.” In
-1571 he was appointed ambassador
-to Constantinople by Charles IX.
-Florimond de Raymond, an old
-writer of that day, tells us the
-bishop was at first troubled as to
-his presentation to the sultan, who
-only regarded the highest dignitaries
-as the dust of his feet, and exacted
-ceremonies which the ambassador
-considered beneath the dignity
-of a bishop and a representative
-of France. He resolved not
-to submit to them, and, thanks to
-his pleasing address, and handsome
-person dressed for the occasion in
-red <i lang="fr">cramoisie</i> and cloth of gold, he
-was not subjected to them. Moreover,
-by his fascinating manners
-and agreeable conversation, he became
-a great favorite of the sultan,
-and took so judicious a course that
-his embassy ended by rendering
-France mistress of the commerce
-of the Mediterranean, and giving
-her a pre-eminence in the East
-which she has never lost.</p>
-
-<p>It was after his return from the
-Levant that, in an interview with
-Henry III., the sagacious bishop
-urged the king to declare war
-against Spain, as the best means of
-delivering France from the horrors
-of a civil war. De Thou says the
-king seemed to listen favorably to
-the suggestion; but it was opposed
-by the council, and it was not till
-ten years later that Henry IV. declared
-war against that country, as
-Duruy states, “the better to end
-the civil war.”</p>
-
-<p>The Bishop of Dax seems to have
-been poorly remunerated for his
-eminent services. Like Frederick
-the Great’s father, he said kings
-were always hard of hearing when
-there was a question of money, and
-complained that, notwithstanding
-his long services abroad, he had
-never received either honors or
-profit. Even his appointments as
-ambassador to Venice, amounting
-to more than thirty thousand livres,
-were still due. Many of his letters
-to the king and to Marie de Médicis
-have been preserved, which
-show his elevation of mind, and his
-broad political and religious views,
-which give him a right to be numbered
-among the great churchmen
-of the XVIth century.</p>
-
-<p>At Dax we took a carriage to the
-<i lang="fr">Berceau</i> of S. Vincent, and, after
-half an hour’s drive along a level
-road bordered with trees, we came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
-in sight of the great dome of the
-church rising up amid a group of
-fine buildings. Driving up to the
-door, the first thing we observed
-was the benign statue of the saint
-standing on the gable against the
-clear, blue sky, with arms wide-spread,
-smiling on the pilgrim a
-very balm of peace. Before the
-church there is a broad green, at
-the right of which is the venerable
-old oak; at the left, the cottage of
-the De Pauls; and in the rear of
-the church, the asylums and hospice&mdash;fine
-establishments one is surprised
-to find in this remote region.
-We at once entered the church,
-which is in the style of the Renaissance.
-It consists of a nave without
-aisles, a circular apsis, and
-transepts which form the arms of
-the cross, in the centre of which
-rises the dome, lined with an indifferent
-fresco representing S. Vincent
-borne to heaven by the angels.
-Directly beneath is the high altar
-where are enshrined relics of the
-saint. Around it, at the four angles
-of the cross, are statues of four
-S. Vincents&mdash;of Xaintes, of Saragossa,
-of Lerins, and S. Vincent
-Ferrer. The whole life of S. Vincent
-of Paul is depicted in the
-stained-glass windows. And on the
-walls of the nave are four paintings,
-one representing him as a
-boy, praying before Our Lady of
-Buglose; the second, his first Mass
-in the chapel of Notre Dame de
-Grâce; in the third he is redeeming
-captives, and in the fourth giving
-alms to the poor.</p>
-
-<p>We next visited the asylums, admiring
-the clean, airy rooms, the
-intelligent, happy faces of the orphans,
-and the graceful cordiality
-of the sister who was at the head
-of the establishment&mdash;a lady of
-fortune who has devoted her all to
-the work.</p>
-
-<p>At length we came to the cottage&mdash;the
-door of the true hero to
-which our path had led. The
-broad, one-story house in which S.
-Vincent was born is now a mere
-skeleton within, the framework of
-the partitions alone remaining, so
-one can take in the whole at a
-glance. There is the kitchen, with
-the huge, old-fashioned chimney,
-around which the family used to
-gather&mdash;so enormous that in looking
-up one sees a vast extent of
-blue sky. Saint’s house though it
-was, we could not help thinking&mdash;Heaven
-forgive us the profane
-thought!&mdash;it must have been very
-much like the squire’s chimney in
-<cite>Tylney Hall</cite>, the draught of which,
-like the Polish game of draughts,
-was apt to take backwards and discharge
-all the smoke into his sitting-room!
-The second room at
-the left, where the saint was born,
-is an oratory containing an altar,
-the crucifix he used to pray before,
-some of the garments he wore,
-shoes broad and much-enduring as
-his own nature, and many other
-precious relics. Not only this, but
-every room has an altar. We
-counted seven, all of the simplest
-construction, for the convenience
-of the pilgrims who come here with
-their <i lang="fr">curés</i> at certain seasons of the
-year to honor their sainted countryman
-who in his youth here led a
-simple, laborious life like themselves.
-We found several persons
-at prayer in the various compartments,
-all of which showed the
-primitive habits and limited resources
-of the family, though not
-absolute poverty. The floor was
-of earth, the walls and great rafters
-only polished with time and the
-kisses of the pilgrims, and above
-the rude stairway, a mere loft
-where perchance the saint slept in
-his boyhood. Everything in this
-cottage, where a great heart was
-cradled, was from its very simplicity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
-extremely touching. It seemed
-the very place to meditate on the
-mysterious ways of divine Providence&mdash;mysterious
-as the wind that
-bloweth where it listeth&mdash;the very
-place to chant the <i lang="la">Suscitans à terrâ
-inopem: et de stercore erigens pauperem;
-ut collocet eum cum principibus,
-cum principibus populi sui</i>.</p>
-
-<p>S. Vincent’s oak, on the opposite
-side of the green, looks old
-enough to have witnessed the mysterious
-rites of the Druids. It is
-surrounded by a railing to protect
-it from the pious depredations of
-the pilgrim. It still spreads broad
-its branches covered with verdure,
-though the trunk is so hollowed by
-decay that one side is entirely gone,
-and in the heart, where young Vincent
-used to pray, stands a wooden
-pillar on which is a statue of the
-Virgin, pure and white, beneath
-the green bower. A crowd of artists,
-<i lang="fr">savants</i>, soldiers, and princes
-have bent before this venerable
-tree. In 1823 the public authorities
-of the commune received the
-Duchess of Angoulême at its foot.
-The learned and pious Ozanam,
-one of the founders of the Society
-of S. Vincent of Paul, came here in
-his last days to offer a prayer. On
-the list of foreign visitors is the
-name of the late venerable Bishop
-Flaget of Kentucky, of whom it is
-recorded that he kissed the tree
-with love and veneration, and
-plucked, as every pilgrim does, a
-leaf from its branches.</p>
-
-<p>There is an herb, says Pliny,
-found on Mt. Atlas; they who gather
-it see more clearly. There is
-something of this virtue in the oak
-of S. Vincent of Paul. One sees
-more clearly than ever at its foot
-the infinite moral superiority of a
-nature like his to the worldly ambition
-of the old lords of the Landes.
-Famous as the latter were in their
-day, who thinks of them now?
-Who cares for the lords of Castelnau,
-the Seigneurs of Juliac, or
-even for the Sires of Albret, whose
-ancient castle at Labrit is now razed
-to the ground, and, while we
-write, its last traces obliterated for
-ever? The shepherd whistles idly
-among the ruins of their once
-strong holds, the ploughman drives
-thoughtlessly over the place where
-they once held proud sway, as indifferent
-as the beasts themselves;
-but there is not a peasant in the
-Landes who does not cherish the
-memory of S. Vincent of Paul, or a
-noble who does not respect his
-name; and thousands annually visit
-the poor house where he was born
-and look with veneration at the oak
-where he prayed.</p>
-
-<p>Charity is the great means of
-making the poor forget the fearful
-inequality of worldly riches, and its
-obligation reminds the wealthy
-they are only part of a great brotherhood.
-Its exercise softens the
-heart and averts the woe pronounced
-on the rich. S. John of God,
-wishing to found a hospital at Granada,
-and without a ducat in the
-world, walked slowly through the
-streets and squares with a hod on
-his back and two great kettles at
-his side, crying with a loud voice:
-“Who wishes to do good to himself?
-Ah! my brethren, for the
-love of God, do good to yourselves!”
-And alms flowed in from every
-side. It was these appeals in the
-divine name that gave him his appellation.
-“What is your name?”
-asked Don Ramirez, Bishop of Tuy.
-“John,” was the reply. “Henceforth
-you shall be called John of
-God,” said the bishop.</p>
-
-<p>And so, that we may all become
-the sons of God, let us here, at the
-foot of S. Vincent’s oak, echo the
-words that in life were so often on
-his lips:</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Caritatem, propter Deum!</span></p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>LORD CASTLEHAVEN’S MEMOIRS.<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h3>
-
-<p>In the year 1638 the Earl of
-Castlehaven, then a young man,
-made the Grand Tour, as became a
-nobleman of his family in that age.
-Being at Rome, whither the duty
-of paying his respects to the Holy
-Father had carried him&mdash;for this
-lord was the head of one of those
-grand old families which had declined
-to forswear its faith at the
-behest of Henry or Elizabeth&mdash;he
-received a letter from King Charles
-I., requiring him to attend the king
-in his expedition against the Scots,
-then revolted and in arms. With
-that instant loyalty which was the
-return made by those proscribed
-families to an ungrateful court
-from the Armada down, Lord Castlehaven,
-two days after the messenger
-had placed the royal missive
-in his hands, took post for England.
-Near Turin he fell in with an army
-commanded by the Marquis de Leganes,
-Governor of Milan for the
-King of Spain, who was marching
-to besiege the Savoy capital. But
-the siege was soon raised, and Lord
-Castlehaven entered the town.
-There he found her Royal Highness
-the Duchess of Savoy in
-great confusion, as if she had got
-no rest for many nights, so much
-had she been occupied with the
-conduct of the defence; for even
-the wives of this warlike and rapacious
-family soon learned to defend
-their own by the strong hand,
-and could stretch it out to grasp
-still more when occasion served.
-But as yet the ambition of the
-House of Savoy stopped short of
-sacrilege&mdash;or stooped to it like a
-hawk on short flights&mdash;nor dreamed
-of aggrandizing itself with the spoils
-of the whole territory of the church.
-When Lord Castlehaven came to
-take leave of the duchess, her royal
-highness gave him a musket-bullet,
-much battered, which had come in
-at her window and missed her narrowly,
-charging him to deliver it
-safely to her sister, the Queen of
-England&mdash;as it proved, a present
-of ill omen; for of musket-balls, in
-a little time, the English sister had
-more than enough.</p>
-
-<p>Arriving in London, Lord Castlehaven
-followed the king to Berwick,
-where he found the royal army encamped,
-with the Tweed before it,
-and the Scotch, under Gen. Leslie,
-lying at some distance. A pacification
-was soon effected, and both
-armies partially disbanded. After
-this the earl passed his time “as
-well as he could” at home till 1640.
-In that year the King of France
-besieged Arras, and Lord Castlehaven
-set out to witness the siege.
-Within was a stout garrison under
-Owen Roe O’Neal, commanding
-for the Prince Cardinal, Governor
-of the Low Countries. This was
-the first meeting of Castlehaven
-with the future victor of Benburb,
-with whom he was afterwards
-brought into closer relations in
-the Irish Rebellion. The French
-pressed Arras close, and the confederates
-being defeated, and the
-hope of the siege being raised grown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
-desperate, the town was surrendered
-on honorable terms. This action
-over, Lord Castlehaven returned to
-England and sat in Parliament till
-the attainder of the Earl of Strafford.
-When that great nobleman
-fell, deserted by his wavering royal
-master, and the king’s friends were
-beginning to turn about&mdash;they
-scarce knew whither&mdash;to prepare
-for the storm that all men saw was
-coming, Lord Castlehaven went to
-Ireland, where he had some estate
-and three married sisters. While
-there the Rebellion of 1641 broke
-out. Although innocent of any complicity
-in the outbreak, his faith made
-him suspected, and he was imprisoned
-on a slight pretext by the lords-justices.
-Escaping, his first design
-was to get into France, and thence
-to England to join the king at
-York, and petition for a trial by his
-peers. But coming to Kilkenny,
-he found there the Supreme Council
-of the Confederate Catholics
-just assembled&mdash;many of them
-being of his acquaintance&mdash;and
-was persuaded by them to throw in
-his lot with theirs, seeing, as they
-truly told him, that they were all
-persecuted on the same score, and
-ruined so that they had nothing
-more to lose but their lives. From
-that time till the peace of 1646 he
-was engaged in the war of the Confederate
-Catholics, holding important
-commands in the field under
-the Supreme Council. His <cite>Memoirs</cite>
-is the history of this war.</p>
-
-<p>After the peace of 1646, concluded
-with the Marquis of Ormond,
-the king’s lord-lieutenant,
-but which shortly fell through,
-Lord Castlehaven retired to France,
-and served as a volunteer under
-Prince Rupert at the siege of Landrecies.
-Then, returning to Paris,
-he remained in attendance on the
-Queen of England and the Prince
-of Wales (Charles II.) at St. Germain
-till 1648. In that year he
-returned to Ireland with the lord-lieutenant,
-the Marquis of Ormond,
-and served the royal cause in that
-kingdom against the parliamentary
-forces under Ireton and Cromwell.
-The battle of Worcester being lost,
-and Cromwell the undisputed master
-of the three kingdoms, Castlehaven
-again followed the clouded
-fortunes of Charles II. to France.
-There he obtained permission to
-join the Great Condé. In the campaigns
-under that prince he had
-the command of eight or nine regiments
-of Irish troops, making altogether
-a force of 5,000 men. Thus
-we find the Irish refugees already
-consolidated into a brigade some
-years before the Treaty of Limerick
-expatriated those soldiers whose
-valor is more commonly identified
-with that title.</p>
-
-<p>Lord Castlehaven returned to
-England at the Restoration. In
-the war with Holland he served as
-a volunteer in some of the naval
-engagements. In 1667, the French
-having invaded Flanders, he was
-ordered there with 2,400 men to
-recruit the “Old English Regiment,”
-of which he was made
-colonel. The peace of Aix-la-Chapelle
-ended this war. Peace
-reigned in the Low Countries till
-the breaking out, in 1673, of the
-long and bloody contest between
-the Prince of Orange and the
-confederate Spaniards and Imperialists
-on the one side, and Louis
-XIV. on the other. This was the
-age of grand campaigns, conducted
-upon principles of mathematical
-precision by the great captains
-formed in the school of M. Turenne,
-before the “little Marquis of
-Brandenburg”<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and the “Corsican<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
-corporal” in turn revolutionized
-the art of war. Castlehaven
-entered the Spanish service, and
-shared the checkered but generally
-disastrous fortunes of the Duke
-of Villahermosa and the Prince
-of Orange (William III.) against
-Condé and Luxembourg, till the
-peace of Nymegen put an end to
-the war in 1678.</p>
-
-<p>Then, after forty years’ hard service,
-this veteran retired from the
-field, and returning to England,
-like another Cæsar, set about writing
-his commentaries on the wars.
-Thus he spent his remaining years.
-First he published, but without acknowledging
-the authorship, his
-<cite>Memoirs of the Irish Wars</cite>. This
-first edition was suppressed. Then,
-in 1684, appeared the second edition,
-containing, besides the <cite>Memoirs</cite>,
-his “Appendix”&mdash;being an
-account of his Continental service&mdash;his
-“Observations” on confederate
-armies and the conduct of war,
-and a “Postscript,” which is a
-reply to the Earl of Anglesey.
-And right well has the modern
-reader reason to be thankful for
-his lordship’s literary spirit. His
-<cite>Memoirs</cite> is one of the most authentic
-and trustworthy accounts
-we have of that vexed passage of
-Irish history&mdash;the Rebellion of
-1641. Its blunt frankness is its
-greatest charm; it has the value
-of an account by an actor in the
-scenes described; and it possesses
-that merit of impartiality which
-comes of being written by an Englishman
-who, connected with the
-Irish leaders by the ties of faith,
-family, and property, and sympathizing
-fully with their efforts to
-obtain redress for flagrant wrongs
-was yet not blind to their mistakes
-and indefensible actions.</p>
-
-<p>Castlehaven, neglected for more
-than a century, has received more
-justice at the hands of later historians.
-He is frequently referred
-to by Lingard, and his work will be
-found an admirable commentary on
-Carte’s <cite>Life of Ormond</cite>. There
-is a notice of him in Horace Walpole’s
-<cite>Catalogue of Royal and Noble
-Authors</cite> (vol. iii.)</p>
-
-<p>“If this lord,” says Walpole, “who
-led a very martial life, had not taken the
-pains to record his own actions (which,
-however, he has done with great frankness
-and ingenuity), we should know little
-of his story, our historians scarce
-mentioning him, and even our writers
-of anecdotes, as Burnet, or of tales and
-circumstances, as Roger North, not giving
-any account of a court quarrel occasioned
-by his lordship’s <cite>Memoirs</cite>. Anthony
-Wood alone has preserved this
-event, but has not made it intelligible.
-… The earl had been much censured
-for his share in the Irish Rebellion, and
-wrote the <cite>Memoirs</cite> to explain his conduct
-rather than to excuse it; for he freely
-confesses his faults, and imputes them to
-provocations from the government of that
-kingdom, to whose rashness and cruelty,
-conjointly with the votes and resolutions
-of the English Parliament, he ascribes
-the massacre. There are no dates nor
-method, and less style, in these <cite>Memoirs</cite>&mdash;defects
-atoned for in some measure by a
-martial honesty. Soon after their publication
-the Earl of Anglesey wrote to ask
-a copy. Lord Castlehaven sent him one,
-but denying the work as his. Anglesey,
-who had been a commissioner in Ireland
-for the Parliament, published Castlehaven’s
-letter, with observations and reflections
-very abusive of the Duke of
-Ormond, which occasioned first a printed
-controversy, and this a trial before
-the Privy Council; the event of which
-was that Anglesey’s first letter was voted
-a scandalous libel, and himself removed
-from the custody of the Privy Seal; and
-that the Earl of Castlehaven’s <cite>Memoirs</cite>, on
-which he was several times examined, and
-which he owned, was declared a scandalous
-libel on the government&mdash;a censure
-that seems very little founded; there is
-not a word that can authorize that sentence
-from the Council of Charles II. but the
-imputation on the lords-justices of
-Charles I.; for I suppose the Privy Council
-did not pique themselves on vindicating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
-the honor of the republican Parliament!
-Bishop Morley wrote <cite>A True
-Account of the Whole Proceeding between
-James, Duke of Ormond, and Arthur,
-Earl of Anglesey</cite>.”</p>
-
-<p>Immediately after the Restoration,
-as it is well known, an act was
-passed, commonly called in that
-age “the Act of Oblivion,” by
-which all penalties (except certain
-specified ones) incurred in the
-late troublous and rebellious times
-were forgiven. So superfine would
-have been the net which the law
-of treason would have drawn around
-the three kingdoms, had its strict
-construction been enforced, that it
-was quite cut loose, a few only of
-the greatest criminals and regicides
-being held in its meshes. So harsh
-had been Cromwell’s iron rule that
-there were few counties of England
-in which the stoutest squires, and
-even the most loyal, might not have
-trembled had the king’s commission
-inquired too closely into the
-legal question of connivance at the
-late tyrant’s rule. And in the
-great cities, London especially, the
-tide of enthusiasm which now ran
-so strongly for the king could not
-hide the memory of those days
-when the same fierce crowds had
-clamored for the head of the “royal
-martyr.” Prudent it was, as well
-as benign, therefore, for the “merry
-monarch” to let time roll smoothly
-over past transgressions. But
-though the law might grant oblivion,
-and even punish the revival
-of controversies, the old rancor between
-individuals and even parties
-was not so easily appeased after
-the first joyful outburst. Books
-and pamphlets by the hundred
-brought charges and counter
-charges. But these “authors of
-slander and lyes,” as Castlehaven
-calls them, outdid themselves in
-their tragical stories of the Irish
-Rebellion of 1641. Nor have imitators
-been wanting in this age, as
-rancorous and more skilful, in the
-production of “fictions and invectives
-to traduce a whole nation.”
-To answer those calumnies by “setting
-forth the truth of his story in
-a brief and plain method” was the
-design of Castlehaven’s work.</p>
-
-<p>Then, as now, it was the aim of
-the libellers of the Irish people to
-make the whole nation accountable
-for the “massacre,” so called, of
-1641, and to confound the war of
-the Confederate Catholics and the
-later loyal resistance to Cromwell
-in one common denunciation with
-the first sanguinary and criminal
-outbreak. Lord Castlehaven’s narrative
-effectually disposes of this
-charge. In a singularly clear and
-candid manner he narrates the rise
-and progress of the insurrection,
-and shows the wide difference between
-the aims and motives of
-those who planned the uprising of
-October 23, 1641, and of those who
-afterwards carried on the war under
-the title of the Confederate
-Catholics of Ireland. The former
-he does not hesitate to denounce
-as a “barbarous and inhumane”
-conspiracy, but the responsibility
-for it he fixes in the right quarter&mdash;the
-malevolent character of the
-Irish government and the atrocious
-spirit of the English Puritan
-Parliament, which, abandoning all
-the duties of protection, kept only
-one object in view&mdash;the extirpation
-of the native Irish.</p>
-
-<p>With the successful example of
-the Scotch Rebellion immediately
-before them, it was a matter of little
-wonder to observant and impartial
-minds in that age that the
-Irish should have seized upon the
-occasion of the growing quarrel
-between the king and Parliament
-as the opportune moment for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
-redress of their grievances. For
-in the year 1640, two years after
-the pacification of Berwick, the
-Scotch Rebellion, primarily instigated
-by the same cause as the
-Irish&mdash;religious differences&mdash;broke
-out with greater violence than ever.
-The Scots’ army invaded England,
-defeated the king’s troops at Newburn,
-and took Newcastle. Then,
-driven to extremity by those Scotch
-rebels, as mercenary as they were
-fanatical,<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> and his strength paralyzed
-by the growing English sedition,
-Charles I. called together
-“that unfortunate Parliament”
-which, proceeding from one violence
-to another, first destroyed its
-master, and then was in turn destroyed
-by its own servant. Far
-from voting the Scotch army rebels
-and traitors, the Parliament at once
-styled them “dear brethren” and
-voted them £300,000 for their kindness.
-Mr. Gervase Holles was expelled
-from the House for saying
-in the course of debate “that the
-best way of paying them was by
-arms to expel them out of the
-kingdom.” The quarrel between
-King and Commons grew hotter,
-until finally it became evident that,
-notwithstanding Charles’ concessions,
-a violent rupture could not
-be long delayed.</p>
-
-<p>No fairer opportunity could be
-hoped for by the Irish leaders, dissatisfied
-with their own condition,
-and spurred on by the hope of
-winning as good measure of success
-as the Scotch. The plan to
-surprise the Castle of Dublin and
-the other English garrisons was
-quickly matured; but failing, some
-of the conspirators were taken and
-executed, and the rest forced to retire
-to the woods and mountains.
-But the flame thus lighted soon
-spread over the whole kingdom,
-and occasioned a war which lasted
-without intermission for ten years.</p>
-
-<p>The following reasons are declared
-by Castlehaven to have been
-afterwards offered to him by the
-Irish as the explanation of this insurrection:</p>
-
-<p>First, that, being constantly looked
-upon by the English government
-as a conquered nation, and
-never treated as natural or free-born
-subjects, they considered
-themselves entitled to regain their
-liberty whenever they believed it
-to be in their power to do so.</p>
-
-<p>Secondly, that in the North, where
-the insurrection broke out with the
-greatest violence, six whole counties
-had been escheated to the
-crown at one blow, on account of
-Tyrone’s rebellion; and although
-it was shown that a large portion
-of the population of those counties
-was innocent of complicity in that
-rising, nothing had ever been restored,
-but the whole bestowed by
-James I. upon his countrymen.
-To us, who live at the distance of
-two centuries and a half from those
-days of wholesale rapine, these
-confiscations still seem the most
-gigantic instance of English wrong;
-but who shall tell their maddening
-effect upon those who suffered from
-them in person in that age&mdash;the
-men flying to the mountains, the
-women perishing in the fields, the
-children crying for food they could
-not get?</p>
-
-<p>Thirdly, the popular alarm was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
-heightened by the reports, current
-during Strafford’s government in
-Ireland, that the counties of Roscommon,
-Mayo, Galway, and Cork,
-and parts of Tipperary, Limerick,
-and Wicklow, were to share the
-fate of the Ulster counties. It
-hardly needs the example of our
-own Revolution to prove the truth
-of Castlehaven’s observation upon
-this project: “That experience tells
-us where the people’s property is
-like to be invaded, neither religion
-nor loyalty is able to keep them
-within bounds if they find themselves
-in a condition to make any
-considerable opposition.” And this
-brings to his mind the story related
-by Livy of those resolute ambassadors
-of the Privernates, who, being
-reduced to such extremities that
-they were obliged to beg peace of
-the Roman Senate, yet, being asked
-what peace should the Romans expect
-from them, who had broken it
-so often, they boldly answered&mdash;which
-made the Senate accept their
-proposals&mdash;“If a good one, it shall
-be faithful and lasting; but if bad,
-it shall not hold very long. For
-think not,” said they, “that any
-people, or even any man, will continue
-in that condition whereof
-they are weary any longer than of
-necessity they must.”</p>
-
-<p>Fourthly, it was notorious that
-from the moment Parliament was
-convened it had urged the greatest
-severities against the English Roman
-Catholics. The king was compelled
-to revive the penalties of the
-worst days of Edward and Elizabeth
-against them. His own consort
-was scarce safe from the violence
-of those hideous wretches
-who concealed the vilest crimes
-under the garb of Puritan godliness.
-Readers even of such a common
-and one-sided book as Forster’s
-<cite>Life of Sir John Eliot</cite> will be surprised
-to find the prominence and
-space the “Popish” resolutions and
-debates occupied in the sittings of
-Parliament. The popular leaders
-divided their time nearly equally
-between the persecution of the
-Catholics and assaults upon the
-prerogative. The same severities
-were now threatened against the
-Irish Catholics. “Both Houses,”
-says Castlehaven, “solicited, by
-several petitions out of Ireland, to
-have those of that kingdom treated
-with the like rigor, which, to a
-people so fond of their religion as
-the Irish, was no small inducement
-to make them, while there was an
-opportunity offered, to stand upon
-their guard.”</p>
-
-<p>Fifthly, the precedent of the
-Scotch Rebellion, and its successful
-results&mdash;pecuniarily, politically,
-and religiously&mdash;encouraged the
-Irish so much at that time that
-they offered it to Owen O’Conally
-as their chief motive for rising in
-rebellion; “which,” says he (quoted
-by Castlehaven), “they engaged in
-to be rid of the tyrannical government
-that was over them, and to
-imitate Scotland, who by that
-course had enlarged their privileges”
-(O’Conally’s <cite>Exam.</cite>, October
-22, 1641; Borlace’s <cite>History of the
-Irish Rebellion</cite>, p. 21).</p>
-
-<p>To the same purpose Lord Castlehaven
-quotes Mr. Howell in his
-<cite>Mercurius Hibernicus</cite> in the year
-1643; “whose words, because an
-impartial author and a known Protestant,
-I will here transcribe in confirmation
-of what I have said and
-for the reader’s further satisfaction”:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Moreover,” says Mr. Howell, “they
-[the Irish] entered into consideration
-that they had sundry grievances and
-grounds of complaint, both touching
-their estates and consciences, which they
-pretended to be far greater than those of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
-the Scots. For they fell to think that
-if the Scot was suffered to introduce
-a new religion, it was reason they
-should not be punished in the exercise
-of their old, which they glory never to
-have altered; and for temporal matters,
-wherein the Scot had no grievance at all
-to speak of, the new plantations which
-had been lately afoot to be made in Connaught
-and other places; the concealed
-lands and defective titles which were
-daily found out; the new customs which
-were enforced; and the incapacity they
-had to any preferment or office in church
-or state, with other things, they considered
-to be grievances of a far greater
-nature, and that deserved redress much
-more than any the Scot had. To this end
-they sent over commissioners to attend
-this Parliament in England with certain
-propositions; but they were dismissed
-hence with a short and unsavory answer,
-which bred worse blood in the nation
-than was formerly gathered. And this,
-with that leading case of the Scot, may
-be said to be the first incitements that
-made them rise.… Lastly, that
-army of 8,000 men which the Earl of
-Strafford had raised to be transported
-into England for suppressing the Scot,
-being by the advice of our Parliament
-here disbanded, the country was annoyed
-by some of those straggling soldiers.
-Therefore the ambassadors from
-Spain having propounded to have some
-numbers of those disbanded soldiers for
-the service of their master, his majesty,
-by the mature advice of his Privy Council,
-to occur the mischiefs that might
-arise to his kingdom of Ireland from
-those loose cashiered soldiers, yielded to
-the ambassadors’ motion. But as they
-were in the height of that work (providing
-transports), there was a sudden stop
-made of those promised troops; and this
-was the last, though not the least, fatal
-cause of that horrid insurrection.</p>
-
-<p>“Out of these premises it is easy for
-any common understanding, not transported
-with passion or private interest,
-to draw this conclusion: That they who
-complied with the Scot in his insurrection;
-they who dismissed the Irish commissioners
-with such a short, impolitic
-answer; they who took off the Earl of
-Strafford’s head, and afterwards delayed
-the despatching of the Earl of Leicester;
-they who hindered those disbanded
-troops in Ireland to go for Spain, may
-be justly said to have been the true
-causes of the late insurrection of the
-Irish.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>“Thus,” continues Castlehaven,
-“concludes this learned and ingenious
-gentleman, who, as being then
-his majesty’s historiographer, was
-as likely as any man to know the
-transactions of those times, and, as
-an Englishman and a loyal Protestant,
-was beyond all exception of
-partiality or favor of the Papists of
-Ireland, and therefore could have
-no other reason but the love of
-truth and justice to give this account
-of the Irish Rebellion, or
-make the Scotch and their wicked
-brethren in the Parliament of England
-the main occasion of that
-horrid insurrection.”</p>
-
-<p>As for the “massacre,” so called,
-that ensued, Lord Castlehaven
-speaks of it with the abhorrence it
-deserves. But this very term “massacre”
-is a misnomer plausibly
-affixed to the uprising by English
-ingenuity. In a country such as
-Ireland then was&mdash;in which, though
-nominally conquered, few English
-lived outside the walled towns&mdash;an
-intermittent state of war was chronic;
-and therefore there was none
-of that unpreparedness for attack
-or absence of means of defence on
-the part of the English settlers
-which, in other well-known historical
-cases, has rightfully given the
-name of “massacre” to a premeditated
-murderous attack upon defenceless
-and surprised victims. To
-hold the English as such will be regarded
-with contemptuous ridicule
-by every one acquainted with the
-system of English and Scotch colonization
-in Ireland in that age.
-The truth is, the cruelties on both
-sides were very bloody, “and
-though some,” says Lord Castlehaven,
-“will throw all upon the Irish,
-yet ’tis well known who they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
-that used to give orders to their
-parties sent into the enemies’ quarters
-to spare neither man, woman,
-nor child.” And as to the preposterous
-muster-rolls of Sir John
-Temple&mdash;from whom the subsequent
-scribblers borrowed all their
-catalogues&mdash;giving <em>fifty thousand (!)</em>
-British natives as the number killed,
-Lord Castlehaven’s testimony is to
-the effect that there was not one-tenth&mdash;or
-scarcely five thousand&mdash;of
-that number of British natives
-then living in Ireland outside of the
-cities and walled towns where no
-“massacre” was committed. Lord
-Castlehaven also shows that there
-were not 50,000 persons to be found
-even in Temple’s catalogue, although
-it was then a matter of common
-notoriety that he repeats the
-same people and the same circumstances
-twice or thrice, and mentions
-hundreds as then murdered
-who lived many years afterwards.
-Some of Temple’s, not the Irish,
-victims were alive when Castlehaven
-wrote.</p>
-
-<p>But the true test of the character
-of this insurrection is to be found,
-not in the exaggerated calumnies
-of English libellers writing after the
-event, but in the testimony of the
-English settlers themselves when
-in a position where lies would have
-been of no avail. We will therefore
-give here, though somewhat
-out of the course of our narrative,
-an incident related by Castlehaven
-to that effect.</p>
-
-<p>Shortly after he had been appointed
-General of the Horse under
-Preston, Commander-in-Chief
-of the Confederate Catholics in
-Leinster, that general took, among
-other places, Birr, in King’s County.
-Here Castlehaven had the
-good fortune, as he says, to begin
-his command with an act of charity.
-For, going to see this garrison
-before it marched out, he came into
-a large room where he found
-many people of quality, both men
-and women. They no sooner saw
-him but, with tears in their eyes,
-they fell on their knees, desiring
-him to save their lives. “I was astonished,”
-says Castlehaven, “at
-their posture and petition, and, having
-made them rise, asked what the
-matter was? They answered that
-from the first day of the war there
-had been continued action and
-bloodshed between them and their
-Irish neighbors, and little quarter
-on either side; and therefore, understanding
-that I was an Englishman,
-begged I would take them
-into my protection.” It is enough
-to say that Lord Castlehaven, with
-some difficulty, and by personally
-taking command of a strong convoy,
-obtained for them the protection
-they prayed for from the exasperated
-and outraged population
-around them. But what we wish to
-point out is this: that here are
-those victims of Sir John Temple’s
-“massacre”&mdash;not the garrison of
-the fort, observe, but the English
-settlers driven in by the approach of
-Preston’s army, after terrorizing the
-country for months&mdash;now, with the
-fear of death before them, confessing
-on their knees that from the
-first day of the war they had arms
-in their hands, and that little quarter
-was given on either side!</p>
-
-<p>How well the English were able
-to take care of themselves at this
-time, and what <em>their</em> “massacres”
-were like, are shown by the following
-extract from a letter of Colonel
-the Hon. Mervin Touchett to his
-brother, Lord Castlehaven. Col.
-Touchett is describing a raid made
-by Sir Arthur Loffens, Governor of
-Naas, with a party of horse and
-dragoons, killing such of the Irish
-as they met, to punish an attack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
-upon an English party a few days
-before: “But the most considerable
-slaughter was in a great strength
-of furze, scattered on a hill, where
-the people of several villages (taking
-the alarm) had sheltered themselves.
-Now, Sir Arthur, having
-invested the hill, set the furze on
-fire on all sides, where the people,
-being a considerable number, were
-all burned or killed, men, women,
-and children. I saw the bodies and
-the furze still burning.”</p>
-
-<p>We remember the horror-stricken
-denunciations of the English press
-some years ago when it was stated,
-without much authentication, that
-some of the French commanders in
-the Algerine campaigns had smoked
-some Arabs to death in caves.
-But it would seem from Col.
-Touchett’s narrative that the English
-troopers would have been able
-to give their French comrades lessons
-in the culinary art of war
-some centuries ago. A grilled
-Irishman is surely as savory an object
-for the contemplation of humanity
-as a smoked Arab!</p>
-
-<p>But whatever the atrocities on
-the English side, we will not say
-that the cruelties committed by the
-Irish were not deserving of man’s
-reprobation and God’s anger.
-Only this is to be observed: that
-whereas the “massacres” by the
-Irish were confined to the rabble
-and Strafford’s disbanded soldiers,
-those committed by the English
-side were shared in, as the narratives
-of the day show, by the persons
-highest in position and authority.
-They made part of the English
-system of government of that
-day. On the other hand, the leading
-men of the Irish Catholic body
-not only endeavored to stay those
-murders, but sought to induce the
-government to bring the authors of
-them on both sides to punishment.
-But in vain! On the 17th of
-March, 1642, Viscount Gormanstown
-and Sir Robert Talbot, on behalf
-of the nobility and gentry of
-the nation, presented a remonstrance,
-praying “that the murders
-on both sides committed should
-be strictly examined, and the
-authors of them punished according
-to the utmost severity of the
-law.” Which proposal, Castlehaven
-shrewdly remarks, would never
-have been rejected by their adversaries,
-“but that they were conscious
-of being deeper in the mire
-than they would have the world
-believe.”</p>
-
-<p>So far the “massacre” and first
-uprising.</p>
-
-<p>Now, as to the inception of the
-war of the Confederate Catholics,
-and its objects, Lord Castlehaven’s
-narrative is equally convincing and
-clear.</p>
-
-<p>Parliament met in the Castle of
-Dublin, Nov. 16, 1641. The Rebellion
-was laid before both Houses
-by the lords-justices, Sir William
-Parsons and Sir John Borlace. Concurrent
-resolutions were adopted,
-without a dissenting voice, by the
-two Houses, declaring their abhorrence
-of the Rebellion, and pledging
-their lives and fortunes to suppress
-it. Castlehaven had a seat in
-the Irish House of Lords as an
-Irish peer, and being then in Ireland,
-as before related, took his
-seat at the meeting of Parliament.
-Besides Castlehaven, most of the
-leaders of the war that ensued
-were members of the Irish House
-of Lords. These Catholic peers
-were not less earnest than the rest
-in their unanimous intention to put
-down the Rebellion. Both Houses
-thereupon began to deliberate upon
-the most effectual means for its
-suppression. “But this way of proceeding,”
-says Castlehaven, “did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
-not, it seems, square with the lords-justices’
-designs, who were often
-heard to say that ‘the more were
-in rebellion, the more lands should
-be forfeit to them.’” Therefore, in
-the midst of the deliberations of
-Parliament on the subject, a prorogation
-was determined on. The
-lords, understanding this, sent Castlehaven
-and Viscount Castelloe to
-join a deputation from the commons
-to the lords-justices, praying
-them not to prorogue, at least till
-the rebels&mdash;then few in number&mdash;were
-reduced to obedience. But
-the address was slighted, and Parliament
-prorogued the next day, to
-the great surprise of both Houses
-and the “general dislike,” says
-Castlehaven, “of all honest and
-knowing men.”</p>
-
-<p>The result was, as the lords-justices
-no doubt intended, that
-the rebels were greatly encouraged,
-and at once began to show themselves
-in quarters hitherto peaceful.
-The members of Parliament retired
-to their country-houses in much
-anxiety after the prorogation. Lord
-Castlehaven went to his seat at
-Maddingstown. There he received
-a letter, signed by the Viscounts of
-Gormanstown and Netterville, and
-by the Barons of Slane, Lowth,
-and Dunsany, containing an enclosure
-to the lords-justices which
-those noblemen desired him to
-forward to them, and, if possible,
-obtain an answer. This letter to
-the lords-justices, Castlehaven says,
-was very humble and submissive,
-asking only permission to send
-their petitions into England to
-represent their grievances to the
-king. The only reply of the lords-justices
-was a warning to Castlehaven
-to receive no more letters
-from them.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, parties were sent out
-from Dublin and the various garrisons
-throughout the kingdom to
-“kill and destroy the rebels.” But
-those parties took little pains to distinguish
-rebels from loyal subjects,
-provided they were only Catholics,
-killing promiscuously men, women,
-and children. Reprisals followed
-on the part of the rebels. The
-nobility and gentry were between
-two fires. A contribution was levied
-upon them by the rebels, after the
-manner of the Scots in the North of
-England in 1640. But although to
-pay that contribution in England
-passed without reproach, in Ireland
-it was denounced by the lords-justices
-as treason. The English
-troopers insulted and openly threatened
-the most distinguished Irish
-families as favorers of the Rebellion.
-“This,” says Castlehaven, “and the
-sight of their tenants, the harmless
-country people, without respect to
-age or sex, thus barbarously murdered,
-made the Catholic nobility
-and gentry at last resolved to
-stand upon their guard.” Nevertheless,
-before openly raising
-the standard of revolt against
-the Irish government, which refused
-to protect them, they made
-several efforts to get their petitions
-before Charles I. Sir John Read,
-a Scotchman, then going to England,
-undertook to forward petitions
-to the king; but, being arrested
-on suspicion at Drogheda,
-was taken to Dublin, and there put
-upon the rack by the lords-justices
-to endeavor to wring from him a
-confession of Charles I.’s complicity
-in the Rebellion. This Col.
-Mervin Touchett heard from Sir
-John Read himself as he was
-brought out of the room where he
-was racked. But that unfortunate
-monarch knew not how to choose
-his friends or to be faithful to them
-when he found them. He referred
-the whole conduct of Irish affairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
-to the English Parliament, thus increasing
-the discontent to the last
-pitch by making it plain to the
-whole Irish people that he abandoned
-the duty of protecting them,
-and had handed them over to the
-mercy of their worst enemies&mdash;the
-English Parliament. That Parliament
-at once passed a succession
-of wild votes and ordinances, indicating
-their intention of stopping
-short at nothing less than utter extirpation
-of the native race. Dec.
-8, 1641, they declared they would
-never give consent to any toleration
-of the Popish religion in Ireland.
-In February following, when few of
-any estate were as yet engaged in
-the Rebellion, they passed an act
-assigning two million five hundred
-thousand acres of cultivated land,
-besides immense tracts of bogs,
-woods, and mountains, to English
-and Scotch adventurers for a small
-proportion of money on the grant.
-This money, the act stated, was to
-go to the reduction of the rebels;
-but, with a fine irony of providence
-upon the king’s weak compliance,
-every penny of it was afterwards
-used to raise armies by the English
-rebels against him. “But the
-greatest discontent of all,” says
-Castlehaven, “was about the lords-justices
-proroguing the Parliament&mdash;the
-only way the nation had to
-express its loyalty and prevent
-their being misrepresented to their
-sovereign, which, had it been permitted
-to sit for any reasonable
-time, would in all likelihood, without
-any great charge or trouble,
-have brought the rebels to justice.”</p>
-
-<p>Thus all hopes of redress or safety
-being at an end&mdash;a villanous
-government in Dublin intent only
-upon confiscation, a furious Parliament
-in London breathing vengeance
-against the whole Irish race,
-and a king so embroiled in his English
-quarrels that he could do nothing
-to help his Irish subjects, even
-had he wished it&mdash;what was left
-those loyal, gallant, and devoted
-men but to draw the sword for their
-own safety? The Rebellion by degrees
-spread over the whole kingdom.
-“And now,” says Castlehaven,
-“there’s no more looking
-back; for all were in arms and full
-of indignation.” A council of the
-leading Catholic nobles, military
-officers, and gentry met at Kilkenny,
-and formed themselves into an
-association under the title of the
-Confederate Catholics of Ireland.
-Four generals were appointed for
-the respective provinces of the kingdom&mdash;Preston
-for Leinster, Barry
-for Munster, Owen Roe O’Neale
-for Ulster, and Burke for Connaught.
-Thus war was declared.</p>
-
-<p>When the Rebellion first broke
-out in the North, Lord Castlehaven
-had immediately repaired to Dublin
-and offered his services to
-the lords-justices. They were declined
-with the reply that “his religion
-was an obstacle.” After the
-prorogation of Parliament, as we
-have seen, he retired to his house in
-the country. Then, coming again
-to Dublin to meet a charge of corresponding
-with the rebels which
-had been brought against him, he
-was arrested by order of the lords-justices,
-and, after twenty weeks of
-imprisonment in the sheriff’s house,
-was committed to the Castle. “This
-startled me a little,” says Castlehaven&mdash;as
-it well might do; for the
-state prisoner’s exit from the Castle
-in Dublin in those days was usually
-made in the same way as from
-the Tower in London, namely,
-by the block&mdash;“and brought into
-my thoughts the proceedings against
-the Earl of Strafford, who, confiding
-in his own innocence, was voted
-out of his life by an unprecedented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
-bill of attainder.” Therefore,
-hearing nothing while in prison
-but rejoicings at the king’s misfortunes,
-who at last had been forced
-to take up arms by the English
-rebels, and knowing the lords-justices
-to be of the Parliament faction,
-and the lord-lieutenant, the
-Marquis of Ormond, being desperately
-sick of a fever, not without
-suspicion of poison, and his petition
-to be sent to England, to be
-tried there by his peers, being refused,
-he determined to make his
-escape, shrewdly concluding, as he
-says, that “innocence was a scurvy
-plea in an angry time.”</p>
-
-<p>Arriving at Kilkenny, he joined
-the confederacy, as has been related.</p>
-
-<p>From this time the war of the
-Confederate Catholics was carried
-on with varying success until the
-cessation of 1646, and then until the
-peace of 1648, when the Confederates
-united, but too late, with the
-Marquis of Ormond to stop the
-march of Cromwell.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A SWEET SINGER: ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">She sang of Love&mdash;the love whose fires</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Burn with a pure and gentle flame,</div>
-<div class="verse">No passion lights of wild desires</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Red with the lurid glow of shame.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">She sang of angels, and their wings</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Seemed rustling through each soft refrain;</div>
-<div class="verse">Gladness and sorrow, kindred things</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">She wove in many a tender strain.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">She sang of Heaven and of God,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Of Bethlehem’s star and Calvary’s way,</div>
-<div class="verse">Gethsemane&mdash;the bloody sod,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Death, darkness, resurrection-day.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">She sang of Mary&mdash;Mother blest,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Her sweetest carols were of thee!</div>
-<div class="verse">Close folded to thy loving breast</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">How fair her home in heaven must be!</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE COLPORTEURS OF BONN.</h3>
-
-<p>I was very stupid in my youth,
-and am still far from being sharp.
-I could not master knotty questions
-like other boys; so this natural deficiency
-had to be supplemented by
-some plan that would facilitate the
-acquisition of knowledge. The advantage
-to be derived from a garrulous
-preceptor, whose mind was
-stored with all sorts of learning
-without dogmatism or hard formularies,
-were fully appreciated by my
-parents. John O’Neil was a very
-old man when I was a boy, and he
-was just the person qualified to impart
-an astonishing quantity of all
-sorts of facts, and perhaps fancies.
-I hold him in affectionate remembrance
-though he be dead over
-twenty-five years, and rests near the
-remains of his favorite hero, O’Connell,
-in Glasnevin Cemetery. When
-he became the chief architect of
-my intellectual structure, I thought
-him the most learned man in the
-world. On account of my dulness,
-he adopted the method of sermonizing
-to me instead of giving me unintelligible
-lessons to be learned
-out of books. I took a great fancy
-to him, because I found him exceedingly
-interesting, and he evinced a
-strong liking for me because I was
-docile. We became inseparable
-companions, notwithstanding the
-great discrepancy in our years.
-His tall, erect, lank figure and lantern
-jaw were to me the physiological
-signs of profundity, firmness,
-and power, and his white head was
-the symbol of wisdom. Our tastes&mdash;well,
-I had no tastes save such as
-he chose to awaken in me, and
-hence there came to be very soon
-a great similitude in our respective
-inclinations. I was like a ball of
-wax, a sheet of paper, or any other
-original impressionable thing you
-may name, in his hands for ten
-years, after which very probably I
-began to harden, though I was not
-conscious of the process. However,
-the large fund of knowledge that he
-imparted to me crystallized, as it
-were, and became fixed in my possession
-as firmly as if it had been
-elaborately achieved by a severe
-mental training. After I went to
-college he was still my friend, and
-rejoiced in my subsequent successes,
-and followed me with a jealous eye
-and a sort of parental anxiety in
-my foreign travels, and even in
-death he did not forget me, for he
-made me the custodian of his great
-heaps of literary productions, all in
-manuscript, embracing sketches,
-diaries, notes of travel, learned fragments
-on scientific and scholastic
-topics, essays, tales, letters, the beginnings
-and the endings and the
-middles of books on history, politics,
-and polemics, pieces of pamphlets
-and speeches, with a miscellaneous
-lot of poetry in all measures. He
-was a great, good man, who never
-had what is called an aim in life,
-but he certainly had an aim <em>after</em>
-life; and yet no one could esteem
-the importance of this pilgrimage
-more than he did. He would frequently
-boast of being heterodox
-on that point. “You will hear,”
-he would remark, “people depreciating
-this life as a matter of little
-concern. Don’t allow their sophistry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
-to have much weight with you.
-The prevalent opinions which are
-flippantly spoken thereon will not
-stand the test of sound Christian
-reasoning. That part of human
-existence which finds its scene and
-scope of exertion in this life is filled
-with eternal potentialities. You
-have heard it said that man wants
-but little here below. Where else
-does he want it? Here is where
-he wants everything. Then do not
-hesitate to ask, but be careful not
-to ask amiss. When the battle is
-over, it will be too late to make requisitions
-for auxiliaries. If you
-conquer, assistance will not be
-wanted; if you are defeated, assistance
-cannot reach you. The
-fight cannot be renewed; the victory
-or defeat will be final. This
-life is immense. You cannot think
-too much of it, cannot estimate it
-too highly. A minute has almost
-an infinite value. Man wants much
-here, and wants it all the time.” I
-thought his language at that time
-fantastical; now I regard it as profound.
-From a survey of his own
-aimless career, it is evident he did
-not reduce the good of earthly existence
-of which he spoke to any sort
-of money value. Those elements and
-forces of life to which he attached
-such deep significance and importance
-could not have their equivalent
-in currency, nor in comforts, nor in
-real estate, nor even in fame. My
-old preceptor had spent most of his
-youth in travelling, and the picturesque
-meanderings of the Rhine
-furnished subjects for many of his
-later recollections. I recall now
-with a melancholy regret the many
-pleasant evenings I enjoyed listening
-to his narratives of travel on that
-historic river, and in imagination sat
-with him on the Drachenfels’ crest,
-looking down upon scenes made
-memorable by the lives and struggles
-of countless heroes and the crowds
-of humanity that came and went
-through the course of a hundred
-generations&mdash;some leaving their
-mark, and others erasing it again;
-some leaving a smile behind them
-on the face of the country, and
-others a scar. He loved to talk
-about the beautiful city of Bonn,
-where he had spent some years, it
-being the most attractive place, he
-said, from Strasbourg to the sea&mdash;for
-learning was cheap there, and so
-were victuals&mdash;the only things he
-found indispensable to a happy life.
-He would glide into a monologue
-of dramatic glow and fervor in reciting
-how he procured access to
-the extensive library of its new university,
-and, crawling up a step-ladder,
-would perch himself on top
-like a Hun, who, after a sleep of a
-thousand years, had resurrected
-himself, gathered his bones from
-the plains of Chalons, and having
-procured a second-hand suit of modern
-clothes from a Jew in Cologne,
-traced with eager avidity the vicissitudes
-of war and empire since the
-days of Attila. It was there, no
-doubt, he discovered the materials
-of this curious paper, which I found
-among his literary remains. Whether
-he gathered the materials himself,
-or merely transcribed the work
-of some previous writer, I am unable
-to determine. Without laying any
-claim to critical acumen, I must
-confess it appears to me to be a
-meritorious piece, and I picked it
-out, because I thought it unique
-and brief, for submission to the
-more extensive experience and
-more impartial judgment of <span class="smcap">The
-Catholic World’s</span> readers. Having
-entire control of these productions
-of my friend and preceptor,
-I took the liberty of substituting
-modern phraseology for what was
-antique, and of putting the sketch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
-in such style that the most superficial
-reader will have no difficulty
-in running it over. Objection may
-be raised to the title on the score
-of fitness. I did not feel authorized
-to change it, believing the one
-chosen by the judgment of my old
-friend as suitable as any I could
-substitute.</p>
-
-<p class="break">In the year 1250 the mind of
-man was as restless and impatient
-of restraint as now, and some people
-in Bonn, under a quiet exterior,
-nursed in their bosoms latent volcanoes
-of passion, and indulged the
-waywardness of rebellious fancy to
-a degree that would have proved
-calamitous to the placid flow of
-life and thought could instrumentality
-for action have been found.
-There is indubitable proof that the
-principle of the Reformation, which
-three hundred years later burst
-through the environment of dogma
-and spread like a flood of lava over
-Europe, existed actively in Bonn in
-the year named, and would have
-arrived at mature strength if nature
-had not interposed an impassable
-barrier to the proceeding. It is
-hard to rebel against nature, and it
-is madness to expect success in
-such a revolt. Fourteen men, whose
-names have come down to us, gave
-body and tone, and a not very clearly
-defined purpose, to this untimely
-uprising against the inevitable in
-Bonn. How many others were in
-sympathy or in active affiliation
-with them is not shown. Those
-fourteen were bold spirits, who labored
-under the misfortune of having
-come into the world three or
-four centuries too soon. They
-were great men out of place. There
-is an element of rebellion in great
-spirits which only finds its proper
-antidote in the stronger and more
-harmonious principle of obedience.
-Obedience is the first condition of
-creatures. Those fourteen grew
-weary of listening to the Gospel
-preached every Sunday from the
-pulpit of S. Remigius, when they
-attended Mass with the thousands
-of their townsmen. The Scriptures,
-both New and Old, were given out
-in small doses, with an abundant
-mixture of explanation and homily
-and salutary exhortation. Their appetites
-craved a larger supply of
-Scripture, and indeed some of them
-were so unreasonable as to desire
-the reading of the whole book, from
-Genesis to Revelations, at one service.
-“Let us,” said Giestfacher,
-“have it all. No one is authorized
-to give a selection from the Bible
-and hold back the rest. It is our
-feast, and we have a right to the full
-enjoyment thereof.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Heuck, his neighbor,
-to whom he addressed the remonstrance;
-“go to the scrivener’s
-and purchase a copy and send your
-ass to carry it home. Our friend
-Schwartz finished a fine one last
-week. It can be had for sixteen
-hundred dollars. When you have
-it safe at home, employ a reader,
-who will be able to mouth it all off
-for you in fifty hours, allowing a few
-intervals for refreshment, but none
-for sleep.” And Heuck laughed, or
-rather sneered, at Giestfacher as he
-walked away.</p>
-
-<p>Giestfacher was a reformer, however,
-and was not to be put down
-in that frivolous manner. He had
-been a student himself with the
-view of entering the ministry, but,
-being maliciously charged with certain
-grave irregularities, his prospects
-in that direction were seriously
-clouded, and in a moment of
-grand though passionate self-assertion
-he threw up his expectations
-and abandoned the idea of entering
-the church, but instead took to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
-world. He was a reformer from
-his infancy, and continually quarrelled
-with his family about the
-humdrum state of things at home;
-was at enmity with the system of
-municipal government at Bonn; and
-held very animated controversies
-with the physicians of the place on
-the system of therapeutics then pursued,
-insisting strongly that all diseases
-arose from bad blood, and that
-a vivisection with warm wine would
-prove a remedy for everything.
-He lacked professional skill to attempt
-an experiment in the medical
-reforms he advocated; besides, that
-department would not admit of
-bungling with impunity. For municipal
-reforms he failed in power,
-and the reward in fame or popular
-applause that might follow successful
-operations in that limited sphere
-of action was not deemed equivalent
-to the labor. But in the field
-of religion there was ample room
-for all sorts of tentative processes
-without danger; and, in addition
-to security, notoriety might be obtained
-by being simply <i lang="fr">outré</i>. He
-had settled upon religious reform,
-and his enthusiasm nullified the
-cautionary suggestions of his reason,
-and reduced mountains of difficulty
-to the insignificant magnitude
-of molehills; even Heuck could
-be induced to adopt his views by
-cogent reasoning and much persuasion.
-Enthusiasm is allied to madness&mdash;a
-splendid help, but a dangerous
-guide.</p>
-
-<p>Giestfacher used his tongue, and
-in the course of a year had made
-twelve or fourteen proselytes.
-Those who cannot enjoy the monotony
-of life and the spells of <i lang="fr">ennui</i>
-that attack the best-regulated temperaments,
-fly to novelty for relief.
-The fearful prospect of an unknown
-and nameless grave and an oblivious
-future drives many restless
-spirits into experiments in morals
-and in politics as well as in natural
-philosophy, in the vain hope of rescuing
-their names from the “gulf
-of nothingness” that awaits mediocrity.
-The new reformers, zealous
-men and bold, met in Giestfacher’s
-house on Corpus Christi
-in 1251, the minutes of which meeting
-are still extant; and from that
-record I learn there were present
-Stein the wheelwright, Lullman the
-baker, Schwartz the scrivener,
-Heuck the armorer, Giestfacher
-the cloth merchant, Braunn, another
-scrivener, Hartzwein the vintner,
-Blum the advocate, Werner, another
-scrivener, Reudlehuber, another
-scrivener, Andersen, a stationer,
-Esch the architect, Dusch the
-monk, discarded by his brethren
-for violations of discipline, and
-Wagner the potter. Blum was appointed
-to take an account of the
-proceedings, and Giestfacher was
-made president of the society.</p>
-
-<p>“We are all agreed,” said Giestfacher,
-“that the Scriptures ought
-to be given to the people. From
-these divine writings we learn a
-time shall come when wars shall
-cease, and the Alemanni and the
-Frank and the Tartar may eat from
-the same plate and drink out of the
-same cup in peace and fraternity,
-and wear cloth caps instead of
-brass helmets, and plough the fields
-with their spears instead of letting
-daylight through each other therewith,
-and the shepherds shall tend
-their flocks with a crook and not
-with a bow to keep off the enemy.
-How can that time come unless the
-people be made acquainted with
-those promises? I believe we, who,
-like the apostles, number fourteen,
-are divinely commissioned to change
-things for the better, and initiate
-the great movements which will
-bring about the millennium. Let us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
-rise up to the dignity of our position.
-Let us prove equal to the inspiration
-of the occasion. We are called together
-by heaven for a new purpose.
-The time is approaching when universal
-light will dispel the gloom,
-and peace succeed to all disturbance.
-Let us give the Scriptures
-to the people. They are the words
-of God, that carry healing on their
-wings. They are the dove that was
-sent out from the ark. They are
-the pillar of light in the desert.
-They are the sword of Joshua, the
-sling of David, the rod of Moses.
-Let us fourteen give them to the
-people, and start out anew, like the
-apostles from Jerusalem, to overturn
-the idols of the times and
-emancipate the nations. We have
-piled up heaps of stones in every
-town and monuments of brass, and
-still men are not changed. We see
-them still lying, warring, hoarding
-riches, and making gods of their
-bellies&mdash;all of which is condemned
-by the word of God. What will
-change all this? I say, let the piles
-of stone and the monuments of
-brass slide, and give the Scriptures
-a chance. Let us give them to
-the people, and the reign of brotherhood
-and peace will commence,
-wars shall cease, nation will no
-longer rise up against nation, rebellion
-will erect its horrid front no
-more. Men will cease hoarding
-riches and oppressing the poor.
-There will be no more robbing rings
-in corporate towns, and men in
-power will not blacken their character
-and imperil the safety of the
-state by nepotism. The whole
-world will become pure. No scandals
-will arise in the church, and
-there will be no blasphemy or false
-swearing, and Christian brethren
-shall not conspire for each other’s
-ruin.”</p>
-
-<p>“We see,” remarked Heuck, “that
-those who have the Scriptures are
-no better than other people. They
-too are given to lying, hoarding
-riches, warring one against another,
-and making gods of their bellies.
-How is that?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Blum, “I know three
-scriveners of this town who boast
-of having transcribed twenty Bibles
-each, and they get drunk thrice a
-week and quarrel with their wives;
-and there’s Giebricht, the one-legged
-soldier, who can repeat the
-Scriptures until you sleep listening
-to him, says he killed nine men in
-battle and wounded twenty others.
-The Scriptures did not make him
-very peaceful. The loss of a leg
-had a more quieting effect on him
-than all his memorizing of the sacred
-books.”</p>
-
-<p>“We did not get together,” said
-Werner, “to discuss that phase of
-the subject. It was well understood,
-and thereunto agreed a
-month ago, that the spread of the
-Scriptures was desirable; and to
-this end we met, that means wise
-and effective may be devised whereby
-we can supply every one with
-the word of God, that all may search
-therein for the correct and approved
-way of salvation.”</p>
-
-<p>“So be it,” said Dusch the
-monk.</p>
-
-<p>“Hear, hear!” said Schwartz.</p>
-
-<p>“Let us agree like brethren,”
-said Braunn.</p>
-
-<p>“We are subject to one spirit,”
-said Hartzwein the vintner, “and
-all moved by the same inspiration.
-Discord is unseemly. We must
-not dispute on the subject of drunkenness.
-Let us have the mature
-views of Brother Giestfacher, and
-his plans. The end is already clear
-if the means be of approved piety
-and really orthodox. In addition
-to the Scriptures, I would rejoice
-very much to see prayer more generally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
-practised. We ought to do
-nothing without prayer. Let us
-first of all consult the Lord. What
-says Brother Blum?”</p>
-
-<p>Blum rose and said it was a purely
-business meeting. He had no
-doubt it ought to have been opened
-with prayer. It was an old and
-salutary practice that came down
-from the days of the apostles, and
-Paul recommended it. But as they
-were now in the midst of business,
-he thought it would be as wise and
-as conformable with ancient Christian
-and saintly practice to go on
-with their work, and rest satisfied
-with mental ejaculation, as to inaugurate
-a formal prayer-meeting.</p>
-
-<p>Esch thought differently; he
-held that prayer was always in
-season.</p>
-
-<p>Reudlehuber meekly said that the
-Scriptures showed there was a time
-for everything, whence it was plain
-that prayer might be out of place as
-well as penitential tears on some occasions.
-It would not look well for
-a man to rise up in the midst of
-a marriage feast and, beating his
-breast, cry out <i lang="la">Mea culpa</i>.</p>
-
-<p>“We have too many prayers in
-the church,” said Giestfacher, “and
-not enough of Scripture; that is
-the trouble with us. Brethren
-must rise above the weaknesses of
-the mere pietist. Moses was no
-pietist; he was a great big, leonine
-character. We must be broad and
-liberal in our views; not given
-to fault-finding nor complaining.
-Pray whenever you feel like it, and
-drink when you have a mind to.
-Noah got drunk. I’d rather be
-the prodigal son, and indulge in a
-hearty natural appetite for awhile,
-than be his cautious, speculating,
-avaricious brother, who had not
-soul enough most likely to treat
-his acquaintances to a pint of wine
-once in his lifetime. Great men
-get tipsy. Great nations are bibulous.
-We are not here to make
-war on those who drink wine and
-cultivate the grape, nor are we authorized
-in making war on weavers
-because Dives was damned for
-wearing fine linen. It is our mission
-to spread the Scriptures. The
-world wants light. He is a benefactor
-of mankind who puts two
-rays where there was only one before.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us hear your plans, Brother
-Giestfacher,” cried out a number of
-voices simultaneously.</p>
-
-<p>In response, Brother Giestfacher
-stated that there were no plans
-necessary. All that was to be done
-was to circulate the Scriptures. Let
-us get one hundred thousand sheets
-of vellum to begin with, and set a
-hundred scriveners to work transcribing
-copies of the Bible, and
-then distribute these copies among
-the people.</p>
-
-<p>The plan was plain and simple
-and magnificent, Braunn thought,
-but there were not ten thousand
-sheets of vellum in the town nor in
-the whole district, and much of that
-would be required for civil uses;
-besides, the number of sheep in the
-neighborhood had been so reduced
-by the recent war that vellum
-would be scarce and costly for ten
-years to come.</p>
-
-<p>Werner lamented the irremediable
-condition of the world when
-the free circulation of the word
-of God depended on the number of
-sheep, and the number of sheep was
-regulated by war, and war by the
-ambition, jealousy, or pride of
-princes.</p>
-
-<p>“It is painfully true,” said Heuck,
-“that the world stands in sad need
-of reform, if souls are to be rescued
-from their spiritual perils only by
-the means proposed in the magnificent
-sheep-skin scheme of Brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
-Giestfacher.” It was horrible to
-think that the immortal part of man
-was doomed to perish, to be snuffed
-out, as it were, in eternal darkness,
-because soldiers had an unholy appetite
-for mutton.</p>
-
-<p>Braunn said the work could be
-started on three or four thousand
-hides, and ere they were used up a
-new supply might arrive from some
-unexpected quarter.</p>
-
-<p>Esch said that they ought to
-have faith; the Hand that fed
-the patriarch in the desert would
-provide vellum if he was prayerfully
-besought for assistance. <em>He</em>
-would be willing to commence on
-one sheet, feeling convinced there
-would be more than enough in the
-end.</p>
-
-<p>Blum did not take altogether so
-sanguine a view of things as Brother
-Esch. He was especially dubious
-about that vellum supply; not
-that he questioned the power of
-Providence at all, but it struck him
-that it would be just as well and as
-easy for the society to prayerfully ask
-for an ample supply of ready-made
-Bibles as to expect a miracle in
-prepared sheep-skin; and he was
-still further persuaded that if the
-books were absolutely necessary to
-one’s salvation, they would be miraculously
-given. But he did not
-put the movement on that ground.
-It is very easy for men, and particularly
-idiotic men, to convince themselves
-that God will answer all their
-whims and caprices by the performance
-of a miracle. We are going
-upon the theory that the work is
-good, just as it is good to feed the
-hungry and clothe the naked. We
-expect to find favor in heaven because
-we endeavor to do a work of
-charity according to our honest impression.</p>
-
-<p>“How many persons,” inquired
-Heuck, “do you propose to supply
-with complete copies of the Scriptures?”</p>
-
-<p>“Every one in the district,” replied
-Giestfacher.</p>
-
-<p>“Brother Dusch,” continued
-Heuck, “how many heads of
-families are there in the district?
-Your abbot had the census taken a
-few month’s ago, while you were yet
-in grace and favor at the monastery.”</p>
-
-<p>Brother Dusch said he heard
-there were twenty-two thousand
-from the Drachenfels to within six
-miles of Cologne, but all of them
-could not read.</p>
-
-<p>“We will send out,” said Giestfacher
-enthusiastically, “an army
-of colporteurs, who will distribute
-and read at the same time.”</p>
-
-<p>“I perceive,” said Blum, “that
-this discussion will never stop. New
-avenues of thought and new mountains
-of objection are coming to
-view at every advance in the debate.
-Let us do something first,
-and talk afterwards. To supply
-twenty-two thousand persons with
-expensive volumes will require considerably
-more than mere resolves
-and enthusiasm. I propose that
-we buy up all the vellum in the city
-to-day, and that we all go security
-for the payment. I propose also
-that we employ Brothers Braunn,
-Schwartz, Werner, and Reudlehuber
-to commence transcribing, and
-that we all go security for their pay.
-Unless we begin somewhere, we
-can never have anything done.
-What says Brother Giestfacher?”</p>
-
-<p>Giestfacher said it did not become
-men of action, reformers who
-proposed to turn over the world
-and inaugurate a new era and a new
-life and a new law, to stop at trifles
-or to consider petty difficulties.
-The design that had been developed
-at that meeting contemplated a
-sweeping change. Instead of having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
-a few books, here and there, at
-every church, cathedral, monastery,
-and market-place, learnedly
-and laboriously expounded by
-saints of a thousand austerities and
-of penitential garb, every house
-would be supplied, and there should
-be no more destitution in the land.
-The prophecies and the gospels
-and the mysteries of revelation
-would be on the lips of sucking
-babes, and the people who stood at
-the street-corners and at the marts
-of trade, the tiller of the soil, the
-pedler, the sailor, the old soldier,
-and the liberated prisoner, together
-with the man who sold fish and
-the woman who sold buttermilk,
-would stand up and preach the Gospel
-and display a mission, schoolboys
-would discuss the contents of
-that book freely, and even the inmates
-of lunatic asylums would
-expound it with luminous aptitude
-and startling fancy. The proposition
-of Brother Blum met his entire
-approval. He would pledge
-everything he had, and risk even life
-itself, to start the new principle, so
-that the world might bask in
-sunshine and not in shadow. It
-was about time that men had their
-intellects brightened up some.
-Even in the days of the apostles
-those pious men did not do their
-whole duty. They labored with
-much assiduity and conscientiousness,
-but they neglected to adopt
-measures looking to the spread of
-the Scriptures. He had no doubt
-but they fell a long way short of
-their mission, and were now enduring
-the pangs of a peck of purgatorial
-coal for their remissness.
-There were good men who perhaps
-found heaven without interesting
-themselves in the multiplication of
-copies of the Bible. They were not
-called to that work; but what was to
-be thought of those who had the
-call, the power, the skill, and yet
-neglected to spread the word. He
-believed SS. Gregory Nazianzen,
-Athanasius, Jerome, Chrysostom,
-Augustine, and others of those
-early doctors of the church, had a
-fearful account to render for having
-neglected the Scriptures. S. Paul,
-too, was not free from censure. It
-was true he wrote a few things, but
-he took no thought of multiplying
-copies of his epistles.</p>
-
-<p>“How many copies,” inquired
-Heuck, “do you think S. Paul ought
-to have written of his letters before
-you would consider him blameless?”</p>
-
-<p>“He ought,” said Giestfacher,
-“to have written all the time instead
-of making tents. ‘How
-many copies’ is a professional
-question which I will leave the
-scriveners to answer. I may remark
-that it would evidently be unprofitable
-for us to enter on a minute
-and detailed discussion on that
-point here. It is our duty to supplement
-the shortcomings of those
-early workers in the field, and
-finish what they failed to accomplish.
-They were bound to give
-the new principle a fair start. The
-plan suggested was the best, simplest,
-and clearest, and he hoped
-every one of the brethren would
-give it a hearty and cordial
-support.”</p>
-
-<p>The principle of communism, or
-the right of communities to govern
-themselves in certain affairs and to
-carry on free trade with certain
-other communities, had been granted
-the previous century, and Bonn
-was one of the towns that enjoyed
-the privilege; but the people still
-respected religion and did no trafficking
-on holydays. Giestfacher
-could not therefore purchase the
-vellum on Corpus Christi, but had
-to wait till next day, at which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
-time he could not conveniently find
-the other members of the new Bible
-society, and, fearing that news of
-their project would get abroad and
-raise the price of the article he
-wanted, he hastened to the various
-places where it was kept for sale,
-and bought all of it up in the
-course of two hours, paying his
-own money in part and giving his
-bond for the balance. The parchment
-was delivered to the four
-scriveners, who gathered their families
-about them, and all the assistants
-(journeymen) that could be
-found in the town, and proceeded
-with the transcribing of the Bible.
-At the next meeting each scrivener
-reported that he had about half a
-book ready, that the work was going
-rapidly and smoothly forward,
-and that the scribes were enthusiastic
-at the prospect of brisk business
-and good pay. The report
-was deemed very encouraging.
-It went to show that the society
-could have four Bibles every two
-weeks, or about one hundred a
-year, and that in the course of two
-hundred and twenty years every
-head of a family in the district could
-be provided with a Bible of his
-own. The scriveners stated, moreover,
-that they had neglected their
-profane business, for which they
-could have got cash, to proceed in
-the sacred work, and as there were
-several people depending on them
-for means of living, a little money
-would be absolutely necessary with
-the grace of God.</p>
-
-<p>Giestfacher also stated that he
-spent all the money he had in part
-payment for the parchment, and
-pledged his property for the balance.
-His business was somewhat
-crippled already in consequence of
-the outlay, and he expected to have
-part of the burden assumed by every
-one of the society.</p>
-
-<p>Werner said he had fifteen transcribers
-working for him, and each
-one agreed to let one-third of the
-market value of his work remain in
-the hands of the society as a subscription
-to the good work, but the
-other two-thirds would have to be
-paid weekly, as they could not live
-without means. They were all
-poor, and depending solely on their
-skill in transcribing for a living.</p>
-
-<p>The debate was long, earnest,
-eloquent, and more or less pious.</p>
-
-<p>Blum made a motion that the
-bishop of the diocese and the Pope
-be made honorary members of the
-society. Giestfacher opposed this
-with eloquent acrimony, saying it
-was a movement outside of all sorts
-of church patronage; that it was
-designed to supersede churches
-and preaching; for when every man
-had the Bible he would be a church
-unto himself, and would not need
-any more teaching. He also had a
-resolution adopted pledging each
-and every member to constitute
-himself a colporteur of the Bible,
-and to read and peddle it in sun and
-rain; and it was finally settled that
-a subscription should be taken up;
-that each member of the society be
-constituted a collector, and proceed
-at once to every man who loved
-the Lord and gloried in the Gospel
-to get his contribution.</p>
-
-<p>At the next meeting the brethren
-were all present except Dusch, who
-was reported as an absconder with
-the funds he had collected, and was
-said to be at that moment in Cologne,
-drunk perhaps. Four complete
-Bibles were presented as the
-result of two weeks’ hard labor and
-pious effort and the aggregate production
-of forty-five writers. The
-financial reports on the whole were
-favorable; and the scriveners were
-provided with sufficient means and
-encouragement to begin another set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
-of four Bibles. Brother Giestfacher
-was partially secured in his venture
-for the parchment, while it was said
-that the article had doubled in price
-during the past fortnight, and very
-little of it could be got from Cologne,
-as there was a scarcity of it
-there also, coupled with an extraordinary
-demand. It was also
-stated that the monks at the monastery
-had to erase the works of
-Virgil in order to find material for
-making a copy of the homilies of S.
-John Chrysostom which was wanted
-for the Bishop of Metz. In like
-manner, it was decided to erase the
-histories of Labanius and Zozirnus,
-as being cheaper than procuring
-original parchment on which to
-transcribe a fine Greek copy of the
-whole Bible, to take the place of one
-destroyed by the late war. The
-heavy purchase that Brother Giestfacher
-had made created a panic in
-the vellum market that was already
-felt in the heart of Burgundy. The
-scriveners’ business had also experienced
-a revulsion. People of
-the world who wanted testamentary
-and legal documents, deeds, contracts,
-and the like properly engrossed,
-were offering fabulous sums
-to have the work done, as most of
-the professionals of that class were
-now engaged by the society, and
-had no time to do any other sort
-of writing. A debate sprung up as
-to the proper disposition to be
-made of the four Bibles on hand,
-and also as to the manner of beginning
-and conducting the distribution.
-In view of the demand
-for the written word, and of the
-scarcity of copies and the high
-price of parchment, it was suggested
-by Heuck to sell them, and divide
-the proceeds among the poor and
-the cripples left after the late war.
-Five hundred dollars each could
-be readily got for the books, he
-said, and it was extremely doubtful
-whether those who would get them
-as gifts from the society would resist
-the temptation of selling them
-to the first purchaser that came
-along. In addition to this heavy
-reason in favor of his line of policy,
-Heuck suggested the possibility of
-trouble arising when they should
-come to grapple with the huge difficulties
-of actual distribution; to
-give one of those volumes, he said,
-would be like giving an estate and
-making a man wealthy for life.</p>
-
-<p>Giestfacher said it would be impracticable
-to make any private
-distribution among the destitute for
-some time. The guilds of coopers,
-tailors, shoemakers, armorers, fullers,
-tanners, masons, artificers, and
-others should be first supplied;
-and in addition to the Bible kept
-chained in the market-place for all
-who wished to read, he would have
-one placed at the town-pump and
-one at the town-house, so that the
-thirsty might also drink the waters
-of life, and those who were seeking
-justice at the court might ascertain
-the law of God before going
-in.</p>
-
-<p>Blum said another collection
-would have to be raised to erect a
-shed over the Bibles that were proposed
-to be placed at the town-pump
-and at the town-house and
-to pay for suitable chains and
-clasps to secure them from the depredations
-of the pilfering.</p>
-
-<p>Esch was of opinion that another
-subscription could not be successfully
-taken up until their work
-had produced manifest fruit for
-good. The people have much
-faith, but when they find salt mixed
-with their drink instead of honey,
-credulity is turned into disgust. A
-Bible chained to the town-pump
-will be a sad realization of their
-extravagant hopes. Every man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
-who subscribed five dollars expects
-to get a book worth five hundred,
-an illuminated Bible fit for a cathedral
-church. He warned them that
-they were getting into a labyrinth,
-and that they would have to resort
-to prayer yet to carry them through
-in safety. Werner thought it would
-be wisest to pursue a quiescent
-policy for some time, and to forego
-the indulgence of their anxious desire
-for palpable results until they
-should be in a condition to make
-an impression. He advocated the
-wisdom of delay. They also serve,
-he said, who only stand and wait,
-and it might prove an unwise proceeding
-to come out with their
-public exhibition just then. In a
-few months, when thirty or forty
-Bibles would be on hand, a larger
-number than could be found in any
-library in the world, they might
-hope, by the show of so much labor,
-to create enthusiasm.</p>
-
-<p>“But still,” urged Heuck, “you
-will have the difficulty to contend
-with&mdash;who is to get them?”</p>
-
-<p>“There will,” remarked Blum, “be
-a greater difficulty to contend with
-about that time: the settlement of
-obligations for parchment and the
-pay of the scriveners who are employed
-in transcribing. Our means
-at present, even if we pay the scriveners
-but one-third their wages, will
-not suffice to bring out twenty volumes.
-So we are just in this difficulty:
-in order to do something, we
-must have means, and in order to
-get means, we must do something.
-It is a sort of vicious circle projected
-from logic into finance. It
-will take the keen-edged genius
-of Brother Giestfacher to cut this
-knot.”</p>
-
-<p>“The work,” said Giestfacher, “in
-which we are engaged is of such
-merit that it will stand of itself. I
-have no fears of ultimate triumph.
-If you all fail, God and I will carry
-it on. Heaven is in it. I am in it.
-It must succeed. I am a little oldish,
-I confess, but there is twenty
-years of work in me still. I feel
-my foot sufficiently sure to tread
-the perilous path of this adventure
-to the goal.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us,” interposed Schwartz,
-“stop this profitless debate, and
-give a cheer to Brother Giestfacher.
-He is the blood and the bone of
-this movement. We are in with
-him. We are all in the same boat.
-If we have discovered a pusillanimous
-simpleton among us, it is not
-too late to cast him out. I feel my
-gorge and my strength rise together,
-and I swear to you by S. Remigius,
-brethren, that I am prepared to sink
-or swim, and whoever attempts to
-scuttle the ship shall himself perish
-first.”</p>
-
-<p>Two or three other brethren, feeling
-the peculiar inspiration of the
-moment, rose up and, stamping their
-feet on the floor, proclaimed their
-adherence to the principles of the
-society, and vowed to see it through
-to the end.</p>
-
-<p>This meeting then adjourned.</p>
-
-<p>There is no minute of any subsequent
-meeting to be found among
-the manuscripts that I have consulted,
-but I discovered a statement
-made by Heuck, dated six
-months later, who, being called before
-the municipal authorities to
-testify what he knew about certain
-transactions of a number of men
-that had banded themselves together
-secretly for the purpose of creating
-a panic in the vellum market,
-and of disturbing the business of
-the scriveners, said he was one of
-fourteen citizens interested in the
-promulgation of the Gospel free to
-the poor. That, after five or six
-meetings, he left the society in company
-with two others; that two of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
-the members became obnoxious,
-and were expelled&mdash;the one, Dusch,
-for embezzling money collected for
-Scripture-writing and Scripture-diffusing
-purposes, the other, Werner,
-for having retained one of their
-volumes, and disposed of it to the
-lord of Drachenfels for four hundred
-dollars; that they did not
-pursue and prosecute these delinquents
-for fear of bringing reproach
-on the project; and then he went
-on to state: “I left the society voluntarily
-and in disgust. We had
-fourteen Bibles on hand, but could
-not agree about their distribution.
-They were too valuable to give
-away for nothing, and it was discovered
-that they were all written
-in Latin, and not in the vernacular,
-and they would prove of as little value
-to the great mass of people for
-whom they were originally designed
-as if they had been written in Hebrew.
-In addition to this I found,
-for I understand the language perfectly,
-that no two of them were
-alike, and, in conjunction with scrivener
-Schwartz, I minutely examined
-one taken at random from the
-pile, and compared it with the volume
-at the Cathedral. We found
-fifteen hundred discrepancies. In
-some places whole sentences were
-left out. In others, words were
-made to express a different sense
-from the original. In others, letters
-were omitted or put in redundantly,
-in such a way as to change the
-meaning; and the grammatical
-structure was villanously bad. Seeing
-that the volumes were of no
-use as a representation of the word
-of God, and being conscientiously
-convinced that the books contained
-poison for the people instead of
-medicine, I made a motion in meeting
-to have them all burned.
-Schwartz opposed it on the ground
-that they were innoxious anyhow,
-there being none of the common
-people capable of understanding
-the language in which they were
-written, and, though they were a
-failure as Bibles, the vellum might
-be again used; and as the scriveners
-were not paid for their labor,
-they had a claim upon the volumes.
-The scriveners got the books, to
-which, in my opinion, they had no
-just claim, for the villanous, bad
-work they did on them deserved
-censure and not pay. I have heard
-since that some of those scriveners
-made wealth by selling the books to
-Englishmen for genuine and carefully
-prepared transcripts from authorized
-texts. The president and
-founder of the society, Giestfacher,
-is now in jail for debt, he having
-failed to meet his obligations for
-the vellum he purchased when he
-took it into his head to enlighten
-mankind&mdash;more especially that portion
-of it that dwells on the Rhine
-adjacent to the city of Bonn&mdash;by
-distributing corrupt copies of Latin
-Bibles to poor people who are not
-well able to read their own language.
-The ‘good work’ still occupies
-the brains and energies of
-three or four enthusiasts, who have
-already arrived at the conclusion
-that the apostles were in league
-with hell to keep the people ignorant,
-because they did not give
-every man a copy of the Bible. The
-founder sent me a letter two days
-ago, in which he complains of being
-deserted by his companions in
-his extremity. His creditors have
-seized on all his goods, and there
-is a considerable sum yet unpaid.
-He blames the Pope and the bishop
-in unmeasured terms for this; says
-it is a conspiracy to keep the Bible
-from the people. He sees no prospect
-of being released unless the
-members of the society come to his
-speedy relief. The principles, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
-says, for which he suffers will yet
-triumph. The time will come when
-Bibles will be multiplied by some
-cheap and easy process. Until then,
-the common run of humanity must
-be satisfied to be damned, drawing
-what little consolation they may
-from the expectation that their descendants
-a few centuries hence
-will enjoy the slim privilege of reading
-Bibles prepared with as little regard
-to accuracy as these were. I am
-sorry to see such a noble intellect
-as Giestfacher undoubtedly possesses
-show signs of aberration. The
-entire failure of his project was
-more than he could bear. He had
-centred his hopes upon it. He
-indulged dreams of fame and greatness
-arising out of the triumph of
-his idea. Esch has become an
-atheist. He says the Christian’s
-God would not have given a book
-to be the guide and dependence of
-man for salvation, and yet allow
-nature, an inferior creation, to interpose
-insuperable barriers to its promulgation.
-Every time a sheep-skin
-is destroyed, says Esch, a community
-is damned. The dearness
-and scarcity of parchment keep
-the world in ignorance. Braunn
-says the world cannot be saved except
-by a special revelation to every
-individual, for there is hardly a
-copy of the Bible without errors, so
-that whether every human creature
-got one or not, they would be still unsafe.
-One of the common herd must
-learn Latin and Greek and Hebrew
-well, and then spend a lifetime
-tracing up, through all its changes,
-transcriptions, and corruptions of
-idiom, one chapter, or at most one
-book, and die before he be fully assured
-of the soundness of one text, a
-paragraph, a line, a word. In fact,
-says Braunn, there can be no certainty
-about anything. Language
-may have had altogether a different
-meaning twelve hundred years ago
-to what it has now. Braunn and
-Schwartz and myself wanted to
-have a committee of five of our
-number appointed to revise and
-correct the text of each book that
-was produced by comparing it with
-such Greek and Hebrew copies as
-were represented of sound and correct
-authority; but Giestfacher
-laughed at us, saying we knew nothing
-of Greek or Hebrew; that we
-would have to hire some monks to
-do the job for us, which would be
-going back again to the very places
-and principles and practices against
-which we had revolted and protested.
-Moreover, continued Giestfacher,
-we cannot tell whether the
-oldest, most original copies that
-can be found are true in every particular.
-How can we know from
-any sort of mere human testimony
-that this copy or that is in accordance
-with what the prophets and
-apostles wrote. The whole Bible may
-be wrong as far as our <em>knowledge</em>, as
-such, is able to testify. We are reduced
-to <em>faith</em> in this connection
-and must rest on that alone.</p>
-
-<p>“I thought, and so did Schwartz,
-that the faith of Giestfacher must
-be peculiar when it could accept
-copies as good enough and true
-enough after we had discovered
-hundreds of palpable and grievous
-errors in them. A book of romance
-would do a person of Giestfacher’s
-temper as well as the Bible&mdash;faith
-being capable of making up for all
-deficiencies. I saw that an extravagance
-of credulity, called faith, on
-the part of Giestfacher, led to monomania;
-and a predominance of
-irrational reason on the part of
-Esch had led to utter negation. I
-did not covet either condition, and
-I concluded to remain safe at anchor
-where I had been before, rather
-than longer follow those adventurers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
-in a wild career after a
-fancied good&mdash;a mere phantom of
-their own creation. I lost twenty-five
-dollars by the temporary madness.
-That cannot be recalled. I
-rejoice that I lost no more, and I
-am grateful that the hallucination
-which lasted nearly a year has passed
-away without any permanent
-injury.”</p>
-
-<p>The remainder of Heuck’s statement
-had partially faded from the
-parchment by time and dampness,
-and could not be accurately made
-out. Sufficient was left visible,
-however, to show that he expressed
-a desire to be held excusable for
-whatever injuries to souls might result
-from the grave errors that existed
-in the Bibles disseminated by
-the cupidity of the scriveners with
-the guilty knowledge of such errors.</p>
-
-<p>I interested myself in rescuing
-from oblivion such parts of the record
-of those curious mediæval
-transactions as served to show to
-the people of later times what extraordinary
-mental and religious activity
-existed in those ages, when it
-was foolishly and stupidly thought
-there were but henchmen and slaves
-on the one side, and bloody mailed
-despots on the other. The arrogance
-of more favored epochs has
-characterized those days by the
-epithet of “dark.” Pride is apt to
-be blind. The characterization is
-unjust. All the lights of science
-could not come in one blaze. The
-people of those days looked back
-upon a period anterior to their own
-as “dark,” and those looked still
-further backward upon greater obscurity,
-as they thought. The universal
-boastfulness of man accounts
-for this increasing obscurity as we
-reach back into antiquity. Philosophers
-and poets and men of learning,
-thinking themselves, and wishing
-to have other people think them,
-above personal egotism, adopted the
-method of praising their age, and
-thus indirectly eulogizing, themselves;
-and as they could not compare
-their times with the future of
-which they knew nothing, they naturally
-fell into the unfilial crime of
-drawing disparaging comparisons
-with their fathers. There is an inclination,
-too, in the imperfection of
-human nature to belittle what is remote
-and magnify what is near at
-hand. Even now, men as enthusiastic
-and conscientious and religious
-as Heuck and Giestfacher and
-Schwartz find themselves surrounded
-by the same difficulties, and as
-deeply at a loss to advance a valid
-reason for their revolt and their
-protest.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>EARLY PERSECUTIONS OF THE CHRISTIANS.</h3>
-
-<p>In one of his bold Apologies<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a>
-the great African writer Tertullian
-said to the rulers of the Roman Empire
-that “it was one and the same
-thing for the truth [of Christianity]
-to be announced to the world, and
-for the world to hate and persecute
-it.” This persecution of the church
-began on the very spot that was her
-birth-place; for soon after the ascension
-of our Lord the wicked
-Jews tried by every means to crush
-her. “From the days of the apostles,”
-wrote Tertullian in the IIId
-century, “the synagogue has been
-a source of persecutions.” At first
-the church was attacked by words
-only; but these were soon replaced
-by weapons, when Stephen was
-stoned, the apostles were thrown
-into prison and scourged, and all
-the East had risen in commotion
-against the Christians. The Gentiles
-soon followed the example of
-the Jews, and those persecutions
-which bore an official character
-throughout the Roman Empire, and
-lasted for three centuries, are commonly
-called the Ten General Persecutions.
-Besides these, there
-were partial persecutions at all
-times in some part or other of the
-empire. Nero, whose name is synonymous
-with cruelty, was the
-first emperor to begin a general persecution
-of the Christians; and
-Tertullian made a strong point in
-his favor when he cried out to the
-people (<cite>Apol. v.</cite>), saying, “That
-our troubles began at such a
-source, we glory; for whoever has
-studied his nature knows well that
-nothing but what is good and great
-was ever condemned by Nero.”
-This persecution began in the year
-64, and lasted four years. Its pretext
-was the burning of Rome, the
-work of the emperor himself, who
-ambitiously desired, when he would
-have rebuilt the city and made it
-still more grand, to call it by his
-own name; but the plan not succeeding,
-he tried to avert the odium
-of the deed from his own person,
-and accused the Christians. Their
-extermination was decreed. The
-pagan historian Tacitus has mentioned,
-in his <cite>Annals</cite> (xv. 44), some
-of the principal torments inflicted
-on the Christians. He says that
-they were covered with the skins of
-wild beasts and torn to pieces by
-savage hounds, were crucified, were
-burned alive, and that some, being
-coated with resinous substances,
-were put up in the imperial garden
-at night to serve as human torches.
-The <cite>Roman Martyrology</cite> makes a
-special commemoration, on the
-24th of June, of these martyrs
-for having all been disciples of
-the apostles and the firstlings of
-the Christian flock which the
-church in Rome presented to the
-Lord. In this persecution S. Peter
-was crucified with his head
-downwards; S. Paul was beheaded;
-and among the other more illustrious
-victims we find S. Mark the
-Evangelist, S. Thecla, the first martyr
-of her sex, SS. Gervase and
-Protase at Milan, S. Vitalis at Ravenna,
-and S. Polycetus at Saragossa
-in Spain. The number of the
-slain, and the hitherto unheard-of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
-cruelties practised upon them,
-moved to pity many of the heathen,
-and the sight of so much
-fortitude for a principle of religion
-was the means, through divine
-grace, of many conversions. After
-this, as after every succeeding persecution,
-the great truth spoken by
-Tertullian was exemplified: that the
-blood of the martyrs was the seed
-of Christians.</p>
-
-<p>By a law of the empire, which
-was not revoked until nearly three
-hundred years afterwards, under
-Constantine, the profession of the
-Christian religion was made a capital
-offence. This law, it is true,
-was not enforced at all times, especially
-under benign or indifferent
-rulers; but it hung continually suspended
-over the heads of the Christians
-like a sword of Damocles.</p>
-
-<p>The second persecution was that
-of Domitian, from 94 to 96. Tertullian
-calls him “a portion of Nero
-by his cruelty.” At first he
-only imposed heavy fines upon the
-wealthy Christians; but, thirsting
-for blood, he soon published more
-cruel edicts against them. Among
-his noblest victims were his cousin-german,
-Flavius Clemens, a man of
-consular dignity; John the Evangelist,
-who was thrown into a caldron
-of boiling oil (from which, however,
-he miraculously escaped unhurt);
-Andrew the Apostle, Dionysius
-the Areopagite, and Onesimus,
-S. Paul’s convert. Hegesippus, quoted
-by Eusebius in his <cite>Ecclesiastical
-History</cite>, has recorded a very interesting
-fact about the children of
-Jude, surnamed Thaddeus in the
-Gospel, telling us that, having confessed
-the faith under this reign,
-they were always honored in the
-church of Jerusalem, not alone as
-martyrs, but as relatives of Jesus
-Christ according to the flesh.</p>
-
-<p>The third persecution was Trajan’s,
-from 97 to 116. In answer to
-a letter from his friend Pliny the
-Younger, who had command in
-Asia Minor, the emperor ordered
-that the Christians were not to be
-sought out, but that, if accused,
-and they remained obstinate in their
-faith, they were to be put to death.
-Under an appearance of mercy a
-large field was opened for the
-cruelty and exactions of Roman
-officials, which they were not slow
-to work. A single circumstance
-attests the severity of the persecution.
-This was that the Tiberian
-governor of Palestine wrote to the
-emperor complaining of the odious
-duty imposed upon him, since the
-Christians were forthcoming in greater
-numbers than he could, without
-tiring, have executed. The persecution
-was particularly severe in
-the East. Simeon, bishop of Jerusalem,
-Ignatius of Antioch, and the
-virgin Domitilla, who was related to
-three emperors, are among the more
-illustrious martyrs of the period.</p>
-
-<p>Next came the persecution of
-Hadrian, lasting from 118 to about
-129. We have the authority of S.
-Jerome for saying that it was very
-violent. This emperor was a coward
-and, perhaps as a consequence,
-intensely superstitious. One of his
-particular grievances against the
-Christians was that they professed
-a religion in which he had no share.
-Under him perished, with countless
-others, Pope Alexander I. and his
-priests, Eventius and Theodulus;
-Eustace, a celebrated general, with
-his wife and little children; Symphorosa
-and her seven sons; Zoe,
-with her husband and two children.</p>
-
-<p>The fifth was the persecution of
-Marcus Aurelius. Although he
-was by nature well inclined, he
-was certainly the author of much
-innocent bloodshed, which may be
-in part ascribed to the powerful influence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
-of the so-called philosophers
-whose company and tone he
-affected. The persecution raged
-most severely among the Gauls;
-and elsewhere we find the illustrious
-names of Justin the great Apologist,
-Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna,
-and Felicitas and her seven children.</p>
-
-<p>Followed the persecution of
-Septimius Severus, which lasted
-from 200 to 211, and was so extremely
-violent that many Christians
-believed Antichrist had come.
-It reaped from the church such distinguished
-persons as Pope Victor
-at Rome; Leonidas, father of the
-great Origen, at Alexandria; Irenæus
-and companions at Lyons;
-Perpetua and Felicitas in Mauritania.
-Egypt was particularly rich
-in holy martyrs.</p>
-
-<p>After this one came the persecution
-of Maximinus, from 235 to
-237. It was in the beginning more
-especially directed against the sacred
-ministers of the church. Several
-popes were put to death; and
-among the inferior clergy we find
-the deacon Ambrose, who was the
-bosom friend of Origen and one of
-his principal assistants in his work
-on the Holy Scriptures.</p>
-
-<p>The persecution of Decius lasted
-from 249 to 251. The Christians,
-in spite of all repressive measures,
-had steadily increased in numbers;
-but this emperor thought to do
-what his predecessors had failed
-in, and was hardly seated on the
-throne before he published most
-cruel edicts against them. Among
-the more celebrated names of this
-persecution are those of Popes
-Fabian and Cornelius; Saturninus,
-first bishop of Toulouse; Babylas,
-bishop of Antioch; the famous
-Christopher in Lycia, about whom
-there is a beautiful legend; and the
-noble virgin Agatha in Sicily. The
-great scholar Origen was put to
-the torture during this persecution,
-but escaped death. Like Maximinus,
-this emperor singled out
-the heads of the various local
-churches, the most active and
-learned ministers, the highest of
-both sexes in the social scale, aiming
-less at the death than the apostasy
-of Christians, hoping in this
-way to destroy the faith; whence
-S. Cyprian laments in one of his
-epistles that the Christians suffer
-atrocious torments without the
-final consolation of martyrdom.
-One effect of this persecution was
-of immense benefit to the church
-in the East; for S. Paul, surnamed
-First Hermit, took refuge from the
-storm in Upper Egypt, where he
-peopled by his example the region
-around Thebes with those holy
-anchorites since called the Fathers
-of the Desert.</p>
-
-<p>The ninth persecution was that
-of Valerian, who, although at first
-favorable to the Christians, became
-one of their greatest opposers at
-the instigation of their sworn
-enemy, Marcian. At this date we
-find upon the list of martyrs the
-eminent names of Popes Stephen
-and Sixtus II., Lawrence the Roman
-deacon, and Cyprian, the great
-convert and bishop of Carthage.</p>
-
-<p>The persecution of Diocletian
-was the last and the bloodiest of
-all. It raged from 303 to 310.
-Maximian, the emperor’s colleague,
-had already put to death many
-Christians, and among others, on
-the 22d of September, 286, Maurice
-and his Theban legion, before
-the persecution became general
-throughout the Roman Empire. It
-began in this form at Nicomedia
-on occasion of a fire that consumed
-a part of the imperial palace,
-and which was maliciously ascribed
-to the Christians; and it is remarkable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
-that the two extreme
-persecutions of the early church
-should both have begun with a
-false charge of incendiarism. Diocletian
-used to sit upon his throne
-at Nicomedia, watching the death-pangs
-of his Christian subjects who
-were being burned, not singly, but
-in great crowds. Many officers
-and servants of his household perished,
-and, to distinguish them from
-the rest, they were dropped into
-the sea with large stones fastened
-about their necks. A special object
-of the persecutors was to destroy
-the churches and tombs of
-earlier martyrs, to seize the vessels
-used in the Holy Sacrifice, and to
-burn the liturgical books and the
-Holy Scriptures. The <cite>Roman
-Martyrology</cite> makes a particular
-mention on the 2d of January of
-those who suffered death rather
-than deliver up these books to the
-tyrant. Although innumerable copies
-of the Scriptures perished, not
-a few were saved, and new copies
-multiplied either by favor of the
-less stringent executors of the law,
-or because the privilege was bought
-by the faithful at a great price.
-Some years ago the German Biblical
-critic Tischendorf discovered
-on Mount Sinai a Greek codex of
-extraordinary antiquity and only
-two removes from an original of
-Origen. It is connected with one
-of the celebrated martyrs of this
-persecution, and bears upon what
-we have just said of the Sacred
-Scriptures. In this codex, at the
-end of the Book of Esther, there is
-a note attesting that the copy was
-collated with a very ancient manuscript
-that had itself been corrected
-by the hand of the blessed martyr
-Pamphilus, priest of Cæsarea
-in Palestine, while in prison, assisted
-by Antoninus, his fellow-prisoner,
-who read for him from a copy of
-the Hexapla of Origen, which had
-been revised by that author himself.
-The touching spectacle of
-these two men, both of whom gave
-their blood for the faith, occupied,
-in the midst of the inconveniences,
-pain, and weariness of captivity, in
-transcribing good copies of the
-Bible, is one of the many instances,
-discovered in every age, showing
-the care that the church has had to
-multiply and guard from error the
-holy written Word of God.</p>
-
-<p>Among the petty sources of annoyance
-during this persecution,
-was the difficulty of procuring food,
-drink, or raiment that had not been
-offered to idols; for the pagan
-priests had set up statues of their
-divinities in all the market-places,
-hostelries, and shops, and at the
-private and public fountains. They
-used also to go around city and
-country sprinkling with superstitious
-lustral water the gardens,
-vineyards, orchards, and fields, so
-as to put the Christians to the greatest
-straits to obtain anything that
-had not been polluted in this
-manner. We learn from the Acts
-of S. Theodotus, a Christian tradesman
-of Ancyra, the obstacles he
-had to surmount at this time to
-procure pure bread and wine to be
-used by the priests in the Mass.
-We can appreciate the intense severity
-of this persecution in many
-ways; but one of the most singular
-proofs of it is that pagans in Spain
-inscribed upon a marble monument,
-erected in Diocletian’s honor, <em>that
-he had abolished the very name of
-Christian</em>. This emperor had also
-the rare but unenviable privilege
-of giving his name to a new chronological
-period, called by the pagans,
-in compliment to his bloody
-zeal for their rites, the Era of Diocletian;
-but the Christians called it
-the Era of the Martyrs. It began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
-on the 29th of August, 284, and was
-long in use in Egypt and Abyssinia.
-Some of the more renowned victims
-of this persecution are Sebastian,
-an imperial officer; Agnes, a Roman
-virgin; Lucy, a virgin of Syracuse,
-and the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste.</p>
-
-<p>It may be interesting to note
-briefly the chief causes of so much
-cruel bloodshed, even under princes
-of undoubted moderation in the
-general government of affairs, as
-were Trajan, Marcus Aurelius,
-Antoninus the Pious, and a few
-others.</p>
-
-<p>The most continual, if not the
-deepest, source of persecution were
-the passions of the populace. Calumny
-of the subtlest and most popular
-kind, and pressed at all times
-with patient effort, had so inflamed
-the minds of the brutal lower classes
-that only a word or a sign was
-required to set them upon the
-Christians. These were called disloyal
-to the empire, unfriendly to
-the princes, of a foreign religion,
-people who refused to fall into
-the ways of the majority, and enemies
-of the human race. From
-the remains of ancient histories,
-from the Acts of martyrs, from pagan
-inscriptions, and from other
-sources, more than fifty-seven different
-opprobrious qualifications, applied
-to the Christians as a body,
-have been counted up. But when
-particular calumnies became any
-way stale, the Christians could always
-be accused as the cause of
-every calamity that befell the state;
-so that, in the words of Tertullian
-(<cite>Apol. xl.</cite>), “If the Tiber exceeded
-its limits, if the Nile did not rise to
-irrigate the fields, if the rain failed
-to fall, if the earth quaked, if famine
-or pestilence scourged the land, at
-once the cry was raised, Christians
-to the lions!”</p>
-
-<p>The next most constant source
-of trouble was the pernicious influence
-of the Philosophers&mdash;a set of
-men who pretended to be seekers
-after wisdom, and distinguished
-themselves from the vulgar by a
-certain style of dress. Puffed up
-as they were with their own knowledge,
-nothing irritated their pride
-so much as that men of the despised
-Christian class should presume
-to dispute their doctrines and teach
-that profane philosophy was naught,
-since man could not be made perfect
-by human wisdom, but only by
-the testimony of Christ who was
-crucified. Among the Christians,
-too, a special order of men whom
-we call Apologists, and among whom
-we count Justin, Tertullian, Tatian,
-Arnobius, Minutius Felix, Origen,
-Aristides, Quadratus, Athenagoras,
-and Miltiades the chief, exposed in
-their eloquent writings the vanity,
-contradictions, and vices of their
-opponents, succeeding sometimes
-in silencing false accusations, and
-even in arresting the course of persecution.
-Their apologies and memorials
-form one of the most instructive
-branches of early Christian
-literature, and are a considerable
-compensation for the loss of so
-many Acts of martyrs and other
-venerable documents destroyed by
-the pagans or which have otherwise
-perished.</p>
-
-<p>The third great cause of persecution
-was found (to use a comparatively
-modern word) in the Erastianism
-of the Roman Empire.
-The emperor was, by right of the
-purple, high-pontiff, and no religion
-was recognized that did not profess
-its existence and authority dependent
-upon the state. Naturally, a
-religion whose followers would
-reply to every iniquitous command,
-“We ought to obey God rather
-than men,” could expect no mercy,
-but only continual war.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Sometimes the Christians were
-put to death in the same manner
-as the common malefactors, such
-as by decapitation, crucifixion, or
-scourging; sometimes in the manner
-reserved for particular classes
-of criminals, as being hurled down
-a precipice, drowned, devoured by
-wild beasts, left to starve. But
-sometimes, also, the exquisite cruelty
-of the persecutors delighted to
-feed upon the sufferings of its victims,
-and make dying as long and
-painful as possible. Thus, there
-are innumerable examples of Christians
-being flayed alive, the skin
-being neatly cut off in long strips,
-and pepper or vinegar rubbed into
-the raw flesh; or slowly crushed
-between two large stones; or having
-molten lead poured down the
-throat. Some Christians were tied
-to stakes in the ground and gored
-to death by wild bulls, or thinly
-smeared with honey and exposed
-under a broiling sun to the insects
-which would be attracted; some
-were tied to the tails of vicious
-horses and dragged to pieces
-some were sewed up in sacks with
-vipers, scorpions, or other venomous
-things, and thrown into the water;
-some had their members violently
-torn from the trunk of the
-body; some were tortured by fire
-in ways almost unknown to the
-most savage Indians of America;
-some were slowly scourged to
-death with whips made of several
-bronze chainlets, at the extremity
-of each of which was a jagged bullet;
-while jerking out of the
-teeth in slow succession; cutting
-off the nose, ears, lips, and breasts;
-tearing of the flesh with hot pincers;
-sticking sharp sticks up under
-the finger-nails; being held suspended,
-head downward, over a
-smoking fire; stretching upon a
-rack, and breaking upon the wheel,
-were some only of the commonest
-tortures that preceded the final
-death-stroke by sword or lance.
-Many instruments used in tormenting
-the martyrs have been found
-at different times, and are now
-carefully preserved in collections
-of Christian antiquities; and from
-these, from early-written descriptions,
-and from the rude representations
-on the tombs of martyrs in
-the Catacombs, it is known positively
-that over one hundred different
-modes of torture were used
-upon the Christians.</p>
-
-<p>From the earliest period particular
-pains were taken by the pastors
-of the church to have the remains
-of the martyrs collected and some
-account of their sufferings consigned
-to letters; and Pope S. Clement,
-a disciple of the Apostle Peter,
-instituted a college of notaries, one
-for each of the seven ecclesiastical
-districts into which he had divided
-Rome, with the special charge of
-collecting with diligence all the information
-possible about the martyrs.
-They were not to pass over
-even the minutest circumstances of
-their confession of faith and death.
-This attendance on the last moments
-of the martyrs was often accompanied
-by great personal risk,
-or at least a heavy expense in the
-way of buying the good-will of
-venal officers; but it was a thing
-of the utmost importance, in view
-of the church’s doctrine concerning
-the veneration and invocation
-of saints, that nothing should
-be left undone which prudence
-would suggest to leave it beyond
-a doubt that the martyrs had confessed
-the <em>true</em> faith, and had suffered
-death <em>for</em> the faith. The pagans
-soon discovered the value that was
-set upon such documents, and very
-many of them were seized and destroyed.
-The fact that the Act<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
-of the martyrs were objects of
-careful search is so well attested&mdash;as
-is also the other fact, that an
-immense number perished&mdash;that it
-is a wonder and a grace of divine
-Providence how any, however few
-comparatively, have come down to
-us. It has been calculated that at
-least five million Christians&mdash;men,
-women, and children&mdash;were put to
-death for the faith during the first
-three centuries of the church.</p>
-
-<p>The French historian Ampère
-has very justly remarked that
-amidst the moral decay of the Roman
-Empire, when all else was
-lust and despotism, the Christians
-alone saved the dignity of human
-nature; and the Spaniard Balmes,
-when treating of the progress of
-individuality under the influence of
-Catholicity (<cite>European Civilization</cite>,
-ch. xxiii.), remarks that it was the
-martyrs who first gave the great
-example of proclaiming that “the
-individual should cease to acknowledge
-power when power exacts
-from him what he believes to be
-contrary to his conscience.” The
-patience of the martyrs rebuked
-the sensualism of the pagans; and
-their fearless assertions that matters
-of conscience are beyond the
-jurisdiction of any civil ruler proved
-them to be the best friends of
-human liberty; while their constancy
-and number during three
-hundred years of persecution, that
-only ceased with their triumph, is
-one of the solid arguments to prove
-that the Catholic Church has a divine
-origin, and a sustaining divinity
-within her.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchang’d,</div>
-<div class="verse">Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang’d;</div>
-<div class="verse">Without unspotted, innocent within,</div>
-<div class="verse">She fear’d no danger, for she knew no sin:</div>
-<div class="verse">Yet had she oft been chas’d with horns and hounds,</div>
-<div class="verse">And Scythian shafts, and many wingèd wounds</div>
-<div class="verse">Aim’d at her heart; was often forc’d to fly,</div>
-<div class="verse">And doom’d to death, tho’ fated not to die.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Dryden.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE UNREMEMBERED MOTHER.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Unknown, beloved, thou whose shadow lies</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Across the sunny threshold of my years;</div>
-<div class="verse">Whom memory with never-resting eyes</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Seeks thro’ the past, but cannot find for tears;</div>
-<div class="verse">How bitter is the thought that I, thy child,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Remember not the touch, the look, the tone,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Which made my young life thrill&mdash;that I alone</div>
-<div class="verse">Forget the face that o’er my cradle smil’d!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And yet I know that if a sudden light</div>
-<div class="verse">Reveal’d thy living likeness, I should find</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That my poor heart hath pictur’d thee aright.</div>
-<div class="verse">So I will wait, nor think the lot unkind</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That hides thee from me, till I know by sight</div>
-<div class="verse">The perfect face thro’ love on earth divin’d.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>DURATION.</h3>
-
-<p>Time and duration are usually
-considered synonymous, as no duration
-is perceived by us, except
-the duration of movement, or of
-such things as are subject to movement;
-and such duration is time.
-But, rigorously speaking, time and
-duration are not synonymous; for
-they are to one another in the same
-relation as place and space. As
-no place is possible without real
-absolute space, so no time is possible
-without real absolute duration;
-and as place consists of intervals in
-space, so time consists of intervals
-in duration. Yet there may be
-duration independently of time, just
-as there may be space independent
-of places; and for this reason the
-nature of duration must be determined
-apart from the nature of
-time. In treating of this subject
-we shall have to answer a series of
-questions altogether similar to those
-which we have answered in treating
-of space and place. Hence we
-shall follow the same order and
-method in our present treatise
-which we have followed in our
-articles on space, with this difference,
-however: that, to avoid useless
-repetitions, we will omit the development
-of some of those reasonings
-which the reader himself can easily
-transfer from space to duration.</p>
-
-<p>Duration is commonly defined as
-“the permanence of a being in its
-actuality”&mdash;<i lang="la">Permanentia rei in esse</i>.
-The duration of a being which perseveres
-in existence without any intrinsic
-change is called “standing
-duration”&mdash;<i lang="la">Duratio stans</i>. The duration
-of a being which is actually
-subject to intrinsic mutations is
-called “flowing duration”&mdash;<i lang="la">Duratio
-fluens</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Flowing duration evidently implies
-succession, and succession involves
-time; for succession is a relation
-between something which
-follows and something which precedes.
-On the other hand, time
-also involves succession; whence it
-would seem that neither time nor
-succession can be defined apart
-from one another, the definition of
-the latter presupposing that of the
-former, and that of the former presupposing
-the notion of the latter.
-Although we need not be anxious
-about this point (for time and succession
-really involve one another,
-and therefore may well be included
-under the same definition), we must
-observe that the notion of succession,
-though ordinarily applied to
-duration, extends to other things
-also whenever they follow one another
-in a certain order. Thus the
-crust of the earth is formed by a
-succession of strata, the Alps by a
-succession of mountains, the streets
-of the city by a succession of houses,
-etc. Hence the notion of succession
-is more general than the notion
-of time, and consequently there
-must be some means of defining it
-independently of the consideration
-of time.</p>
-
-<p>Balmes explains succession, without
-mentioning time, in the following
-manner: “There are things
-which exclude one another from
-the same subject, and there are
-other things which do not exclude
-one another from the same subject.
-The existence of those things which
-exclude one another implies succession.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
-Take a line <i>ABC</i>. A
-body placed in <i>A</i> cannot pass over
-to the place <i>B</i> without ceasing to
-be in <i>A</i>, because the situation <i>B</i>
-excludes the situation <i>A</i>, and in a
-similar manner the situation <i>C</i> excludes
-the situation <i>B</i>. If, then,
-notwithstanding this mutual exclusion,
-the three places are really occupied
-by the same body, there is
-succession. This shows that succession
-is really nothing else than
-<em>the existence of such things as exclude
-one another</em>. Hence succession implies
-the existence of the thing that
-excludes, and the non-existence of
-the things that are excluded. All
-variations involve some such exclusion;
-hence all variations involve
-succession.… To perceive the
-existence of things which exclude
-one another is to perceive succession
-and time; to measure it is to
-measure time.” Thus far Balmes.<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p>
-
-<p>But, if the <em>flowing</em> duration can
-be easily conceived as the existence
-of such things as exclude one another,
-the case is very different
-with regard to <em>standing</em> duration.
-For, since we measure all duration
-by time or by successive intervals,
-we can scarcely conceive that there
-may be duration without succession.
-Even the word “permanence”
-which we employ in the
-definition of duration, and which
-seems to exclude all notion of
-change, is always associated in our
-thought with succession and time.
-The difficulty we experience in
-forming a concept of standing duration
-is as great at least as that
-which we find in conceiving absolute
-space without formal extension
-and parts. In fact, formal extension
-is to absolute space what formal
-succession is to absolute standing
-duration. To get over this difficulty
-we shall have to show that
-there is a duration altogether independent
-of contingent changes,
-as there is a space altogether independent
-of existing bodies, and
-that the succession which we observe
-in the duration of created
-things is not to be found in the
-fundamental reason of its existence,
-as our imagination suggests, but
-only in the changes themselves
-which we witness in created things.</p>
-
-<p>The following questions are to
-be answered: Is there any standing
-duration? and if so, is it an objective
-reality, or a mere negation
-of movement? Is standing duration
-anything created? What sort
-of reality is it? Is it modified by
-the existence of creatures? What
-is a term of duration? What is
-relative duration? What is an interval
-of duration, and how is it
-measured? These questions are
-all parallel to those which we have
-answered in our first and second
-articles on space, and they admit
-of a similar solution.</p>
-
-<p><i>First question.</i>&mdash;“Is there any duration
-absolutely standing?” Certainly.
-For if there is a being
-whose entity remains always the
-same without any intrinsic change,
-its duration will be absolutely
-standing. But there is such a
-being. For there is, as we have
-proved, an infinite reality absolutely
-immovable and unchangeable&mdash;that
-is, absolute space. Its permanence
-is therefore altogether exempt
-from succession; and consequently
-its duration is absolutely
-standing.</p>
-
-<p>Again: As there is no movement
-in space without immovable
-space, so there is no flowing in duration
-without standing duration.
-For as a thing cannot change its
-ubication in space unless there be
-a field for real ubications between
-the initial and the final term of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
-the movement, so a thing cannot
-change its mode of being (the
-<em>when</em>) in duration, unless there
-be a field for real modes of
-being between the initial and the
-final term of its duration. Now,
-this real field, owing to the fact
-that it is, in both cases, prerequired
-for the possibility of the respective
-changes, is something necessarily
-anterior to, and independent of, any
-of such changes. Therefore, as
-the field of all local movements is
-anterior to all movements and excludes
-movement from itself, so also
-the field of all successive durations
-is anterior to all successivity and
-therefore excludes succession.</p>
-
-<p>Although these two arguments
-suffice to establish our conclusion,
-what we have to say concerning the
-next question will furnish additional
-evidence in its support.</p>
-
-<p><i>Second question.</i>&mdash;“Is standing
-duration an objective reality or a
-mere abstract conception?” We
-answer that standing duration is
-an objective reality as much as
-absolute space. For, as movement
-cannot extend in space, if space is
-nothing real, so movement cannot
-extend in duration, if the field of its
-extension is nothing real. But we
-have just seen that the field through
-which the duration of movement
-extends is standing duration.
-Therefore standing duration is an
-objective reality.</p>
-
-<p>Secondly, a mere nothing, or a
-mere fiction, cannot be the foundation
-of real relations. But standing
-duration is the foundation of all intervals
-of real succession, which
-are real relations. Therefore standing
-duration is not a fiction, but an
-objective reality. The major of
-this argument is well known. The
-minor is proved thus: In all real
-relations the terms must communicate
-with each other through one and
-the same reality; and therefore the
-foundation of a real relation must
-reach by one and the same reality
-the terms related. But the terms
-of successive duration are <em>before</em>
-and <em>after</em>. Therefore the foundation
-of their relation must reach
-both <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> with one and
-the same reality, and therefore it
-has neither <em>before</em> nor <em>after</em> in itself.
-Had it <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> in itself, its
-<em>after</em> would not be its <em>before</em>; and
-thus the reality by which it would
-reach the terms of succession would
-not be the same. It is therefore
-manifest that the foundation of all
-real intervals of succession is a
-reality whose duration ranges above
-succession.</p>
-
-<p>This proof may be presented
-more concisely as follows: Succession
-is a relation between two
-terms, as <em>past</em> and <em>present</em>. Its
-foundation must therefore reach all
-the past as it reaches the present.
-But what reaches the past as well
-as the present, is always present;
-for if it were past, it would be no
-more, and thus it could not reach
-the past and the present. Therefore
-the foundation of succession
-has no past, but only an invariable
-present. Therefore there is a real
-standing duration, a real field, over
-which successive duration extends.</p>
-
-<p>Thirdly, in all intervals of succession
-the <em>before</em> is connected
-with the <em>after</em> through real duration.
-But this real duration has in itself
-neither <em>before</em> nor <em>after</em>. For if it
-had <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>, it would fall
-under the very genus of relation of
-which it is the foundation; which
-is evidently impossible, because it
-would then be the foundation of its
-own entity. It is therefore plain that
-the real connection between the
-<em>before</em> and the <em>after</em> is made by a
-reality which transcends all <em>before</em>
-and all <em>after</em>, and which is nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
-else than absolute standing duration.</p>
-
-<p>Fourthly, if standing duration were
-not an objective reality, but a mere
-fiction or a mere negation of movement,
-there would be no real length
-of duration. For the terms of
-successive duration are indivisible,
-and consequently they cannot give
-rise to any continuous quantity of
-duration, unless something lies between
-them which affords a real
-ground for continuous extension.
-That the terms of successive duration
-are indivisible is evident,
-because the same term cannot be
-before itself nor after itself, but is
-wholly confined to an indivisible
-instant. Now, that according to
-which an interval of successive
-duration can be extended from one
-of these terms to another, is nothing
-but absolute and standing duration.
-For, if it were flowing, it would
-pass away with the passing terms,
-and thus it would not lie between
-them, as is necessary in order to
-supply a ground for the extension
-of the interval intercepted. In the
-same manner, therefore, as there
-cannot be distance between two
-ubicated points without real absolute
-space, there cannot be an interval
-between two terms in succession
-without real absolute duration.</p>
-
-<p>A fifth proof of the same truth
-may be drawn from the reality of
-the past. Historical facts are real
-facts, although they are all past.
-There really was a man called Solomon,
-who really reigned in Jerusalem;
-there really was a philosopher
-called Plato, whose sublime
-doctrines deserved for him the surname
-of Divine; there really was a
-man called Attila, surnamed the
-Scourge of God. These men existed
-in different intervals of duration,
-and they are no more; but
-their past existence and their distinct
-duration constitute three distinct
-facts, which are <em>real facts</em>
-even to the present day, and such
-will remain for ever. Now, how
-can we admit that what has wholly
-ceased to exist in successive duration
-is still a real and indelible
-fact, unless we admit that there is
-an absolute duration which is, even
-now, as truly united with the past
-as it is with the present, and to
-which the past is not past, but perpetually
-present? If there is no
-such duration, then all the past
-must have been obliterated and
-buried in absolute nothingness; for
-if the succession of past things extended
-upon itself alone, without
-any distinct ground upon which its
-flowing could be registered, none
-of past things could have left behind
-a real mark of their existence.</p>
-
-<p>Against this conclusion some will
-object that the relation between <em>before</em>
-and <em>after</em> may be explained by
-a mere negation of simultaneous
-existence. But the objection is
-futile. For the intervals of successive
-duration can be greater or
-less, whilst no negation can be
-greater or less; which shows that
-the negation of simultaneous existence
-must not be confounded with
-the intervals of succession.</p>
-
-<p>The following objection is more
-plausible. The duration of movement
-suffices to fill up the whole
-interval of succession and to measure
-its extent; and therefore the
-reality which connects the <em>before</em>
-with the <em>after</em> is movement itself,
-not standing duration. To this we
-answer that the duration of movement
-is essentially successive and
-relative; and therefore it requires
-a real foundation in something
-standing and absolute. In fact, although
-every movement formally
-extends and measures its own duration,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
-nevertheless it does not extend
-it upon itself, but upon a field
-extrinsic to itself; and this field is
-permanently the same. It is plain
-that the beginning and the end of
-movement cannot be connected
-in mutual relation through movement
-alone, because movement is
-always <i lang="la">in fieri</i>, and when it passes
-through one term of its duration
-it loses the actuality it had in the
-preceding term; so that, when it
-reaches its last term, it has nothing
-left of what it possessed in its initial
-term or in any other subsequent
-term. This suffices to show
-that, although the duration of the
-movement fills up the whole interval,
-yet, owing to its very successivity,
-it cannot be assumed as the
-ground of the relation intervening
-between its successive terms.</p>
-
-<p><i>Third question.</i>&mdash;“Is absolute and
-standing duration a created or an
-uncreated reality?” This question
-is easily answered; for, in the first
-place, standing duration is the duration
-of a being altogether unchangeable;
-and nothing unchangeable
-is created. Hence standing
-duration is an uncreated reality.
-On the other hand, all that is created
-is changeable and constantly
-subject to movement; hence all
-created (that is, contingent) duration
-implies succession. Therefore
-standing duration is not to be found
-among created realities. Lastly,
-standing duration, as involving in
-itself all conceivable past and all
-possible future, is infinite, and, as
-forming the ground of all contingent
-actualities, is nothing less
-than the formal possibility of infinite
-terms of real successive duration.
-But such a possibility can
-be found in God alone. Therefore
-the reality of standing duration is
-in God alone; and we need not
-add that it must be uncreated.</p>
-
-<p><i>Fourth question.</i>&mdash;“What reality,
-then, is absolute standing duration?”
-We answer that this duration
-is the infinite virtuality or extrinsic
-terminability of God’s eternity.
-For nowhere but in God’s
-eternity can we find the reason of
-the possibility of infinite terms and
-intervals of duration. Of course,
-God’s eternity, considered absolutely
-<i lang="la">ad intra</i>, is nothing else than the
-immobility of God’s existence; but
-its virtual comprehension of all
-possible terms of successive duration
-constitutes the absolute duration
-of God’s existence, inasmuch
-as the word “duration” expresses
-a virtual extent corresponding to
-all possible contingent duration;
-for God’s duration, though formally
-simultaneous, virtually extends beyond
-all imaginable terms and
-intervals of contingent duration.
-Hence standing duration is the
-duration of God’s eternity, the first
-and fundamental ground of flowing
-duration, the infinite range through
-which the duration of changeable
-things extend. In other words, the
-infinite virtuality of God’s eternity,
-as equivalent to an infinite length
-of time, is <em>duration</em>; and as excluding
-from itself all intrinsic change,
-is <em>standing</em> duration. This virtuality
-of God’s eternity is really nothing
-else than its extrinsic terminability;
-for eternity is conceived to
-correspond to all possible differences
-of time only inasmuch as it
-can be compared with the contingent
-terms by which it can be extrinsically
-terminated.</p>
-
-<p>Secondly, if nothing had been
-created, there would have been no
-extrinsic terms capable of extending
-successive duration; but, since
-God would have remained in his
-eternity, there would have remained
-the reality in which all extrinsic
-terms of duration have their virtual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
-being; and thus there would
-have remained, eminently and without
-formal succession, in God himself
-the duration of all the beings
-possible outside of God. For he
-would certainly not have ceased to
-exist in all the instants of duration
-in which creatures have existed;
-the only change would have been
-this: that those instants, owing to a
-total absence of creatures, would
-have lacked their formal denomination
-of <em>instants</em>, and their formal
-successivity. Hence, if nothing
-had been created, there would
-have remained infinite real duration
-without succession, simply because
-the virtuality of God’s eternity
-would have remained in all its
-perfection. It is therefore this virtuality
-that formally constitutes
-standing duration.</p>
-
-<p>From this the reader will easily
-understand that in the concept of
-standing duration two notions are
-involved, viz.: that of <em>eternity</em>, as
-expressing the standing, and that
-of its <em>virtuality</em>, as connoting virtual
-extent. In fact, God’s eternity,
-absolutely considered, is simply
-the actuality of God’s substance,
-and, as such, does not connote
-duration; for God’s substance is
-not said <em>to endure</em>, but simply <em>to
-be</em>. The formal reason of duration
-is derived from the extrinsic terminability
-of God’s eternity; for the
-word “duration” conveys the idea
-of continuation, and continuation
-implies succession. Hence it is
-on account of its extrinsic terminability
-to successive terms of duration
-that God’s eternity is conceived
-as equivalent to infinite succession;
-for what virtually contains
-in itself all possible terms
-and intervals of succession virtually
-contains in itself all succession,
-and can co exist, without intrinsic
-change, with all the changes of
-contingent duration. Balmes, after
-defining succession as the existence
-of such things as exclude one another,
-very properly remarks: “If
-there were a being which neither
-excluded any other being nor were
-excluded by any of them, that being
-would co-exist with all beings.
-Now, one such being exists, viz.:
-God, and God alone. Hence theologians
-do but express a great
-and profound truth when they say
-(though not all, perhaps, fully understand
-what they say) that God
-is present to all times; that to him
-there is no succession, no <em>before</em> or
-<em>after</em>; that to him everything is
-present, is <em>Now</em>.”<a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p>
-
-<p>We conclude that standing duration
-is infinite, all-simultaneous, independent
-of all contingent things,
-indivisible, immovable, formally
-simple and unextended, but equivalent
-to infinite intervals of successive
-duration, and virtually extending
-through infinite lengths. This
-duration is absolute.</p>
-
-<p><i>Fifth question.</i>&mdash;“Does the creation
-of a contingent being in absolute
-duration cause any intrinsic
-change in standing duration?”
-The answer is not doubtful; for
-we have already seen that standing
-duration is incapable of intrinsic
-modifications. Nevertheless, it will
-not be superfluous to remark, for
-the better understanding of this
-answer, that the “when” (the <i lang="la">quando</i>)
-of a contingent being has the
-same relation to the virtuality of
-God’s eternity as has its “where”
-(the <i lang="la">ubi</i>) to the virtuality of God’s
-immensity. For, as the “where”
-of every possible creature is virtually
-precontained in absolute
-space, so is the “when” of all
-creatures virtually precontained in
-absolute duration. Hence the creation
-of any number of contingent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
-beings in duration implies nothing
-but the <em>extrinsic</em> termination of absolute
-duration, which accordingly
-remains altogether unaffected by
-the existence in it of any number
-of extrinsic terms. The “when”
-of a contingent being, as contained
-in absolute duration, is virtual; it
-does not become formal except in
-the contingent being itself&mdash;that is,
-by extrinsic termination. Thus the
-subject of the contingent “when”
-is not the virtuality of God’s eternity
-any more than the subject of
-the contingent “where” is the virtuality
-of God’s immensity.</p>
-
-<p>This shows that the formal
-“when” of a contingent being is
-a mere relativity, or a <i lang="la">respectus</i>.
-The formal reason, or the foundation,
-of this relativity is the reality
-through which the contingent being
-communicates with absolute standing
-duration, viz.: the real instant
-(<i lang="la">quando</i>) which is common to both,
-although not in the same manner;
-for it is <em>virtual</em> in standing duration,
-whilst it is <em>formal</em> in the extrinsic
-term. Hence a contingent
-being, inasmuch as it has existence
-in standing duration, is nothing
-but a term related by its “when”
-to divine eternity as existing in a
-more perfect manner in the same
-“when.” But, since the contingent
-“when” of the creature exclusively
-belongs to the creature itself,
-God’s standing duration receives
-nothing from it except a relative
-extrinsic denomination.</p>
-
-<p>The relation resulting from the
-existence of a created term in
-standing duration consists in this:
-that the created term by its formal
-“when” really imitates the eminent
-mode of being of God himself in
-the same “when.” This relation is
-called <em>simultaneousness</em>.</p>
-
-<p>Simultaneousness is often confounded
-with presence and with
-co-existence. But these three notions,
-rigorously speaking, differ
-from one another. <em>Presence</em> refers
-to terms in space; <em>simultaneousness</em>
-to terms in duration; <em>co-existence</em>
-to terms both present and simultaneous.
-Thus presence and simultaneousness
-are the constituents of
-co-existence. Presence is to be
-considered as the material constituent,
-because it depends on the
-“where,” which belongs to the
-thing on account of its matter or
-potency; simultaneousness must be
-considered as the formal constituent,
-because it depends on the “when,”
-which belongs to the thing on account
-of its act or of its resulting
-actuality.</p>
-
-<p>Before we proceed further, we
-must yet remark that in the same
-manner as the infinite virtuality of
-divine immensity receives distinct
-extrinsic denominations from the
-contingent terms existing in space,
-and is thus said to imply <em>distinct
-virtualities</em>, so also the infinite virtuality
-of God’s eternity can be
-said to imply distinct virtualities,
-owing to the distinct denominations
-it receives from distinct terms of
-contingent duration. It is for this
-reason that we can speak of virtualities
-of eternity in the plural.
-Thus when we point out the first
-instant of any movement as distinct
-from any following instant, we consider
-the flowing of the contingent
-“when” from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em> as a
-passage from one to another virtuality
-of standing duration. These
-virtualities, however, are not distinct
-as to their absolute beings, but
-only as to their extrinsic termination
-and denomination; and therefore
-they are really but one infinite
-virtuality. As all that we have
-said of the virtualities of absolute
-space in one of our past articles
-equally applies to the virtualities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
-of absolute duration, we need not
-dwell here any longer on this
-point.</p>
-
-<p><i>Sixth question.</i>&mdash;“In what does
-the ‘when’ of a contingent being
-precisely consist?” From the preceding
-considerations it is evident
-that the “when” of a contingent
-being may be understood in two
-manners, viz., either <em>objectively</em> or
-<em>subjectively</em>. Objectively considered,
-the “when” is nothing else
-than <em>a simple and indivisible term in
-duration</em> formally marked out in it
-by the actuality of the contingent
-being. We say <em>a simple and indivisible
-term</em>, because the actuality of
-the contingent being by which it is
-determined involves neither past
-nor future, neither <em>before</em> nor <em>after</em>,
-but only its present existence, which,
-as such, is confined to an indivisible
-<em>Now</em>. Hence we do not agree with
-those philosophers who confound
-the <i lang="la">quando</i> with the <i lang="la">tempus</i>&mdash;that is,
-the “when” with the extent of
-flowing duration. We admit with
-these philosophers that the “when”
-of contingent things extends through
-movement from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>, and
-draws, so to say, a continuous line
-in duration; but we must remind
-them that the <em>before</em> and the <em>after</em>
-are distinct modes of being in duration,
-and that every term of duration
-designable between them is a
-distinct “when” independent of
-every other “when,” either preceding
-or following; which shows
-that the <i lang="la">tempus</i> implies an uninterrupted
-series of distinct “whens,”
-and therefore cannot be considered
-as synonymous with <i lang="la">quando</i>.</p>
-
-<p>If the “when” is considered subjectively&mdash;that
-is, as an appurtenance
-of the subject of which it is
-predicated&mdash;it may be defined as
-<em>the mode of being of a contingent thing
-in duration</em>. This mode consists
-of a mere relativity; for it results
-from the extrinsic termination of
-absolute duration, as already explained.
-Hence the “when” is
-not <em>received</em> in the subject of which
-it is predicated, and does not <em>inhere</em>
-in it, but, like all other relativities
-and connotations, simply connects
-it with its correlative, and intervenes
-or lies between the one and
-the other.</p>
-
-<p>But, although it consists of a
-mere relativity, the “when” still
-admits of being divided into <em>absolute</em>
-and <em>relative</em>, according as it is conceived
-absolutely as something real
-in nature, or compared with some
-other “when”; for, as we have already
-explained when treating of
-ubications, relative entities may be
-considered both as to what they are
-in themselves, and as to what they
-are to one another.</p>
-
-<p>If the “when” is considered
-simply as a termination of standing
-duration, without regard for anything
-else, it is called <em>absolute</em>, and
-is defined as <em>the mode of being of a
-thing in absolute duration</em>. This
-absolute “when” is an <em>essential
-mode</em> of the contingent being no less
-than its dependence from the first
-cause, and is altogether immutable
-so long as the contingent being
-exists; for, on the one hand, the
-contingent being cannot exist but
-within the domain of divine eternity,
-and, on the other, it cannot have
-different modes of being with regard
-to it, as the standing duration of
-eternity is all uniform in its infinite
-virtual extension, and the contingent
-being, however much we may
-try to vary its place in duration,
-must always be in the very middle
-of eternity. Hence the absolute
-“when” is altogether unchangeable.</p>
-
-<p>If the “when” of a contingent
-being is compared with that of
-another contingent being in order<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
-to ascertain their mutual relation,
-then the “when” is called <em>relative</em>,
-and, as such, it may be defined
-as <em>the mode of terminating a relation
-in duration</em>. This “when” is
-changeable, not in its intrinsic entity,
-but in its relative formality; and
-it is only under this formality that
-the “when” (<i lang="la">quando</i>) can be ranked
-among the predicamental accidents;
-for this changeable formality
-is the only thing in it which
-bears the stamp of an accidental
-entity.</p>
-
-<p>The <em>before</em> and the <em>after</em> of the
-same contingent being are considered
-as two distinct relative terms,
-because the being to which they
-refer, when existing in the <em>after</em>,
-excludes the <em>before</em>; though the
-absolute “when” of one and the
-same being is one term only. But
-of this we shall treat more fully in
-the sequel.</p>
-
-<p><i>Seventh question.</i>&mdash;“What is relative
-duration?” Here we meet again
-the same difficulty which we have
-encountered in explaining relative
-space; for in the same manner as
-relations in space are usually confounded
-with space itself, so are the
-intervals in duration confounded
-with the duration which is the
-ground of their extension. But, as
-the reasonings by which we have
-established the precise notion of
-relative space can be easily brought
-to bear on the present subject by
-the reader himself, we think we
-must confine ourselves to a brief
-and clear statement of the conclusions
-drawn from those reasonings,
-as applied to duration.</p>
-
-<p>Relative duration is <em>the duration
-through which any movement extends</em>;
-that is, the duration through which
-the “when” of anything in movement
-glides from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>,
-and by which the <em>before</em> and the
-<em>after</em> are linked in mutual relation.
-Now, the duration through which
-movement extends is not exactly
-the duration of the movement itself,
-but the ground upon which the
-movement extends its own duration;
-because movement has nothing
-actual but a flowing instant,
-and therefore it has no duration
-within itself except by reference to
-an extrinsic ground through which
-it successively extends. This
-ground, as we have already shown,
-is standing duration. And therefore
-relative duration is nothing
-else than <em>standing duration as
-extrinsically terminated by distinct
-terms</em>, or, what amounts to the same
-terminated by one term which, owing
-to any kind of movement, acquires
-distinct and opposite formalities.
-This conclusion is based on
-the principle that the foundation
-of all relations between <em>before</em>
-and <em>after</em> must be something absolute,
-having in itself neither <em>before</em>
-nor <em>after</em>, and therefore absolutely
-standing. This principle is obviously
-true. The popular notion,
-on the contrary, that relative duration
-is the duration of movement,
-is based on the assumption that
-movement itself engenders duration&mdash;which
-assumption is false;
-for we cannot even conceive movement
-without presupposing the absolute
-duration upon which the
-movement has to trace the line of
-its flowing existence.</p>
-
-<p>Thus relative duration is called
-relative, not because it is itself related,
-but because it is the ground
-through which the extrinsic terms
-are related. It is actively, not passively,
-relative; it is the <i lang="la">ratio</i>, not
-the <i lang="la">rationatum</i>, the foundation, not
-the result, of the relativities. In
-other terms, relative duration is absolute
-as to its entity, and relative
-as to the extrinsic denomination
-derived from the relations of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
-it is the formal reason. Duration,
-as absolute, may be styled “the
-region of all possible <em>whens</em>,” just
-as absolute space is styled “the region
-of all possible ubications”;
-and, as relative, it may be styled
-“the region of all possible succession,”
-just as relative space is styled
-“the region of all local movements.”
-Absolute standing duration
-and absolute space are the
-ground of the <em>here</em> and <em>now</em> as
-statical terms. Relative standing
-duration and relative space are the
-ground of the <em>here</em> and <em>now</em> as gliding&mdash;that
-is, as dynamically considered.</p>
-
-<p><i>Eighth question.</i>&mdash;“What is an interval
-of duration?” It is a relation
-existing between two opposite
-terms of succession&mdash;that is, between
-<em>before</em> and <em>after</em>. An interval
-of duration is commonly considered
-as a continuous extension;
-yet it is primarily a simple relation
-by which the extension of the
-flowing from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em> is formally
-determined. Nevertheless,
-since the “when” cannot acquire
-the opposite formalities, <em>before</em>
-and <em>after</em>, without continuous
-movement, all interval of duration
-implies movement, and therefore
-may be considered also as a continuous
-quantity. Under this last
-aspect, the interval of duration is
-nothing else than the duration of
-the movement from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>.</p>
-
-<p>We have already noticed that the
-duration of movement, or the interval
-of duration, is not to be confounded
-with the duration through
-which the movement extends. But
-as, in the popular language, the one
-as well as the other is termed
-“relative duration,” we would suggest
-that the duration through
-which the movement extends might
-be called <em>fundamental</em> relative duration,
-whilst the relation which constitutes
-an interval between <em>before</em>
-and <em>after</em> might be called <em>resultant</em>
-relative duration.</p>
-
-<p>The philosophical necessity of
-this distinction is obvious, first, because
-the <em>standing</em> duration, through
-which movement extends, must not
-be confounded with the <em>flowing</em> duration
-of movement; secondly, because
-the relation and its foundation
-are not the same thing, and, as
-we have explained at length when
-treating of relative space, to confound
-the one with the other leads
-to Pantheism. Intervals of relation
-are not <em>parts</em> of absolute duration,
-though they are so conceived
-by many, but they are mere relations,
-as we have stated. Absolute
-duration is all standing, it has no
-parts, and it cannot be divided into
-parts. What is called an interval
-<em>of</em> duration should rather be called
-an interval <em>in</em> duration; for it is
-not a portion of standing duration,
-but an extrinsic result; it is not a
-length of absolute duration, but
-the length of the movement extending
-through that duration; it is not a
-divisible extension, but the ground
-on which movement acquires its
-divisible extension from <em>before</em> to
-<em>after</em>. In the smallest conceivable
-interval of duration there is God,
-with all his eternity. To affirm
-that intervals of duration are distinct
-durations would be to cut
-God’s eternity to pieces by giving
-it a distinct being in really distinct
-intervals. Hence it is necessary to
-concede that, whilst the intervals
-are distinct, the duration on which
-they have their foundation is one
-and the same. The only duration
-which can be safely confounded
-with those intervals is the flowing
-duration of the movement by which
-they are measured. This is the
-duration which can be considered
-as a continuous quantity divisible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
-into parts; and this is the duration
-which we should style “<em>resultant</em>
-relative duration,” to avoid all danger
-of error or equivocation.</p>
-
-<p>The objections which can be
-made against this manner of viewing
-things do not much differ from
-those which we have solved in our
-second article on space; and therefore
-we do not think it necessary
-to make a new answer to them.
-The reader himself will be able to
-see what the objections are, and
-how they can be solved, by simply
-substituting the words “eternity,”
-“duration,” etc., for the words “immensity,”
-“space,” etc., in the article
-referred to.</p>
-
-<p>Yet a special objection can be
-made against the preceding doctrine
-about the duration of movement,
-independently of those which
-regard relations in space. It may
-be presented under this form.
-“The foundation of the relation
-between <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> is nothing
-else than movement itself. It is
-therefore unnecessary and unphilosophical
-to trace the duration of
-movement to the virtuality of God’s
-eternity as its extrinsic foundation.”
-The antecedent of this argument
-may be proved thus:
-“That thing is the foundation of
-the relation which gives to its
-terms their relative being&mdash;that is,
-in our case, their opposite formalities,
-<em>before</em> and <em>after</em>. But movement
-alone gives to the <em>when</em> these
-opposite formalities. Therefore
-movement alone is the foundation
-of successive duration.”</p>
-
-<p>We answer that the antecedent
-of the first argument is absolutely
-false. As to the syllogism which
-comes next, we concede the major,
-but we deny the minor. For it is
-plain that movement cannot give
-to the absolute <em>when</em> the relative
-formalities <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>, except
-by flowing through absolute duration,
-without which it is impossible
-for the movement to have its successive
-duration. And surely, if
-the movement has no duration but
-that which it borrows from the absolute
-duration through which it
-extends, the foundation of its duration
-from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em> can be
-nothing else than the same absolute
-duration through which the movement
-acquires its <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>.
-Now, this absolute duration is the
-virtuality of God’s eternity, as we
-have proved. It is therefore both
-philosophical and necessary to trace
-the duration of movement to the
-virtuality of God’s eternity, as its
-extrinsic foundation. That movement
-is also necessary to constitute
-the relation between <em>before</em> and
-<em>after</em>, we fully admit; for there
-cannot be <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> without
-movement. But it does not follow
-from this that movement is the
-<em>foundation</em> of the relation; it merely
-follows that movement is a <em>condition</em>
-necessary to give to the absolute
-<em>when</em> two distinct actualities,
-according to which it may be compared
-with itself on the ground of
-standing duration. For, as every
-relation demands two opposite
-terms, the same absolute <em>when</em> must
-acquire two opposite formalities,
-that it may be related to itself.</p>
-
-<p>The only other objection which
-may perhaps be made against our
-conclusions is the following: The
-foundation of a real relation is that
-reality through which the terms related
-communicate with one another.
-Now, evidently, the <em>before</em>
-and the <em>after</em>, which are the terms
-of the relation in question, communicate
-with one another through
-the same absolute <em>when</em>; for they
-are the same absolute <em>when</em> under
-two opposite formalities. Hence
-it follows that the foundation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
-the relation between <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>
-is nothing else than the absolute
-<em>when</em> of a moving being.</p>
-
-<p>To this we answer that the foundation
-of the relation is not all
-reality through which the terms related
-communicate with one another,
-but only that reality by the
-common termination of which they
-become formally related to one another.
-Hence, since the <em>before</em> and
-the <em>after</em> do not receive their relative
-formalities from the absolute
-<em>when</em>, it is idle to pretend that the
-absolute <em>when</em> is the foundation of
-the interval of duration. The <em>before</em>
-and the <em>after</em> communicate with the
-same absolute <em>when</em> not as a formal,
-but as a material, cause of their existence&mdash;that
-is, inasmuch as the
-same <em>when</em> is the subject, not the
-reason, of both formalities. The
-only relation to which the absolute
-<em>when</em> can give a foundation is one
-of identity with itself in all the extent
-of its flowing duration. But
-such a relation presupposes, instead
-of constituting, an interval
-in duration. And therefore it is
-manifest that the absolute <em>when</em> is
-not the foundation of the relation
-between <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>.</p>
-
-<p>Having thus answered the questions
-proposed, and given the solution
-of the few difficulties objected,
-we must now say a few words about
-the <em>division</em> and <em>measurement</em> of relative
-duration, whether fundamental
-or resultant.</p>
-
-<p>Fundamental or standing duration
-is divided into <em>real</em> and <em>imaginary</em>.
-This division cannot regard
-the entity of standing duration,
-which is unquestionably real, as we
-have proved. It regards the reality
-or the unreality of the extrinsic
-terms conceived as having a relation
-in duration. The true notion
-of real, contrasted with imaginary,
-duration, is the following: Standing
-duration is called <em>real</em> when it
-is <em>really</em> relative, viz., when it is extrinsically
-terminated by real terms
-between which it founds a real relation;
-on the contrary, it is called
-<em>imaginary</em> when the extrinsic terms
-do not exist in nature, but only in
-our imagination; for, in such a case,
-standing duration is not really terminated
-and does not found real
-relations, but both the terminations
-and the relations are simply a figment
-of our imagination. Thus
-standing duration, as containing
-none but imaginary relations, may
-justly be called “imaginary,”
-though in an absolute sense it is
-intrinsically real. Accordingly,
-the <em>indefinite</em> duration which we
-imagine when we carry our thought
-beyond the creation of the world,
-and which is also called “imaginary,”
-is not absolute but relative
-duration, and is not imaginary in
-itself, but only as to its denomination
-of relative, because, in the absence
-of all real terms, there can be
-none but imaginary relations.</p>
-
-<p>It is therefore unphilosophical
-to confound imaginary and indefinite
-duration with absolute and infinite
-duration. This latter is not
-an object of imagination, but of
-the intellect alone. Imagination
-cannot conceive duration, except in
-connection with some movement
-from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>; hence absolute
-and infinite duration, which has
-no <em>before</em> and no <em>after</em>, is altogether
-beyond the reach of imagination.
-Indeed, our intellectual conception
-of infinite standing duration is
-always accompanied in our minds
-by a representation of indefinite
-time; but this depends, as we have
-stated in speaking of space, on the
-well-known connection of our imaginative
-and intellectual operations,
-inasmuch as our imagination
-strives to follow the intellect, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
-to represent after its own manner
-what the intellect conceives in a
-totally different manner. It was
-by confounding the objective notion
-of duration with our subjective
-manner of imagining it that
-Kant came to the conclusion that
-duration was nothing but a subjective
-form or a subjective condition,
-under which all intuitions are possible
-in us. This conclusion is
-evidently false; but its refutation,
-to be successful, must be based on
-the objectivity of absolute standing
-duration, without which, as we
-have shown, there can be no field
-for real and objective succession.</p>
-
-<p>Resultant relative duration&mdash;that
-is, an interval of flowing duration&mdash;admits
-of the same division into
-<em>real</em> and <em>imaginary</em>. It is real
-when a real continuous flowing connects
-the <em>before</em> with the <em>after</em>; in
-all other suppositions it will be imaginary.
-It may be remarked that
-the “real continuous flowing” may
-be either intrinsic or extrinsic.
-Thus, if God had created nothing
-but a simple angel, there would have
-been no other flowing duration than
-a continuous succession of intellectual
-operations connecting the <em>before</em>
-with the <em>after</em> in the angel himself,
-and thus his duration would
-have been measured by a series of intrinsic
-changes. It is evident that in
-this case one absolute <em>when</em> suffices
-to extend the interval of duration;
-for by its gliding from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>
-it acquires opposite formalities
-through which it can be relatively
-opposed to itself as the subject and
-the term of the relation. If, on the
-contrary, we consider the interval
-of duration between two distinct
-beings&mdash;say Cæsar and Napoleon&mdash;then
-the real continuous flowing
-by which such an interval is measured
-is extrinsic to the terms compared;
-for the <em>when</em> of Cæsar is
-distinct from, and does not reach,
-that of Napoleon; which shows that
-their respective <em>whens</em> have no intrinsic
-connection, and that the
-succession comprised between those
-<em>whens</em> must have consisted of a
-series of changes extrinsic to the
-terms compared. It may seem difficult
-to conceive how an interval
-of continuous succession can result
-between two terms of which the
-one does not attain to the other;
-for, as a line in space must be
-drawn by the movement of a single
-point, so it seems that a length in
-duration must be extended by the
-flowing of a single <em>when</em> from <em>before</em>
-to <em>after</em>. The truth is that the interval
-between the <em>whens</em> of two
-distinct beings is not obtained by
-comparing the <em>when</em> of the one
-with that of the other, but by resorting
-to the <em>when</em> of some other
-being which has extended its continuous
-succession from the one
-to the other. Thus, when Cæsar
-died, the earth was revolving on
-its axis, and it continued to revolve
-without interruption up to the existence
-of Napoleon, thus extending
-the duration of its movement
-from a <em>when</em> corresponding to
-Cæsar’s death to a <em>when</em> corresponding
-to Napoleon’s birth; and
-this duration, wholly extrinsic to
-Cæsar and Napoleon, measures the
-interval between them.</p>
-
-<p>As all intervals of duration extend
-from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>, there can
-be no interval between co-existent
-beings, as is evident. In the same
-manner as two beings whose ubications
-coincide cannot be distant in
-space, so two beings whose <em>whens</em>
-are simultaneous cannot form an
-interval of duration.</p>
-
-<p>All real intervals of duration regard
-the past; for in the past alone
-can we find a real <em>before</em> and a real
-<em>after</em>. The present gives no interval,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
-as we have just stated, but
-only simultaneousness. The future
-is real only potentially&mdash;that is, it
-will be real, but it is not yet.
-What has never been, and never
-will be, is merely imaginary. To
-this last class belong all the intervals
-of duration corresponding to
-those conditional events which did
-not happen, owing to the non-fulfilment
-of the conditions on which
-their reality depended.</p>
-
-<p>As to the measurement of flowing
-duration a few words will suffice.
-The <em>when</em> considered absolutely
-is incapable of measuring an
-interval of duration, for the reason
-that the <em>when</em> is unextended, and
-therefore unproportionate to the
-mensuration of a continuous interval;
-for the measure must be of
-the same kind with the thing to be
-measured. Just as a continuous
-line cannot be made up of unextended
-points, so cannot a continuous
-interval be made up of indivisible
-instants; hence, as a line is divisible
-only into smaller and smaller
-lines, by which it can be measured,
-so also an interval of duration
-is divisible only into smaller and
-smaller intervals, and is measured
-by the same. These smaller intervals,
-being continuous, are themselves
-divisible and mensurable by
-other intervals of less duration, and
-these other intervals are again divisible
-and mensurable; so that,
-from the nature of the thing, it is
-impossible to reach an absolute
-measure of duration, and we must
-rest satisfied with a relative one,
-just as in the case of a line and
-of any other continuous quantity.
-The smallest unit or measure of
-duration commonly used is the second,
-or sixtieth part of a minute.</p>
-
-<p>But, since continuous quantities
-are divisible <i lang="la">in infinitum</i>, it may be
-asked, what prevents us from considering
-a finite interval of duration
-as containing an infinite multitude
-of infinitesimal units of duration?
-If nothing prevents us, then in the
-infinitesimal unit we shall have the
-true and absolute measure of duration.
-We answer that nothing prevents
-such a conception; but the
-mensuration of a finite interval by
-infinitesimal units would never supply
-us the means of determining
-the relative lengths of two intervals
-of duration. For, if every interval
-is a sum of infinite terms, and is so
-represented, how can we decide
-which of those intervals is the
-greater, since we cannot count the
-infinite?</p>
-
-<p>Mathematicians, in all dynamical
-questions, express the conditions of
-the movement in terms of infinitesimal
-quantities, and consider every
-actual instant which connects the
-<em>before</em> with the <em>after</em> as an infinitesimal
-interval of duration in the
-same manner as they consider every
-shifting ubication as an infinitesimal
-interval of space. But when
-they pass from infinitesimal to finite
-quantities by integration between
-determinate limits, they do not express
-the finite intervals in infinitesimal
-terms, but in terms of a finite
-unit, viz., a second of time; and
-this shows that, even in high mathematics,
-the infinitesimal is not taken
-as the measure of the finite.</p>
-
-<p>Since infinitesimals are considered
-as evanescent quantities, the
-question may be asked whether
-they are still conceivable as quantities.
-We have no intention of discussing
-here the philosophical
-grounds of infinitesimal calculus, as
-we may have hereafter a better opportunity
-of examining such an interesting
-subject; but, so far as infinitesimals
-of duration are concerned,
-we answer that they are still
-quantities, though they bear no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
-comparison with finite duration.
-What mathematicians call an infinitesimal
-of time is nothing else
-rigorously than the flowing of an
-actual “when” from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>.
-The “when” as such is no quantity,
-but its flowing is. However narrow
-the compass within which it
-may be reduced, the flowing implies
-a relation between <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>;
-hence every instant of successive
-duration, inasmuch as it actually
-links its immediate <em>before</em> with its
-immediate <em>after</em>, partakes of the nature
-of successive duration, and
-therefore of continuous quantity.
-Nor does it matter that infinitesimals
-are called <em>evanescent</em> quantities.
-They indeed vanish, as compared
-with finite quantities; but the very
-fact of their vanishing proves that
-they are still something when they
-are in the act of vanishing. Sir
-Isaac Newton, after saying in his
-<cite>Principia</cite> that he intends to reduce
-the demonstration of a series of
-propositions to the first and last
-sums and ratios of nascent and evanescent
-quantities, propounds and
-solves this very difficulty as follows:
-“Perhaps it may be objected
-that there is no ultimate proportion
-of evanescent quantities;
-because the proportion, before the
-quantities have vanished, is not
-the ultimate, and, when they are
-vanished, is none. But by the
-same argument it may be alleged
-that a body arriving at a certain
-place, and there stopping, has no
-ultimate velocity; because the velocity,
-before the body comes to the
-place, is not its ultimate velocity;
-when it has arrived, is none. But
-the answer is easy; for by the ultimate
-velocity is meant that with
-which the body is moved, neither
-<em>before</em> it arrives at its last place and
-the motion ceases, nor <em>after</em>, but
-at the <em>very instant</em> it arrives; that
-is, the velocity with which the
-body arrives at its last place, and
-with which the motion ceases. And
-in like manner, by the ultimate
-ratio of evanescent quantities is to
-be understood the ratio of the
-quantities, not before they vanish,
-not afterwards, but with which they
-vanish. In like manner, the first
-ratio of nascent quantities is that
-with which they begin to be.”
-From this answer, which is so clear
-and so deep, it is manifest that
-infinitesimals are real quantities.
-Whence we infer that every instant
-of duration which actually flows
-from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em> marks out a
-real infinitesimal interval of duration
-that might serve as a unit of
-measure for the mensuration of all
-finite intervals of succession, were
-it not that we cannot reckon up to
-infinity. Nevertheless, it does not
-follow that an infinitesimal duration
-is an absolute unit of duration; for
-it is still continuous, even in its infinite
-smallness; and accordingly it
-is still divisible and mensurable by
-other units of a lower standard.
-Thus it is clear that the measurement
-of flowing duration, and indeed of
-all other continuous quantity, cannot
-be made except by some arbitrary
-and conventional unit.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE STARS.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">As I gaze in silent wonder</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">On the countless stars of night,</div>
-<div class="verse">Looking down in mystic stillness</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With their soft and magic light</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Seem they from my eyes retreating</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With their vast and bright array,</div>
-<div class="verse">Till they into endless distance</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Almost seem to fade away.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">And my thoughts are carried with them</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To their far-off realms of light;</div>
-<div class="verse">Yet they seem retreating ever,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Ever into endless night.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Whither leads that silent army,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With its noiseless tread and slow?</div>
-<div class="verse">And those glittering bands, who are they?</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Thus my thoughts essay to know.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">But my heart the secret telleth</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That to thee, my God, they guide;</div>
-<div class="verse">That they are thy gleaming watchmen,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Guarding round thy palace wide.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Then, when shall those gates be opened</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To receive my yearning soul,</div>
-<div class="verse">Where its home shall be for ever,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">While the countless ages roll?</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Thou alone, O God! canst know it:</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Till then doth my spirit pine.</div>
-<div class="verse">Father! keep thy child from falling,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Till for ever I am thine.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>WILLIAM TELL AND ALTORF.</h3>
-
-<p>Brunnen, the “fort of Schwytz,”
-standing at that angle of the lake
-of Lucerne where it turns abruptly
-towards the very heart of the
-Alps, has always been a central
-halting-place for travellers; but
-since the erection of its large hotel
-the attraction has greatly increased.
-We found the Waldstätterhof full
-to overflowing, and rejoiced that,
-as usual, we had wisely ordered our
-rooms beforehand. Our surprise
-was great, as we threaded the mazes
-of the <i lang="fr">table-d’hôte</i> room, to see Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash; come forward and greet us
-cordially. We expected, it is true,
-to meet him here, but not until the
-eve of the feast at Einsiedeln,
-whither he had promised to accompany
-us. An unforeseen event,
-however, had brought him up the
-lake sooner, and he therefore came
-on to Brunnen, in the hope of finding
-us. A few minutes sufficed to
-make him quit his place at the
-centre table and join us at a small
-one, where supper had been prepared
-for our party, and allow us
-to begin a description of our wanderings
-since we parted from him
-on the quay at Lucerne. Yes,
-“begin” is the proper word; for before
-long the harmony was marred
-by George, who, with his usual impetuosity,
-and in spite of Caroline’s
-warning frowns and Anna’s and my
-appealing looks, betrayed our disappointment
-at having missed the
-Hermitage at Ranft, and the reproaches
-we had heaped on Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash;’s head for having mismanaged
-the programme in that particular.
-The cheery little man, whose
-eyes had just begun to glisten with
-delight, grew troubled.</p>
-
-<p>“I am <em>so</em> sorry!” he exclaimed.
-“But the ladies were not so enthusiastic
-about Blessed Nicholas when
-I saw them. And as for you,
-Mr. George, I never could have
-dreamt you would have cared for
-the Hermit.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! but <em>he</em> is a real historical
-character, you see, about whom
-there can be no doubt&mdash;very unlike
-your sun-god, your mythical
-hero, William Tell!” replied
-George.</p>
-
-<p>“Take care! take care! young
-gentleman,” said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, laughing.
-“Remember you are now in
-Tell’s territory, and he may make
-you rue the consequences of deriding
-him! Don’t imagine, either,
-that your modern historical critics
-have left even Blessed Nicholas
-alone! Oh! dear, no.”</p>
-
-<p>“But he is vouched for by documents,”
-retorted George.“No one
-can doubt them.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your critics of this age would
-turn and twist and doubt anything,”
-said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;. “They
-cannot deny his existence nor the
-main features of his life; yet some
-have gone so far as to pretend to
-doubt the most authentic fact in
-it&mdash;his presence at the Diet of
-Stanz&mdash;saying that <em>probably</em> he
-never went there, but only wrote
-a letter to the deputies. So much
-for their criticism and researches!
-After that specimen you need not
-wonder that I have no respect for
-them. But I am in an unusually
-patriotic mood to-day; for I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
-just come from a meeting at Beckenried,
-on the opposite shore, in
-Unterwalden. It was that which
-brought me here before my appointment
-with you. It was a
-meeting of one of our Catholic societies
-in these cantons, which assembled
-to protest against the revision
-of the constitution contemplated
-next spring. Before separating
-it was suggested that they
-should call a larger one at the
-Rütli, to evoke the memories of
-the past and conform themselves to
-the pattern of our forefathers.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why do you so much object to
-a revision?” inquired Mr. C&mdash;&mdash;.
-“Surely reform must sometimes be
-necessary.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sometimes, of course, but not
-at present, my dear sir. ‘Revision’
-nowadays simply means radicalism
-and the suppression of our religion
-and our religious rights and
-privileges. It is a word which, for
-that reason alone, is at all times distasteful
-to these cantons. Moreover,
-it savors too much of French
-ideas and doctrines, thoroughly
-antagonistic to all our principles
-and feelings. Everything French
-is loathed in these parts, especially
-in Unterwalden, in spite of&mdash;or I
-should perhaps rather say in consequence
-of&mdash;all they suffered from
-that nation in 1798.”</p>
-
-<p>“I can understand that,” said
-Mr. C&mdash;&mdash;, “with the memory of the
-massacre in the church at Stanz
-always in their minds.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, yes; but that was only
-one act in the tragedy. The desolation
-they caused in that part of
-the country was fearful. Above
-all, their total want of religion at
-that period can never be forgotten.”</p>
-
-<p>“As for myself,” remarked Mr.
-C&mdash;&mdash;, “though not a Catholic, I
-confess that I should much rather
-rely on the upright instincts of this
-pious population than on the crooked
-teachings of our modern philosophers.
-I have always noticed
-in every great political crisis that
-the instincts of the pure and simple-minded
-have something of an
-inspiration about them; they go
-straight to the true principles where
-a Macchiavelli is often at fault.”
-Herr H&mdash;&mdash; completely agreed with
-him, and the conversation soon became
-a deep and serious discussion
-on the tendencies of modern politics
-in general, so that it was late
-that evening before our party separated.</p>
-
-<p>The first sound that fell upon
-my ear next morning was the
-splashing of a steamer hard by.
-It had been so dark upon our arrival
-the night before that we had
-not altogether realized the close
-proximity of the hotel to the lake,
-and it was an unexpected pleasure
-to find my balcony almost directly
-over the water, like the stern gallery
-of a ship of war. A small
-steamer certainly was approaching
-from the upper end of the lake,
-with a time-honored old diligence
-in the bows and a few travellers,
-tired-looking and dust-stained,
-scattered on the deck, very unlike
-the brilliant throngs that pass to
-and fro during the late hours of
-the day. But this early morning
-performance was one of real business,
-and the magical words “Post”
-and “St. Gothard,” which stood out
-in large letters on the yellow panels
-of the diligence, told at once of
-more than mere pleasure-seeking.
-What joy or grief, happiness or despair,
-might not this old-fashioned
-vehicle be at this moment conveying
-to unknown thousands! It
-was an abrupt transition, too, to be
-thus brought from pastoral Sarnen
-and Sachslen into immediate contact
-with the mighty Alps. Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
-their grandeur, however, nothing
-could be seen; for, without rain or
-wind, a thick cloud lay low upon
-the lake, more like a large flat ceiling
-than aught else. Yet, for us, it
-had its own peculiar interest, being
-nothing more nor less than the
-great, heavy, soft mass which we
-had noticed hanging over the lake
-every morning when looking down
-from Kaltbad, whilst we, revelling
-in sunshine and brightness above,
-were pitying the poor inhabitants
-along the shore beneath. There
-was a kind of superiority, therefore,
-in knowing what it meant, and
-in feeling confident that it would
-not last long. And, as we expected,
-it did clear away whilst we sat
-at our little breakfast-table in the
-window, revealing in all its magnificence
-the glorious view from
-this point up the Bay of Uri,
-which we have elsewhere described.
-Huge mountains seemed to rise
-vertically up out of the green waters;
-verdant patches were dotted
-here and there on their rugged
-sides; and, overtopping all, shone
-the glacier of the Urirothstock,
-more dazzlingly white and transparent
-than we had ever yet beheld it.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, ladies!” exclaimed Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash;, “I hope you have your
-Schiller ready; for the Rütli is yonder,
-though you will see it better by
-and by.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, I thought you disapproved
-of Schiller,” retorted the irrepressibly
-argumentative George.</p>
-
-<p>“To a certain degree, no doubt,”
-replied Herr H&mdash;&mdash;. “But nothing
-can be finer than his <cite>William Tell</cite>
-as a whole. My quarrel with it is
-that the real William Tell would
-have fared much better were it not
-for this play, and especially for the
-opera. They have both made the
-subject so common&mdash;so <i lang="fr">banale</i>,
-as the French say&mdash;that the world
-has grown tired of it, and for this
-reason alone is predisposed to reject
-our hero. Besides, the real
-history of the Revolution is so fine
-that I prefer it in its simplicity.
-Schiller is certainly true to its spirit,
-but details are frequently different.
-For instance, the taking of
-the Castle of the Rossberg, which
-you passed on the lake of Alpnach:
-Schiller has converted that into a
-most sensational scene, whereas the
-true story is far more characteristic.
-That was the place where a
-young girl admitted her betrothed
-and his twelve Confederate friends
-by a rope-ladder at night, which
-enabled them to seize the castle
-and imprison the garrison “without
-shedding a drop of blood or
-injuring the property of the Habsburgs,”
-in exact conformity with
-their oath on the Rütli. You will
-often read of the loves of Jägeli
-and Ameli in Swiss poetry. They
-are great favorites, and, in my opinion,
-far more beautiful than the fictitious
-romance of Rudenz and
-Bertha. And so in many other
-cases. But every one does not object
-to Schiller as I do; for in 1859,
-when his centenary was celebrated
-in Germany, the Swiss held a festival
-here on the Rütli, and subsequently
-erected a tablet on that
-large natural pyramidal rock you
-see at the corner opposite. It is
-called the Wytenstein, and you can
-read the large gilt words with a
-glass. It is laconic enough, too;
-see: ‘To Frederick Schiller&mdash;The
-Singer of Tell&mdash;The Urcantone.’
-The original cantons! Miss
-Caroline! let me congratulate
-you on being at last in the ‘Urschweiz’&mdash;the
-cradle of Switzerland,”
-continued Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, as
-we sauntered out on the quay,
-pointing at the same time to some
-bad frescos of Swen and Suiter on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
-warehouse close by. Stauffacher,
-Fürst, and Van der Halden also figured
-on the walls&mdash;the presiding
-geniuses of this region. “Brunnen
-is in no way to be despised, I
-assure you, ladies; you are treading
-on venerated soil. This is the very
-spot that witnessed the foundation
-of the Confederacy, where the oath
-was taken by the representatives of
-Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwalden the
-day after the battle of Morgarten.
-They swore ‘to die, each for all
-and all for each’&mdash;the oath which
-made Switzerland renowned, and
-gave the name of ‘Ridsgenossen,’
-or ‘oath-participators,’ to its inhabitants.
-The document is still kept
-in the archives at Schwytz, with
-another dated August 1, 1291.
-Aloys von Reding raised his standard
-against the French here in 1798;
-and he was quite right in beginning
-his resistance to them at Brunnen.
-It is full of memories to us
-Swiss, and is a most central point,
-as you may see, between all these
-cantons. The increase in the hotels
-tells what a favorite region it
-also is with tourists.”</p>
-
-<p>On this point Mr. and Mrs.
-C&mdash;&mdash;’s astonishment was unbounded.
-They had passed a fortnight
-at Brunnen in 1861, at a small inn
-with scanty accommodation, now
-replaced by the large and comfortable
-Waldstätterhof, situated in one
-of the most lovely spots imaginable,
-at the angle of the lake, one
-side fronting the Bay of Uri and
-the other looking up towards
-Mount Pilatus. The <i lang="fr">pension</i> of
-Seelisberg existed on the heights
-opposite even then&mdash;only, however,
-as a small house, instead of the present
-extensive establishment, with
-its pretty woods and walks; but
-Axenstein and the second large
-hotel now building near it, with
-the splendid road leading up to
-them, had not been thought of.
-The only communication by land
-between Schwytz and Fluelen, in
-those days, was a mule-path along
-the hills, precipitous and dangerous
-in many parts. The now famed
-Axenstrasse was not undertaken
-until 1862; and is said to have been
-suggested by the French war in
-Italy. With the old Swiss dread
-of the French still at heart, the
-Federal government took alarm at
-that first military undertaking on
-the part of Napoleon III., and, seeing
-the evil of having no communication
-between these cantons in
-case of attack, at once took the
-matter seriously in hand. This
-great engineering achievement was
-opened to the public in 1868. It
-looked most inviting to-day, and we
-quickly decided to make use of it
-by driving along it to Fluelen, and
-thence to Altorf, returning in the
-evening by the steamer. Some
-were anxious to visit the Rütli; but
-Mr. and Mrs. C&mdash;&mdash; had been there
-before, and knew that it was more
-than an hour’s expedition by boat,
-so that the two excursions on the
-same day would be quite impossible;
-consequently, we chose the
-longer one.</p>
-
-<p>It was just ten o’clock when we
-started; Mrs. C&mdash;&mdash;, Caroline,
-Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, and myself in one carriage,
-with George on the box, the
-others following us in a second vehicle.
-We had not proceeded far
-when Herr H&mdash;&mdash; made us halt to
-look at the Rütli, on the shore
-right opposite. We distinctly saw
-that it was a small meadow, formed
-by earth fallen from above on a
-ledge of rock under the precipitous
-heights of Seelisberg, and now
-enclosed by some fine chestnut and
-walnut trees. Truly, it was a spot
-fitted for the famous scene. So unapproachable
-is it, except by water,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
-that even that most enterprising
-race&mdash;Swiss hotel-keepers&mdash;have
-hitherto failed to destroy it. Some
-years ago, however, it narrowly escaped
-this fate; for Herr Müller, of
-Seelisberg, is said to have been on
-the point of building a <i lang="fr">pension</i> on
-the great meadow. But no sooner
-did this become known than a national
-subscription was at once
-raised, the government purchased
-it, and now it has become inalienable
-national property for ever.</p>
-
-<p>“You may well be proud of your
-country, Herr H&mdash;&mdash;,” exclaimed
-Mr. C&mdash;&mdash; from the other carriage.
-“I always look on that tiny spot
-with deep reverence as the true
-cradle of freedom. Look at it well,
-George! It witnessed that wonderful
-oath by which these mountaineers
-bound themselves ‘to be
-faithful to each other, just and
-merciful to their oppressors’&mdash;the
-only known example of men&mdash;and
-these men peasants, too&mdash;binding
-themselves, in the excitement of
-revolt, not to take revenge on their
-oppressors.”</p>
-
-<p>“Quite sublime!” ejaculated
-George.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, it has borne good fruit,”
-returned Herr H&mdash;&mdash; in gleeful
-tones; “for here we are still free!
-Except on the one occasion of the
-French in ’98, no foreign troops
-have ever invaded this part of
-Switzerland since those days. Yes,
-there are three springs at the Rütli,
-supposed to have jutted forth where
-the three heroes stood; but I do
-not pledge my word for that,” he
-answered smilingly to Caroline,
-“nor for the legend which says
-that their spirits sleep in the rocky
-vale under Seelisberg, ready to
-come forth and lead the people in
-moments of danger.”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope their slumbers may
-never be disturbed,” she replied;
-“but I wish some one would prevent
-these cattle from frightening
-the horses,” as a large drove swept
-past our carriages, making our
-steeds nervous. Splendid animals
-they were, with beautiful heads,
-straight backs, light limbs, and of a
-grayish mouse color.</p>
-
-<p>“All of the celebrated Schwytz
-breed,” said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;. “This
-part of the country is renowned for
-its cattle. Each of these probably
-cost from five to six hundred francs.
-The Italians take great advantage
-of this new road, and come in numbers
-to buy them at this season,
-when the cattle are returning from
-the mountains. These are going
-across the St. Gothard to Lombardy.
-Those of Einsiedeln are still
-considered the best. Do you remember,
-Miss Caroline, that the
-first mention of German authority
-in this land was occasioned by a
-dispute between the shepherds of
-Schwytz and the abbots of Einsiedeln
-about their pasturage&mdash;the
-emperor having given a grant of
-land to the abbey, while the
-Schwytzers had never heard of his
-existence even, and refused to
-obey his majesty’s orders?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! what historical animals:
-that quite reconciles me to them,”
-she answered, as we drove on again
-amongst a group that seemed very
-uneasy under their new masters,
-whose sweet language George averred
-had no power over them.</p>
-
-<p>Who can describe the exquisite
-beauty of our drive?&mdash;winding in
-and out, sometimes through a tunnel;
-at others along the edge of the
-high precipice from which a low
-parapet alone separated us; at another
-passing through the village
-of Sisikon, which years ago suffered
-severely from a fragment of rock
-fallen from the Frohnalp above.
-Time flew rapidly, and one hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
-and a half had glided by, without
-our perceiving it, when we drew up
-before the beautiful little inn of
-“Tell’s Platte.”</p>
-
-<p>“But there is no Platform here,”
-cried George. “We are hundreds
-of feet above the lake. The critics
-are right, Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, decidedly
-right! I knew it from the beginning.
-How can you deny it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Wait, my young friend! Don’t
-be so impatient. Just come into
-the inn first&mdash;I should like you to
-see the lovely view from it; and
-then we can look for the Platform.”
-Saying which, he led us upstairs,
-on through the <i lang="fr">salon</i> to its balcony
-on the first floor. This is one of
-the smaller inns of that olden type
-which boast the enthusiastic attachment
-of regular customers, and display
-with pride that old institution&mdash;the
-“strangers’ book”&mdash;which has
-completely vanished from the monster
-hotels. It lay open on the
-table as we passed, and every one
-instinctively stopped to examine it.</p>
-
-<p>“The dear old books!” exclaimed
-Mrs. C&mdash;&mdash;. “How they used to
-amuse me in Switzerland! I have
-missed them so much this time.
-Their running fire of notes, their
-polyglot verses&mdash;a sort of album
-and scrap-book combined, full, too,
-of praise or abuse of the last hotel,
-as the humor might be.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Mr. C&mdash;&mdash;, “I shall
-never forget the preface to one&mdash;an
-imprecation on whoever might be
-tempted to let his pen go beyond
-bounds. I learned it by rote:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“May the mountain spirits disturb his slumbers;</div>
-<div class="verse">May his limbs be weary, and his feet sore;</div>
-<div class="verse">May the innkeepers give him tough mutton and</div>
-<div class="verse">Sour wine, and charge him for it as though he were</div>
-<div class="verse">Lord Sir John, M.P.!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“How very amusing!&mdash;a perfect
-gem in its way,” cried Anna. “Lord
-Sir John, M.P., must have been the
-model of large-pursed Britons in
-his time.” Here, however, everything
-seemed to be <i lang="fr">couleur de rose</i>.
-The book’s only fault was its monotony
-of praise. Two sisters keep
-the hotel, and “nowhere,” said its
-devoted friends, “could one find
-better fare, better attendance, and
-greater happiness than at Tell’s
-Platform.” The testimony of a
-young couple confessedly on their
-bridal tour had no weight. We
-know how, at that moment, a barren
-rock transforms itself into a paradise
-for them; but three maiden
-ladies had passed six weeks of unalloyed
-enjoyment here once upon
-a time, and had returned often
-since; English clergymen and their
-families found no words of praise
-too strong; while German students
-and professors indulged in rhapsodical
-language not to be equalled
-out of fatherland.</p>
-
-<p>Duchesses, princesses, and Lords
-Sir John, M.P., were alone wanting
-amongst the present guests. “But
-they come,” said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, “by
-the mid-day steamers, dine and rest
-here awhile, and return in the evenings
-to the larger hotels in other
-places.”</p>
-
-<p>And standing on the balcony of
-the <i lang="fr">salon</i>, facing all the grand mountains,
-with the green lake beneath,
-it truly seemed a spot made for
-brides and bridegrooms, for love
-and friendship. So absorbed were
-we in admiration of the enchanting
-view that we did not at first notice
-two little maidens sitting at the far
-end. They were pretty children,
-of nine and thirteen, daughters of
-an English family stopping here,
-and their countenances brightened
-as they heard our exclamation of
-delight; for Tell’s Platte was to
-them a paradise. Like true Britons,
-however, they said nothing
-until George and Caroline commenced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
-disputing about the scenery.
-Comment then was irresistible.
-“No,” said the youngest,
-“that is the Isenthal,” pointing to
-a valley beneath the hills opposite;
-“and that the Urirothstock, with
-its glacier above, and the Gütschen.
-Those straight walls of rock below
-are the Teufel’s-Münster.”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you remember where
-Schiller says:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">‘The blast, rebounding from the Devil’s Minster,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Has driven them back on the great Axenberg’?</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">That is it, and this here is the
-Axenberg,” said Emily, the elder
-girl.</p>
-
-<p>“But I see no Platform here,”
-remarked George with mischief in
-his eye, as he quickly detected the
-young girl’s faith in the hero.</p>
-
-<p>“It would be impossible to see
-it,” she rejoined, “as it is three
-hundred feet below this house.”</p>
-
-<p>“But we can show you the way,
-if you will come,” continued the
-younger child, taking George’s
-hand, who, partly from surprise and
-partly amusement, allowed himself
-to be led like a lamb across the
-road and through the garden to
-the pathway winding down the
-cliff, followed by us, under guidance
-of the elder sister, Emily.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” the children answered,
-“they had spent the last two
-years in France and Germany.”
-And certainly they spoke both languages
-like natives. Emily was
-even translating <cite>William Tell</cite> into
-English blank verse. “Heigho!”
-sighed Mr. C&mdash;&mdash;, “for this precocious
-age.” But the lake of the
-Forest Cantons was dearer to them
-than all else. They had climbed
-one thousand feet up the side of the
-Frohnalpstock that very morning
-with their father; knew every peak
-and valley, far and near, with all
-their legends and histories; even the
-<i lang="fr">ranz des vaches</i> and the differences
-between them&mdash;the shepherds’ calls
-to the cows and the goats. Annie,
-our smaller friend, entertained
-George with all their varieties, as
-she tripped daintily along, like a little
-fairy, with her tiny alpenstock.
-Very different was she from continental
-children, who rarely, if ever,
-take interest in either pastoral or
-literary matters. She knew the
-way to the platform well; for did
-she not go up and down it many
-times a day? A difficult descent it
-was, too&mdash;almost perpendicular&mdash;notwithstanding
-the well-kept pathway;
-but not dangerous until we
-reached the bottom, when each one
-in turn had to jump on to a jutting
-piece of rock, in order to get
-round the corner into the chapel.
-Most truly it stands on a small
-ledge, with no inch of room for
-aught but the small building raised
-over it. The water close up to the
-shore is said to be eight hundred feet
-deep, and it made one shudder to
-hear Herr H&mdash;&mdash;’s story of an artist
-who a few years ago fell into the
-lake while sketching on the cliffs
-above. Poor man! forgetful of the
-precipice, he had thoughtlessly
-stepped back a few steps to look at
-his painting, fell over, and was
-never seen again. His easel and
-painting alone remained to give pathetic
-warning to other rash spirits.</p>
-
-<p>The chapel, open on the side
-next the water, is covered with
-faded frescos of Tell’s history,
-which our little friends quaintly
-described; and it contains, besides,
-an altar and a small pulpit. Here
-Mass is said once a year on the
-Friday after the Ascension, when all
-the people of the neighborhood
-come hither, and from their boats,
-grouped outside, hear Mass and
-the sermon preached to them from
-the railing in front. This was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
-feast which my Weggis guide so
-much desired to see. It is unique
-in every particular, and Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash; was eloquent on the beauty
-and impressiveness of the scene, at
-which he had once been present,
-and which it was easy to understand
-amidst these magnificent surroundings.
-Nor is it a common
-gathering of peasants, but a solemn
-celebration, to which the authorities
-of Uri come in state with the
-standard of Uri&mdash;the renowned
-Uri ox&mdash;floating at the bows. As
-may be supposed, the sermon is
-always national, touching on all
-those points of faith, honor, and
-dignity which constitute true patriotism.
-Mr. C&mdash;&mdash; had Murray’s
-guide-book in his hand, and would
-not allow us to say another word
-until he read aloud Sir James Macintosh’s
-remarks on this portion of
-the lake, which there occur as
-follows:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The combination of what is grandest
-in nature with whatever is pure and
-sublime in human conduct affected me
-in this passage (along the lake) more
-powerfully than any scene which I had
-ever seen. Perhaps neither Greece nor
-Rome would have had such power over
-me. They are dead. The present inhabitants
-are a new race, who regard
-with little or no feeling the memorials of
-former ages. This is, perhaps, the only
-place on the globe where deeds of pure
-virtue, ancient enough to be venerable,
-are consecrated by the religion of the
-people, and continue to command interest
-and reverence. No local superstition
-so beautiful and so moral anywhere
-exists. The inhabitants of Thermopylæ
-or Marathon know no more of
-these famous spots than that they are so
-many square feet of earth. England is
-too extensive a country to make Runnymede
-an object of national affection. In
-countries of industry and wealth the
-stream of events sweeps away these old remembrances.
-The solitude of the Alps
-is a sanctuary destined for the monuments
-of ancient virtue; Grütli and Tell’s
-chapel are as much reverenced by the
-Alpine peasants as Mecca by a devout
-Mussulman; and the deputies of the
-three ancient cantons met, so late as the
-year 1715, to renew their allegiance and
-their oaths of eternal union.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>“All very well,” said George,
-“if there really had been a Tell;
-but this seems to me a body without
-a soul. Why, this very chapel
-is in the Italian style, and never
-could have been founded by the
-one hundred and twenty contemporaries
-who are said to have
-known Tell and to have been
-present at its consecration.”</p>
-
-<p>“I never heard that any one insisted
-on this being the original
-building,” said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;. “It is
-probably an improvement on it;
-but it was not the fashion in those
-times&mdash;for people were not then incredulous&mdash;to
-put up tablets recording
-changes and renovations,
-as nowadays at Kaltbad and
-Klösterle, for instance. But speaking
-dispassionately, Mr. George,
-it seems to me quite impossible
-that the introduction of any legend
-from Denmark or elsewhere could
-have taken such strong hold of a
-people like these mountaineers
-without some solid foundation, especially
-here, where every inhabitant
-is known to the other, and
-the same families have lived on in
-the same spots for centuries. Why
-is it not just as likely that the same
-sort of event should have occurred
-in more than one place? And as
-to its not being mentioned in the
-local documents, that is not conclusive
-either; for we all know
-how careless in these respects were
-the men of the middle ages, above
-all in a rude mountain canton
-of this kind. Transmission by
-word of mouth and by religious
-celebrations is much more in character
-with those times. I go heart
-and hand with your own Buckle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
-who places so much reliance on
-local traditions. The main argument
-used against the truth of the
-story is, you know, that it was first
-related in detail by an old chronicler
-called Ægidius Tschudi, a
-couple of hundred years after the
-event. But I see nothing singular
-in that; for most probably he
-merely committed to writing, with
-all the freshness of simplicity, the
-story which, for the previous two
-hundred years, had been in the
-hearts and on the lips of the peasants
-of this region. No invention of any
-writer could have founded chapels
-or have become ingrained in the
-hearts of the locality itself in the
-manner this story has done. It was
-never doubted until the end of the
-last century, when a Prof. Freudenberger,
-of Bern, wrote a pamphlet
-entitled <cite>William Tell: a
-Danish Fable</cite>.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” broke in little Emily, latest
-translator of Schiller, and who
-had been listening attentively to
-our discussion, “and the people of
-the forest cantons were so indignant
-that the authorities of Uri had the
-pamphlet burned by the common
-hangman, and then they solemnly
-proclaimed its author an outlaw.”</p>
-
-<p>“I told you, Mr. George, that you
-were on dangerous ground here,”
-said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, laughing.</p>
-
-<p>“I must make him kiss this earth
-before he leaves,” said Mrs. C&mdash;&mdash;,
-“as I read lately of a mother making
-her little son do when passing
-here early in this century, regarding
-it as a spot sacred to liberty.
-She little thought a sceptic like
-you would so soon follow.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well! I am <em>almost</em> converted,”
-he answered, smiling, “but I wish
-Miss Emily would tell us the story
-of Tell’s jumping on shore here,”
-trying to draw out the enthusiastic
-little prodigy.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! don’t you remember that
-magnificent passage in Schiller
-where, after the scene of shooting
-at the apple, Gessler asked Tell
-why he put the second arrow into
-his quiver, and then, promising to
-spare his life if he revealed its object,
-evades his promise the instant
-he hears that it was destined to kill
-him if Tell had struck his son instead
-of the apple? He then ordered
-him to be bound and taken
-on board his vessel at Fluelen.
-The boat had no sooner left Fluelen
-than one of those sudden
-storms sprang up so common hereabouts.
-There was one two days
-ago. Annie and I tried to come
-down here, but it was impossible&mdash;the
-wind and waves were so high
-we could not venture, so we sat on
-the pathway and read out Schiller.
-Oh! he is a great genius. He
-never was in Switzerland. Yes!
-just fancy that; and yet he describes
-everything to perfection.
-Well! Tell was as good a pilot as
-a marksman, and Gessler, in his
-fright, again promised to take off
-his fetters if he would steer the
-vessel safely. He did, but steered
-them straight towards this ledge of
-rock, sprang out upon it, climbed
-up the cliff, and, rushing through
-the country, arrived at the Hohle-Gasse
-near Küssnacht before the
-tyrant had reached it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Schiller decidedly has his merit,
-it must be confessed, when he can
-get such ardent admirers as these
-pretty children,” said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;
-when we bade farewell to our dear
-little friends.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” answered the incorrigible
-George from the box seat, “poetry,
-poetry!&mdash;an excellent mode of
-transmitting traditions, making them
-indelible on young minds; but I am
-so far converted, Herr H&mdash;&mdash;,” continued
-he, laughing, “that I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
-sorry the doubts were ever raised
-about the Tell history. It is in
-wonderful keeping with the place
-and people, and it will be a great
-pity if <em>they</em> give it up. ‘Se non è
-vero, è ben trovato,’<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> at least.”</p>
-
-<p>Hence onwards to Fluelen is the
-finest portion of the Axenstrasse,
-and the opening views of the valley
-of the Reuss and the Bristenstock,
-through the arches of the galleries
-or tunnels, every minute increased
-in beauty. Several of us got out
-the better to enjoy them, sending
-the carriages on ahead. The
-Schwytz cattle had quite escaped
-our memories, when suddenly a
-bell sounded round a sharp angle
-of the road and a large drove instantly
-followed.</p>
-
-<p>A panic seized us ladies. The
-cliff rose vertically on the inner
-side, without allowing us the possibility
-of a clamber, and in our
-fright, before the gentlemen could
-prevent us, we leaped over a low
-railing, which there served as a parapet,
-on to a ledge of rock, a few
-yards square, rising straight up
-from the lake hundreds of feet below.
-All recollection of their historical
-interest vanished from our
-minds; for, as the cattle danced
-along, they looked as scared and
-wild as ourselves, and it was not
-until they had passed without noticing
-us, and that their dark-eyed
-masters had spoken some soft Italian
-words to us, that we fully realized
-the extent of our imprudence.
-Had any one of these animals
-jumped up over the railing, as we
-afterwards heard they have sometimes
-done, who can say what
-might not have happened? Fortunately,
-no harm ensued beyond a
-flutter of nerves, which betrayed
-itself by Anna’s turning round to a
-set of handsome goats that soon
-followed the cattle, crying out to
-them in her own peculiar German:
-“Nix kommen! nix kommen!”</p>
-
-<p>Fluelen has nothing to show beyond
-the picturesqueness of a village
-situated in such scenery and a
-collection of lumbering diligences
-and countless carriages, awaiting
-the hourly arrival of the steamers
-from Lucerne. The knell of these
-old diligences, however, has tolled,
-for the St. Gothard Railway tunnel
-has been commenced near Arnsty,
-and though it may require years to
-finish it, its “opening day” will
-surely come. Half an hour’s drive
-up the lovely valley brought us to
-Altorf, at the foot of the Grünwald,
-which, in accord with its
-name, is clothed with a virgin forest,
-now called the “Bann forest,”
-because so useful is it in protecting
-the town from avalanches and landslips
-that the Uri government
-never permits it to be touched.
-Altorf, like so many of the capitals
-in these forest cantons, has a small
-population, 2,700 inhabitants only,
-but it has many good houses, for it
-was burnt down in 1799 and rebuilt
-in a better manner. Tell’s
-story forms its chief interest, and
-certainly did so in our eyes. We
-rushed at once to the square, where
-one fountain is said to mark the
-spot where Tell took aim, and another
-that upon which his boy
-stood. Tradition says that the
-latter one replaced the lime-tree
-against which the son leant, portions
-of which existed until 1567.
-A paltry plaster statue of the hero
-is in the same square, but the most
-remarkable relic of antiquity is an
-old tower close by, which Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash; assured us is proved by documents
-to have been built before
-1307, the date of Tell’s history.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
-Had the young friends we left at
-“Tell’s Platform” accompanied us
-hither, Emily might have quoted
-Schiller to us at length. But
-George, having recently bought a
-Tauchnitz edition of Freeman’s
-<cite>Growth of the English Constitution</cite>,
-which opens with a fine description
-of the annual elections of this canton,
-he earnestly pleaded a prolongation
-of our drive to the spot
-where this takes place, three miles
-further inland. Accordingly, after
-ordering dinner to be ready on our
-return at a hotel which was filled
-with Tell pictures, and an excellent
-one of the festival at the Platform,
-we left the town and proceeded
-up the valley. Soon we
-crossed a stream, the same, Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash; told us, in which Tell is said
-to have been drowned while endeavoring
-to save a child who had
-fallen into it. He also pointed
-out to us Bürglen, his home, and an
-old tower believed to have been his
-house, attached to which there is
-now a small ivy-clad chapel. It
-stands at the opening of the Schächen
-valley, celebrated to this day
-for its fine race of men&mdash;likewise
-corresponding in this respect with
-the old tradition. But more modern
-interest attaches to this valley,
-for it was along its craggy sides
-and precipices that Suwarow’s army
-made its way across the Kinzig-Kulm
-to the Muotta. The whole
-of this region was the scene of
-fearful fighting&mdash;first between the
-French and the Austrians, who
-were assisted by the natives of Uri,
-in 1799, and then, a month later,
-between the Russians coming up
-from Lombardy and the French.</p>
-
-<p>“That was the age of real
-fighting,” said Herr H&mdash;&mdash;, “hand-to-hand
-fighting, without <i lang="fr">mitrailleuses</i>
-or long ranges. But the
-misery it brought this quarter was
-not recovered from for years after.
-Altorf was burnt down at that
-time, and everything laid waste.
-The memory of the trouble lingers
-about here even yet. What wonder!
-Certainly, in all Europe no
-more difficult fighting ground
-could have been found. In the end,
-the French General Lecourbe was
-all but cut off, for he had destroyed
-every boat on the lake; in those
-days a most serious matter, as neither
-steamers nor Axenstrasse existed.
-When he therefore wished to
-pursue the Russians, who by going
-up this Schächen valley intended
-to join their own corps, supposed
-to be at Zürich, he too was obliged
-to make a bold manœuvre. And
-then it was that he led his army
-by torchlight along the dangerous
-mule-path on the Axenberg! Sad
-and dreadful times they were for
-these poor cantons.”</p>
-
-<p>Herr H&mdash;&mdash; showed us Attinghausen,
-the birth-place of Walter
-Fürst, and the ruins of a castle
-near, which is the locality of a fine
-scene in Schiller, but the last owner
-of which died in 1357, and is
-known to have been buried in his
-helmet and spurs. Shortly after,
-about three miles from Altorf, we
-reached the noted field, and George,
-opening Freeman, read us the following
-passage aloud:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Year by year, on certain spots among
-the dales and the mountain-sides of
-Switzerland, the traveller who is daring
-enough to wander out of beaten tracks
-and to make his journey at unusual seasons,
-may look on a sight such as no
-other corner of the earth can any longer
-set before him. He may there gaze and
-feel, what none can feel but those who
-have seen with their own eyes, what
-none can feel in its fulness more than
-once in a lifetime&mdash;the thrill of looking
-for the first time face to face on freedom
-in its purest and most ancient form. He
-is there in a land where the oldest institutions
-of our race&mdash;institutions which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
-may be traced up to the earliest times of
-which history or legend gives us any glimmering&mdash;still
-live on in their primeval
-freshness. He is in a land where an immemorial
-freedom, a freedom only less eternal
-than the rocks that guard it, puts to
-shame the boasted antiquity of kingly
-dynasties, which, by its side, seem but as
-innovations of yesterday. There, year
-by year, on some bright morning of the
-springtide, the sovereign people, not entrusting
-its rights to a few of its own
-number, but discharging them itself in
-the majesty of its corporate person,
-meets, in the open market-place or in the
-green meadow at the mountain’s foot, to
-frame the laws to which it yields obedience
-as its own work, to choose the
-rulers whom it can afford to greet with
-reverence as drawing their commission
-from itself. Such a sight there are but
-few Englishmen who have seen; to be
-among these few I reckon among the
-highest privileges of my life. Let me
-ask you to follow me in spirit to the very
-home and birth-place of freedom, to the
-land where we need not myth and fable
-to add aught to the fresh and gladdening
-feeling with which we for the first time
-tread the soil and drink in the air of the
-immemorial democracy of Uri. It is one
-of the opening days of May; it is the
-morning of Sunday; for men there deem
-that the better the day the better the deed;
-they deem that the Creator cannot be
-more truly honored than in using in his
-fear and in his presence the highest of
-the gifts which he has bestowed on man.
-But deem not that, because the day of
-Christian worship is chosen for the great
-yearly assembly of a Christian commonwealth,
-the more directly sacred duties
-of the day are forgotten. Before we, in
-our luxurious island, have lifted ourselves
-from our beds, the men of the mountains,
-Catholics and Protestants alike,
-have already paid the morning’s worship
-in God’s temple. They have heard the
-Mass of the priest or they have listened
-to the sermon of the pastor, before some
-of us have awakened to the fact that the
-morn of the holy day has come. And
-when I saw men thronging the crowded
-church, or kneeling, for want of space
-within, on the bare ground beside the
-open door, when I saw them marching
-thence to do the highest duties of men
-and citizens, I could hardly forbear
-thinking of the saying of Holy Writ,
-that ‘where the spirit of the Lord is, there
-is liberty.’ From the market-place of
-Altorf, the little capital of the canton,
-the procession makes its way to the place
-of meeting at Bözlingen. First marches
-the little army of the canton, an army
-whose weapons never can be used save
-to drive back an invader from their land.
-Over their heads floats the banner, the
-bull’s-head of Uri, the ensign which led
-men to victory on the fields of Sempach
-and Morgarten. And before them all,
-on the shoulders of men clad in a garb
-of ages past, are borne the famous horns,
-the spoils of the wild bull of ancient
-days, the very horns whose blast struck
-such dread into the fearless heart of
-Charles of Burgundy. Then, with their
-lictors before them, come the magistrates
-of the commonwealth on horseback, the
-chief-magistrate, the Landamman, with
-his sword by his side. The people follow
-the chiefs whom they have chosen
-to the place of meeting, a circle in a
-green meadow, with a pine forest rising
-above their heads, and a mighty spur of
-the mountain range facing them on the
-other side of the valley. The multitude
-of freemen take their seats around the
-chief ruler of the commonwealth, whose
-term of office comes that day to an end.
-The assembly opens; a short space is
-given to prayer&mdash;silent prayer offered
-up by each man in the temple of God’s
-own rearing. Then comes the business
-of the day. If changes in the law
-are demanded, they are then laid before
-the vote of the assembly, in which
-each citizen of full age has an equal
-vote and an equal right of speech.
-The yearly magistrates have now discharged
-all their duties; their term of
-office is at an end; the trust that has
-been placed in their hands falls back
-into the hands of those by whom it was
-given&mdash;into the hands of the sovereign
-people. The chief of the commonwealth,
-now such no longer, leaves his seat of
-office, and takes his place as a simple
-citizen in the ranks of his fellows. It
-rests with the free-will of the assembly
-to call him back to his chair of office, or
-to set another there in his stead. Men
-who have neither looked into the history
-of the past, nor yet troubled themselves
-to learn what happens year by year in
-their own age, are fond of declaiming
-against the caprice and ingratitude of
-the people, and of telling us that under
-a democratic government neither men
-nor measures can remain for an hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
-unchanged. The witness alike of the
-present and of the past is an answer to
-baseless theories like these. The spirit
-which made democratic Athens year by
-year bestow her highest offices on the
-patrician Pericles and the reactionary
-Phocion, still lives in the democracies
-of Switzerland, alike in the Landesgemeinde
-of Uri and in the Federal Assembly
-at Bern. The ministers of kings,
-whether despotic or constitutional, may
-vainly envy the sure tenure of office which
-falls to the lot of those who are chosen
-to rule by the voice of the people. Alike
-in the whole confederation and in the
-single canton, re-election is the rule; the
-rejection of the outgoing magistrate is
-the rare exception. The Landamman
-of Uri, whom his countrymen have
-raised to the seat of honor, and who has
-done nothing to lose their confidence,
-need not fear that when he has gone to
-the place of meeting in the pomp of office,
-his place in the march homeward
-will be transferred to another against his
-will.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The grand forms of the Windgälle,
-the Bristenstock, and the other
-mighty mountains, surrounded us
-as we stood in deep silence on this
-high green meadow, profoundly impressed
-by this eloquent tribute to
-a devout and liberty-loving people,
-all the more remarkable as coming
-from a Protestant writer. There
-was little to add to it, for Herr
-H&mdash;&mdash;’s experience could only
-confirm it in every point. Dinner
-had to be got through rapidly on
-our return to Altorf, as we wished
-to catch the steamer leaving Fluelen
-at five o’clock. Like all these
-vessels, it touched at the landing-place
-beside Tell’s Platform,
-whence our young friends of the
-morning, who had been watching
-for our return, waved us a greeting.
-Thence we sat on deck, tracing Lecourbe’s
-mule-path march of torch-light
-memory along the Axenberg
-precipices, and finally reached the
-Waldstätterhof at Brunnen in time
-to see the sun sink behind Mont
-Pilatus, and leave the varied outlines
-clearly defined against a deep-red
-sky.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>S. PHILIP’S HOME.<a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">O Mary, Mother Mary! our tears are flowing fast,</div>
-<div class="verse">For mighty Rome, S. Philip’s home, is desolate and waste:</div>
-<div class="verse">There are wild beasts in her palaces, far fiercer and more bold</div>
-<div class="verse">Than those that licked the martyrs’ feet in heathen days of old.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">O Mary, Mother Mary! that dear city was thine own,</div>
-<div class="verse">And brightly once a thousand lamps before thine altars shone;</div>
-<div class="verse">At the corners of the streets thy Child’s sweet face and thine</div>
-<div class="verse">Charmed evil out of many hearts and darkness out of mine.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">By Peter’s cross and Paul’s sharp sword, dear Mother Mary, pray!</div>
-<div class="verse">By the dungeon deep where thy S. Luke in weary durance lay;</div>
-<div class="verse">And by the church thou know’st so well, beside the Latin Gate,</div>
-<div class="verse">For love of John, dear Mother, stay the hapless city’s fate.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">For the exiled Pontiffs sake, our Father and our Lord,</div>
-<div class="verse">O Mother! bid the angel sheathe his keen avenging sword;</div>
-<div class="verse">For the Vicar of thy Son, poor exile though he be,</div>
-<div class="verse">Is busied with thy honor <em>now</em> by that sweet southern sea.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Oh! by the joy thou hadst in Rome, when every street and square</div>
-<div class="verse">Burned with the fire of holy love that Philip kindled there,</div>
-<div class="verse">And by that throbbing heart of his, which thou didst keep at Rome,</div>
-<div class="verse">Let not the spoiler waste dear Father Philip’s Home!</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Oh! by the dread basilicas, the pilgrim’s gates to heaven,</div>
-<div class="verse">By all the shrines and relics God to Christian Rome hath given,</div>
-<div class="verse">By the countless Ave Marias that have rung from out its towers,</div>
-<div class="verse">By Peter’s threshold, Mother! save this pilgrim land of ours.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">By all the words of peace and power that from S. Peter’s chair</div>
-<div class="verse">Have stilled the angry world so oft, this glorious city spare!</div>
-<div class="verse">By the lowliness of Him whose gentle-hearted sway</div>
-<div class="verse">A thousand lands are blessing now, dear Mother Mary, pray.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">By the pageants bright, whose golden light hath flashed through street and square,</div>
-<div class="verse">And by the long processions that have borne thy Jesus there;</div>
-<div class="verse">By the glories of the saints; by the honors that were thine;</div>
-<div class="verse">By all the worship God hath got from many a blazing shrine;</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">By all heroic deeds of saints that Rome hath ever seen;</div>
-<div class="verse">By all the times her multitudes have crowned thee for their queen;</div>
-<div class="verse">By all the glory God hath gained from out that wondrous place,</div>
-<div class="verse">O Mary, Mother Mary! pray thy strongest prayer for grace.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">O Mary, Mother Mary! thou wilt pray for Philip’s Home,</div>
-<div class="verse">Thou wilt turn the heart of him who turned S. Peter back to Rome.</div>
-<div class="verse">Oh! thou wilt pray thy prayer, and the battle will be won,</div>
-<div class="verse">And the Saviour’s sinless Mother save the city of her Son.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Troubles of Our Catholic Forefathers,
-related by Themselves.</span>
-Second Series. Edited by John Morris,
-S. J. London: Burns &amp; Oates.
-1875. (New York: Sold by The Catholic
-Publication Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Whilst our ears are deafened and our
-feelings shocked by the calumnies and
-lying vituperation heaped upon all that
-is most worthy of love and veneration
-upon earth by the Satanic societies which
-the Popes have smitten with repeated excommunications,
-it is consoling to be supplied&mdash;by
-limners, too, who are themselves
-no mean exemplars of the noble
-development which the Church can give
-to virtue when it follows her counsels&mdash;with
-lifelike portraits of Christian athletes
-in times gone by. We do not know
-how soon our courage, patience, and
-charity may be put to a similar test.
-Multitudes of our fellow-Catholics are
-already subjected to every suffering but
-the martyrdom of death; and this seed of
-the Church our enemies, more wily than
-the sanguinary heretics of the age of
-Elizabeth, seem to be unwilling to sow.
-But they will not long be able to restrain
-their passion. The word of persecution
-has gone forth; and so bitter is the hatred
-of the very name of Christ, that before
-very long nothing but the blood of Christians
-will satiate its instincts.</p>
-
-<p>The persecution of the Church in England
-in the time of Elizabeth resembled
-the persecution which is now raging
-against it, in the political complexion
-given to it. But there were far stronger
-grounds for it then than now. The superior
-claims of Mary to the throne, her
-virtues, and her surpassing beauty, were
-a just subject of jealousy and uneasiness
-to Elizabeth, and she might very naturally
-suppose that her Catholic subjects were
-not likely to regard with any fondness the
-usurpation of an illegitimate daughter of
-her apostate and tyrannical father.</p>
-
-<p>In the present persecutions there is no
-political pretext, but one is made under
-cover of which to extirpate from among
-mankind the religion and very name of
-Christ.</p>
-
-<p>This volume is the second of a series
-which promises to supply us with a whole
-gallery of Christian heroes, which we of
-this age of worldliness, cowardice, and
-self-seeking will do well to study attentively.
-As is often the case, it is to the untiring
-zeal of the Society of Jesus we owe
-so interesting as well as edifying a work.
-Father Morris, formerly Secretary to
-Cardinal Wiseman, but who joined the
-Society after the death of that eminent
-prelate, is its author, and he appears to
-us to have executed his task with rare
-judgment. By allowing his characters
-to speak in great part for themselves,
-the biographies and relations he presents
-us with have a dramatic interest which is
-greatly increased by the quaint and nervous
-style of the time in which they express
-themselves. We feel, too, that it is
-the very innermost soul and mind of the
-individual that is being revealed to us;
-and certainly in most of them the revelation
-is so beautiful that we should possibly
-have ascribed something of this to the
-partiality of a panegyrist, or to his descriptive
-skill, if the picture had been
-sketched by the pen of any other biographer
-than themselves. It is, indeed, the
-mean opinion they evidently have of
-themselves, and the naïve and modest
-manner in which they relate incidents
-evoking heroic virtue, their absolute unconsciousness
-of aught more than the
-most ordinary qualities, which fascinate
-us. It bears an impress of genuineness
-impossible to any description by the most
-impartial of historians. They express a
-beauty which could no more be communicated
-in any other way than can the
-odor of the flower or the music of the
-streams be conveyed by any touch, how
-ever magic, of the painter.</p>
-
-<p>The present volume of the series contains
-the “Life of Father William Weston,
-S.J.,” and “The Fall of Anthony
-Tyrrell,” by Father Persons; for “our
-wish is,” says Father Morris, “to learn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
-not only what was done by the strong
-and brave, but also by the weak and cowardly.”</p>
-
-<p>We are much struck in this history with
-the resemblance between those times and
-the present in the unsparing calumny of
-which the purest and the holiest men
-were made the victims.</p>
-
-<p>For confirmation of these remarks, we
-refer the reader to the book itself. But
-we cannot refrain from quoting, in spite
-of its length, the following incident related
-by Father Weston. It is a remarkable
-example of the salutary effect of the
-Sacrament of Penance:</p>
-
-<p>“For there lay in a certain heretical
-house a Catholic who, with the consent
-of his keeper, had come to London for the
-completion of some urgent business. He
-had been committed to a prison in the
-country, a good way out of London. He
-was seized, however, and overpowered by
-a long sickness which brought him near
-to death. The woman who nursed him,
-being a Catholic, had diligently searched
-the whole city through to find a priest,
-but in vain. She then sent word to me
-of the peril of that person, and entreated
-me, if it could be contrived, to come to
-his assistance, as he was almost giving
-up the ghost. I went to him when the
-little piece of gold obtained for me the
-liberty to do so. I explained that I was
-a priest, for I was dressed like a layman,
-and that I had come to hear his confession.
-‘If that is the reason why you
-have come, it is in vain,’ he said; ‘the
-time for it is passed away.’ I said to him:
-‘What! are you not a Catholic? If you
-are, you know what you have to do. This
-hour, which seems to be your last, has
-been given you that by making a good
-and sincere confession you may, while
-there is time, wash away the stains of
-your past life, whatever they are.’ He
-answered: ‘I tell you that you have come
-too late: that time has gone by. The
-judgment is decided; the sentence has
-been pronounced; I am condemned, and
-given up to the enemy. I cannot hope
-for pardon.’ ‘That is false,’ I answered,
-‘and it is a most fearful error to imagine
-that a man still in life can assert that he
-is already deprived of God’s goodness
-and abandoned by his grace, in such a
-way that even when he desires and implores
-mercy it should be denied him.
-Since your faith teaches you that God is
-infinitely merciful, you are to believe with
-all certitude that there is no bond so
-straitly fastened but the grace of God
-can unloose it, no obstacle but grace has
-power to surmount it.’ ‘But do you not
-see,’ he asked me, ‘how full of evil
-spirits this place is where we are? There
-is no corner or crevice in the walls where
-there are not more than a thousand of the
-most dark and frightful demons, who,
-with their fierce faces, horrid looks, and
-atrocious words threaten perpetually
-that they are just going to carry me into
-the abyss of misery. Why, even my very
-body and entrails are filled with these
-hateful guests, who are lacerating my
-body and torturing my soul with such
-dreadful cruelty and anguish that it
-seems as if I were not so much on the
-point merely of going there, as that I am
-already devoted and made over to the
-flames and agonies of hell. Wherefore, it
-is clear that God has abandoned me for
-ever, and has cast me away from all hope
-of pardon.’</p>
-
-<p>“When I had listened in trembling to
-all these things, and to much more of a
-similar kind, and saw at the same time
-that death was coming fast upon him, and
-that he would not admit of any advice or
-persuasion, I began to think within myself,
-in silence and anxiety, what would be
-the wisest course to choose. There entered
-into my mind, through the inspiration,
-doubtless, of God, the following most
-useful plan and method of dealing with
-him: ‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘if you are
-going to be lost, I do not require a confession
-from you; nevertheless, recollect
-yourself just for a moment, and, with a
-quiet mind, answer me, in a few words,
-either yes or no to the questions that I
-put to you; I ask for nothing else, and
-put upon you no other burden.’ Then I
-began to question him, and to follow the
-order of the Commandments. First,
-whether he had denied his faith. ‘See,’ I
-said, ‘do not worry yourself; say just
-those simple words, yes or no.’ As soon
-as he had finished either affirming or denying
-anything, I proceeded through four
-or five Commandments&mdash;whether he had
-killed any one, stolen anything, etc.
-When he had answered with tolerable
-calmness, I said to him, ‘What are the
-devils doing now? What do you feel or
-suffer from them?’ He replied: ‘They
-are quieter with me; they do not seem to
-be so furious as they were before.’ ‘Lift
-up your soul to God,’ I said, ‘and
-let us go on to the rest.’ In the same
-fashion and order I continued to question<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
-him about other things. Then I enquired
-again, saying, ‘How is it now?’ He replied;
-‘Within I am not tormented. The
-devils stand at a distance; they throw
-stones; they make dreadful faces at me,
-and threaten me horribly. I do not think
-that I shall escape.’ Going forward as
-before, I allured and encouraged the man
-by degrees, till every moment he became
-more reasonable, and at last made an entire
-confession of all his sins, after which
-I gave him absolution, and asked him
-what he was suffering from his cruel and
-harassing enemies. ‘Nothing,’ he said;
-‘they have all vanished. There is not a
-trace of them, thanks be to God.’ Then
-I went away, after strengthening him by
-a few words, and encouraging him beforehand
-against temptations which might return.
-I promised, at the same time, that I
-would be with him on the morrow, and
-meant to bring the most Sacred Body of
-Christ with me, and warned him to prepare
-himself diligently for the receiving of so
-excellent a banquet. The whole following
-night he passed without molestation from
-the enemy, and on the next day he received
-with great tranquillity of mind the most
-Holy Sacrament, after which, at an interval
-of a few hours without disturbance, he
-breathed forth his soul, and quietly gave
-it up to God. Before he died, I asked the
-man what cause had driven him into such
-desperation of mind. He answered me
-thus: ‘I was detained in prison many
-years for the Catholic faith. Nevertheless,
-I did not cease to sin, and to conceal
-my sins from my confessor, being persuaded
-by the devil that pardon must be
-sought for from God, rather by penances
-and severity of life, than by confession.
-Hence I either neglected my confessions
-altogether, or else made insincere ones;
-and so I fell into that melancholy of
-mind and that state of tribulation which
-has been my punishment.’”</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Light leading unto Light</span>: A Series
-of Sonnets and Poems. By John
-Charles Earle, B.A. London: Burns
-&amp; Oates. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Earle has undoubtedly a facility
-in writing sonnets; and a good sonnet
-has been well called “a whole poem in
-itself.” It is also, we think, peculiarly
-suitable for didactic poetry. The present
-sonnets are in advance, we consider,
-of those we first saw from Mr. Earle’s
-pen. But we still observe faults, both
-of diction and of verse, which he should
-have learnt to avoid. His model seems
-to be Wordsworth&mdash;the greatest sonneteer
-in our language; but, like him, he
-has too much of the prosaic and the artificial.</p>
-
-<p>We wish we could bestow unqualified
-praise upon the ideas throughout these
-sonnets. And were there nothing for
-criticism but what may be called poetic
-subtleties&mdash;such as the German notion
-of an “ether body,” developed during
-life, and hatched at death, for our intermediate
-state of being&mdash;we should have
-no quarrel with Mr. Earle. But when we
-meet two sonnets (XLVIII. and XLIX.)
-headed “Matter Non-Existent,” and
-“Matter Non-Substantial,” we have a
-philosophical error serious in its consequences,
-and are not surprised to find
-the two following sonnets teach Pantheism.
-In Sonnet XLVIII. the author’s
-excellent intention is to refute materialism:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“‘Thought is,’ you say, ‘a function of the brain,</div>
-<div class="verse">And matter all that we can ever know;</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“‘From it we came; to it at last we go,</div>
-<div class="verse">And all beyond it is a phantom vain,’ etc.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“I answer: ‘Matter is <em>a form of mind</em>,</div>
-<div class="verse"><em>So far as it is aught</em>. It has no base,</div>
-<div class="verse">Save in the self-existent.’”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Sonnet L. is headed, “As the Soul in
-the Body, so is God in the Universe.”
-Surely, this is the old “Anima Mundi”
-theory! Then, in Sonnet LI., the poet
-says of nature, and addressing God:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“She cannot live detached from thee. Her heart</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Is beating with thy pulse. <em>I cannot tell</em></div>
-<div class="verse"><em>How far she is or is not of thee part</em>;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">How far in her thou dost or dost not dwell;</div>
-<div class="verse">That <em>thou her only base and substance art</em>,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">This&mdash;this at least&mdash;I know and feel full well.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Now, of course, Mr. Earle is unconscious
-that this is rank Pantheism. He
-has a way of explaining it to himself
-which makes it sound perfectly orthodox.
-But we do call such a blunder inexcusable
-in a Catholic writer of Mr. Earle’s
-pretensions. The title of his volume,
-“Light leading unto Light,” has little
-to do with the contents, as far as we can
-see; and, certainly, there are passages
-which would more fitly be headed “Darkness
-leading unto Darkness.”</p>
-
-<p>We are sorry to have had to make
-these strictures. The great bulk of the
-sonnets, together with the remaining
-poems, are very pleasant reading, and
-cannot fail to do good.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">First Annual Report of the Rev.
-Theodore Noethen, First Catholic
-Chaplain of the Albany Penitentiary,
-to the Inspectors.</span> April 6,
-1875. Albany: J. Munsell. 1875.</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Thirteen Sermons preached in the
-Albany County Penitentiary.</span> By
-the Rev. Theodore Noethen. Published
-under the auspices of the Society
-of S. Vincent de Paul. Albany: Van
-Benthuysen Printing House. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>We are glad to see Father Noethen’s
-familiar hand thus charitably and characteristically
-engaged. These are the first
-documents of the kind we have observed
-under the improving state of things in
-this country, in which the priest of the
-Church is seen occupied in one of his
-most important duties&mdash;reclaiming the
-erring; and in doing this the means
-which he employs will doubtless be found
-more efficacious than any the state has
-at its command. Did the state fully
-appreciate its highest interest as well as
-duty, it would afford the Church every
-facility, not only in reclaiming such of
-her children as have fallen into the temptations
-by which they are surrounded,
-but also in the use of those preventive
-measures involved in parish schools,
-which would save multitudes from penitentiaries
-and houses of correction. Our
-over-zealous Protestant friends throw
-every obstacle in the way of the adequate
-moral and religious training of the class
-most exposed to the temptations arising
-from poverty and lack of employment,
-and then blame the Church for the result.
-We heartily welcome these signs of a
-better time coming.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">An Exposition of the Epistles of S.
-Paul and of the Catholic Epistles</span>;
-consisting of an Introduction to each
-Epistle, an Analysis of each Chapter,
-a Paraphrase of the Sacred Text, and
-a Commentary, embracing Notes, Critical,
-Explanatory, and Dogmatical,
-interspersed with Moral Reflections.
-By the Rt. Rev. John MacEvilly, D.D.,
-Bishop of Galway. Third edition, enlarged.
-Dublin: W. B. Kelly. 1875.
-(New York: Sold by The Catholic
-Publication Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>After quoting this full, descriptive title-page,
-it will suffice to say that the notes
-which form the commentary have in the
-present edition been considerably enlarged.
-The work was originally published
-under the approbation of the Holy
-Father, the late Cardinals Barnabo and
-Wiseman, and the present venerable
-Archbishop of Tuam.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS RECEIVED.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p>From Scribner, Armstrong &amp; Co., New York: Personal
-Reminiscences. By O’Keefe, Kelly, and Taylor.
-Edited by R. H. Stoddard (Bric-à-Brac
-Series, No. VIII)</p>
-
-<p>From the Author: An Address on Woman’s Work
-in the Church before the Presbytery of New
-Albany. By Geo. C. Heckman, D.D. Paper,
-8vo, pp. 28.</p>
-
-<p>From Wm. Dennis, G.W.S.: Journal of Proceedings
-of the Ninth Annual Session of the Grand
-Lodge of Nova Scotia. Paper, 8vo, pp. 73.</p>
-
-<p>From the Author: The Battle of Life: An Address.
-By D. S. Troy, Montgomery, Alabama. Paper,
-8vo, pp. 14.</p>
-
-<p>From Ginn Brothers, Boston: Latin Composition:
-An Elementary Guide to Writing in Latin. Part
-I.&mdash;Constructions. By J. H. Allen and J. B.
-Greenough. 12mo, pp. vi., 117.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2 id="No128"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.<br />
-<span class="smaller">VOL. XXII., No. 128.&mdash;NOVEMBER, 1875.</span></h2>
-
-<p class="center smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. <span class="smcap">I. T. Hecker</span>, in the Office of the
-Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>FREEMASONRY.<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h3>
-
-<p>The saints have all, whilst yet in
-the flesh, foretastes of heavenly
-bliss. But in these the closing days
-of time all the elect have a presentiment
-of coming judgment.
-And that presentiment is strong in
-proportion to their faith; stronger
-still in proportion to their charity.
-Let our readers be assured at the
-outset. We are not about to imitate
-the irreverence of the Scotch
-Presbyterian minister who, some few
-years ago, pretended that he had
-discovered in the prophetic visions
-of S. John the year in which will
-come to pass that event of stupendous
-awfulness, of which He, before
-whom all mankind will then be
-judged, said: “Of that day or hour
-no one knows, neither the angels in
-heaven, nor the Son, but the Father
-only.”</p>
-
-<p>One fearful catastrophe, however,
-to befall mankind before the general
-judgment is insisted on so often
-and with such solemn emphasis by
-the Holy Spirit that the love of God
-seems to be, as it were, trembling
-for his redeemed creature, and longing
-to reveal to him more than is
-consistent with his own designs in
-the trial of his faith. For it must
-be remembered that faith is a merit,
-and the absolutely indispensable
-condition of our receiving the benefits
-of the divine atonement. Although
-the gift of God, it is the
-part we ourselves, by co-operating
-with the gift, contribute towards
-our own salvation. And what we
-are required to believe is so beautiful
-and ennobling to the moral
-sense, and so satisfying to the reason,
-that, supported as it is by the
-historical evidence of the divinity
-of Christ and of his church, no one
-can refuse to believe but those who
-deliberately choose darkness rather
-than light, sin rather than virtue,
-Satan rather than God.</p>
-
-<p>Yet so formidable was to be that
-last trial of the faith of Christians,
-so crucial that conclusive test of
-their charity, which was to “deceive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
-if it were possible, even the
-very elect,”<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> that the Spirit of Love,
-yearning for the safety of his regenerate
-ones, and compassionating
-the weakness of human nature, revealed
-its marks and signs in the
-fullest and most circumstantial detail;
-so that, warned of the danger,
-and recognizing it when it arrived,
-they might pass through it unhurt,
-whilst those who succumbed to it
-might be without excuse before the
-divine justice. It is the yearning
-of the heart of Christ towards his
-children, whom he foresees will fail
-by thousands in that decisive trial,
-which prompts the ejaculation that
-sounds almost like a lament over
-his own inability to put any pressure
-on their free-will: “When the Son
-of man cometh, will he find faith on
-the earth?” It is his anxiety, as it
-were, about the fate of his elect
-amidst the seductions of that appalling
-apostasy, which urged him, after
-he had indicated the signs that
-would accompany it, to be on the
-perpetual, sleepless lookout for
-them. “Be ever on the alert. Lo!
-I have foretold you all.”<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p>
-
-<p>“Be ever on the alert, watch and
-pray. For you do not know when
-the time may be.”<a name="FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p>
-
-<p>“Watch, then, lest when he (the
-head of the family) shall have
-come on a sudden, you be found
-sleeping.”<a name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p>
-
-<p>“Moreover, what I say to you I
-<em>say to all</em>: Watch!”<a name="FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p>
-
-<p>Throughout all the ages that have
-elapsed since those words of solemn
-import fell from the lips of Jesus
-Christ it has been the plain duty
-of all Christians&mdash;nay, of all to
-whose knowledge they were brought&mdash;to
-narrowly scrutinize events, to
-keep their attention fixed upon
-them, watching for the signs he
-foretold, lest they should appear
-unheeded, and they be seduced from
-the faith; or be the cause, through
-their indifference, of others being
-carried away in the great misleading.</p>
-
-<p>But who now can be insensible
-to the predicted portents? So notorious
-are they, and so exactly do
-they answer to the description of
-them handed down to us from the
-beginning, that they rudely arouse
-us from sleep; that they force our
-attention, however indifferent to
-them we may be, however dull our
-faith or cold our charity. And
-when we see a vast organization
-advancing its forces in one united
-movement throughout the entire
-globe in an avowed attack, as insidious
-as it is formidable, upon altars,
-thrones, social order, Christianity,
-Christ, and God himself, where is
-the heart that can be insensible to
-the touching evidence of loving
-solicitude which urged Him whom
-surging multitudes of his false creatures
-were deliberately to reject in
-favor of a fouler being than Barabbas,
-to iterate so often the warning
-admonition, “Be ever on the
-watch”?</p>
-
-<p>To study, therefore, the signs of
-the times, cannot be without profit
-to all, but especially to us who
-have but scant respect for the spirit
-of the age, who are not sufficiently
-enlightened by it to look upon
-Christ as nothing more than a remarkable
-man, the sublime morality
-he taught and set an example of as
-a nuisance, and his church as the
-enemy of mankind, to be extirpated
-from their midst, because it forbids
-their enjoying the illumination of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
-the dagger-guarded secrets of the
-craft of Freemasonry.</p>
-
-<p>To fix the date of the <i lang="la">Dies iræ</i> is
-completely out of our power. It is
-irreverent, if not blasphemous, to
-attempt it. It is of the counsels of
-God that it should come with the
-swiftness of “lightning” and the
-unexpectedness of “a thief in the
-night”; and that expressly that we
-may be ever on the watch. But
-the signs of its approach are given
-to us in order to help those who
-do not abandon “watching” in
-indifference, to escape the great
-delusion&mdash;the imposition of Antichrist&mdash;which
-is to immediately
-precede it. It is these signs we
-propose to study in the following
-pages.</p>
-
-<p>The predictions of Christ himself
-on this subject are far more obscure
-than those subsequently given to
-us by his apostles. But this has
-always been God’s way of revelation
-to his creature. To Moses
-alone, in the mount, he revealed
-the moral law and that wondrous
-theocratic polity which remained
-even after the perversity of his people
-had given it a monarchical
-form; and Moses communicated it
-to the people. To the people
-Christ spoke in parables, “and
-without a parable spake he not
-unto them. But when he was
-alone with them, he explained all to
-his disciples.”<a name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> “To you,” he
-said, “it is given to have known
-the mystery of the kingdom of
-God; but to those without everything
-is a parable.”<a name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> The apostles
-themselves, who were to declare
-the revelation, in order to increase
-the merit of their faith, were not
-fully illuminated before the coming
-down of the Holy Spirit. “You do
-not know this parable?” he said;
-“and how are you going to understand
-all parables?”<a name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> To their
-utterances, therefore, it is we shall
-confine ourselves, as shedding as
-much light as it has seemed good to
-the Holy Ghost to disclose to us
-upon the profounder and more oracular
-predictions of God himself in
-the flesh.</p>
-
-<p>Besides SS. Peter, Paul, and
-John, S. Jude is the only other
-apostle, we believe, who has bequeathed
-to the church predictions
-of the terrible apostasy of Antichrist
-which is to consummate the
-trial of the faith of the saints under
-the very shadow of the coming
-judgment. We will take them in
-the order in which they occur. The
-first is in a letter of S. Paul to the
-church at Thessalonica, where, exhorting
-them not to “be terrified
-as if the day of the Lord were at
-hand,” he assures them that it will
-not come “before there shall have
-first happened an apostasy, and the
-man of sin shall have been revealed,
-the son of perdition&mdash;he who opposes
-himself to, and raises himself
-above, all that is called God, or
-that is held in honor, so that he may
-sit in the temple of God, showing
-himself as if he were God.…
-And you know what now is hindering
-his being revealed in his
-own time. For the mystery of iniquity
-is already working; only so
-that he who is now keeping it in
-check will keep it in check until
-he be moved out of its way. And
-then will the lawless one be revealed,
-whom the Lord Jesus will slay
-with the breath of his mouth, and
-destroy with the illumination of his
-coming; whose coming is after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
-manner of working of Satan, with
-all strength and symbols, and lying
-absurdities, and in every enticement
-of iniquity in those who perish; for
-the reason that they did not receive
-the love of the truth that they
-might be saved. So God will send
-them the working of error, that they
-may believe falsehood; that all may
-be judged who have not believed
-the truth, but have consented to
-iniquity.”<a name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p>
-
-<p>In a letter to Timothy, Bishop
-of Ephesus, S. Paul writes: “Now,
-the Spirit says expressly that, in the
-last times, some shall apostatize
-from the faith, giving heed to spirits
-of error and to doctrines of demons,
-speaking falsehood in hypocrisy,
-and having their own conscience
-seared.”<a name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p>
-
-<p>In a second letter to the same
-bishop he writes: “Know this,
-moreover: that in the last days
-there will be a pressure of perilous
-times; men will be self-lovers, covetous,
-lifted up, proud, blasphemous,
-disobedient to parents, ungrateful,
-malicious, without affection,
-discontented, calumniators,
-incontinent, hard, unamiable, traitors,
-froward, fearful, and lovers of
-pleasures more than lovers of God,
-having indeed a form of piety, but
-denying its power.”<a name="FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> S. Peter
-writes that “there will come in the
-last days mockers in deception,
-walking according to their own
-lusts.”<a name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p>
-
-<p>S. Jude describes them as
-“mockers, walking in impieties according
-to their own desires. These
-are they who separate themselves&mdash;animals,
-not having the Spirit.”<a name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p>
-
-<p>It would seem from the expressions
-of S. John-who of all the
-apostles appears to have had most
-pre-eminently the gift of prophecy&mdash;as
-well as from the manner in
-which the last days of Jerusalem
-and the last days of the world appear
-to be mingled together in the
-fore-announcement of Christ, that
-powerful manifestations of Antichrist
-were to precede both events;
-although the apostasy was to be far
-more extensive and destructive before
-the latter. “Little children,”
-writes the favorite apostle, “it is
-the last time; and as you have
-heard that Antichrist comes, so
-now many have become Antichrists;
-whence we know that it
-is the last time.… He is Antichrist
-who denies the Father and
-the Son.”<a name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></p>
-
-<p>“Every spirit who abolishes Jesus
-is not of God. And he is Antichrist
-about whom we have heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
-that he is coming, and is even now
-in the world.”<a name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p>
-
-<p>We believe that these are the only
-passages wherein the Holy Ghost
-has vouchsafed to give us distinct
-and definite information as to the
-marks and evidences by which we
-are to know that there is amongst
-us that Antichrist whose disastrous
-although short-lived triumph is
-to precede by only a short space
-the end of time and the eternal enfranchisement
-of good from evil.</p>
-
-<p>The prophetic utterances on this
-subject in the revelations of S. John
-are veiled in such exceedingly obscure
-imagery that we do not propose
-to attempt any investigation of their
-meaning in this article. It is our object
-to influence the minds of such
-Protestants as believe in God the Father,
-Son, and Holy Spirit, and of
-Catholics whose faith is so dull and
-whose charity is so cold that they
-can listen to the blasphemies of
-Antichrist without emotion.</p>
-
-<p>We may remark here, however,
-that if we succeed in supplying solid
-reasons for believing that Antichrist
-is already amongst us, and
-that his dismal career of desolating
-victory has already begun, the duty
-of studying those utterances of
-the Holy Ghost, so darkly veiled
-that the faith of those who stand
-firm may have more merit in the
-trial of that great tribulation, will
-have assumed a position of importance
-impossible to be overrated.
-That they are to be understood,
-the Holy Ghost himself implies.
-He intimates that their meaning is
-accessible to the spiritually minded,
-and would even seem to make
-dulness of apprehension of it a reproach,
-a lack of spiritual discernment.
-“If any one has the ear,
-let him hear,”<a name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> he writes. And
-again: “This is wisdom. Let
-him who has understanding reckon
-the number of the beast.”<a name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p>
-
-<p>It is not necessary to the object
-we have in view that we should
-identify “the beast” of the Apocalypse,
-seven-headed and having
-ten horns crowned with diadems,
-with Antichrist. The question we
-propose to answer is simply, “Are
-there under our eyes at this moment
-evidences of a present Antichrist,
-or of his being close at
-hand?” In other words, “Is what
-is called ‘the spirit of the age’ the
-spirit of Antichrist?”</p>
-
-<p>For us, that we may be on our
-guard against his wiles, and armed
-to the teeth to fight against him to
-the death, it is comparatively unimportant
-whether we decide him
-to be actually amongst us or only
-just about to appear. His marks
-and characteristics, his badges or
-decorations&mdash;these are all we require.</p>
-
-<p>If the Antichrist of the prophecies
-is a single, separate impersonation
-of the demoniac attributes described
-by the Holy Ghost&mdash;if, in
-short, he is an individual man, then
-he has not yet been revealed. In
-that case, our identification of Antichrist
-will only have exposed that
-temper and spirit with which “the red
-dragon”&mdash;“the devil”&mdash;“Satan”&mdash;“the
-ancient serpent”&mdash;has possessed
-such vast multitudes of the
-human race throughout the entire
-globe as to afford ground for calling
-it “the spirit of the age,” and
-which is to culminate in some terrible
-personal embodiment&mdash;a typical
-personage, as men speak. But
-if the prophecies do not designate
-an individual man, but only the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
-impersonation of a multitude of individuals
-organized into a unity and
-animated with the same spirit, then
-we think we shall be able to point the
-finger of horror and loathing at the
-very Antichrist at present amongst
-us, and in the midst of victory, as
-decisively and as clearly as the prophet
-of penance pointed the finger
-of adoring love towards the Lamb
-of God.</p>
-
-<p>We incline, and strongly, to the
-latter view. We must withhold our
-reasons, partly because, as we have
-said, our object is equally subserved
-by either view; but more because
-to do so would leave us too
-little space for treating the main
-subject. We will content ourselves
-with stating that those reasons are
-founded on the internal evidence
-supplied by the several predictions;
-and also on our aversion to admit
-the possibility of a more depraved
-<em>individual</em> impersonation of evil
-than that unhappy man whom God
-in human flesh pronounced a
-devil!</p>
-
-<p>Whether, however, Antichrist be
-or not an individual man, one
-thing is certain: that if we can
-point out an immense army of men,
-co-extensive with the globe, highly
-organized, animated with the same
-spirit, and acting with as much
-unity of purpose as if their movements
-were directed by one head,
-who exhibit precisely those marks
-and characteristics described in
-the predictions of Antichrist, we
-may expect even on the supposition
-that they are to have a visible
-head, an individual leader, who has
-yet to make his appearance; and
-that they are his hosts, who have
-already achieved a great part of
-his victories.</p>
-
-<p>What is first noticeable is that
-the stigma which is to be deeply
-branded on the front of the Antichristian
-manifestation which is to
-precede the close of time is “<em>Apostasy</em>”.</p>
-
-<p>The day of the Lord will not
-come, “nisi venerit discessio primum;
-Spiritus dicit quia in novissimis
-temporibus quidam a fide
-discedunt.”</p>
-
-<p>There can be no need of dwelling
-on this. It is sufficiently obvious
-that the great apostasy inaugurated
-by Luther was the first
-outbreak of Antichristian victory.
-The success of that movement assured
-the spirit of error of a career
-of victory. He was lurking in
-the fold, watching for his opportunity,
-and snatching away stray
-souls, as S. John tells us, in the
-time of the apostles. For a millennium
-and a half has he been preparing
-his manifestation. He inspired
-Julian, he inspired the Arians, he
-inspired all the heresies against
-which the definitions of the faith
-were decreed. But when he had
-seduced men away from the church,
-whole nations at a time, “dominationem
-contemnentes” (2 S. Peter ii.
-10), and captivated them to the irrational
-opinion that there is no higher
-authority for the obligatory dogmas
-of the Christian Church than the
-conviction of every individual, <i lang="la">solvere
-Jesum</i>, and then God, was merely
-a matter of time. What human
-passion had begun human reason
-would complete. The life of faith
-could not be annihilated at a blow.
-It has taken three centuries for the
-sap of charity to wither away in
-the cut-off branches. But sooner
-or later the green wood could not
-but become dry; and reason, void
-of charity, would be forced to acknowledge
-that if the Bible has no
-definite meaning other than what
-appears to be its meaning to every
-individual, practically it has no
-definite meaning at all; that God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
-cannot have revealed any truth at
-all, if we have no means of ascertaining
-what it is beyond our own
-private opinions; that a book the
-text of which admits of as many interpretations
-as there are sects cannot,
-without an authoritative living
-expositor, reveal truths which it is
-necessary to believe in order to
-escape eternal punishment. The
-claim of the Catholic Church to
-this authority having been pronounced
-an usurpation, the progress,
-although slow, was sure and easy
-towards pronouncing Christianity
-itself an usurpation. God himself
-cannot survive Christianity. And
-we have now literally “progressed”
-to so triumphant a manifestation
-of Antichrist that the work of
-persecution of God’s Church has
-set in with a vengeance, and men
-hear on all sides of them the existence
-of God denied without horror,
-even without surprise.</p>
-
-<p>The first mark of a present Antichrist
-we propose to signalize is that
-distinctly assigned to him by S.
-Paul&mdash;ὁ ἄνομος. This epithet is but
-feebly rendered by the Latin <i lang="la">ille
-iniquus</i>, or the English “that wicked
-one.” “The lawless one” better
-conveys the force of the Greek.
-For the root νόμος includes in its
-meaning not only enacted law of all
-kinds, but whatever has become, as it
-were, a law by custom; or a law of
-nature, as it were, by the universal
-observance of mankind.</p>
-
-<p>The first marked sequel of the
-apostasy, the first outbreak of success
-of Antichrist in the political
-order, was the first French Revolution,
-during which a harlot was
-placed for worship upon the altar
-of Notre Dame.</p>
-
-<p>That fearful outbreak may have
-sat for its portrait to S. Peter in
-the following description of the
-members of the Antichrist of the
-“last times”: “Who walk after the
-flesh in the lust of concupiscence,
-and despise authority; … irrational
-beasts, following only their
-own brute impulses, made only to
-be caught and slain; … having
-eyes full of adultery and of ceaseless
-sin; … speaking proud
-things of vanity, enticing, through
-the desires of the luxury of the
-flesh, those who by degrees go away
-from the truth, who become habituated
-to error; promising them liberty,
-whereas they themselves are
-the slaves of corruption” (2 Pet.
-ii. 10, 12, 14, 18, 19).</p>
-
-<p>That saturnalia of lawlessness,
-which Freemason writers have ever
-since dared to approve, was the
-work of the “craft” of Freemasonry,
-to whose organization and
-plan of action does indeed, in an
-especial sense, apply S. Paul’s designation
-of τὸ μυστήριον τῆς
-ανομίας “the mystery of lawlessness.”
-Mirabeau, Sieyès, Grégoire,
-Robespierre, Condorcet, Fauchet,
-Guillotine, Bonneville, Volney,
-“Philippe Egalité,” etc., had all
-been initiated into the higher
-grades.</p>
-
-<p>Louis Blanc, himself a Freemason,
-writes thus: “It is necessary
-to conduct the reader to the
-opening of the subterranean mine
-laid at that time beneath thrones
-and altars by revolutionists, differing
-greatly, both in their theory and
-their practice, from the Encyclopedists.
-An association had been
-formed of men of every land, every
-religion, and every class, bound together
-by mysterious signs agreed
-upon amongst themselves, pledged
-by a solemn oath to observe inviolable
-secrecy as to the existence of
-this hidden bond, and tested by
-proofs of a terrible description.…
-Thus we find Freemasonry
-to have been widely diffused immediately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
-before the outbreak of the
-Revolution. Spreading over the
-whole face of Europe, it poisoned
-the thinking minds of Germany,
-and secretly stirred up rebellion in
-France, showing itself everywhere
-in the light of an association resting
-upon principles diametrically
-opposed to those which govern
-civil society.… The ordinances
-of Freemasonry did indeed
-make great outward display of obedience
-to law, of respect to the outward
-forms and usages of profane
-society, and of reverence towards
-rulers; at their banquets the Masons
-did indeed drink the health of
-kings in the days of monarchy, and
-of presidents in the time of republics,
-such prudent circumspection
-being indispensable on the part of an
-association which threatened the
-existence of the very governments
-under whose eyes it was compelled
-to work, and whose suspicion it had
-already aroused. This, nevertheless,
-did not suffice to counteract the
-radically revolutionary influence
-continually exercised by the craft,
-even while it professed nothing but
-peaceful intentions.”<a name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p>
-
-<p>In the work from which the
-above and the greater part of our
-materials in this article are borrowed,
-we read as follows: “It was
-precisely these revolutionary designs
-of the secret society which
-induced its Provincial Grand Master,
-the Prussian Minister Count
-von Haugwitz, to leave it. In the
-memorial presented by him to the
-Congress of Monarchs at Verona,
-in 1830, he bids the rulers of
-Europe to be on their guard against
-the hydra. ‘I feel at this moment
-firmly persuaded,’ writes the ex-grand
-master, ‘that the French
-Revolution, which had its first
-commencement in 1788, and broke
-out soon after, attended with all the
-horrors of regicide, existed heaven
-knows how long before, having
-been planned, and having had the
-way prepared for it, by associations
-and secret oaths.’”<a name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></p>
-
-<p>And the following:</p>
-
-<p>“After the events of February,
-1848, the ‘craft’ sang songs of
-triumph at the open success of its
-secret endeavors. A Belgian brother,
-Van der Heym, spoke thus:
-‘On the day following the revolution
-of February a whole nation
-rose as one man, overturned the
-throne, and wrote over the frontal of
-the royal palace the words Liberty,
-Fraternity, Equality, all the citizens
-having adopted as their own
-this fundamental principle of Freemasonry.
-The combatants had
-not to battle long before the victory
-over their oppressors was
-gained&mdash;that freedom won which
-for centuries had formed the theme
-of Masonic discourses. We, the
-apostles of fraternity, aid the foundation-stone
-of the Republic.’”<a name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p>
-
-<p>And another master of the Freemasons,
-one Peigné, said about the
-same time: “In our glorious Revolution
-of 1792 the Lodge of the
-Nine Sisters gave to the world
-such men as Garat, Brissot, Bailly,
-Camille Desmoulins, Condorcet,
-Champfort, Petion; the Lodge of
-the Iron Mouth gave to it Fauchet,
-Goupil de Prefeln, Sieyès; the
-Lodge of Candor, Custine, the two
-Lameths, and Lafayette.”</p>
-
-<p>The horrors of that Revolution
-occasioned a temporary reaction
-and checked the triumphs of the
-Freemasons. But well they know
-how to repair their broken fortunes,
-bide their time, and reappear with
-renewed force.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Barruel, who was an eye-witness
-of the events of the period, and
-also himself intimately acquainted
-with many Freemasons in Paris, relates
-that the brethren, considering
-that the time had come when they
-were free to publish the secret they
-had sworn to keep, shouted aloud:
-“At last our goal is reached; from
-this day France will be one vast
-lodge, and all Frenchmen Freemasons.”</p>
-
-<p>A strong reaction of disgust and
-terror at the satanic orgies of Freemasonry
-in the ascendant, moderated
-for a while this shout of triumph.
-But in the disasters inflicted on
-France by the conquering Germans,
-the “craft” thought to find a recurring
-opportunity. If the Communist
-attempt at Paris in 1871
-was not originally planned by the
-Freemasons, they openly and officially
-joined it. “A procession
-composed of at least five thousand
-persons, in which members of all
-the grades took part, wearing their
-insignia, and in which one hundred
-and fifty lodges of France were represented,
-wended its way to the
-town hall of Paris. Maillet, bearing
-the red flag as a token of universal
-peace, headed the band, and openly
-proclaimed, in a speech which met
-with the approval of all present,
-that the new Commune was the antitype
-of Solomon’s temple and the
-corner-stone of the social fabric
-about to be raised by the efforts of
-the craft. The negotiations carried
-on with the government of Versailles
-on behalf of the socialists,
-and the way in which they planted
-the banners of the craft on the walls
-of the capital, accompanying this
-action with a threat of instantly
-joining the ranks of the combatants
-if a single shot were fired at one of
-those banners (of which a graphic
-account appeared in the <cite>Figaro</cite> at
-the time), was all of a piece with
-the sentiments they expressed” (<cite>The
-Secret Warfare of Freemasonry</cite>, p.
-172).</p>
-
-<p><cite>Figaro</cite> closed its account of
-these strange events with the following
-reflections: “But when posterity
-shall be informed that in the
-middle of the XIXth century, in
-the midst of an unbelieving generation,
-which openly denied God and
-his Christ, under the very guns of
-an enemy in possession of all the
-French fortresses, hostilities were
-all at once suspended, and the
-course of a portentous and calamitous
-civil war interrupted because,
-forsooth, Brother Thirifoque, accompanied
-by two Knights Kadosch,
-went to offer to M. Thiers’
-acceptance the golden mallet of
-supreme command (in the craft)&mdash;when,
-I say, this story is told to
-those who come after us, it will
-sound in their ears as a nursery
-tale, utterly unworthy of credence.”<a name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></p>
-
-<p>In <cite>Révélations d’un Franc-maçon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
-au lit de mort, pièce authentique, publicé,
-par</cite> M. de Hallet (Courtrai,
-1826, p. 10), we find the following:
-“We must restore man to his primeval
-rights, no longer recognizing
-rank and dignity&mdash;two things the
-mere sight of which offends the eye
-of man and wounds his self-love.
-Obedience is a mere chimera, and
-has no place in the wise plans of
-Providence.”</p>
-
-<p>In the <cite>Astræa, Taschenbuch für
-Freimaurer</cite>, von Bruder Sydow
-(1845), an orator thus speaks:
-“That which is destined to destruction
-must in the course of things
-be destroyed; and if human powers
-resist this law, at the behest of
-fate, a stronger power will appear
-upon the scene to carry out the
-eternal decrees of Providence. The
-Reformation of the church, as well
-as the French Revolution, proves
-the existence of this law.…
-Revolution is a crisis necessary to
-development.”</p>
-
-<p>The <cite>Révélations</cite> says: “The poison
-must be neutralized by means
-of its antidote, revolution must
-succeed to obedience, vengeance
-follow upon effeminacy, power must
-grapple with power, and the reign
-of superstition yield before that of
-the one true natural religion.”</p>
-
-<p>Barruel, who had been a master
-Mason, states that the oath administered
-to him was: “My brother,
-are you prepared to execute every
-command you may receive from
-the Grand Master, even should contrary
-orders be laid on you by king
-or emperor, or any other ruler
-whatever?”</p>
-
-<p>“The grade of Kadosch”&mdash;the
-thirtieth grade&mdash;writes Barruel (p.
-222), “is the soul of Freemasonry,
-and the final object of its plots
-is the reintroduction of absolute
-liberty and equality through the
-destruction of all royalty and the
-abrogation of all religious worship.”</p>
-
-<p>“Socialism, Freemasonry, and
-communism have, after all, a common
-origin” (The <cite>Latomia</cite>&mdash;an organ
-of the craft&mdash;vol. xii. p. 237).</p>
-
-<p><cite>Le Libertaire</cite>, a Masonic journal
-published in this city, had the following
-in 1858: “The <cite>Libertaire</cite>
-knows no country but that which is
-common to all. He is a sworn foe
-to restraints of every kind. He
-hates the boundaries of countries;
-he hates the boundaries of fields,
-houses, workshops; he hates the
-boundaries of family.”</p>
-
-<p>Is it within the power of the human
-mind to conceive of any possible
-individual or spiritual incarnation
-more deeply, vividly, and distinctly
-branded with the note-mark
-or sign of Antichrist, given to us
-by the Holy Spirit some two thousand
-years ago, by which we might
-recognize him when he appeared&mdash;“the
-lawless one,” “spurning authority”&mdash;ὁ
-ἄνομος, qui contemnunt
-dominationem?</p>
-
-<p>And when we add to this, the one
-special and most wicked and lawless
-characteristic of the “craft”&mdash;its
-portentous mystery&mdash;to our
-thinking, they must willingly, and
-of set purpose, close their eyes who
-fail to detect in it the very Antichrist
-whom the apostle declares shall be
-manifested in the last days, after
-the apostasy, and whom he designates
-by the epithet τὸ μυστήριον
-τῆς ἀνομίας&mdash;“the mystery of lawlessness”&mdash;which
-he tells us had
-even then, at the very cradle of
-the church, begun to put in movement
-its long conspiracy against
-the salvation of mankind: τὸ γὰρ
-μυστηριον ἢδη ενεργεῖται τῆς
-ἀνομίας&mdash;“for the mystery of
-lawlessness is even now already
-working.”</p>
-
-<p>No sooner was Christ born than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
-his infant life was sought; no sooner
-did he begin to teach than “the
-ancient serpent” sought his ruin;
-just before the triumph of his resurrection
-the enemy of mankind
-seemed to have finally and completely
-triumphed in his crucifixion;
-no sooner had his church,
-brought to life by his resurrection,
-begun her work of saving mankind
-than the devil was at work with his
-“mystery of lawlessness” for her
-destruction. All along it is Antichrist
-dogging the steps of Christ;
-before the second coming of Christ
-there is to be the second coming
-of Antichrist; before the final triumph
-over evil and revelation of
-the sons of God, Antichrist is to
-have that his last open and avowed
-manifestation&mdash;ἀποκάλυψις&mdash;and
-success, which the craft of
-Freemasonry is already so far on
-the road to compassing.</p>
-
-<p>Whether or no he is to receive a
-serious check before that terrific
-triumph over all but the few remaining
-elect we know not. But
-so unmistakable is his present manifestation
-that it is woe to those
-who blink their eyes and follow in
-his wake! Woe to those whose judicial
-blindness causes them to
-“believe a lie”! Woe to those who
-are caught napping!</p>
-
-<p>The next of the indications given
-us by the Holy Spirit of the Antichrist
-is his <i lang="la">modus operandi</i>&mdash;his
-method&mdash;the way in which he will
-effect his purposes, “whose coming
-is according to the way of working
-of Satan”&mdash;<i lang="la">cujus est adventus secundum
-operationem Satanæ</i>.</p>
-
-<p>The beast with seven heads and
-ten horns crowned with diadems
-described in the Apocalypse is, we
-are there told, fully commissioned
-with his own power by the red
-dragon, whom we are distinctly informed
-is the old serpent, who is
-called the devil (διάβολος, or
-slanderer), “Satan, who deceives
-the whole world.”</p>
-
-<p>Now, Satan is designated as “the
-prince of darkness” in opposition
-to Christ, “who is the true light, enlightening
-every one that cometh
-into the world”; he is the father
-of those who “hate the light because
-their deeds are evil.” When
-he would destroy Christ, “night
-was his hour and the power of
-darkness.” But in taking a survey
-of the craft of Freemasonry, what
-first seizes our attention? Is it not
-the profound darkness in which all
-its operations are veiled? Those
-terrible oaths of secrecy, made under
-the assured menace of assassination,
-attended with all that sanguinary
-gibberish, the lie involved
-in which is not known until the
-“seared conscience” is already in
-the chains of hell&mdash;surely, if anything
-is, these are “secundum operationem
-Satanæ.”</p>
-
-<p>In the <cite>Vienna Freemason’s Journal</cite>,
-MSS. for circulation in the
-craft, second year of issue, No. 1,
-p. 66, is the following: “We wander
-amidst our adversaries, shrouded
-in threefold darkness. Their
-passions serve as wires, whereby,
-unknown to themselves, we set
-them in motion and compel them
-unwittingly to work in union with
-us.”</p>
-
-<p>In a work written in High-German,
-the authorship of which is
-ascribed to a Prof. Hoffman of
-Vienna, the contents of which are
-supported by documentary evidence,
-and of which a Dutch
-translation was published in Amsterdam
-in 1792, which was reprinted
-at the Hague in 1826, the
-method of working of this “mystery
-of lawlessness” is thus summed
-up:</p>
-
-<p>“2. To effect this, a literary association<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
-must be formed to promote
-the circulation of our writings,
-and suppress, as far as possible, those
-of our opponents.</p>
-
-<p>“3. For this end we must contrive
-to have in our pay the publishers
-of the leading literary journals of
-the day, in order that they may
-turn into ridicule and heap contempt
-on everything written in a
-contrary interest to our own.</p>
-
-<p>“4. ‘He that is not with us is
-against us.’ Therefore we may
-persecute, calumniate, and tread
-down such an one without scruple;
-individuals like this are noxious insects
-which one shakes from the
-blossoming tree and crushes beneath
-one’s foot.</p>
-
-<p>“5. Very few can bear to be made
-to look ridiculous; let ridicule,
-therefore, be the weapon employed
-against persons who, though by no
-means devoid of sense, show themselves
-hostile to our schemes.</p>
-
-<p>“6. In order the more quickly to
-attain our end, the middle classes
-of society must be thoroughly imbued
-with our principles; the lower
-orders and the mass of the
-population are of little importance,
-as they may easily be moulded to
-our will. The middle classes are
-the principal supporters of the
-government; to gain them we must
-work on their passions, and, above
-all, bring up the rising generation
-in our ideas, as in a few years they
-will be in their turn masters of the
-situation.</p>
-
-<p>“7. License in morals will be the
-best means of enabling us to provide
-ourselves with patrons at
-court&mdash;persons who are nevertheless
-totally ignorant of the importance
-of our cause. It will suffice for
-our purpose if we make them absolutely
-indifferent to the Christian
-religion. They are for the most
-part careless enough without us.</p>
-
-<p>“8. If our aims are to be pursued
-with vigor, it is of absolute necessity
-to regard as enemies of enlightenment
-and of philosophy all
-those who cling in any way to religious
-or civil prejudices, and exhibit
-this attachment in their writings.
-They must be viewed as
-beings whose influence is highly
-prejudicial to the human race, and
-a great obstacle to its well-being
-and progress. On this account it
-becomes the duty of each one of
-us to impede their action in all
-matters of consequence, and to
-seize the first suitable opportunity
-which may present itself of putting
-them entirely <i lang="fr">hors du combat</i>.</p>
-
-<p>“9. We must ever be on the watch
-to make all changes in the state
-serve our own ends; political
-parties, cabals, brotherhoods, and
-unions&mdash;in short, everything that
-affords an opportunity of creating
-disturbances must be an instrument
-in our hands. For it is only on
-the ruins of society as it exists at
-present that we can hope to erect a
-solid structure on the natural system,
-and ensure to the worshippers
-of nature the free exercise of their
-rights.”</p>
-
-<p>If this method of working, <i lang="la">operatio</i>,
-is not <i lang="la">secundum adventum Satanæ</i>,
-we should be glad to know what is.
-Herein we find every feature of
-Antichrist and his hosts which the
-Holy Ghost has drawn for our warning.
-They are heaped together in
-such hideous combination throughout
-this summary as scarcely to
-need particularizing. Our readers
-may not, however, be unwilling that
-we should single them out one by
-one as they appear more or less
-prominently in the several paragraphs;
-premising that throughout
-one characteristic reigns and
-prevails, and, indeed, lends its color
-to all the rest, that special attribute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
-of “the father of lies”&mdash;falsehood!</p>
-
-<p>We will take the paragraphs in
-order, and photograph their most
-prominent Antichristian features.</p>
-
-<p><i>The first.</i>&mdash;Spurning authority.
-Giving ear to spirits of error and
-doctrines of demons.</p>
-
-<p>Speaking lies in hypocrisy, having
-a conscience seared.</p>
-
-<p>Blasphemers.</p>
-
-<p>Mockers, walking according to
-their own desires; animals, not having
-the Spirit.</p>
-
-<p>Mockers in deception, walking
-according to their own lusts.</p>
-
-<p><i>The second and third.</i>&mdash;Lovers of
-themselves, lawless, proud, malicious,
-traitors, froward, discourteous,
-fearful, mockers in deception.</p>
-
-<p><i>The fourth.</i>&mdash;Calumniators, cruel,
-traitors.</p>
-
-<p><i>The fifth.</i>&mdash;Mockers in deception.</p>
-
-<p><i>The sixth.</i>&mdash;Traitors, without affection,
-without peace.</p>
-
-<p><i>The seventh.</i>&mdash;Traitors, walking
-in impieties, walking according to
-their own lusts, incontinent.</p>
-
-<p><i>The eighth.</i>&mdash;Having their conscience
-seared, without peace,
-cruel.</p>
-
-<p><i>The ninth.</i>&mdash;Spurning authority,
-traitors, lawless, without peace.</p>
-
-<p>It must be borne in mind, moreover,
-that these are not merely repulsive
-infirmities of individuals,
-but the essential and inevitable
-characteristics deliberately adopted
-by the craft of Freemasons, and
-which it cannot be without, if they
-are the brand which the finger of
-God has marked upon the loathsome
-brow of the Antichrist of “the last
-time.”<a name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></p>
-
-<p>In illustration of the former of
-these we quote the words of Brother
-Gotthold Salomon, D.Ph., preacher
-at the new Synagogue at Hamburg,
-member of the lodge entitled “The
-Dawn in the East,” in Frankfort-on-Main,
-who thus writes in his
-<cite>Stimmen aus Osten</cite>, MSS. for the
-brethren: “Why is there not a
-trace of anything appertaining to
-the Christian Church to be found
-in the whole ritual of Freemasonry?
-Why is not the name of Jesus once
-mentioned, either in the oath administered,
-or in the prayers on
-the opening of the lodges, or at
-the Masonic banquets? Why do
-Masons reckon time, not from the
-birth of Christ, but from the creation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
-of the world, as do the Jews?
-Why does not Freemasonry make use
-of a single Christian symbol? Why
-have we the compasses, the triangle,
-the hydrometer, instead of the cross
-and other emblems of the Passion?
-Why have wisdom, beauty, and
-strength superseded the Christian
-triad of faith, hope, and charity?”<a name="FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></p>
-
-<p>Brother Jochmus Müller, president
-of the late German-Catholic
-Church at Berlin, says in his <cite>Kirchenreform</cite>
-(vol. iii. p. 228): “We
-have more in common with a free-thinking,
-honest paganism than
-with a narrow-minded Christianity.”<a name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p>
-
-<p>In the Waarscherwing (vol. xi.
-Nos. 2 and 8) we find the following:</p>
-
-<p>“The laws of the Mosaic and
-Christian religions are the contemptible
-inventions of petty minds bent
-on deceiving others; they are the
-most extravagant aberrations of the
-human intellect.</p>
-
-<p>“The selfishness of priests and
-the despotism of the great have for
-centuries upheld this system (Christianity),
-since it enabled them to
-rule mankind with a rod of iron by
-means <em>of its rigid code of morality</em>,
-and to confirm their power over
-weak minds by means of certain
-oracular utterances, in reality the
-product of their own invention, but
-palmed off on the world as the
-words of revelation.”<a name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p>
-
-<p>In a review of Kirchenlehre and
-Ketzerglaube by Dr. A. Drechsler
-in vol. iv. of the <cite>Latomia</cite>, we find:
-“The last efforts made to uphold
-ecclesiastical Christianity occasioned
-its complete expulsion from the
-realm of reason; for they proved
-but too plainly that all negotiations
-for peace must result in failure.
-Human reason became aware of
-the irreconcilable enmity existing
-between its own teachings and the
-dogmas of the church.”</p>
-
-<p>At a congress of Masons held at
-a villa near Locarno, in the district
-of Novara, preparatory to a socialistic
-demonstration to be held in
-the Colosseum at Rome, in answer
-to the sapient question, “What new
-form of worship is to supersede Catholicism?”
-the equally sapient answer
-was returned, “Communist principles
-with a new religious ideal.”</p>
-
-<p>From a document published, the
-author of <cite>Secret Warfare of Freemasonry</cite>
-tells us,<a name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> by the Orient of
-Brussels, “to the greater glory of
-the Supreme Architect of the world,
-in the year of <em>true light</em> 5838”
-(1838), we quote the following:</p>
-
-<p>“1. That at the head of every
-document issued by the brethren,
-in an individual or corporate capacity,
-should stand a profession
-of faith in our lawgiver Jesus, the
-son of Mary Amram (the Josue of
-the Old Testament), the invariable
-formula to be employed being, ‘To
-the glory of the Great Architect of
-the Universe,’ … to expose and
-oppose the errors of pope and priest,
-who commence everything in the
-name of their Trinity.</p>
-
-<p>…</p>
-
-<p>“3. That in remembrance of the
-Last Supper or Christian love-feast
-of Jesus, the Son of Mary Amram,
-an account of which is given in the
-Arabic traditions and in the Koran,
-a solemn festival should be held,
-accompanied by a distribution of
-bread, in commemoration of an ancient
-custom observed by the slaves
-of eating bread together, and of
-their deliverance by means of the
-liberator (Josue). The distribution
-is to be accompanied by these
-memorable words: ‘This is the
-bread of misery and oppression<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
-which our fathers were forced to
-eat under the Pharaos, the priests
-of Juda; whosoever hungers, let
-him come and eat; this is the Paschal
-sacrifice; come unto us, all you
-who are oppressed; yet this one
-year more in Babylon, and the next
-year shall see us free men!’ This
-instructive, and at the same time
-commemorative, supper of the
-Rosicrucians is the counterpart of
-the Supper of the Papists.”</p>
-
-<p>Dr. Dupuy, indeed, informs us
-of the corrupt portion of the Order
-of Templars, that “Receptores dicebant
-illis quos recipiebant, Christum
-non esse verum Deum, et ipsum
-fuisse falsum, non fuisse passum
-pro redemptione humani generis, sed
-pro sceleribus suis”&mdash;“They who
-received said to those whom they
-received that Christ was not really
-God; that he was himself false, and
-did not suffer for the redemption
-of the human race, but for his own
-crimes.”</p>
-
-<p>In harmony with all this was the
-offensively blasphemous utterance
-of Mr. Frothingham at the Masonic
-hall in this city some weeks ago, at
-which the New York <cite>Tablet</cite> expressed
-a just indignation&mdash;an indignation
-which must have been shared by
-all who believe, in any way or form,
-in Jesus Christ, Redeemer of the
-world: “Tom Paine has keyed my
-moral being up to a higher note
-than the Jesus of Nazareth.”</p>
-
-<p>The argument we have advanced
-seems to us to be convincing
-enough as it stands. Could we
-have taken a historical survey of
-the μυστήριον τῆς ανομίας in the
-two hemispheres from the “apostasy”
-up to the present time, but especially
-during the last fifteen years,
-it would have acquired the force of a
-logical demonstration. The limits
-to which we are necessarily restrained
-in a monthly periodical
-put this completely out of our
-power. Whoever he may be who
-has intelligently appreciated the
-political events of the latter period
-will be able to supply the deficiency
-for himself. Merely hinting, therefore,
-at the impossibility of getting
-anti-Freemason appreciations of
-contemporary events before the
-public&mdash;well known to all whose
-position has invited them to that
-duty&mdash;as an illustration of the plan
-of action laid down in the second
-clause of the above summary; at
-the recent unconcealed advocacy of
-the “craft” by the New York <cite>Herald</cite>,
-and the more cautious conversion
-of the London Times,<a name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> of that in
-the third; at the ribaldry of the
-press under Freemason influence directed
-against the bishops, clergy,
-and prominent laymen, as well as
-against the Pope; the nicknames
-they are for ever coining, such
-as “clericals,” “ultramontanes,”
-“retrogrades,” “reactionists”; their
-blasphemous travesties of the solemnities
-of religion in theatres
-and places of public resort, and
-so on, of that in the fourth and
-fifth; at the world-wide effort to
-induce states to exclude religious
-influences from the education of
-youth, of that of the sixth; at Victor
-Emanuel, the Prince of Wales,
-etc., of that of the seventh; at the
-assassination of Count Rossi at the
-beginning of the present Pope’s
-reign, the quite recent assassination
-of the President of Ecuador, the
-repeated attempts at assassination
-of Napoleon III., the deposition
-of so many sovereigns, even of the
-Pope himself&mdash;so far as it was in
-their power to depose him&mdash;of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
-of the eighth; and at the whole
-area of Europe strewn with the
-wreck of revolution, of that of the
-ninth; we pass on to the last two
-marks of Antichrist with which we
-brand the Freemason confraternity&mdash;<i lang="la">Qui
-solvit Jesum</i> (Who abolishes
-Christ) and <i lang="la">Qui adversatur et extollitur
-supra omne quod dicitur Deus,
-aut quod colitur, ita ut in templo
-Dei sedeat ostendens se tanquam sit
-Deus</i> (Who opposes himself to,
-and raises himself above, all that is
-called God, or is worshipped, so
-that he may sit in the temple of
-God, making himself out to be, as
-it were, God).</p>
-
-<p>Barruel, who was completely versed
-in Freemasonry, and who had
-been himself a Mason, states (p.
-222) that “the grade of Kadosch
-is the soul of Freemasonry, and the
-final object of its plots is the reintroduction
-of absolute liberty and
-equality through the destruction
-of all royalty and the abrogation
-of all religious worship.” And he
-backs this statement by a tragic incident
-in the history of a friend of
-his, who, because he was a Rosicrucian,
-fancied himself to be “in possession
-of the entire secret of Freemasonry.”
-It is too long to admit
-of our quoting it. The reader
-anxious for information we refer to
-<cite>The Secret Warfare of Freemasonry</cite>
-(pp. 142-144).</p>
-
-<p><cite>Le Libertaire</cite>, a New York paper, in
-the interests of Freemasonry, about
-the year 1858 had the following:
-“As far as religion is concerned,
-the <cite>Libertaire</cite> has none at all; he
-protests against every creed; he
-is an atheist and materialist, openly
-denying the existence of God and
-of the soul.”</p>
-
-<p>In 1793 belief in God was a
-crime prohibited in France under
-pain of death.</p>
-
-<p>Those of our readers who have
-some acquaintance with modern
-philosophy we need here only remind
-of the <i lang="la">natura naturans</i> and
-<i lang="la">natura naturata</i> of Spinoza, born
-a Jew, but expelled from the synagogue
-for his advocacy of these
-principles of Freemasonry: “The
-desire to find truth is a noble impulse,
-the search after it a sacred
-avocation; and ample field for this
-is offered by both the mysterious
-rites peculiar to the craft and those
-of the Goddess Isis, adored in our
-temples as the wisest and fairest of
-deities.”&mdash;<cite>Vienna Freemason’s Journal</cite>
-(3d year, No. 4, p. 78 et seq.)</p>
-
-<p>In the <cite>Rappel</cite>, a French organ of
-Freemasonry, was the following passage
-a few weeks ago: “God is
-nothing but a creation of the human
-mind. In a word, God is the
-ideal. If I am accused of being
-an atheist, I should reply I prefer
-to be an atheist, and have of God
-an idea worthy of him, to being a
-spiritualist and make of God a
-being impossible and absurd.”</p>
-
-<p>In short, the craft is so far advanced
-in its course of triumph as
-to have at length succeeded in familiarizing
-the public ear with the
-denial of the existence of a God;
-so that it is now admitted as one
-amongst the “open questions” of
-philosophy.</p>
-
-<p>Our illustration of the crowning
-indications of the satanic mark of
-Antichrist afforded by the Freemasons&mdash;the
-sitting in the temple of
-God, so as to make himself out
-to be, as it were, God&mdash;will be short
-but decisive.</p>
-
-<p>The well-known passage in the
-last work of the late Dr. Strauss, to
-the effect that any worship paid to
-a supposed divine being is an outrage
-on <em>the dignity of human nature</em>,
-goes far enough, we should have
-thought, in this direction; but they
-go beyond even this.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>A Dutch Mason, N. J. Mouthan,
-in a work entitled <cite>Naa een werknur
-in’t Middenvertrek Losse Bladzijde;
-Zaarboekje voor Nederlandsche Vrijmetselaren</cite>
-(5872, p. 187 et seq.),
-says: “The spirit which animates
-us is an eternal spirit; it knows no
-division of time or individual existence.
-A sacred unity pervades
-the wide firmament of heaven; it is
-our one calling, our one duty, our
-one God. Yes, we are God! We
-ourselves are God!”</p>
-
-<p>In the Freemasons’ periodical
-“for circulation amongst the brethren”
-(Altenberg, 1823, vol. i., No.
-1) is the following: “The idea of
-religion indirectly includes all men
-as men; but in order to comprehend
-this aright, a certain degree
-of education is necessary, and unfortunately
-the overweening egoism
-of the educated classes prevents
-their taking in so sublime a conception
-of mankind. For this reason
-our temples consecrated to
-the <em>worship of humanity</em> can as
-yet be opened only to a few.<a name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> We
-should, indeed, expose ourselves to
-a charge of idolatry, were we to attempt
-to personify the moral idea
-of humanity in the way in which
-divinity is usually personified.…
-On this account, therefore,
-it is advisable not to reveal
-the cultus of humanity to the eyes
-of the uninitiated, until at length the
-time shall come when, from east to
-west, this lofty conception of humanity
-shall find a place in every
-breast, this worship shall alone prevail,
-and all mankind shall be gathered
-into one fold and one family.”</p>
-
-<p>The principles of this united
-family, “seated in the temple of
-God,” the Masonic philosopher Helvetius
-expounds to us; from whom
-we learn that “whatever is beneficial
-to all in general may be called
-virtue; what is prejudicial, vice
-and sin. Here the voice of interest
-has alone to speak.…
-Passions are only the intensified expression
-of self-interest in the individual;
-witness the Dutch people,
-who, when hatred and revenge
-urged them to action, achieved
-great triumphs, and made their
-country a powerful and glorious
-name. And as sensual love is
-universally acknowledged to afford
-happiness, purity must be condemned
-as pernicious, the marriage
-bond done away with, and children
-declared to be the property of the
-state.”<a name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> The father of such a
-“one fold and one family” no one
-not himself signed with the “mark
-of the beast” could hesitate to point
-out. The consummation above
-anticipated we are bid to expect.
-Nor is it now far off. They who
-are not “deceived” have, however,
-the consoling assurance that
-<em>our</em> Lord will “slay him with the
-spirit of his mouth, and destroy
-him with the illumination of his
-coming.”</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SIR THOMAS MORE.<br />
-<i>A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.</i></h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.</p>
-
-<h4>II.</h4>
-
-<p>“You understand, M. de Soria,”
-said Wolsey to one of his secretaries,
-in whom he placed the greatest confidence.
-“As soon as you see him,
-present yourself before him, give
-the usual password, and then conduct
-him through the subterranean
-passage that leads to the banks of
-the Thames. Bring him here by
-the secret stairway. He will be
-dressed in a cloak and suit of brown
-clothes, wearing a black felt hat tied
-round with a red ribbon.”</p>
-
-<p>“My lord, you may feel perfectly
-satisfied,” replied the secretary with
-a self-sufficient air, “that all your
-orders will be punctually executed.
-But he cannot possibly arrive for
-an hour yet; I will vouch for that,
-my lord.”</p>
-
-<p>“Go, however, sir,” replied the
-minister, impatiently; “I fear being
-taken by surprise. Have less
-confidence in your own calculations,
-sir, and be more prompt in your
-actions.” And saying this he made a
-sign for him to go at once.</p>
-
-<p>The door had scarcely closed on
-Soria, when the cardinal, who sat
-writing in silence, heard in the court
-of the chancellor’s palace an unusual
-noise. For some time he continued
-his work; but the tumult increasing,
-and hearing loud bursts of
-laughter, he arose, opened the window
-and went out on a high balcony,
-whence he had a view of all
-that was passing in the principal
-court.</p>
-
-<p>There a crowd of servants had
-assembled, and formed a circle
-around an old woman who was
-apparently the object of their ridicule.
-Her large felt hat, around
-which was tied a band of red ribbon,
-had fallen to the ground leaving
-uncovered, not the head of an
-old woman, as they had supposed,
-but one thickly covered with short
-hair, black and curling.</p>
-
-<p>On seeing this head-dress the
-crowd redoubled their cries, and
-one of them advancing suddenly,
-raised the mask concealing the features.
-What was their surprise to
-find under that disguise a great
-rubicund face, the nose and cheeks
-of which were reddened with the
-glow that wine and strong drink
-alone produce, and giving sufficient
-evidence of the sex to which it belonged.
-The man, seeing he was
-discovered, defended himself with
-vigor, and, dealing sharp blows with
-his feet and hands, endeavored to
-escape from his tormentors; but he
-was unable to resist their superior
-numbers. They threw themselves
-upon him, tearing off his brown
-cloak, and one of his blue cotton
-petticoats. The wretched creature
-cried out vociferously, loudly
-threatening them with the indignation
-of the cardinal; but the valets
-heard nothing, vain were all his efforts
-to escape them. Nevertheless,
-being exceedingly robust, he at
-length succeeded in overthrowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
-two of his antagonists, and then,
-dashing across the courtyard, he
-sprang quickly into the second
-court, where, finding a ladder placed
-at the window of a granary, he
-clambered up with all the dexterity
-of a frightened cat, and hid himself
-under a quantity of straw which
-had been stored there. In the
-meantime, the cardinal had recognized
-from his elevated position on
-the balcony the red ribbon that
-announced the messenger for whom
-he awaited with so much anxiety.
-Greatly enraged at the scene before
-him, and forgetting his dignity, he
-hurried from the balcony, rushing
-through the apartments that
-led from his own room (in which
-were seated the numerous secretaries
-of state, engaged in the work of
-the government). Without addressing
-a word to them, he descended
-the stairs so rapidly that in another
-instant he stood in the midst of
-his servants, who were stupefied at
-finding themselves in the presence
-of their master, all out of breath,
-bareheaded, and almost suffocated
-with indignation. He commanded
-them in the most emphatic
-terms to get out of his sight, which
-they did without waiting for a repetition
-of the order. From every
-direction the pages and secretaries
-had assembled, among them being
-M. de Soria, who was in great trepidation,
-fearing some accident had
-happened to the individual whom
-he had been instructed to introduce
-with such great secrecy into the palace.
-His fears were more than
-realized on seeing the cardinal, who
-cast on him a glance of intense anger,
-and in a loud voice exclaimed:
-“Go, sir, to the assistance of this unfortunate
-man who is being subjected
-to such outrages in my own house.
-Not a few of those who have attempted
-to drive him off shall
-themselves be sent away!” Then the
-cardinal, giving an authoritative
-signal, those around him understood
-that their presence was no longer
-desired, and immediately ascended
-the stairs and returned to their
-work.</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey himself quickly followed
-them; and M. de Soria, greatly
-confused, in a short time appeared
-and ushered into the minister’s cabinet
-the messenger, who was still
-suffering from the effects of the contest
-in which he had been compelled
-to engage.</p>
-
-<p>“Your letters! your letters!”
-said Wolsey eagerly, as soon as they
-were alone. “All is right, Wilson.
-I am satisfied. I see that you are
-no coward, and all that you have
-just now suffered will be turned to
-your advantage. Nevertheless, it is
-quite fortunate that I came to your
-rescue when I did, for I really do
-not know what those knaves might
-have done to you.”</p>
-
-<p>“They would have thrown me
-into the water, I believe, like a
-dog,” said Wilson, laughing. “Oh!
-that was nothing though. I have
-been through worse than that in
-my life. All I was afraid of was,
-that they might discover the package
-of letters and the money.”</p>
-
-<p>As he said this, the courier proceeded
-to unfasten the buckles of
-an undervest, made of chamois
-leather, that he wore closely strapped
-around his body. After he
-had taken off the vest he unfastened
-a number of bands of woollen
-cloth which were crossed on his
-breast. In each one of these
-bands was folded a great number
-of letters, of different forms and
-sizes. Then he unstrapped from
-his waist and laid on the table a
-belt that contained quite a large
-sum of money in gold coin, that
-Francis I. had sent to the minister.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
-The avarice of Wolsey was so well
-understood by the different princes
-and sovereigns of Europe that they
-were accustomed to send him valuable
-presents, or to confer on him
-rich annuities, whenever they wished
-to gain him over to their interests.
-Wolsey had for a long time
-been engaged in a correspondence
-with France. He carried it on
-with the utmost secrecy, for he well
-understood if discovered by Henry
-he would never be pardoned.
-His apprehensions were still greater,
-now that he was endeavoring to
-direct the influence of his political
-schemes, and that of the paid
-agents whom he had at the different
-courts of Europe, towards
-bringing about a reconciliation between
-the Emperor Charles V.
-and the King of France; hoping
-by such an alliance to prevent the
-marriage of the king with Anne
-Boleyn, and thus to destroy the
-hopes of that ambitious family.
-He saw with intense satisfaction
-his intrigues succeeding far beyond
-his most sanguine expectations.</p>
-
-<p>Francis I. anxiously entreated
-him to use his influence with the
-King of England, in order to dispose
-him favorably toward the
-treaty of peace which he was determined
-to make with Charles
-V. “I assure you,” he wrote,
-“that I have so great a desire to
-see my children, held so long now
-as hostages, that I would without
-hesitation willingly give the half
-of my kingdom to ensure that happiness.
-If you will aid me in removing
-the obstacles that Henry
-may interpose to the accomplishment
-of this purpose, you may
-count on my gratitude. The place
-of meeting is already arranged; we
-have chosen the city of Cambrai;
-and I have felt great pleasure in
-the assurance that you prefer, above
-all other places, that the conference
-should be held in that city.”
-Charmed with his success, the cardinal
-sent immediately in quest of
-Cromwell, whom he found every
-day becoming more and more indispensable
-to him, and to whom
-he wished to communicate the happiness
-he experienced in receiving
-this joyful intelligence; but, at the
-same time, closely concealing the
-manner in which he had obtained
-the information.</p>
-
-<p class="break">On a terrace of Windsor Castle
-a tent had been erected of heavy
-Persian cloth interwoven with silk
-and gold. Voluminous curtains
-of royal purple, artistically looped
-on each side with heavy silk cords,
-descended in innumerable folds of
-most graceful drapery. Rare flowers
-embalmed the air in every direction
-with exquisite perfumes,
-which penetrated into an apartment
-of the royal palace, through
-the open windows of which were
-seen the richness and elegance of
-the interior.</p>
-
-<p>In this apartment were seated
-three persons apparently engaged
-in an animated conversation.</p>
-
-<p>“So there is yet another difficulty!”
-cried a young girl, a charming
-and beautiful blonde, who
-seemed at this moment in an extremely
-impatient and excited
-mood. “But what say you?” she
-added presently, addressing herself
-with vivacity to a gentleman
-seated immediately in front of her;
-“speak now, Sir Cromwell; say,
-what would you do in this desperate
-situation? Is there no way in
-which we can prevent this treaty
-from being concluded?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well truly, madam,” he replied,
-“it will be useless to attempt it. The
-Duchess of Angoulême has at this
-moment, perhaps, already arrived at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
-Cambrai, for the purpose of signing
-the treaty; and we cannot reasonably
-hope that the Archduchess
-Margaret, who accompanies her,
-will not agree with her on every
-point, since the preliminaries have
-already been secretly concluded
-between the Emperor and the
-King of France.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my dear Cromwell,” she
-replied, in a familiar and angry
-tone, “what shall we do then?”</p>
-
-<p>“If I have any counsel to give
-you, madam,” answered Cromwell,
-with an air of importance, “it is
-to begin by preventing the king
-from consenting to the departure
-of Cardinal Wolsey; because his
-greatest desire now is to be sent
-as envoy to the congress at Cambrai,
-and you may be well assured,
-if he wishes to go there, it is certainly
-not with the intention of being
-useful to you, but, on the contrary,
-to injure you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you think so?” replied Lady
-Anne. “Then I shall most certainly
-endeavor to prevent him
-from making his appearance there.
-But has he told you nothing about
-the letter I wrote him the other
-day?”</p>
-
-<p>“Excuse me, madam,” replied
-Cromwell, “he has shown me the
-letter; in fact, he conceals nothing
-from me.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well! and did it not give him
-pleasure? It seemed to me it
-ought to please him, for I made
-protestations of friendship sufficient
-to reassure him, and remove all
-apprehensions he may have felt
-that I would injure him in the estimation
-of the king.”</p>
-
-<p>“He has said nothing to me
-on the subject,” replied Cromwell,
-“but I remarked that he read the
-letter over several times, and when
-he handed it to me it was with a very
-ominous shake of the head. Understanding
-so well his every gesture
-and thought, I comprehended
-perfectly he was but little convinced
-of what you had written, and
-that he has no confidence in it.
-Moreover, madam, it is necessary
-that you should know that Wolsey
-has been most active in his endeavors
-to forward the divorce so long
-as he believed the king would espouse
-a princess of the house of
-France; but since he knows it is
-<em>you</em> he has chosen, his mind is entirely
-changed, and he tries in every
-possible manner to retard the decision
-and render success impossible.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is clear as day, my dear sister!”
-exclaimed Lord Rochford,
-earnestly interrupting Cromwell.
-“You know nothing about the affairs
-you are trying to manage;
-therefore you will never be able
-to rid yourself of this imperious
-minister. I have already told you
-that all your efforts to flatter or
-appease him will be in vain. He
-believes you fear him, and he likes
-you no better on that account.
-What Cromwell says is but too
-true, and is verified by the fact
-that nothing advances in this affair.
-Every day some new formalities
-are introduced, or advantages
-claimed, or they wait for new instructions
-and powers. They tell us
-constantly that Campeggio is inflexible;
-that nothing will induce him
-to deviate from his instructions
-and the usages of the court of
-Rome. But whom has he chosen&mdash;with
-whom has he conferred?
-Is it not Wolsey? And he has
-certainly prevented us from obtaining
-anything but what he himself
-designed to accomplish.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are right, brother!” cried
-Anne Boleyn, with a sudden gesture
-of displeasure. “It is necessary
-to have this haughty and jealous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
-minister removed. Henceforth
-all my efforts shall be directed to
-this end. It may, perhaps, be less
-difficult than we suppose. The king
-has been violently opposed to this
-treaty, which Wolsey has so earnestly
-labored to bring about&mdash;or
-at least the king suspects him of it&mdash;and
-he told me yesterday that it
-was vain for the king of France to
-address him as ‘his good brother
-and perpetual ally,’ for he regarded
-as enemies all who presumed to
-oppose his will. ‘Because,’ he
-added, ‘I understand very well, beforehand,
-what their terms will be.
-Once become the ally of Charles
-V., Francis will use all his efforts to
-prevent the repudiation of his aunt;
-but nothing under heaven shall divert
-me from my purpose. I will
-resist all the counsels he may give
-me!’”</p>
-
-<p>“He is much disappointed,” said
-Lord Rochford, “that the Pope
-should have been raised, as it were,
-from the dead. His death would
-have greatly lessened these difficulties;
-for he holds firmly to his opinions.
-I am much deceived, or the
-commission of legates will pass
-all their time, and a very long time
-too, without coming to any decision.”</p>
-
-<p>As Lord Rochford made this remark,
-his wife, the sister-in-law of
-Anne Boleyn, entered the apartment,
-accompanied by the young
-wife of Lord Dacre. Now, as Lady
-Rochford belonged entirely to the
-queen’s adherents, and Lady Anne
-was very much in fear of her, the
-tone of conversation was immediately
-changed, becoming at once general
-and indifferent.</p>
-
-<p>“The Bishop of Rochester has
-returned to London,” carelessly remarked
-Anne Boleyn, as she stooped
-to pick up a little embroidered
-glove.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, madam,” replied Cromwell.
-“I have seen him, and I find
-him looking quite old and feeble.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! I am truly sorry to hear
-it,” replied Lady Anne; “the king
-is very much attached to him. I
-have often heard him say he regarded
-him as the most learned
-and remarkable man in England,
-and that he congratulated himself
-on possessing in his kingdom a
-prelate so wise, virtuous, and accomplished.”</p>
-
-<p>“What would you wish, madam?”
-replied Cromwell, who never could
-suffer any one to be eulogized in
-his presence; “all these old men
-should give place to us&mdash;it is but
-just; they have had their time.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! Sir Cromwell,” replied
-Lady Boleyn, smiling, “you have
-no desire, I am sure, to be made
-bishop; therefore, the place he will
-leave vacant will not be the one for
-you.”</p>
-
-<p>“You have decided that question
-very hastily, madam. Who
-knows? I may one day, perhaps,
-be a curate. It has been predicted
-of me.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that would indeed be a
-very strange sight,” she replied,
-laughing aloud. “You certainly
-have neither the turn nor the taste
-for the office. How would you
-ever manage to leave off the habit
-of frequenting our drawing-rooms?
-Truly we could not afford to lose
-you, and would certainly get up a
-general revolt, opposing your ordination,
-rather than be deprived of
-your invaluable society.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are very kind, madam,”
-said Cromwell; “but I should perhaps
-not be so ridiculous as you
-imagine. I should wear a grave
-and severe countenance and an air
-of the greatest austerity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! I understand you now,”
-she replied; “you would not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
-converted; you would only become
-a hypocrite!”</p>
-
-<p>“I have a horror of hypocrites!”
-said Cromwell scornfully.</p>
-
-<p>“I wonder what you are, then?”
-thought Lady Rochford.</p>
-
-<p>“And I also,” replied Lady Anne.
-“I have a perfect detestation of
-hypocrites; it is better to be bad
-out and out!”</p>
-
-<p>“Is it true there has been a riot
-in the city?” asked Lady Rochford.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, madam,” replied Cromwell;
-“but it was suppressed on
-the spot. It was only a hundred
-wool-spinners, carders, and
-drapers, who declared they were
-no longer able to live since the
-market of the Netherlands has
-been closed, and that they would
-soon starve if their old communications
-were not re-established.
-The most mutinous were arrested,
-the others were frightened and
-quickly dispersed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh!” said Lord Rochford,
-“there is nothing to fear from
-such a rabble as that; they are too
-much afraid of their necks. Let
-them clamor, and let us give ourselves
-no uneasiness on the subject.
-I met Sir Thomas More this morning
-going to the king with a petition
-which they had addressed to
-him yesterday.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why was he charged with the
-commission?” asked young Lady
-Dacre.</p>
-
-<p>“In virtue of his office as sheriff
-of the city,” replied Cromwell.</p>
-
-<p>“He constitutes, then, part of
-our city council?” she replied.
-“He is a man I have the greatest
-desire to know; they say such
-marvellous things of him, and I
-find his poetry full of charming
-and noble thoughts.”</p>
-
-<p>“I see,” replied Cromwell, “you
-have not read the spirited satire
-just written by Germain de Brie?
-It points out the perfectly prodigious
-faults of More’s productions.
-It is certainly an <em>anti-Morus</em>!”</p>
-
-<p>“I am inclined to think your
-opinion is prompted by a spirit of
-jealousy, Sir Cromwell,” answered
-Lady Rochford, sharply. “Read,
-madam,” she continued, addressing
-young Lady Sophia Dacre, “his
-<cite>History of Richard III.</cite>; I suppose
-Sir Cromwell will, at least, accord
-some merit to that work?”</p>
-
-<p>“Entirely too light, and superficial
-indeed, madam,” said Cromwell;
-“the author has confined
-himself wholly to a recital of the
-crimes which conducted the prince
-to the throne. The style of that
-history is very negligent, but, at
-the same time, very far above that
-of his other works, and particularly
-of his <cite>Utopia</cite>, which is a work
-so extravagant, a political system
-so impracticable, that I regard the
-book simply as a wonderful fable,
-agreeable enough to listen to, but
-at which one is obliged to laugh
-afterwards when thinking of the
-absurdities it contains.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your judgment is as invidious
-as it is false!” exclaimed Lady
-Rochford, who always expressed her
-opinions bluntly, and without dissimulation.
-“If it is true,” she
-continued, “that this philosophical
-dream can never be realized, yet it
-is nevertheless impossible not to
-admire the wise and virtuous maxims
-it contains. Above all others
-there is one I have found so just,
-and so beautifully conceived, I
-could wish every young girl capable
-of teaching it to her future husband.
-‘How can it be supposed,’
-says the author, ‘that any man of
-honor and refinement could resolve
-to abandon a virtuous woman, who
-had been the companion of his bosom,
-and in whose society he had
-passed so many days of happiness;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
-only because time, at whose touch
-all things fade, had laid his destroying
-hand upon the lovely features
-of that gentle wife, once so
-cherished and adored? Because
-age, which has been the first and
-most incurable of all the infirmities
-she has been compelled to drag
-after her, had forcibly despoiled
-her of the charming freshness of her
-youth? Has that husband not enjoyed
-the flower of her beauty and
-garnered in the most beautiful days
-of her life, and will he forsake his
-wife now because she has become
-feeble, delicate, and suffering?
-Shall he become inconstant and
-perjured at the very moment when
-her sad condition demands of him
-a thousand sacrifices, and claims a
-return to the faithful devotion and
-vows of his early youth? Ah!
-into such a depth of unworthiness
-and degradation we will not presume
-it possible for any man to descend!
-It was thus the people of
-the Utopian Isle reasoned, declaring
-it would be the height of injustice
-and barbarity to abandon one
-whom we had loved and cherished,
-and who had been so devoted to
-us, at the moment when suffering
-and affliction demanded of us renewed
-sympathy and a generous
-increase of our tenderest care and
-consolations!’<a name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> And now, my dear
-sister,” she added, fixing her eyes
-steadfastly on Lady Boleyn, “what
-do you think of that passage?
-Are you not forcibly struck by the
-truth and justice of the sentiment?
-Let me advise you when
-you marry to be well satisfied beforehand
-that your husband entertains
-the same opinions.”</p>
-
-<p>As she heard these last words
-the beautiful face of Anne Boleyn
-became suddenly suffused with a
-deep crimson, and for some moments
-not a word was uttered by
-any one around her. They understood
-perfectly well that Lady
-Rochford’s remarks were intended
-to condemn in the most pointed
-manner the king’s conduct towards
-the queen, whose failing health was
-entirely attributable to the mortification
-and suffering she endured
-on account of her husband’s ingratitude
-and ill-treatment.</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime, the silence becoming
-every moment more and
-more embarrassing, Anne Boleyn,
-forcibly assuming an air of gayety,
-declared her sister was disposed to
-look very far into the future; “but,”
-she added, “happily, my dear sister,
-neither you nor I are in a condition
-to demand all those tender
-cares due to age and infirmity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Come, ladies, let us go,” said
-Cromwell in a jesting tone, hoping
-to render himself agreeable to
-Lady Anne by relieving the embarrassment
-the conversation had
-caused her. “I am unable to express
-my admiration for Lady
-Rochford. She understands too
-well the practice of the Utopian laws
-not to wish for the position of
-Dean of the Doctors of the University
-of Oxford.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are very complimentary
-and jocose, sir,” replied Lady Rochford;
-“and if you wish it, I will introduce
-you to one who will be
-personally necessary if you should
-ever aspire to fill a position in that
-kingdom. You must know, however,
-that their wise law-giver, Utopia,
-while he accorded to each one
-liberty of conscience, confined that
-liberty within legitimate and righteous
-bounds, in order to prevent
-the promulgation of the pernicious
-doctrines of pretended philosophers,
-who endeavor to debase
-the dignity of our exalted human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
-nature; he also severely condemned
-every opinion tending to degenerate
-into pure materialism, or,
-what is more deplorable still, veritable
-atheism. The Utopians were
-taught to believe in the reality of a
-future state, and in future rewards
-and punishments. They detested
-and denounced all who presumed
-to deny these truths, and, far from admitting
-them to the rank of citizens,
-they refused even to class among
-men those who debased themselves
-to the abject condition of vile animals.
-‘What,’ they asked, ‘can be
-done with a creature devoid of
-principle and without faith, whose
-only restraint is fear of punishment,
-who without that fear would violate
-every law and trample under foot
-those wise rules and regulations
-which alone constitute the bulwark
-of social order and happiness?
-What confidence can be reposed in
-an individual purely sensual, living
-without morals and without hope,
-recognizing no obligation but to
-himself alone; who limits his happiness
-to the present moment;
-whose God is his body; whose law,
-his own pleasures and passions, in
-the gratification of which he is at
-all times ready to proceed to the
-extremity of crime, provided he can
-find means of escaping the vigilant
-eye of justice, and be a villain with
-impunity? Such infamous characters
-are of course excluded from all
-participation in municipal affairs,
-and all positions of honor and public
-trust; they are veritable automatons,
-abandoned to the “error of their
-ways,” wretched, wandering “cumberers
-of the earth” on which they
-live!’ You perceive, Sir Cromwell,”
-continued Lady Rochford
-ironically, “that my profound
-knowledge and retentive memory
-may prove very useful to you,
-should you ever arrive at the Utopian
-Isle, for you must be convinced
-that your own opinions would
-meet with very little favor in that
-country.”</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell, humiliated to the last
-degree, vainly endeavored to reply
-with his usual audacity and
-spirit. Finding all efforts to recover
-his self-possession impossible, he
-stammered forth a few incoherent
-words, and hastily took his leave.</p>
-
-<p>The desire of winning the approbation
-of Anne Boleyn at the expense
-of her sister-in-law had
-caused him to commit a great blunder,
-and he received nothing in return
-to remove the caustic arrows
-from his humiliated and deeply
-wounded spirit. Extremely brilliant
-and animated in conversation,
-Lady Rochford was accustomed
-to “having the laugh entirely
-on her own side,” which,
-knowing so very well, Anne had
-pretended not to understand the
-conversation, although the remarks
-had been so very piquant.</p>
-
-<p>As soon as he had retired Cromwell
-became the subject of conversation,
-and Anne timidly, and with
-no little hesitation, ventured to remonstrate
-with her sister-in-law,
-expressing her regret that the conversation
-should have been made
-so personal, as she liked Cromwell
-very much.</p>
-
-<p>“And that is just what you are
-wrong in doing,” replied Lady
-Rochford; “for he is a deceitful
-and dangerous man! He pretends
-to be extremely devoted to you,
-but it is only because he believes
-he can make you useful to
-himself; and he is full of avarice
-and ambition. This you will discover
-when it is perhaps too late,
-and I advise you to reflect seriously
-on the subject. It is so cruel to be
-mistaken in the choice of a friend
-that, truly, the surer and better way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
-would seem to be, to form no friendships
-at all! There are so few, so
-very few, whose affections are pure
-and disinterested, that they scarcely
-ever withstand the ordeal of misfortune,
-or the loss of those extraneous
-advantages with which they
-found us surrounded.”</p>
-
-<p>“You speak like a book, my dear
-sister,” cried Lady Boleyn, laughing
-aloud; “just like a book that has
-been sent me from France, with
-such beautiful silver clasps.”</p>
-
-<p>Saying this, she ran to fetch the
-book, which she had opened that
-evening in the middle, not having
-sufficient curiosity to examine the
-title or inquire the name of the
-author of the volume. She opened
-it naturally at the same place, and
-read what follows, which was, as
-far as could be discovered, the fragment
-of a letter:</p>
-
-<p>“You ask me for the definition of
-a friend! In reply, I am compelled
-to declare that the term has become
-so vague and so obscure, it has been
-used in so many senses, and applied
-to so many persons, I shall first be
-obliged to give you a description of
-what is called a friend in the world&mdash;a
-title equivalent, in my estimation, to
-the most complete indifference, intermingled
-at the same time with no insignificant
-degree of envy and jealousy.
-For instance, I hear M. de
-Clèves speaking of his friend M. Joyeuse,
-and he remarks simply: ‘I
-know more about him than anybody
-else; I have been his most intimate
-friend for a great many years; he
-is meanly avaricious&mdash;I have reproached
-him for it a hundred times.’
-A little further on, and I hear the
-great Prof. de Chaumont exclaim,
-‘Valentino d’Alsinois is a
-most charming woman; everybody
-is devoted to her. But this popularity
-cannot last long&mdash;she is full
-of vanity; intolerably conceited and
-silly; it really amuses me!’ I go
-on still further, and meet a friend
-who takes me enthusiastically by
-both hands: ‘Oh! I expected a
-visit from you yesterday, and was
-quite in despair that you did not
-come! You know how delighted I
-always am to see you, and how
-highly I appreciate your visits!’
-But I happen to have very keen
-eyes, and an ear extremely acute
-and delicate; and I distinctly heard
-her whisper to her friend as I approached
-them, ‘How fortunate I
-have been to escape this visit!’
-What a change! I did not think it
-could last long. Well, with friends
-like these you will find the world
-crowded; they will obstruct, so to
-speak, every hour of your life; but
-it is rare indeed to encounter one
-who is true and loyal, a friend of
-the heart! A man truly virtuous:
-and sincerely religious is alone capable
-of comprehending and loving
-with pure and exalted friendship.
-A man of the world, on
-the contrary, accustomed to refer
-everything to himself, and consulting
-his own desires, becomes his
-own idol, and on the altar of <em>self</em>
-offers up the only sincere worship
-of which his sordid soul is capable.
-And you will find he will always
-end by sacrificing to his own interests
-and passions the dearest interests
-of the being who confided in
-his friendship.</p>
-
-<p>“But with the sincere and earnest
-friend, love and gratitude are
-necessities of his nature; they constitute
-the unbroken chain which
-links all pure and reasonable friendship.
-He will assist his friend in all
-emergencies, for he has assumed in
-a manner even his responsibilities.
-He will never flatter; his counsel
-and advice, on the contrary, may be
-severely administered, because it is
-impossible to be happy without being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
-virtuous, and the happiness of
-his friend is as dear to him as his
-own. He is ready to sacrifice his
-own interests to those of his friend,
-and none would dare attack his
-friend’s reputation in his presence;
-for they know he will defend and
-sustain him under all circumstances,
-sympathizing in his misfortunes,
-mingling tears with his tears&mdash;in a
-word, that it is another self whom
-they would presume to attack.</p>
-
-<p>“Death itself cannot dissolve the
-ties of such an affection&mdash;the soul,
-nearer to God, will continue to implore
-unceasingly for him the divine
-benediction. Oh! what joy,
-what happiness, to participate in a
-friendship so pure and exalted!
-He who can claim one such friend
-possesses a source of unbounded
-joy, and an inexhaustible consolation
-of which cruel adversity
-can never deprive him. If prosperity
-dazzles him with its dangerous
-splendor, if sorrow pierce
-him with her dart, if melancholy
-annihilate the life of his soul, then
-ever near him abides this friend,
-like a precious gift which God
-alone had power to bestow!”</p>
-
-<p class="break">Queen Catherine was walking in
-that portion of the vast grounds
-of Greenwich called the Queen’s
-Garden, which in happier days had
-often been her favorite retreat.
-Jets of limpid water (conveyed
-by means of pipes through the
-grounds) burst in every direction,
-and then fell in silvery showers
-among the lovely parterres of flowers,
-and covered the green velvet
-turf with a glittering veil of diamond-like
-spray. On the bosom
-of the murmuring waters floated
-myriads of leaves and flowers,
-flung with gentle hand by the
-wooing breeze, while thousands of
-gold fishes sported amid their crystal
-depths. The eye of the stranger
-was at once arrested and ravished
-by these marvels of nature and
-art, admiring the power and riches
-thus united; but the queen, with
-slow and painful steps, only sought
-this solitude for liberty there to indulge
-her tears in silence and oblivion.</p>
-
-<p>At no great distance Mary, full
-of joy, engaged in the sportive
-plays of the ladies of the queen.
-A golden insect or a brilliant butterfly
-was the only conquest to
-which she aspired. Gaily flitting
-from place to place, with step so
-light that her little feet scarcely
-impressed the delicate white sand
-covering the walks, her shouts of
-expectation and happiness were still
-powerless to rejoice the maternal
-heart.</p>
-
-<p>Catherine hastily withdrew from
-the scene. Fatigued and worn
-with suffering, she regarded with
-painful indifference all that surrounded
-her.</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime one of the gardeners
-advanced towards her and
-presented a bouquet.</p>
-
-<p>“Give it,” said she, “to one of
-my ladies.” And she turned away;
-but the gardener would not withdraw.
-“The queen does not recognize
-me,” he said at length in a
-low voice.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! More,” exclaimed Catherine,
-greatly agitated. “Friend always
-faithful! But why expose
-yourself thus to serve me? Go
-on. I will follow!” And Catherine
-continued her walk until she
-reached a wide and extended avenue
-planted with venerable old lindens.</p>
-
-<p>“More,” she exclaimed, trembling
-with fear, yet still indulging a
-slight hope, “what have you to
-tell me? Speak, oh! speak quickly!
-I fear we may be observed;
-every step of mine is watched.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Madam,” cried More, “a general
-peace has been concluded.
-The emperor’s difficulty with the
-Holy See is ended; he consents to
-surrender all the conquered territory
-originally belonging to the
-Ecclesiastical States. He binds
-himself to re-establish the dominion
-of the Medici in Florence; he
-abandons Sforza, leaving the Pope
-absolute master of the destiny of
-that prince and the sovereignty of
-the Milanese. Urged on by these
-concessions, the two princesses cut
-short their negotiations, and the
-treaty between France and Austria
-was concluded immediately. Your
-appeal and protestation have been
-despatched, and conveyed safely out
-of the kingdom. The messenger
-to whom they were entrusted was
-most rigorously searched, but the
-papers were so securely and adroitly
-concealed they were not discovered.
-They were carried to Antwerp
-by Peter Gilles, the ‘friend
-of my heart,’ and from thence he
-despatched them to Rome. Hope,
-therefore hope; let us all hope!”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! More,” replied the queen,
-who had listened with deep anxiety,
-“would that I were able to
-acknowledge your services as I appreciate
-them. Your friendship
-has been my only consolation.
-But I know not why it is, hope
-every day grows more and more
-faint in my heart. And so utterly
-insensible to joy have I become
-that it seems now I am incapable
-of aught but suffering, and that for
-me I fear greater sorrow is to be
-added.”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you say, madam?”
-replied More. “How sadly discouraging
-and painful to your servants
-to hear such reflections from
-you at the very moment when
-everything becomes favorable to
-your cause. The emperor will
-use his influence at the court of
-Rome, and Francis, between the
-two allies, will at least be forced to
-remain neutral.”</p>
-
-<p>“What were the conditions of
-the Treaty of Cambrai?” asked the
-queen.</p>
-
-<p>“They were very hard and exacting,”
-replied More. “The king
-of France entirely renounces his
-pretensions to Burgundy and Italy;
-thus nine years of war, the battle
-of Pavia, and a humiliating captivity,
-become of no avail. He
-sacrifices all, even his allies. Fearing
-to add to these harsh conditions
-the reconciliation of their interests,
-he abandoned to the mercy
-of the emperor, without the slightest
-stipulation, the Venetians, the
-Florentines, the Duke of Ferrara,
-and the Neapolitan barons who
-were attached to his arms.”</p>
-
-<p>“What a cruel error!” exclaimed
-the queen. “The prince has surely
-forgotten that even in political
-and state affairs, he who once sacrifices
-his friends cannot hope to
-recall them ever again to his support.
-It is very evident that he
-has not more prudent nor wise
-counsellors in his cabinet than
-skilful and accomplished generals
-in the field. Who now among
-them all can be compared with
-Pescaire, Anthony de Lêve, or the
-Prince of Orange?”</p>
-
-<p>“He might have had them, madam,
-if his own negligence and the
-wickedness of his courtiers had not
-alienated and driven them away.
-The Constable of Bourbon, Moran,
-and Doria would have powerfully
-counterbalanced the talents and influence
-of the chiefs you have just
-named, had the king of France engaged
-them in his own cause, instead
-of having to encounter them
-in the ranks of his enemies. His
-undaunted courage and personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
-valor, however, have alone caused
-the unequal and hopeless contest to
-be so long continued.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what does your king say
-of these affairs?” asked the queen,
-anxiously.</p>
-
-<p>“Alas! madam, he seems but
-little satisfied,” responded More,
-hesitating.</p>
-
-<p>“That is just as I suspected,”
-replied the queen. “Yes, it is because
-he foresees new obstacles to
-the unjust divorce he is prosecuting
-with so much ardor. O More!”
-she continued, bursting into tears,
-“what have I done to merit such
-cruel treatment? When I look
-back on the happy years of my
-youth, the years when he loved me
-so tenderly; when I recall the devoted
-and affectionate demonstrations
-of those days, and compare
-them with the actual rudeness
-and severity of the present, my
-bleeding heart is crushed by this
-sorrow! What have I done, More,
-to lose thus so suddenly and entirely
-my husband’s affection? It
-is true, the freshness of my early
-youth has faded, but was it to such
-ephemeral advantages alone I owed
-his devotion? Can a marriage be
-contracted by a man with the intention
-of dissolving it as soon as
-the personal attractions, the youthful
-charms, of his wife have faded?
-Oh! it seems to me it should be
-just the contrary, and that the hour
-of affliction should only call forth
-deeper proofs of affection. No,
-More, no! neither you nor any
-other of my friends will be able to
-accomplish anything for me. I feel
-that my life is rapidly ebbing away;
-that my spirit is crushed and broken
-for ever. For admitting, even,
-that Henry will not be successful in
-his attempt to sever the sacred
-bonds of our union, what happiness
-could I ever hope to enjoy near one
-to whom I had become an object
-of aversion&mdash;who would behold in
-me only an invincible obstacle to
-his will and the gratification of his
-criminal and disorderly passions?”</p>
-
-<p>“Alas! madam,” replied More,
-“we are all grieved at the contemplation
-of the great affliction by
-which you are overwhelmed, and
-how much do we wish the expression
-of our sympathy and devotion
-had power to relieve you. But remember
-the Princess of Wales&mdash;you
-will surely never cease to defend
-her rights.”</p>
-
-<p>“Never, never!” exclaimed the
-queen passionately. “That is the
-sole inducement I have once more
-to arouse myself&mdash;it sustains my
-courage and animates my resolution,
-when health and spirits both
-fail. O More! could you but
-know all that passes in the depths
-of my soul; could you but realize,
-for one moment, the anguish and
-agony, the deep interior humiliation,
-into which I am plunged!
-Oh! fatal and for ever unfortunate
-day when I left my country and
-the royal house of my father! Why
-was I not born in obscurity? Would
-not my life then have passed quietly
-and without regret? Far from the
-tumult of the world and the éclat
-of thrones, I should have been extremely
-happy. Now I am dying
-broken-hearted and unknown.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is it really yourself, madam,”
-answered More, “who thus gives
-way to such weakness? Truly, it is
-unworthy of your rank, and still
-more of your virtues. When adversity
-overtakes us, we should summon
-all our courage and resolution. You
-are our queen, and you should remember
-your daughter is born sovereign
-of this realm, beneath whose
-soil our buried forefathers sleep.
-No, no! Heaven will never permit
-the blood of such a race to be sullied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
-by that of an ambitious and degraded
-woman. That noble race
-will triumph, be assured of it; and
-in that triumph the honor of our
-country will shine forth with renewed
-glory and splendor. I swear
-it by my head, and hope it in my
-heart!” As he said these words,
-footsteps were heard, and Catherine
-perceived the king coming towards
-them. She turned instantly pale,
-but, remaining calm in the dangerous
-crisis, made a sign for More to
-withdraw. The king immediately
-approached her, and, observing with
-heartless indifference the traces of
-recent tears on her cheek, exclaimed:</p>
-
-<p>“Always in tears!” Then, assuming
-a playful manner, he continued:
-“Come, Kate, you must confess that
-you are always singularly sad and
-depressed, and the walls of a convent
-would suit you much better
-than this beautiful garden. You
-have in your hand a fine bouquet;
-I see at least you still love flowers.”</p>
-
-<p>“I do indeed,” replied the queen,
-with a deep sigh.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Henry, “I do not
-mean to reproach you, but it would
-be advisable not to hold those
-roses so close to your cheek; the
-contrast might be unfavorable&mdash;is
-it not so, my old Kate? Have you
-seen the falcons just sent me from
-Scotland? They are of a very rare
-species, and trained to perfection.
-I am going out now to try them.”</p>
-
-<p>“I wish your majesty a pleasant
-morning,” answered the queen.</p>
-
-<p>“Adieu, Kate,” he continued,
-proceeding on his way, and giving
-in the exuberance of his spirits a
-flourish with his trumpet. Very
-soon the notes of the hunting-horns
-announced his arrival in the outer
-courtyard. He found there assembled
-a crowd of lords and pages,
-followed by falconers, carrying the
-new birds on their wrists. These
-birds were fettered, and wore on
-their heads little leathern hoods,
-which were to be removed at the
-moment they mounted in the air in
-search of their accustomed prey.</p>
-
-<p>In a very short time the party
-rode off, and Catherine thoughtfully
-entered the palace, thinking it
-was a long time since the king had
-shown himself so indulgent and
-gracious towards her.</p>
-
-<p class="break">“Are you well assured of the
-truth of these statements?” said
-the king, returning Cromwell a letter
-he had just read. “No! I will
-not believe it,” he cried, stamping
-his foot violently on the richly-tessellated
-floor of his cabinet. “I
-certainly hoped to have gained the
-legate over.”</p>
-
-<p>“But your majesty may no longer
-indulge in this illusion,” replied
-Cromwell, who stood before the
-king in an attitude the most humble
-and servile possible to assume.
-“You are furnished with incontrovertible
-proof; Campeggio, in order
-to escape your imperious commands,
-urges the Pope to evoke the
-trial to his own tribunal. Of this
-there is no doubt, for this copy of
-his letter I received from the hand
-of his confidential secretary.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are very adroit, sir,” replied
-the king, haughtily. “Later,
-I will consider the manner of
-rewarding you. But I declare
-to you your patron is on the
-brink of ruin. I shall never pardon
-him for permitting that protest
-and appeal of the queen to reach
-Rome.”</p>
-
-<p>“That was truly an unfortunate
-affair,” replied Cromwell; “but it
-was perhaps not the fault of my
-lord, Cardinal Wolsey.”</p>
-
-<p>“Whose fault was it then?” demanded
-Henry in the imperious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
-tone he used to disconcert this spy
-whenever his reports displeased
-him.</p>
-
-<p>“The queen has friends,” replied
-Cromwell, whilst on his thin, colorless
-lips hovered a false and
-treacherous smile, worthy of the
-wicked instinct that prompted and
-directed all his suspicions, and
-made him foresee the surest plan
-of injuring those whom he envied
-or destroying those whose reputation
-he intended to attack.</p>
-
-<p>“And who are they?” demanded
-the king, his ill-humor increasing
-with the reflection. “Why do you
-not name them, sir?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, for instance, Sir Thomas
-More, whom your Majesty loads
-with favors and distinctions, the
-Bishop of Rochester, the Duke of
-Norfolk, and the.…”</p>
-
-<p>“You will soon accuse my entire
-court, and each one of my servants
-in particular,” cried the king; “and
-in order still more to exasperate
-and astound me, you have taken
-particular pains to select and name
-those whom I most esteem, and
-who have always given me the sincerest
-proofs of their devoted affection.
-Go!” he suddenly cried in a
-furious tone; and he fell into one
-of those wild transports of rage
-that frequently attacked him when
-his will clashed against obstacles
-which he foresaw he could neither
-surmount nor destroy. He often
-passed entire days absorbed in these
-moods of violence, shut up in his own
-apartments, suffering none to speak
-to or approach him nor on any account
-to attempt to divert him.</p>
-
-<p>Abashed and alarmed, Cromwell
-hastily withdrew, stammering the
-most humble apologies, none of
-which, however, reached the ear of
-Henry VIII., who, on returning to
-his chamber, raving in a demoniacal
-manner, exclaimed:</p>
-
-<p>“Vile slaves! you shall be taught
-to know and to respect my power.
-I will make you sorely repent the
-hour you have dared to oppose
-me!”</p>
-
-<p>Just as he had uttered this threatening
-exclamation, Cardinal Wolsey
-appeared. He could not have
-chosen a more inauspicious moment.
-The instant he beheld him,
-the king, glaring on him with flashing
-eyes, cried out:</p>
-
-<p>“Traitor! what has brought you
-here? Do you know the ambassadors
-of Charles and Ferdinand, fortified
-by the queen’s appeal and
-protest, have overthrown all I had
-accomplished at Rome with so
-much precaution and difficulty?
-Why have you not foreseen these
-contingencies, and known that the
-Pope would prove inflexible? Why
-have you not advised me against
-undertaking an almost impossible
-thing, which will sully the honor
-of my name and obscure for all
-time the glory of my reign.”</p>
-
-<p>“Stop, sire,” replied Wolsey; “I
-do not deserve these cruel reproaches.
-You can readily recall
-how earnestly I endeavored to dissuade
-you from your purpose, but
-all my efforts were vain.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is false!” cried the king, giving
-vent to his rage in the most
-shocking and violent expressions
-he could command, to inflict upon
-his minister. “And now,” he continued,
-“remember well, if you fail
-to extort from your legate such a
-decision as I require, you shall
-speedily be taught what it is to deride
-my commands.”</p>
-
-<p class="break">The sun had scarcely risen above
-the horizon when already Cardinal
-Campeggio (whose age and infirmities
-had not changed the long
-habits of an austere and laborious
-life) was silently kneeling in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
-midst of the choir of the palace
-chapel.</p>
-
-<p>The velvet cushions of his <i lang="fr">prie-dieu</i>
-protected him from the cold
-marble of the sacred pavement,
-while the rays of the rising sun,
-descending in luminous jets through
-the arches of the antique windows,
-fell on the head of the venerable
-old man, giving him the appearance
-of being surrounded by a halo of
-celestial light. His eyes were cast
-down, and he seemed to be entirely
-absorbed in pious and profound
-meditation.</p>
-
-<p>Other thoughts, however, intruded
-on his agitated mind, and filled
-him with anxious apprehension.
-“The hour rapidly approaches,”
-he mentally exclaimed&mdash;“the hour
-when it will be essential to come
-to a decision. I have still hoped
-to receive a reply&mdash;it has not yet
-arrived. I alone am made responsible,
-and doubtless the wrath of
-the king will burst upon my head.
-His vengeance will be terrible.
-More than once already he has
-taken occasion to manifest it.
-What cruel incertitude! What
-dreadful suspense! Yet what shall
-be done? Speak! O my conscience!”
-he exclaimed, “let me
-listen, and be guided by thy voice
-alone!”</p>
-
-<p>“Despise the power of the king
-who demands of thee an injustice,”
-immediately replied that faithful
-monitor whose stern and inflexible
-voice will be summoned to testify
-against us at the last judgment.
-“Sayest thou, thou art afraid?
-Then thou hast forgotten that the
-last even of those gray hairs still
-remaining to thee cannot fall without
-the permission of him who created
-the universe. Know that the
-anger of man is but as a vain report&mdash;a
-sound that vanishes in
-space; and that God permits thee
-not to hesitate for one instant, O
-judge! when the cause of the feeble
-and the innocent claims all the
-strength of thy protection.”</p>
-
-<p>Irrevocably decided, Campeggio
-continued his prayer, and waited
-without further apprehension the
-decisive moment, so rapidly approaching.</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime, another cardinal,
-Wolsey, in great anguish of
-mind, contemplated with terror the
-approaching day when he would
-be compelled to decide the fate of
-the queen. Weary after passing a
-sleepless night, spent in reflecting
-on the punishment threatening him
-if the will of the king was not accomplished,
-he had scarcely closed
-his eyes when a troop of valets
-entered the chamber to assist at his
-toilet. They brought his richest
-vestments, with all the insignia of
-his elevated rank. Wolsey regarded
-them with a feeling of terror.
-And when they presented him
-the ivory rod which the high-chancellor
-is alone empowered to carry,
-he seized it with convulsive eagerness,
-grasping it in his hand, as
-though he feared they would tear
-it from him; and with that fear
-the reflection overshadowed his
-soul that yesterday he had made a
-last effort to ascertain and influence
-the decision of the legate, without
-being able to succeed!</p>
-
-<p>Followed by his pages and gentlemen,
-and still harassed by these
-misgivings, he arrived at Blackfriars,
-where the court awaited him. The
-assembly of cardinals arose deferentially
-as he entered, though all
-remarked with astonishment the
-pallor of his countenance and his
-extreme embarrassment of manner,
-so invariably composed and assured.
-A portion of this visible restraint
-was communicated to the
-assembly, on learning that the king<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
-himself had arrived, and was resolved
-to sit in the adjoining apartment,
-where he could see and hear the
-entire proceedings.</p>
-
-<p>Dr. Bell, his advocate, after a
-long preamble, began a discourse,
-and during its delivery hurried exclamations
-and hasty comments
-were constantly indulged in by the
-excited assembly, so different in
-their hopes, desires, and opinions.</p>
-
-<p>“O Rochester,” cried More, invested
-with the grand official robes
-of the king’s exchequer, “do you
-think this man will succeed with
-his arguments in carrying the
-crown by storm?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no,” replied Rochester,
-“and especially as he wishes to place
-it upon such a head.”</p>
-
-<p>“But listen, listen!” exclaimed
-More, “he declares the brief of dispensation
-to have been a fraud.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! what notorious bad faith!”
-murmured the bishop.</p>
-
-<p>“What answer can they make to
-that?” said Viscount Rochford,
-in another part of the hall, addressing
-the lords belonging to Anne
-Boleyn’s party. “It is certainly
-encouraging; we cannot doubt of
-our success now.”</p>
-
-<p>But at length the arguments,
-principally dictated by Henry himself,
-were closed; his advocate demanding,
-in the most haughty and
-authoritative manner, that a decision
-should at once be rendered,
-and that it should be as favorable
-as it was prompt. The king during
-this time, in a state of great
-excitement, paced to and fro before
-the entrance of the hall, the
-door being left open by every one
-in passing, as if he were afraid to
-close it behind him. He surveyed
-from time to time, with a glance of
-stern, penetrating scrutiny, the assembly
-before him, each member
-of which tried to conceal his true
-sentiments&mdash;some because they
-were secretly attached to the queen,
-others through fear that the cause
-of Anne Boleyn might ultimately
-triumph. When the advocate had
-finished his discourse, each one sat
-in breathless suspense anxiously
-waiting the queen’s reply; but not
-recognizing the authority or legality
-of the tribunal, she had refused
-to accept counsel, and no one consequently
-appeared to defend her.
-Profound silence reigned throughout
-the assembly, and all eyes were
-turned toward Campeggio, who
-arose and stood ready to speak.
-The venerable old man, calm and
-dignified, in a mild but firm and
-decided tone began:</p>
-
-<p>“You ask, or rather you demand,”
-he said, “that we pronounce
-a decision which it would be impossible
-for us in justice to render.”
-Here, on seeing the king turn abruptly
-around and confront him, he
-paused, looking steadily at him.
-“Knowing that the defendant hath
-challenged this court, and refused
-to recognize in our persons loyal
-and disinterested judges, I have
-considered it my duty, in order to
-avoid error, to submit every part
-of the proceedings of this council
-to the tribunal of the Sovereign Pontiff;
-and we shall be compelled to
-await his decision before rendering
-judgment or proceeding further. For
-myself individually, I will furthermore
-affirm, that I am here to render
-justice&mdash;strict, entire, and impartial
-justice, and no earthly power
-can induce me to deviate from the
-course I have adopted or the resolutions
-I have taken; and I boldly
-declare that I am too old, too feeble,
-and too ill to desire the favor
-or fear the resentment of any living
-being.” Here he sat down,
-visibly agitated.</p>
-
-<p>Had a thunderbolt fallen in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
-midst of the assembly, the tumult
-and astonishment could not have
-been greater. Anger, joy, fear, hope&mdash;all
-hearts were agitated by the
-most contradictory emotions; while
-nothing was heard but the deep
-murmur of voices, the noise of
-unintelligible words, as they crossed
-and clashed in an endless diversity
-of tones. The Duke of Suffolk,
-brother-in-law of the king, cried out,
-beating his fists violently on the
-table before him, with the gross
-impetuosity of an upstart soldier,
-that the old adage had again been
-verified; “Never did a cardinal do
-any good in England.” And with
-flashing eyes and furious gestures
-he pointed to Cardinal Wolsey.
-The cardinal at once comprehended
-his danger, but found it impossible
-not to resent the insult. He
-arose, pale with anger, and with
-forced calmness replied that the
-duke, of all living men, had the
-least cause to depreciate cardinals.
-For, notwithstanding he had himself
-been a very insignificant cardinal,
-yet, if he had not held the
-office, the Duke of Suffolk would
-not this day actually carry his
-head on big shoulders. “And you
-would not now,” he added, “be
-here to exhibit the ostentatious
-disdain you have manifested toward
-those who have never given
-you cause of offence. If you were,
-my lord, an ambassador of the king
-to some foreign power, you would
-surely not venture to decide important
-questions without first consulting
-your sovereign. We also
-are commissioners, and we have
-no power to pronounce judgment,
-without first consulting those from
-whom we derive our authority; we
-can do neither more nor less than
-our commissions permit. Calm
-yourself, then, my lord, and no more
-address, in this insulting manner,
-your best friend. You very well
-know all I have done for you, and
-you must also acknowledge that
-on no occasion have I ever referred
-to your obligations before.”</p>
-
-<p>But the Duke of Suffolk heard
-nothing of the last words uttered
-by Wolsey. Exasperated beyond
-measure, he abruptly turned his
-back on the cardinal and went to
-join the king in the next apartment.
-He found the latter in the act
-of retiring, being no longer able to
-restrain his wrath within bounds;
-and as his courtiers entered and
-stood regarding him with a look
-of hesitation he went out, commanding
-them in a fierce tone and
-with an imperious gesture to follow
-him immediately.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, in the council chamber
-the utmost confusion prevailed.
-“God be praised!” cried Sir
-Thomas More, who in the simplicity
-of his heart and the excess
-of his joy was incapable of dissimulation
-or concealment. “God be
-praised! Our queen is still queen;
-and may she ever triumph thus
-over all her enemies!”</p>
-
-<p>Ensconced in the deep embrasure
-of a window stood Cromwell, a silent
-observer of the scene; not
-permitting a word to escape him,
-but gathering up every sentence
-with keen avidity, and cherishing it
-in his envious and malicious memory.
-He found himself, nevertheless,
-in a precarious and embarrassing
-situation. Foreseeing the
-downfall and disgrace of Wolsey, he
-had sought to make friends by betraying
-his benefactor. But the
-king treated him with indignant
-scorn, Viscount Rochford with supreme
-contempt, and he strongly
-suspected he had prejudiced his
-sister, Anne Boleyn, also against
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Anxious and alarmed, he at once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
-determined to begin weaving a new
-web of intrigue, and instantly cast
-about him to discover what hope
-remained, or what results the future
-might possibly bring forth from the
-discord and difficulties reigning in
-the present.</p>
-
-<p>When selfish, corrupt creatures
-like Cromwell find themselves surrounded
-by great and important
-events, they at once assume to become
-identified with the dearest
-interests of the community in which
-they live, without however in reality
-being in the slightest degree affected,
-unless through their own interests&mdash;seeking
-always themselves,
-and themselves alone. Thus this
-heartless man, this shameful leprosy
-of the social body that had nurtured
-him, regarding the whole world entirely
-with reference to his own selfish
-designs, coolly speculated upon
-his premeditated crimes, revolving in
-his mind a thousand projects of aggrandizement,
-which he ultimately
-succeeded in bringing to a culpable
-but thoroughly successful termination.</p>
-
-<p class="break">The night had already come, yet
-all were in a state of commotion in
-the household of the French ambassador,
-in consequence of William
-du Bellay, his brother, having at a
-late hour received a few hasty lines
-from the bishop, written in the midst
-of the assembly at Blackfriars, commanding
-him to hold himself in
-readiness to depart.</p>
-
-<p>The young envoy, at once obeying
-orders, assumed his travelling
-costume, and had scarcely more
-than attended to the last instructions
-of his brother when the latter
-made his appearance.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, brother,” he exclaimed on
-entering the chamber, “all is over.
-Are you ready to set out?” he continued,
-hurriedly surveying his
-brother’s travelling attire. “The
-king is furiously enraged&mdash;first
-against the legate, then against
-Wolsey. But Campeggio has displayed
-an extraordinary degree of
-firmness and courage. After he
-had refused to pronounce the decision,
-and just as the king was retiring,
-the expected courier arrived
-with instructions from Rome. The
-queen’s protestation has been received,
-and the Pope, dissolving the
-council, revokes the commissioners’
-authority, and requires the case to
-be brought before his own tribunal.
-The adherents of Catherine, as you
-may suppose, are wild with delight&mdash;the
-people throng the streets,
-shouting ‘Long live the queen!’
-Our gracious king, Francis I., will
-be in despair.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” replied William, “I am
-satisfied, for I am in favor of the
-queen. And now, between ourselves,
-my dear brother, laying all diplomacy
-aside&mdash;for we are alone, and
-these walls have no ears&mdash;I know as
-well as you that it matters not to
-our king whether the wife of Henry
-VIII. be named Anne or Catherine.</p>
-
-<p>“And yet, after all, it may be
-the name of this new Helen will
-become the signal for war,” replied
-the bishop. “You forget
-that in marrying Anne Boleyn
-Henry will be compelled to seek an
-alliance with France, in order to
-resist the opposition of the Emperor
-Charles V.; and as for ourselves,
-we have use for the five
-thousand crowns he has promised
-to assist us in paying the ransom
-of the children of France. This
-family quarrel can be arranged so
-entirely to our advantage that it
-would really be a misfortune should
-it come to a sudden termination.
-I hope, however, such may not be
-the result.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are right, brother,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
-Du Bellay, laughing. “I see I have
-too much heart to make a skilful
-diplomatist. I have already let
-myself become ensnared, you perceive,
-and drawn over to the cause
-of this Queen Catherine. But it is
-nevertheless a veritable fact, while
-families are engaged in disputing
-among themselves, they generally
-leave their neighbors in peace. It
-would seem, however, the king
-must have become a madman or a
-fool, thus to ignore kindred, allies,
-fortune, and kingdom&mdash;all for this
-Lady Anne.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, much more than a madman,”
-replied his brother, phlegmatically;
-“after he has married
-her, he will be cured of his insanity.
-But come, now, let us leave Lady
-Anne and her affairs. You must
-know that immediately after the
-adjournment of the cardinals, the
-king sent for me. I found him terribly
-excited, walking rapidly up
-and down the great hall formerly
-used as a chapter-room by the
-monks. Wolsey alone was with
-him, standing near the abbot’s great
-arm-chair, and wearing an air of
-consternation. The instant he saw
-me approaching, he cried out,
-‘Come, come, my lord, the king
-wishes to have your advice on the
-subject we are now discussing.’
-And I at once perceived my presence
-was a great relief to him.</p>
-
-<p>“The king spoke immediately,
-while his eyes flashed fire. ‘M.
-du Bellay,’ he exclaimed, ‘Campeggio
-shall be punished!&mdash;yes, punished!
-Parliament shall bring him
-to trial! I will never submit to
-defeat in this matter. I will show
-the Pope that he has underrated
-both my will and my power.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Sire,’ I answered, ‘after mature
-reflection, it seems to me it would
-be a mistaken policy in your majesty
-to resort to such violent measures.
-Nothing has yet been decided,
-and the case is by no means
-hopeless; the wisest course would
-therefore be to restrain all manifestation
-of displeasure toward Campeggio.
-What advantage could you
-possibly gain by insulting or ill-treating
-an old man whom you have
-invited into your kingdom, or how
-could you then expect to obtain a
-favorable decision from the Holy
-See?’</p>
-
-<p>“Delighted to hear me express
-such opinions, Wolsey eagerly
-caught at my words, declaring he
-agreed with me entirely. He also
-advised that the doctors of the
-French and German universities
-should be consulted, opinions favorable
-to the divorce obtained
-from them, and afterwards this high
-authority brought to bear upon the
-decision of the court of Rome.</p>
-
-<p>“‘What do you think of that?’
-demanded the king of me. ‘As
-for His Eminence Monseigneur
-Wolsey,’ he added, in a tone of
-cruel contempt, his counsels have
-already led me into so many difficulties,
-or proved so worthless, I
-shall not trouble him for any further
-advice.’ And he abruptly
-turned his back on the cardinal.</p>
-
-<p>“A tear rolled slowly down Wolsey’s
-hollow cheek, but he made
-no reply. I at once assured the
-king that I thought, on the contrary,
-the cardinal’s advice was most excellent,
-and doubted not our king,
-and his honored mother, Madame
-Louise, might be induced to use
-their influence in order to secure
-him the suffrages of the University
-of Paris. Whereupon he appeared
-very much pleased with me, and
-bowed me out in the most gracious
-manner imaginable.</p>
-
-<p>“Report all these things faithfully
-to your master; tell him I
-fear the downfall of Wolsey is inevitable;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
-he is equally disliked by the
-queen’s adherents and those of
-Anne Boleyn, and I have every reason
-for believing he will never
-again be reinstated in the king’s
-favor. You will also say to him he
-need not be astonished that I so
-often send him despatches by express,
-as Cardinal Wolsey informs
-me confidentially that the Duke of
-Suffolk has his emissaries bribed to
-open all packages of letters sent by
-post, and that one addressed to me
-has been miscarried; which circumstance
-troubles me very much.”</p>
-
-<p>“I will also inform my master,”
-replied William, “that the Picardy
-routes are so badly managed,
-the gentlemen and couriers he
-sends are constantly detained and
-kept a considerable time on the
-journey. I have complained recently
-to the authorities themselves,
-who assure me that their salaries
-are not paid, and consequently they
-are unable to keep the routes in
-better condition.”</p>
-
-<p class="break">The sun descended toward the
-horizon. Sir Thomas More, seated
-on a terrace of his mansion at Chelsea,
-sought temporary quiet and repose
-from the oppressive burdens
-of a life every hour of which was
-devoted to the service of his king
-and country. His young children
-formed a joyous group around him,
-their flaxen heads crowned with
-blades of wheat and wild flowers
-they had gathered in the fields, for
-it was the golden time of harvest.
-Margaret, assisted by William Roper,
-directed their games, and was now
-trying to teach them a Scotch
-dance, marking the wild, fantastical
-rhythm with the notes of her
-sweet, melodious voice. Sir Thomas
-himself had joined in their
-play, when suddenly the king made
-his appearance. He had many
-times already honored them with
-such visits since Sir Thomas became
-a member of the council, having
-apparently conceived a great
-affection for him, and every day
-seeming to become more and more
-pleased with his conversation.</p>
-
-<p>“I know not why it is,” he would
-often say, “but when I have been
-for any length of time in conversation
-with More I experience a singular
-tranquillity of soul, and indeed
-feel almost happy. His presence
-has the magical effect of lulling
-my cares to sleep and calming
-my anxieties.”</p>
-
-<p>On seeing the king, More immediately
-advanced with great deference
-to receive him, while the children
-at once left off their sports.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, what is this?” he exclaimed;
-“I did not come to interrupt
-your amusements, but on the
-contrary to enjoy them with you.”
-But the wild mirth and <em>abandon</em> of
-the children had fled at the approach
-of royalty, and, in spite of
-these kind assurances, they withdrew
-in rapid succession, too glad to recover
-their liberty, and their father
-was thus left alone with the king.</p>
-
-<p>“Who is the young man I see
-here?” inquired the sovereign.</p>
-
-<p>“He is the affianced husband of
-my daughter, sire; his name is
-William Roper,” answered More.</p>
-
-<p>“What! is she affianced already?”
-said the king.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sire; the family of Roper
-has for many years been united to
-ours by the sincerest ties of friendship,
-and, strengthening these by
-ties of blood, we hope greatly to
-increase our mutual happiness.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is so,” replied the king.
-“And they will doubtless be happy.
-In your families you preserve liberty
-of choice, while we princes, born to
-thrones, sacrifice our interior happiness
-to those political combinations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
-demanded by the interests of
-our subjects.”</p>
-
-<p>“But,” replied Sir Thomas&mdash;who
-understood at once the king’s intention
-was to introduce the subject
-of his divorce, a topic he especially
-wished to avoid&mdash;“I believe that
-happiness depends on ourselves, on
-our dispositions, and the manner in
-which we conduct our affairs, a great
-deal more than on circumstances,
-or the social position in which we
-chance to be born. There are
-some who, possessing every advantage
-in life, are still unable to enjoy
-it. We would suppose them to be
-perfectly happy, and they really
-should be so; but true happiness
-consists alone in tranquillity of soul,
-which is attained by always doing
-good to others, and suffering with
-patient submission the trials and
-afflictions with which life is inevitably
-beset. Such, it seems to me, is
-the circumscribed circle in which
-man is confined; it is well with
-him so long as he accommodates
-himself to its legitimate limits, but
-all is lost the moment he endeavors
-to venture beyond it.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am every day more entirely
-convinced that this figure of the
-circle is a painful reality,” replied
-the king, with ill-concealed impatience.
-“I have always hoped to
-find happiness in the pursuit of
-pleasure&mdash;in the gratification of
-every desire&mdash;and believed it might
-thus be attained, but never yet have
-I been able to grasp it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Which means, your majesty expected
-to pass through the world
-without trials&mdash;a thing utterly impossible,”
-added More, smiling.</p>
-
-<p>“It is that which makes me despair,
-my dear Thomas. Reflecting
-on the bitter disappointments I
-have experienced, I am often almost
-transported with rage. No,
-More, you can never understand
-me. You are always equally calm
-and joyous. Your desires are so happily
-directed that you can feel well
-assured of a peaceful, quiet future
-awaiting you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your majesty is entirely mistaken,”
-replied More, “if you believe
-I have never entertained other
-desires than those I have been able
-to accomplish. The only secret I
-possess, in that respect, is, I compel
-my inclinations to obey <em>me</em>, instead
-of making my will subservient to
-them. Nevertheless, they oftentimes
-rebel and contend bitterly
-for supremacy, but then, it is only
-necessary to command silence, and
-not be disturbed by their cries and
-lamentations. Ultimately, they become
-like refractory children, who,
-constantly punished and severely
-beaten, at last are made to tremble
-at the very thought of the chastisement,
-and no longer dare to revolt.”</p>
-
-<p>“This explanation of your system
-of self-government is very ingenious,”
-replied the king; “and hearing
-you speak in this quiet manner one
-would be induced to believe it were
-the easiest thing imaginable to accomplish,
-rather than the most difficult.
-Ah!” he continued with a
-deep sigh, “I understand but too
-well <em>how</em> difficult.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is true,” replied More with
-earnest simplicity, “and I would
-not deny that, far from being agreeable,
-it is often, on the contrary,
-exceedingly painful and difficult
-for a man to impose these violent
-restraints upon his inclinations.
-But if he who hesitates on all occasions
-in the practice of virtue to
-do this necessary violence to himself
-and remain faithful to the requirements
-of duty, would reflect
-but for a single instant, he will find
-that although at first he may escape
-suffering and privation by voluntarily
-abandoning himself to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
-passions, yet, later, he will inevitably
-be made to endure a far more
-bitter humiliation in the torturing
-reproaches of conscience; the shame
-he will suffer in the loss of self-respect
-and the respect of others;
-and, in the inevitable course of
-events, he will at last discover
-that his passions have carried him
-far beyond the power of self-control
-or reformation!”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us banish these reflections,
-my dear More,” exclaimed the king
-in a petulant tone, passing his hand
-across his forehead; “they distress
-me, and I prefer a change of subject.”
-Saying this he arose, and,
-putting his arm around Sir Thomas’
-neck, they walked on together toward
-the extremity of the garden,
-which terminated in an extensive
-and beautiful terrace, at the foot of
-which flowed the waters of the
-Thames.</p>
-
-<p>The view was an extended one,
-and the king amused himself watching
-the rapid movements of the little
-boats, filled with fishermen, rowing
-in every direction, drawing in the
-nets, which had been spread to dry
-on the reeds covering the banks of
-the river. Quantities of water-lilies,
-blue flowers, floating on their large
-brilliant green leaves, intermingled
-with the dark bending heads of the
-reeds, presenting to the distant observer
-the appearance of a beautiful
-variegated carpet of flowers. “What
-a charming scene!” said the king,
-gazing at the prospect, and pointing
-to a boat just approaching the opposite
-side of the river to land a troop
-of young villagers, who with their
-bright steel sickles in hand were returning
-from the harvest fields.</p>
-
-<p>“And the graceful spire of your
-Chelsea belfry, gleaming in the distance
-through the light silvery
-clouds, completes this charming
-landscape,” he added.</p>
-
-<p>“Would it were possible to
-transport this view to the end of
-one of my drives in St. James’
-Park,” continued the king.</p>
-
-<p>“Will it be very soon completed?”
-asked Sir Thomas, at a loss
-what to say to his royal visitor.</p>
-
-<p>“I hope so,” replied Henry languidly,
-“but these architects are so
-very slow. Before going to Grafton,
-I gave them numerous orders
-on the subject.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your majesty has been quite
-pleased with your journey, I believe,”
-replied Sir Thomas, instantly
-reflecting what he should say
-next.</p>
-
-<p>“I should have been extremely
-well pleased,” he answered, with a
-sudden impatience of manner, “had
-Wolsey not persisted so obstinately
-in following me. I have been much
-too indulgent,” he continued sharply,
-“infinitely too indulgent towards
-him, and am now well convinced
-of the mistake I have made in retaining
-the slightest affection for a
-man who has so miserably deceived
-me. What would you think, More,”
-he continued, his manner suddenly
-changing, “if I appointed you in
-his place as lord chancellor?”
-And, turning towards Sir Thomas,
-he gazed fixedly in his eyes, as if to
-read the inmost emotions of his
-soul.</p>
-
-<p>“What would I think?” answered
-More, calmly&mdash;then adding with a
-careless smile, “I should think
-your majesty had done a very
-wrong thing, and made a very bad
-choice.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I believe I could not possibly
-make a better,” said the king,
-emphasizing the last words. “But I
-have not come here to discuss business
-matters; rather, on the contrary,
-to get rid of them. Come, then,
-entertain me with something more
-agreeable.” But the words designedly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
-(though with seeming unconcern)
-uttered by the king cast a
-sudden gloom over the spirit of Sir
-Thomas he vainly endeavored to
-dispel.</p>
-
-<p>“Sire, your majesty is greatly mistaken
-in entertaining such an idea,”
-he said, stammering and confused;
-for, with his sincere and truthful
-nature, More under all circumstances
-resolutely looked to the
-end of everything in which he suspected
-the least dissimulation.</p>
-
-<p>The king whirled round on his
-heel, pretending not to hear him.
-“This is a beautiful rose,” he said,
-stooping down, “a very beautiful
-variety&mdash;come from the seed, no
-doubt? Are you a gardener? I
-am very fond of flowers. Oh! my
-garden will be superb.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” said More, still pursuing
-his subject.</p>
-
-<p>“I must have a cutting of that
-rose&mdash;do you hear me, More?” As
-he ran on in this manner, to prevent
-Sir Thomas from speaking, the silvery
-notes of a bell were heard, filling
-the air with a sweet and prolonged
-vibrating sound.</p>
-
-<p>“What bell is that?” asked the
-king.</p>
-
-<p>“The bell of our chapel, sire,”
-replied More, “summoning us to
-evening prayers, which we usually
-prefer saying all together. But to-day,
-your majesty having honored
-us with a visit, there will be no obligation
-to answer the call.”</p>
-
-<p>“By all means,” replied Henry.
-“Let me interfere with nothing. It
-is almost night: come. We will return,
-and I will join in your devotions.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Thomas conducted him
-through the shrubbery towards the
-chapel, a venerable structure in
-the Anglo-Saxon style of architecture.
-A thick undergrowth of
-briers, brambles, and wild shrubbery
-was matted and interlaced
-around the foundation of the building;
-running vines clambered over
-the heavy arches of the antique windows,
-and fell back in waving garlands
-upon the climbing branches
-from which they had sprung. The
-walls, of rough unhewn stone, were
-thickly covered with moss and ivy,
-giving the little structure an appearance
-of such antiquity that the
-most scrupulous antiquarian would
-have unhesitatingly referred its foundation
-to the time of King Athelstan
-or his brother Edmund. The interior
-was adorned with extreme care
-and taste. A bronze lamp, suspended
-before the altar, illuminated a
-statue of the Holy Virgin placed
-above it. The children of Sir
-Thomas, with the servants of his
-household, were ranged in respectful
-silence behind the arm-chair of
-his aged father. Margaret knelt
-beside him with her prayer-book,
-waiting to begin the devotions.</p>
-
-<p>The touching voice of this young
-girl as she slowly repeated the sublime
-words&mdash;“Our Father who art
-in heaven”&mdash;those words which
-men may so joyfully pronounce,
-which teach us the exalted dignity
-of our being, the grandeur of our
-origin and destiny&mdash;those sublime
-words penetrated the soul of the
-king with a profound and singular
-emotion.</p>
-
-<p>“What a happy family!” he exclaimed,
-mentally. “Nothing disturbs
-their harmony; day after day
-passes without leaving a regret behind
-it. Why can I not join in
-this sweet prayer&mdash;why, O my soul,
-hast thou banished and forgotten
-it?” He turned from the contemplation
-of these youthful heads
-bowed before the Mother of God,
-and a wave of bitter remorse swept
-once again over his hardened, hypocritical
-soul.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>After the king had returned to
-his royal palace and the evening
-repast was ended, William Roper
-approached Sir Thomas and said:</p>
-
-<p>“You must consider yourself
-most fortunate, my dear father,
-in enjoying so intimately the favor
-of his majesty&mdash;why, even Cardinal
-Wolsey cannot boast of being honored
-with such a degree of friendship
-and familiarity.”</p>
-
-<p>With a sad smile More, taking
-the young man’s hand, replied:</p>
-
-<p>“Know, my son, I can never be
-elated by it. If this head, around
-which he passed his royal arm so
-affectionately this evening, could
-in falling pay the price of but one
-single inch of French territory, he
-would, without a moment’s hesitation,
-deliver it up to the executioner.”</p>
-
-<p class="break">“What acknowledgments do I
-not owe you, madam,” said Sir
-Thomas Cheney to Lady Anne Boleyn,
-“for the services you have
-rendered me. But dare I hope for
-a full pardon from the king?”</p>
-
-<p>“Feel perfectly secure on that
-point,” replied Lady Anne. “He
-is convinced that Wolsey had you
-banished from court because of
-your disagreement with Cardinal
-Campeggio, and he considers you
-now one of his most faithful adherents.”</p>
-
-<p>“And I hope, madam, to have
-the happiness of proving to you
-that I am none the less faithfully
-your servant,” replied Sir Thomas
-Cheney.</p>
-
-<p>“You must admit now,” said
-Lady Anne, addressing her father
-and brother, the Earl of Wiltshire
-and the Viscount Rochford, who
-were both present, “that I succeed
-in doing what I undertake.”</p>
-
-<p>“You succeed in what you undertake,”
-replied her father humorously,
-“but you are a long time in
-deciding what to do. For instance,
-Cardinal Wolsey finds himself to-day
-occupying a position in which
-he has no right to be.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! well, he will not remain in
-it very long,” replied Anne Boleyn,
-petulantly. “This morning the
-king told me the ladies would attend
-the chase to see the new falcons
-the king of France has sent
-him by Monsieur de Sansac. I
-will talk to him, and insist on his
-having nothing more to do with
-this horrid cardinal, or I shall at
-once quit the court. But,” she
-added, pausing suddenly with an
-expression of extreme embarrassment,
-“how should I answer were
-he to demand what his eminence
-Monseigneur Wolsey had ever done
-to <em>me</em>?”</p>
-
-<p>“Here, sister, here is your answer,”
-replied Viscount Rochford,
-taking a large manuscript book
-from his father’s portfolio. “Take
-it and read for yourself; you will
-find here all you would need for a
-reply.”</p>
-
-<p>“That great book!” cried Anne,
-strongly opposed to this new commission,
-and pouting like a spoilt
-child. Taking the book, she read&mdash;skipping
-a great deal, however&mdash;a
-minutely detailed statement, formally
-accusing Wolsey of having
-engaged in a secret correspondence
-with France, and with the most
-adroit malice misrepresenting every
-act of his administration as well
-as of his private life.</p>
-
-<p>“What! can all this be true?”
-cried Anne Boleyn, closing the
-book.</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly true,” replied Rochford.
-“And furthermore, you
-should know, the cardinal, in order
-to reward Campeggio for the
-good services he has rendered <em>you</em>,
-has persuaded the king to send<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
-him home loaded with rich presents,
-to conciliate the Pope, he says,
-by his filial submission and pious
-dispositions, and incline him to a
-favorable decision. That is the
-way he manages,” continued Rochford,
-shrugging his shoulders, “and
-keeps you in the most humiliating
-position ever occupied by a woman.”</p>
-
-<p>Hearing her brother speak thus,
-the beautiful face of Anne Boleyn
-became instantly suffused with a
-deep crimson.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that odious man,” she
-cried passionately. “I shall no
-longer submit to it. It is to insult
-me he makes such gracious acknowledgments
-to that old cardinal.
-I will complain to the king.
-Oh! how annoying all this is,
-though,” and she turned the book
-over and over in her white hands.</p>
-
-<p>“But see, it is time to start,” she
-added, pointing to a great clock
-standing in one corner of the apartment.
-“Good-by; I must go!”
-And Anne, attired in an elegant
-riding-habit, abruptly turning to a
-mirror, proceeded to adjust her
-black velvet riding-cap, when, observing
-a small plume in her hat
-that was not arranged to her taste,
-she exclaimed, violently stamping
-her little foot:</p>
-
-<p>“How many contradictions shall
-I meet this day? I cannot endure
-it! All those horrid affairs to
-think of, to talk about and explain;
-all your recommendations to follow
-in the midst of a delightful
-hunting party; and then, after all,
-this hat which so provokes me!
-No; I can never fix it.” And she
-hurried away to find a woman skilled
-in the arts of the toilet. But
-after making her sew and rip out
-again, bend the plume and straighten
-it, place it forward and then
-back, she did not succeed in fixing
-it to suit the fancy of Anne Boleyn,
-who, seeing the time flying rapidly,
-ended by cutting off the plume
-with the scissors, throwing it angrily
-on the floor and stamping it,
-putting the offending cap on her
-head without a plume; then mounting
-her horse she rode off, accompanied
-by Sir Thomas Cheney, who
-escorted her, knowing she was to
-join the king on the road.</p>
-
-<p>“How impulsive and thoughtless
-your sister is,” said Earl Wiltshire
-to his son, after Anne had left
-them, looking gloomily at the plume,
-still lying on the floor where she
-had thrown it. “She wants to be
-queen! Do you understand how
-much is comprised in that word?
-Well, she would accept a crown and
-fix it on her head with the same
-eager interest that she would order
-a new bonnet from her milliner.
-Yet I firmly believe, before accepting
-it, she would have to be well
-assured by her mirror that it was
-becoming to her style of beauty.”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot comprehend her,” responded
-Rochford. “Her good
-sense and judgment sometimes astonish
-me; then suddenly a ball,
-a dress, a new fashion has sufficed
-to make her forget the most important
-matter that might be under
-discussion. I am oftentimes
-led to wonder whence comes this
-singular mixture of frivolity and
-good sense in women. Is it a peculiarity
-of their nature or the result
-of education?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is entirely the fault of education,
-my son, and not of their
-weakness. From infancy they are
-taught to look upon ribbons, laces,
-frivolities, and fashions as the most
-precious and desirable things. In
-fact, they attach to these miserable
-trifles the same value that young
-men place on a brilliant armor or
-the success of a glorious action.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“It may be so,” replied Rochford,
-“but I think they are generally
-found as incompetent for business
-as incapable of managing affairs
-of state.”</p>
-
-<p>“While very young, perhaps not,”
-answered Wiltshire; “proud and
-impulsive, they are neither capable
-of nor inclined to dissimulation;
-but later in life they develop a
-subtle ingenuity and an extreme
-degree of penetration, that enable
-them to succeed most admirably.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! well, if the truth might be
-frankly expressed, I greatly fear
-that all this will turn out badly.
-Should we not succeed in espousing
-my sister to the king, she will
-be irretrievably compromised; and
-then you will deeply regret having
-broken off her marriage with Lord
-Percy.”</p>
-
-<p>“You talk like an idiot,” replied
-the Earl of Wiltshire. “Your
-sister shall reign, or I perish.
-Why should my house not give a
-queen to the throne of England?
-Would it not be far better if our
-kings should select wives from the
-nobility of their country instead
-of marrying foreign princesses&mdash;strangers
-alike to the manners and
-customs as well as to the interests
-of the people over whom they are
-destined to reign?”</p>
-
-<p>“You would probably be right,”
-replied Viscount Rochford, “if the
-king were not already married;
-but the clergy will always oppose
-this second marriage. They do
-not dare to express themselves
-openly because they fear the king,
-but in the end they will certainly
-preserve the nation in this sentiment.
-I fear that Anne will yet be very unhappy,
-and I am truly sorry now
-she cannot be made Countess of
-Northumberland.”</p>
-
-<p>“Hold your tongue, my son,”
-cried Wiltshire, frantic with rage;
-“will you repeat these things to
-your sister, and renew her imaginary
-regrets also? As to these
-churchmen over whom you make
-so great an ado,” he continued
-with a menacing gesture, “I hope
-soon we shall be able to relieve
-them of the fortunes with which
-they are encumbered, and compel
-them to disgorge in our favor.
-You say that women are weak and
-fickle! If so, you certainly resemble
-them in both respects&mdash;the least
-difficulty frightens you into changing
-your opinions, and you hesitate
-in the midst of an undertaking that
-has been planned with the greatest
-ability, and which, without you, I
-confidently believe I shall be able
-to accomplish.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>IS SHE CATHOLIC?</h3>
-
-<p>The claim put forth by the Episcopal
-Church&mdash;or, to use her full
-and legal title, The Protestant
-Episcopal Church of the United
-Slates of America&mdash;of being the
-Holy Catholic Church&mdash;Holy, Catholic,
-and Apostolic&mdash;and the acceptance
-of her theory by a small portion
-of the Christian world, makes
-her and her theory, for a little time,
-worthy our attention.</p>
-
-<p>She is accustomed to use the formula,
-“I believe in the Holy Catholic
-Church.” It is but natural to
-infer that she considers herself to
-be at least an integral part of that
-church. We have examined the
-question, and thus present our convictions
-as to her status.</p>
-
-<p>We note, in the first place, that
-her bishops possess no power.
-They are bishops but in name.
-There is not one of them, no matter
-how eminent he may be, who
-can say to a clergyman in his diocese:
-“Here is an important parish
-vacant; occupy it.” He would be
-met with the polite remark from
-some member of the parish, “We
-are very much obliged to you, bishop,
-but you have nothing to say
-about it. Mr. M. is the warden.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. M., the warden, may be, and
-in many instances is, a man who
-cares so little about the church
-that he has never yet been baptized,
-much less is he a communicant.
-He and his brother vestrymen,
-whether baptized or not, may, if
-the bishop claims an authority by
-virtue of his office, meet him at the
-church door, and tell him he cannot
-come in unless he will pledge
-himself to do as they wish; and the
-bishop may write a note of protest,
-and leave it behind him for them to
-tear up, as was done in Chicago
-with Bishop Whitehouse. Some
-local regulations have occasionally
-varied the above, but in the majority
-of parishes the authority is
-vested as we have stated.</p>
-
-<p>The bishop’s power of appointing
-extends to none but feeble
-missionary stations; and even these
-put on, at their earliest convenience,
-the airs of full-grown parishes.</p>
-
-<p>We note an instance where a
-bishop wrote to a lady in a remote
-missionary station, and asked regarding
-some funds which had
-been placed in her hands by parties
-interested in the growth of the
-church in that place. It had been
-specified that the money was to be
-used for whatever purpose was
-deemed most necessary. The
-bishop requested that the money
-be paid to the missionary toward
-his salary. The lady declined on
-the ground that she did not like
-the missionary. Another request in
-courteous language, as was befitting
-a bishop. He also stated his intention
-of visiting the place shortly
-in his official character.</p>
-
-<p>The lady’s reply equalled his
-own in courteous phraseology; but
-the money was refused and the
-bishop informed that he “need not
-trouble himself about making a visitation,
-as there was no class to be
-confirmed; besides, the church had
-been closed for repairs, and would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
-not be open for some months, at
-least not until a new minister was
-settled.”</p>
-
-<p>To the bishop’s positive knowledge,
-no repairs were needed; but
-he deemed it wise to stay away, and
-no further steps were taken.</p>
-
-<p>With the clergy in his diocese
-the case is not very different.</p>
-
-<p>If a presbyter of any diocese
-chooses for any reason to go from
-one parish to another for the purpose
-of taking up a permanent
-abode, he can do so with or without
-consulting his bishop. In fact,
-the bishop has nothing to do with
-it. Should the presbyter desire to
-remove to another diocese, it is requisite
-that he obtain letters dimissory
-from the bishop, and the
-bishop is obliged to give them. So
-also is the bishop in the diocese to
-which he goes obliged to receive
-them, unless they contain grave
-criminal charges.</p>
-
-<p>There is, in reality, but one thing
-the bishop of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church can do, and that is
-make an appointment once in three
-years to confirm. So insignificant
-is his power in any other direction
-that certain persons, ill-natured or
-otherwise, have fastened upon him,
-whether deserved or undeserved,
-the name of “confirming machine.”
-Certain it is that, were the power
-of confirming in any degree vested
-in the “priests” of the church,
-the office of bishop might easily be
-dispensed with. He would appear
-only as the ornamental portion of a
-few occasional services. For he
-cannot authoritatively visit any
-parish, vacant or otherwise, except
-on a confirmation tour; and should
-this be too frequent in the estimation
-of the vestry, the doors of the
-church could be shut against him
-on any plea the vestry should
-choose to advance.</p>
-
-<p>2. He cannot increase the number
-of his clergy, except as parishes
-choose.</p>
-
-<p>3. He cannot prevent a man fixing
-himself in the diocese if a congregation
-choose to “call” him, no
-matter how worthy or unworthy
-the man may be.</p>
-
-<p>4. He cannot call a clergyman
-into his diocese, though every parish
-were empty.</p>
-
-<p>5. He cannot officiate in any
-church without invitation.</p>
-
-<p>6. He has no church of his
-own, except as he officiates as rector;
-and unless invited to some
-place, he is forced, although a bishop,
-to sit in the congregation as a
-layman, if he do not stay at home.</p>
-
-<p>And, lastly, he cannot on any
-account visit a parish unless the
-vestry of that parish is willing.</p>
-
-<p>We sum up: That so far as the
-bishops of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church of the United States
-of America are concerned, they are
-simply figure-heads, ornaments possessing
-the minimum of authority&mdash;in
-point of fact, no authority at all.</p>
-
-<p>Their own convention addresses
-are a virtual confession of the condition
-of affairs as above laid down.
-To every one who has ever heard
-an Episcopal bishop’s address, as
-delivered before the annual convention
-of clergymen and laymen, the
-following sample will not appear
-as in the least overdrawn:</p>
-
-<p>July 10.&mdash;Visited the parish of
-S. John, Oakdale, and confirmed
-three.</p>
-
-<p>July 17.&mdash;Visited the parish of
-Longwood, and preached and confirmed
-one.</p>
-
-<p>July 24.&mdash;Visited S. Paul’s, and
-preached and confirmed two in the
-forenoon. Preached also in the afternoon.</p>
-
-<p>This is a very large and thriving
-parish.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>July 26.&mdash;At Montrose I visited
-and confirmed one at the evening
-service.</p>
-
-<p>July 29.&mdash;Took a private conveyance
-to Hillstown, and preached in
-the evening; confirmed one. The
-rector of this parish is very energetic.</p>
-
-<p>Aug. 2.&mdash;Attended the burial of
-a dear friend.</p>
-
-<p>Aug. 7.&mdash;Attended the consecration
-of S. Mark’s Church in Hyde
-Park. It is hoped that the difficulties
-in this parish are settled. The
-Rev. John Waters has resigned
-and gone to Omaha. Mr. William
-Steuben is the senior warden.
-May the Lord prosper him and
-his estimable lady!</p>
-
-<p>[To continue the list would cause
-a tear, and we do not wish to weep.]</p>
-
-<p>The address each year of a Protestant
-Episcopal bishop is thoroughly
-exemplified in the foregoing
-specimen. It is the same endless
-list of <i lang="el">enteuthen exelauneis</i>, varied
-only by the number of <i lang="el">parasangas</i>.
-To the lazy grammar-boy it is a
-most fascinating chapter of ancient
-history when he reaches the <i lang="el">enteuthen</i>
-section in the <cite>Anabasis</cite>.
-There is an immense list of them,
-and the lesson for that day is easy.
-When the first phrase is mastered,
-he knows all the rest, except the
-occasional figures.</p>
-
-<p>We once saw a reporter for a
-prominent Daily making a short-hand
-report of an address before
-an illustrious diocesan gathering.
-Having had some experience in the
-matter, he came to the meeting with
-his tablets prepared. They were
-as follows:</p>
-
-<table summary="The tablet was laid out like this">
-  <tr>
-    <td><span class="smcap">Visited at</span></td>
-    <td><span class="smcapuc">AND CONFIRMED.</span></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>_______________</td>
-    <td>_____  _________</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>_______________</td>
-    <td>_____  _________</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>_______________</td>
-    <td>_____  _________</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>Three-quarters of the address
-was thus prepared beforehand, it
-only being necessary to leave the
-lines sufficiently far apart to permit
-the insertion of occasional notes.</p>
-
-<p>By his extra care he was enabled
-to present the most complete report
-of any paper in the city.</p>
-
-<p>The specimen we have given is a
-fair average. In future generations,
-when a classical student is given a
-bishop’s address to read, his labor
-for that day will be easy.</p>
-
-<p>Almost any bishop’s address will
-substantiate the statements we have
-made. We refer to them freely,
-without wasting time in selection.</p>
-
-<p>We begin a new paragraph: The
-system of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church is eminently congregational.</p>
-
-<p>If a parish chooses to “call” a
-given man, he is “called.”</p>
-
-<p>Should the bishop “interfere”
-and recommend him, the recommendation,
-without an exception
-that has ever come to our knowledge,
-militates against the proposed
-“call.”</p>
-
-<p>Should a parish desire to get rid
-of a pastor, it does so with or without
-the consent of the bishop, as
-happens, in the estimation of the
-wardens, to be most convenient.
-The officers may consult the bishop,
-and, if he agree with them, well and
-good. The words of the diocesan
-are quoted from Dan to Beersheba,
-and the pastor is made to feel the
-lack of sympathy&mdash;“Even his bishop
-is against him,” is whispered
-by young and old.</p>
-
-<p>If the bishop does not agree with
-them, they do not consult him
-again. They proceed to accomplish
-what they desire as if he had
-no existence, and&mdash;they always succeed.</p>
-
-<p>There is a farcical canon of the
-Protestant Episcopal Church which
-says, if a parish dismiss its rector<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
-without concurrence, it shall not
-be admitted into convention until
-it has apologized.</p>
-
-<p>It is a very easy thing for the
-wardens and vestrymen to address
-the convention, after they have accomplished
-their ends, with “Your
-honorable body thinks we have
-done wrong, and&mdash;we are sorry for
-it,” or something else equally ambiguous
-and absurd. The officers
-of the parish and the laymen of the
-congregation have done what they
-wished, and are content. As the
-convention is composed principally
-of laymen, the sympathy is naturally
-with the laymen’s side of the
-question. The rector is hurriedly
-passed over, his clerical brethren
-looking helplessly on.</p>
-
-<p>To get a new parish the dismissed
-rector must “candidate”&mdash;a
-feature of clerical life most revolting
-to any man with a spark of manhood
-in him.</p>
-
-<p>We note, in the next place, an utter
-want of unity in the Protestant
-Episcopal Church.</p>
-
-<p>There are High-Church and Low-Church
-bookstores, where the publications
-of the one are discarded
-by the other. There are High-Church
-and Low-Church seminaries,
-where a man, to graduate from
-the one, will be looked upon inimically,
-at least with suspicion, by
-the other. There is a High-Church
-“Society for the Increase of the
-Ministry,” where the principal thing
-accomplished is the maintenance
-of the secretary of the said society
-in a large brick house in a
-fashionable city, while he claims to
-support a few students on two
-meals a day; and a Low-Church
-Evangelical Society, where they require
-the beneficiary to subscribe
-to certain articles of Low-Churchism
-before they will receive him.</p>
-
-<p>The one society is thoroughly
-hostile to the other, and, in point of
-fact, the latter was created in opposition
-to the former.</p>
-
-<p>There is but one thing in common
-between the two, and that is
-cold-shoulderism.</p>
-
-<p>There are High-Church and Low-Church
-newspapers, in which the
-epithets used by the one toward
-the other do not indicate even <em>respect</em>.</p>
-
-<p>Some of the “church’s” ministers
-would no more enter a “denominational”
-place of worship
-than they would put their hand in
-the fire. Others will fraternize
-with everything and everybody,
-and when Sunday comes will close
-their eyes&mdash;sometimes they roll
-them upward&mdash;and pray publicly:
-“From heresy and schism good
-Lord deliver us.”</p>
-
-<p>It may be necessary that there
-should be wranglings and bickerings
-within her fold, in order to constitute
-her the church militant; but
-we cannot forgive hypocrisy.</p>
-
-<p>With some of her ministers the
-grand object of existence seems to
-be to prove “Popery” an emanation
-from hell. With others the
-effort is equally great to prove the
-Episcopal Church as a “co-ordinate”
-branch with the Roman
-Church, and entitled to the same
-consideration as is paid by the
-devotees of Rome to its hierarchy.
-In both instances&mdash;viz., High
-Church and Low Church&mdash;history
-records failure.</p>
-
-<p>We notice next the relation which
-the Protestant Episcopal Church
-holds to the Church of England.</p>
-
-<p>The English Church evidently
-regards the Protestant Episcopal
-Church of the United States of
-America as a weaker sister, and not
-to be admitted to doubtful disputations.
-She is courteous toward her,
-and accepts her present of a gold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
-alms-basin from an unrobed representative
-with a certain amount of
-ceremony. She invites her bishops
-to the Lambeth Conference, and
-they pay their own fare across the
-Atlantic; but they confer about
-nothing. It is true the Protestant
-Episcopal Church approved the action
-of the English Church in condemning
-Colenso; but this was a
-safe thing for the English Church
-to present. It would have been
-hardly complimentary to have their
-guests go home without doing
-something, especially as they were
-not to be invited into Westminster
-Abbey, and were to have nothing to
-do with the coming Bible revision.</p>
-
-<p>The bishops of the Protestant
-Episcopal Church of the United
-States of America were invited to
-the English conference very much
-as country cousins are invited to
-tea, and that was all.</p>
-
-<p>By way of asserting her right to
-a recognition as an equal with the
-Church of England, she&mdash;the Protestant
-Episcopal Church of the
-United States of America&mdash;has
-established, or rather individuals
-have established and the act has received
-the sanction of the General
-Convention, certain rival congregations
-in a few foreign cities
-where the English service was already
-established. If she be of
-the same Catholic mould as the
-Church of England, why does she
-thus in a foreign city attempt to
-maintain an opposition service?
-The variations in the Prayer-Book
-are no answer to the question. If
-the English Church be Holy, Catholic,
-and Apostolic, and the Protestant
-Episcopal Church be Holy,
-Catholic, and Apostolic, the two
-are therefore one; for they both
-claim that there is but one Holy,
-Catholic, and Apostolic church.</p>
-
-<p>She is in this case unmistakably
-uncatholic, or else the English
-Church is. In either case she falls
-to the ground.</p>
-
-<p>Our attention is directed again
-to the many laws enacted against
-her bishops as compared with the
-laws enacted against the other members
-of the church. If Mosheim
-were to be restored to the flesh,
-and were to write the history of
-the Episcopal Church, and used as
-an authority the Digest of Canons,
-as he has been accustomed in his
-<cite>Ecclesiastical History</cite> to use ecclesiastical
-documents generally, he
-would style the bishops of the
-Protestant Episcopal Church a set
-of criminals of the deepest dye,
-and the priests and deacons not
-much better. The laity would be
-regarded as all that could be desired
-in lofty integrity and spotless morality.
-For why? A glance at their
-vade-mecum of law&mdash;the Digest of
-Canons&mdash;shows an immense bulk
-of its space to be devoted “to the
-trial of a bishop.” The laity go
-scot-free.</p>
-
-<p>We question the propriety, as well
-as the Catholicity, of covering the
-higher clergy with laws till they are
-helpless, while the laity revel in a
-freedom that amounts, when they
-choose, to mob-license; but it is
-done, and the Episcopal Church is
-degraded to a level lower than any
-of the denominations around her.</p>
-
-<p>With other bodies who call themselves
-Christian there is a certain
-amount of consistency. Their rulers
-are from among their own
-members. With the church under
-consideration, her rulers, in many
-cases, are any unbaptized heathen
-who may choose to work themselves
-into a temporary favor with the
-pew-holders. It is not necessary
-that they should even have ever attended
-church. We note an instance
-where the chief man of a
-small parish was a druggist, and
-kept in the rear of his drug-store a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
-low drinking-room; and this man
-was elected treasurer year after
-year by a handful of interested
-parties, and, when elected, he managed
-all the finances of the parish
-according to his own notions of
-propriety. It was his habit to go
-to the church near the close of the
-sermon, and go away immediately
-after the collection.</p>
-
-<p>We note another instance where
-a warden visited the rector of his
-parish, and threatened, with a polite
-oath, to give him something hotter
-than a section of the day of judgment
-if he did not ask his (the warden’s)
-advice a little more on parish matters.
-The parish grew so warm
-that at the end of three weeks the
-rector was candidating for another.</p>
-
-<p>We note another instance where
-a warden was so overjoyed at having
-settled a rector according to
-his own liking that, on the arrival
-of the new incumbent, he not only
-did not go to hear him preach, but
-stayed at home with certain friends,
-and enjoyed, to use his own expression,
-a “dooced big drunk.” Out of
-consideration for the feelings of his
-family we use the word “dooced”
-instead of his stronger expression.</p>
-
-<p>The rector of this happily-ruled
-parish was imprudent enough to
-incur the displeasure of his warden
-after a few months of arduous labor.
-He received a note while sitting
-at the bedside of his sick wife,
-saying that after the following Sunday
-his services would be dispensed
-with; that if he attempted to stay,
-the church would be closed for
-repairs.</p>
-
-<p>We are well acquainted with a
-parish where a congregation wished
-to displace both the senior and
-junior wardens. These two gentlemen
-had been shrewd enough to
-foresee the event. They succeeded,
-by calculating management, in having
-vested in themselves the right
-of selling pews. When Easter
-Monday came, they sold for a dollar
-a pew to loafers on the streets,
-and swarmed the election with men
-who never had entered the place before.
-The laws of the parish were
-such that there was no redress.
-As a matter of course, the rector
-was soon candidating.</p>
-
-<p>During the earliest portion of the
-official life of one of the oldest
-and most eminent bishops, he was
-called on to officiate at the institution
-of a Low-Church rector. At
-the morning service the bishop
-took occasion to congratulate the
-congregation on the assumed fact
-that they had now “an altar, a
-priest, and a sacrifice,” and went on
-to enlarge on that idea. In the
-evening of the same day the instituted
-minister, in addressing the
-congregation, said: “My brethren,
-so help me God! if the doctrines
-you heard this morning are the
-doctrines of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church, then I am no Protestant
-Episcopalian; but they are
-not such”&mdash;and essayed substantiating
-the assertion. All that
-came of the affair was the publication,
-on the part of each, of their
-respective discourses. On the supposition
-of the bishop’s having any
-foundation for his ecclesiastical
-character and for the doctrines he
-taught, would that have been the
-end of the matter?</p>
-
-<p>Can it be that the Episcopal
-Church is Catholic? Is it possible
-that she is part of the grand structure
-portrayed by prophets and
-sung in the matchless words of inspiration
-as that against which the
-gates of hell shall not prevail?
-Rather, we are forced to class her
-as a “sister” among the very “heretics”
-from whom in her litany she
-prays, “Good Lord deliver us.”</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ARE YOU MY WIFE?</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,” ETC.</p>
-
-<h4>CHAPTER X.<br />
-<span class="smcap">Alarming Symptoms.</span></h4>
-
-<p>November had come, and was
-gathering up the last tints and blossoms
-of autumn. One by one the
-garden lights were being put out;
-the tall archangel lilies drooped
-their snow and gold cups languidly;
-the jasmine, that only the other
-day twinkled its silver stars amidst
-the purple bells of the clematis, now
-trailed wearily down the trellis of
-the porch; the hardy geraniums
-made a stand for it yet, but their
-petals dropped off at every puff of
-wind, and powdered the gravel with
-a scarlet ring round their six big
-red pots that flanked the walk from
-the gate to the cottage door; the
-red roses held out like a forlorn
-hope, defying the approach of the
-conqueror, and staying to say a last
-good-by to sweet Mother Summer,
-ere she passed away.</p>
-
-<p>It was too chilly to sit out of
-doors late of afternoons now, and
-night fell quickly. M. de la Bourbonais
-had collapsed into his brown
-den; but the window stood open,
-and let the faint incense of the garden
-steal in to him, as he bent over
-his desk with his shaded lamp beside
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline had found it cold, and
-had slipt away, without saying why,
-to her own room upstairs. She was
-sitting on the floor with her hands
-in her lap, and her head pressed
-against the latticed window, watching
-the scarlet geraniums as they
-shivered in the evening breeze and
-dropped into their moist autumn
-tomb. A large crystal moon was
-rising above the woods beyond the
-river, and a few stars were coming
-out. She counted them, and listened
-to the wood-pigeon cooing in the
-park, and to the solitary note of an
-owl that answered from some distant
-grove. But the voices of wood and
-field were not to her now what they
-once had been. There was something
-in her that responded to them
-still, but not in the old way; she
-had drifted somewhere beyond their
-reach; she was hearkening for
-other voices, since one had touched
-her with a power these had never
-possessed, and whose echoing sweetness
-had converted the sounds that
-had till then been her only music
-into a blank and aching silence.
-Other pulses had been stirred, other
-chords struck within her, so strong
-and deep, and unlike the old childish
-ones, that these had become to
-her what the memory of the joys of
-childhood are to the full-grown
-man&mdash;a sweet shadow that lingers
-when the substance has fled; part
-of a life that has been lived, that
-can never be quickened again, but
-is enshrined in memory.</p>
-
-<p>She was very pale, almost like a
-shadow herself, as she sat there in
-the silver gloom. Mothers who
-met her in her walks about the
-neighborhood looked wistfully after
-the gentle young face, and said with
-a sigh: “What a pity! And so
-young too!” Yet Franceline was
-not ill; not even ailing; she never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
-complained even of fatigue, and
-when her father tapped the pale
-cheek and asked how his <i lang="fr">Clair-de-lune</i>
-was, she would answer brightly
-that she had never been better in
-her life, and as she had no cough,
-he believed her. A cough was
-Raymond’s single diagnosis of disease
-and death; he had a vague
-but deep-seated belief that nobody,
-no young person certainly, ever died
-a natural death without this fatal
-premonitory symptom. And yet
-he could not help following Franceline
-with an anxious eye as he saw
-her walking listlessly about the garden,
-or sitting with a book in her
-hand that she let drop every now
-and then to look dreamily out of
-the window, and only resumed with
-an evident effort. Sometimes she
-would go and lean her arms on the
-rail at the end of the garden, and
-stand there for an hour together
-gazing at the familiar landscape as
-if she were discovering some new
-feature in it, or straining her eyes
-to see some distant object. He
-could not lay his finger on any particular
-symptom that justified anxiety,
-and still he was anxious; a
-change of some sort had come over
-the child; she grew more and more
-like her mother, and it was not until
-Armengarde was several years older
-than Franceline that the disease
-which had been germinating in her
-system from childhood developed
-itself and proved fatal.</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais never alluded
-to Franceline’s refusal of Sir
-Ponsonby Anwyll, but he had not
-forgotten it. In his dreamy mind he
-cogitated on the possibility of the
-offer being renewed, and her accepting
-it. As to Clide de Winton,
-he had quite ceased to think of
-him, and never for an instant coupled
-him in his thoughts with Franceline.
-It did not strike him as significant
-that Sir Simon had avoided
-mentioning the young man since
-his return. After the conversation
-that Clide had once been the subject
-of between them, this reticence
-was natural enough. The failure
-of his wild, affectionate scheme
-placed him in a somewhat ridiculous
-position towards Raymond,
-and it was no wonder that he
-shrank from alluding to it.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Ponsonby had left Rydal immediately
-after the eventful ride we
-know of. He could not remain in
-Franceline’s neighborhood without
-seeing her, and he had sense enough
-to feel that he would injure rather
-than serve his cause by forcing his
-society on her after what had passed.
-This is as good as admitting
-that he did not look upon his cause
-as lost. What man in love for the
-first time would give up after one
-refusal, if his love was worth the
-name? Ponsonby was not one of
-the faint-hearted tribe. He combined
-real modesty as to his own
-worth and pretensions with unbounded
-faith in the power of his
-love and its ultimate success. The
-infallibility of hope and perseverance
-was an essential part of his
-lover’s creed. He did not apply
-the tenet with any special sense of
-its fitness to Franceline in particular.
-He was no analyzer of character;
-he did not discriminate nicely between
-the wants and attributes of
-one woman and another; he blended
-them all in a theoretical worship,
-and included all womankind in his
-notions as to how they were individually
-to be wooed and won. He
-would let them have their own way,
-allow them unlimited pin-money,
-cover them with trinkets, and gratify
-all their little whims. If a girl
-were ever so beautiful and ever so
-good, no man could do more for
-her than this; and any man who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
-was able and willing to do it, ought
-to be able to win her. Ponsonby
-took heart, and trusted to his uniform
-good luck not to miss the
-prize he had set his heart on. He
-would rejoin his regiment for the
-present, and see what a month’s
-absence would do for him. He
-had one certain ground of hope:
-Franceline did not dislike him, and,
-as far as he could learn or guess,
-she cared for no one else. Sir Simon
-was his ally, and would keep
-a sharp lookout for him, and keep
-the little spark alive&mdash;if spark there
-were&mdash;by singing his praises judiciously
-in the ear of the cruel fair
-one.</p>
-
-<p>She, meanwhile, went on in her
-usual quiet routine, tending the
-sick, teaching some little children,
-and working with her father, who
-grew daily more enamored of her
-tender and intelligent co-operation.
-Lady Anwyll called soon after Ponsonby’s
-departure, and was just as
-kind and unconstrained as if nothing
-had happened. She did not
-press Franceline to go and stay at
-Rydal, but hoped she would ride
-over there occasionally with Sir
-Simon to lunch. Her duties as
-secretary to Raymond made the
-sacrifice of a whole afternoon repugnant
-to her; but she did go
-once, just to show the old lady that
-she retained the same kind feeling
-towards her as before anything had
-occurred to make a break in their
-intimacy. It was delightful when
-she came home to find that her father
-had been utterly at sea without
-her, mooning about in a helpless
-way amongst the notes and papers
-that under her management had
-passed from confusion and chaos
-into order and sequence. While
-everything was in confusion he
-could find his way through the
-maze, but he had no key to this
-new order of things. Franceline
-declared she must never leave him
-so long again; he had put everything
-topsy-turvy, he was not to be trusted.
-The discovery of his dependence
-on her in a sphere where she
-had till lately been as useless to
-him as Angélique or Miss Merrywig
-was a source of infinite enjoyment
-to her, and she threw herself into
-her daily task with an energy that
-lightened the labor immensely to
-her father, without, as far as Franceline
-could say, fatiguing herself.
-But fatigue for being unconscious
-is sometimes none the less real.
-It may be that this sustained application
-was straining a system already
-severely tried by mental pressure.
-She was one day writing
-away as usual, while Raymond, with
-a bookful of notes in his hand,
-stood on the hearth-rug dictating.
-Suddenly she was seized with a fit
-of coughing, and, putting her handkerchief
-quickly to her mouth, she
-drew it away stained with crimson.
-She stifled a cry of terror that rose
-to her lips, and hurried out of the
-room. Her father had seen nothing,
-but her abrupt departure
-startled him; he hastened after her,
-and found her in the kitchen holding
-the handkerchief up to Angélique,
-who was looking at the fatal
-stain with a face rather stupefied
-than terrified.</p>
-
-<p>“My God, have pity upon me!
-My child! My child!” he cried,
-clasping his hands and abandoning
-himself to his distress with the impassioned
-demonstrativeness of a
-Frenchman.</p>
-
-<p>Woman, it is said truly, is more
-courageous at bearing physical pain
-than man; it is true also that she
-has more self-command in controlling
-the expression of mental pain.
-Her instinct is surer too in guiding
-her how to save others from suffering;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
-let her be ever so untutored,
-she will prove herself shrewder
-than the cleverest man on occasions
-like the present. Angélique’s
-womanly instinct told her at once
-that it was essential not to frighten
-Franceline: that the nervous shock
-would infallibly aggravate the evil,
-wherever the cause lay, and that
-the best thing to do now was to
-soothe and allay her fears.</p>
-
-<p>“Bless me! what is there to
-make a row about?” she cried with
-an angry chuckle, crushing the
-handkerchief in her fingers and
-darting a look on her master
-which, if eyes could knock down,
-must have laid him prostrate on
-the spot; “the child has an indigestion
-and has thrown up a
-mouthful of bread from her stomach.
-Hein!”</p>
-
-<p>“How do you know it is from
-the stomach and not from the
-lungs?” he asked, already reassured
-by her confidence, and still
-more by her incivility.</p>
-
-<p>“How do I know? Am I a
-fool? Would it be that color if it
-was from the lungs? I say it is
-from the stomach, and it is a good
-business. But we must not have
-too much of it. It would weaken
-the child; we must stop it.”</p>
-
-<p>“I will run for the doctor at
-once!” exclaimed M. de la Bourbonais,
-still trembling and excited.
-“Or stay!&mdash;no!&mdash;I will fly to the
-Court and they will despatch a
-man on horseback!” He was hurrying
-away when Angélique literally
-shouted at him:</p>
-
-<p>“Wilt thou be quiet with thy
-doctor and thy man on horseback!
-I tell thee it is from the stomach;
-I know what I am about. I want
-neither man nor horse. It is from
-the stomach! Dost thou take me
-for a fool at this time of my life?”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond stood still like a chidden
-child while the old servant
-poured this volley at him. Franceline
-stared at her aghast. In her
-angry excitement the grenadier
-had broken through not only all
-barriers of rank, but all the common
-rules of civility&mdash;she who was
-such a strict observer of both that
-they seemed a very part of herself.
-This ought to have opened their
-eyes, if nothing else did; but Franceline
-was only bewildered, Raymond
-was cowed and perplexed.</p>
-
-<p>“If thou art indeed quite sure,”
-he said, falling into the familiar
-“thee and thou” by which she addressed
-him, and which on her deferential
-lips sounded so outrageous
-and unnatural&mdash;“if thou art indeed
-certain I will be satisfied; but, my
-good Angélique, would it not be a
-wise precaution to have a medical
-man?&mdash;only just, as thou sayest
-well, to prevent its going too far.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, well, if Monsieur le Comte
-wishes, let it be; let the doctor
-come; for me, I care not for him;
-they are an ignorant lot, pulling
-long faces to make long bills; but
-if it pleases Monsieur le Comte, let
-him have one to see the child.”
-She nodded her flaps at him, as if
-to say, “Be off then at once and
-leave us in peace!”</p>
-
-<p>He was leaving the room, when,
-turning round suddenly, he came
-close up to Franceline. “Dost
-thou feel a pain, my child?” he said,
-peering anxiously into her face.</p>
-
-<p>“No, father, not the least pain.
-I am sure Angélique is right; I feel
-nothing here,” putting her hand to
-her chest.</p>
-
-<p>“God is good! God is good!”
-muttered the father half audibly,
-and, stroking her cheek gently, he
-went.</p>
-
-<p>“Let not Monsieur le Comte go
-rushing off himself; let him send
-one of those thirty-six lackeys at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
-the Court!” cried Angélique, calling
-after him through the kitchen
-window.</p>
-
-<p>In her heart and soul Angélique
-was terrified. She had thrown
-out quite at random, with the instinct
-of desperation, that confident
-assurance as to the color of the
-stain. Her first impulse was to
-save Franceline from the shock,
-but it had fallen full upon herself.
-This accident sounded like the first
-stroke of the death-knell. No one
-would have supposed it to look at
-her. She set her arms akimbo and
-laughed till she shook at her own
-impudence to M. le Comte, and
-how meekly M. le Comte had borne
-it, and how scared his face was, and
-what a joke the business was altogether.
-To see him stand there
-wringing his hands, and making
-such a wailing about nothing!
-But when Franceline was going to
-answer and reproach her old <i lang="fr">bonne</i>
-with this inopportune mirth, she
-laid her hand on the young girl’s
-mouth and bade her peremptorily
-be silent.</p>
-
-<p>“If you go talking and scolding,
-child, there is no knowing what
-mischief you may do. Come and
-lie down, and keep perfectly quiet.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline obeyed willingly
-enough. She was weak and tired,
-and glad to be alone awhile.</p>
-
-<p>Angélique placed a cold, wet
-cloth on her chest, and made her
-some cold lemonade to drink. It
-was making a fuss about nothing,
-to be sure; but it would please M.
-le Comte. He was never happier
-than when people were making a
-fuss over his <i lang="fr">Clair-de-lune</i>.</p>
-
-<p>It was not long before the count
-returned, accompanied by Sir Simon.
-Angélique saw at a glance
-that the baronet understood how
-things were. He talked very big
-about his confidence that Angélique
-was right; that it was an accident
-of no serious import whatever;
-but he exchanged a furtive glance
-with the old woman that sufficiently
-belied all this confident talk. He
-was for going up to see Franceline
-with M. de la Bourbonais, but Angélique
-would not allow this. M. le
-Comte might go, if he liked, provided
-he did not make her speak;
-but nobody else must go; the room
-was too small, and it would excite
-the child to see people about her.
-So Raymond went up alone. As
-soon as his back was turned, Angélique
-threw up her hands with
-a gesture too significant for any
-words. Sir Simon closed the door
-gently.</p>
-
-<p>“I am not duped any more than
-you,” he said. “It is sure to be
-very serious, even if it is not fatal.
-Tell me what you really think.”</p>
-
-<p>“I saw her mother go through
-it all. It began like this. Only
-Madame la Comtesse had a cough;
-the petite has never had one.
-That is the only thing that gives
-me a bit of hope; the petite has
-never coughed. O Monsieur Simon!
-it is terrible. It will kill
-us all three; I know it will.”</p>
-
-<p>“Tut, tut! don’t give up in this
-way, Angélique,” said the baronet
-kindly, and turning aside; “that
-will mend nothing; it is the very
-worst thing you could do. I agree
-with you that it is very serious;
-not so much the accident itself,
-perhaps&mdash;we know nothing about
-that yet&mdash;but on account of the
-hereditary taint in the constitution.
-However, there has been no cough
-undermining it so far, and with
-care&mdash;I promise you she shall
-have the best&mdash;there is every reason
-to hope the child will weather it.
-At her age one weathers everything,”
-he added, cheerfully.
-“Come now, don’t despond; a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
-great deal depends on your keeping
-a cheerful countenance.”</p>
-
-<p>“I know it, monsieur, and I will
-do my best. But I hear steps!
-Could it be the doctor already?
-For goodness’ sake run out and meet
-him, and tell him, as he hopes to save
-us all, not to let Monsieur le Comte
-know there is any danger! It is
-all up with us if he does. Monsieur
-le Comte could no more hide it
-than a baby could hide a pin in its
-clothes.”</p>
-
-<p>She opened the door and almost
-pushed Sir Simon out, in her terror
-lest the doctor should walk in
-without being warned.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon met him at the back
-of the cottage. A few words were
-exchanged, and they came in together.
-Raymond met them on
-the stairs. The medical man preferred
-seeing his patient alone; the
-nurse might be present, but he
-could have no one else. In a very
-few minutes he came down, and a
-glance at his face set the father’s
-heart almost completely at rest.</p>
-
-<p>“Dear me, Sir Simon, you would
-never do for a sick nurse. You
-prepared me for a very dangerous
-case by your message; it is a mere
-trifle; hardly worth the hard ride
-I’ve had to perform in twenty minutes.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then there is nothing amiss
-with the lungs?”</p>
-
-<p>“Would you like to sound them
-yourself, count? Pray do! It
-will be more satisfactory to you.”
-And he handed his stethoscope to
-M. de la Bourbonais&mdash;not mockingly,
-but quite gravely and
-kindly.</p>
-
-<p>That provincial doctor missed
-his vocation. He ought to have
-been a diplomatist.</p>
-
-<p>Instead of the proffered stethoscope,
-M. de la Bourbonais grasped
-his hand. His heart was too full
-for speech. The reaction of security
-after the brief interval of agony
-and suspense unnerved him. He sat
-down without speaking, and wiped
-the great drops from his forehead.
-The medical man addressed himself
-to Sir Simon and Angélique. There
-was nothing whatever to be alarmed
-at; but there was occasion for care
-and certain preventive measures.
-The young lady must have perfect
-rest and quiet; there must be no
-talking for some time; no excitement
-of any sort. He gave sundry
-directions about diet, etc., and
-wrote a prescription which was to
-be sent to the chemist at once.
-M. de la Bourbonais accompanied
-him to the door with a lightened
-heart, and bade him <i lang="fr">au revoir</i> with
-a warm pressure of the hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, let me hear the truth,”
-said Sir Simon, as soon as they entered
-the park.</p>
-
-<p>“You have heard the truth&mdash;though
-only in a negative form. If
-you noticed, we did not commit ourselves
-to any opinion of the case;
-we only prescribed for it. This
-was the only way in which we
-could honestly follow your instructions,”
-observed the doctor, who
-always used the royal “we” of authorship
-when speaking professionally.</p>
-
-<p>“You showed great tact and prudence;
-but there is no need for
-either now. Tell me exactly what
-you think.”</p>
-
-<p>“It will be more to the purpose
-to tell you what we know,” rejoined
-the medical man. “There is a
-blood-vessel broken; not a large
-one, happily, and if the hemorrhage
-does not increase and continue,
-it may prove of no really serious
-consequence. But then we must
-remember the question of inheritance.
-That is what makes a
-symptom in itself trifling assume a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
-grave&mdash;we refrain from saying fatal&mdash;character.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are convinced that this is
-but the beginning of the end&mdash;am
-I to understand that?” asked Sir
-Simon. He was used to the doctor’s
-pompous way, and knew him
-to be both clever and conscientious,
-at least towards his patients.</p>
-
-<p>“It would be precipitating an
-opinion to say so much. We are
-on the whole inclined to take a
-more sanguine view. We consider
-the hitherto unimpaired health of
-the patient, and her extreme youth,
-fair grounds for hope. But great
-care must be taken; all excitement
-must be avoided.”</p>
-
-<p>“You may count on your orders
-being strictly carried out,” said Sir
-Simon.</p>
-
-<p>They walked on a few yards without
-further speech. Sir Simon was
-busy with anxious and affectionate
-thoughts.</p>
-
-<p>“I should fancy a warm climate
-would be the best cure for a case of
-this kind,” he observed, answering
-his own reflections, rather than
-speaking to his companion.</p>
-
-<p>“No doubt, no doubt,” assented
-Dr. Blink, “if the patient was in a
-position to authorize her medical
-attendant in ordering such a measure.”</p>
-
-<p>“Monsieur de la Bourbonais is in
-that position,” replied Sir Simon,
-quietly.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! I am glad to know it. I
-may act on the information one of
-these days. The young lady could
-not bear the fatigue of a journey to
-the south just now; the general
-health is a good deal below par;
-the nervous system wants toning;
-it is unstrung.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon made no comment&mdash;not
-at least in words&mdash;but it set his
-mind on painful conjecture. Perhaps
-the electric chain passed from
-him to his companion, for the latter
-said irrelevantly but with a significant
-expression, as he turned
-his glance full upon Sir Simon:</p>
-
-<p>“We medical men are trusted
-with many secrets&mdash;secrets of the
-heart as well as of the body. We
-ask you frankly, as a friend of our
-patient, is there any moral cause at
-work&mdash;any disappointed affection
-that may have preyed on the mind
-and fostered the inherited germs
-of disease?”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot answer that question,”
-replied the baronet after a moment’s
-hesitation.</p>
-
-<p>“You cannot, or you will not?
-Excuse my pertinacity; it is professional
-and necessary.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon hesitated again before
-he answered.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot even give a decided
-answer to that. I had some time
-ago feared there existed something
-of the sort, but of late those apprehensions
-had entirely disappeared.
-If you had put the question to me
-yesterday, I should have said emphatically
-there is nothing to fear
-on that score; the child is perfectly
-happy and quite heart-whole.”</p>
-
-<p>“And to-day you are not prepared
-to say as much,” persisted
-Dr. Blink. “Something has occurred
-to modify this change of opinion?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing, except the accident
-that you know of and your question
-now. These suggest to me that I
-may have been right in the first instance.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is it in your power or within
-the power of circumstances to set
-the wrong right&mdash;to remove the
-cause of anxiety&mdash;assuming that it
-actually exists?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, it is not; nothing can remove
-it.”</p>
-
-<p>“And she is aware of this?”</p>
-
-<p>“I fear not.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Say rather that you hope not.
-In such cases hope is the best physician;
-let nothing be done, as far
-as you can prevent it, to destroy
-this hope in the patient’s mind; I
-would even venture to urge that
-you should do anything in your
-power to feed and stimulate it.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is impossible; quite impossible,”
-said Sir Simon emphatically.
-The doctor’s words fell on
-him like a sting, and this very feeling
-increased to conviction what
-had, at the beginning of the conversation,
-been only a vague misgiving.</p>
-
-<p class="break">Franceline rallied quickly, and
-with her returning strength Sir Simon’s
-fears were allayed. He had
-not been able to follow the doctor’s
-advice as to keeping alive any
-soothing delusions that might exist
-in her mind, but he succeeded, by
-dint of continually dinning it into
-his ears that there was no danger,
-in convincing her father that there
-was not; and the cheerfulness and
-security that radiated from him
-acted beneficially on her, and
-proved of great help to the medical
-treatment. And was Dr. Blink
-right in his surmise that a moral
-cause had been at work and contributed
-to the bursting of the
-blood-vessel? If Franceline had
-been asked she would have denied
-it; if any one had said to her that
-the accident had been brought on
-by mental suffering, or insinuated
-that she was still at heart pining
-for a lost love, she would have answered
-with proud sincerity: “It
-is false; I am not pining. I have
-ceased to think of Clide de Winton;
-I have ceased to love him.”</p>
-
-<p>But which of us can answer truly
-for our own hearts? We do not
-want to idealize Franceline. We
-wish to describe her as she was, the
-good with the evil; the struggle
-and the victory as they alternated
-in her life; her heart fluctuating,
-but never consciously disloyal.
-There must be flaws in every picture
-taken from life. Perfection is
-not to be found in nature, except
-when seen through a poet’s eyes.
-Perhaps it was true that Franceline
-had ceased to love Clide. When
-our will is firmly set upon self-conquest
-we are apt to fancy it
-achieved. But conquest does not
-of necessity bring joy, or even
-peace. Nothing is so terrible as
-a victory, except a defeat, was a
-great captain’s cry on surveying the
-bloody field of yesterday’s battle.
-The frantic effort, the bleeding trophies
-may inflict a death-wound on
-the conqueror as fatal, in one
-sense, as defeat. We see the
-“good fight” every day leading to
-such issues. Brave souls fight and
-carry the day, and then go to reap
-their laurels where “beyond these
-voices there is peace.” Franceline
-had gained a victory, but there was
-no rejoicing in the triumph. Her
-heart plained still of its wounds;
-if she did not hear it, it was because
-she would not; it still bemoaned
-its hard fate, its broken
-cup of happiness.</p>
-
-<p>She rose up from this illness,
-however, happier than she had
-been for months. It was difficult
-to believe that the period which
-had worked such changes to her
-inward life counted only a few
-months; it seemed like years, like
-a lifetime, since she had first met
-Clide de Winton. She resumed
-her calmly busy little life as before
-the break had come that suspended
-its active routine. By Dr. Blink’s
-desire the teaching class was suppressed,
-and the necessity of guarding
-against cold prevented her doing
-much amongst the sick; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
-this extra leisure in one way enabled
-her to increase her work in
-another; she devoted it to writing
-with her father; this never tired
-her, she affirmed&mdash;it only interested
-and amused her.</p>
-
-<p>The advisability of a trip to some
-southern spot in France or Italy
-had been suggested by Dr. Blink;
-but the proposal was rejected by
-his patient in such a strenuous and
-excited manner that he forebore to
-press it. He noticed also an expression
-of sudden pain on M. de
-la Bourbonais’ countenance, accompanied
-by an involuntary deep-drawn
-sigh, that led him to believe
-there must be pecuniary impediments
-in the way of the scheme,
-notwithstanding Sir Simon’s assurance
-to the contrary. The <i lang="fr">émigré</i>
-was universally looked upon as a
-poor man. Who else would live as
-he did? Still Sir Simon must have
-known what he was saying. However,
-as it happened, the cold
-weather, which was now setting in
-pretty sharp, was by no means favorable
-to travelling, so the doctor
-consented willingly enough to abide
-by the patient’s circumstances and
-wishes. A long journey in winter is
-always a high price for an invalid to
-pay for the benefit of a warm climate.</p>
-
-<p>In the first days of December,
-Sir Simon took flight from Dullerton
-to Nice. Lady Rebecca was
-spending the winter at Cannes, and
-as Mr. Simpson reported that “her
-ladyship’s health had declined visibly
-within the last month,” it was
-natural that her dutiful step-son
-should desire to be within call in
-case of any painful eventuality. If
-the climate of the sunny Mediterranean
-town happened to be a very
-congenial winter residence to him,
-so much the better. It is only fair
-that a man should have some compensation
-for doing his duty.</p>
-
-<p>The day before he started Sir
-Simon came down to The Lilies.</p>
-
-<p>“Raymond,” he said, “you have
-sustained a loss lately; you must
-be in want of money; now is the
-time to prove yourself a Christian,
-and let others do unto you as you
-would do unto them. You offered
-me money once when I did not
-want it; I offer it to you now that
-you do.” And he pressed a bundle
-of notes into the count’s hands.</p>
-
-<p>But Raymond crushed them back
-into his. “Mon cher Simon! I do
-not thank you. That would be ungrateful;
-it would look as if I were
-surprised, whereas I have long
-since come to take brotherly kindness
-as a matter of course from
-you. But in truth I do not want
-this money; I give you my word I
-don’t!”</p>
-
-<p>“If you pledge your word, I
-must believe you, I suppose,” returned
-the baronet; “but promise
-me one thing&mdash;if you should want it,
-you will let me know?”</p>
-
-<p>“I promise you I will.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon with a sigh, which
-Raymond took for reluctance, but
-which was really one of relief, replaced
-the notes in his waistcoat
-pocket. “I had better leave you a
-blank check all the same,” he said;
-“you might happen to want it, and
-not be able to get a letter to me at
-once. There is no knowing where
-the vagabond spirit may lead me,
-once I am on the move. Give me
-a pen.” And he seated himself at
-the desk.</p>
-
-<p>Raymond protested; but it was
-no use, Sir Simon would have
-his own way; he wrote the blank
-check and saw it locked up in the
-count’s private drawer. M. de la
-Bourbonais argued from this reckless
-committal of his signature that
-the baronet’s finances were in a
-flourishing condition, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
-greatly rejoiced. Alas! if the
-truth were known, they had never
-been in a sorrier plight. He had offered
-the bank-notes in all sincerity,
-but if Raymond had accepted
-it, Sir Simon would have been at
-his wit’s end to find the ready
-money for his journey. But he
-kept this dark, and rather led his
-friend to suppose him flush of
-money; it was the only chance of
-getting him to accept his generosity.</p>
-
-<p>“Mind you keep me constantly
-informed how Franceline gets on,”
-were his parting words; and M.
-de la Bourbonais promised.</p>
-
-<p>She got on in pretty much the
-same way for some time. Languid
-and pale, but not suffering; and
-she had no cough, and no return of
-the symptoms that had alarmed
-them all so much. Angélique
-watched her as a cat watches a
-mouse, but even her practised eye
-could detect no definite cause for
-anxiety.</p>
-
-<p>One morning, about a fortnight
-after Sir Simon’s departure, Franceline
-was alone in the little sitting-room&mdash;her
-father had gone to do
-some shopping for her in the town,
-as it was too cold for her to venture
-out&mdash;when Sir Ponsonby
-Anwyll called. The moment she
-saw him she flushed up, partly with
-surprise, partly with pleasure. A
-casual observer would have concluded
-this to be a good sign for the
-visitor; a male friend would have
-unhesitatingly pronounced him a
-lucky dog. Ponsonby himself felt
-slightly elated.</p>
-
-<p>“I heard you were ill,” he said,
-“and as I am at home on leave for
-a few days, I could not resist coming
-to inquire for you. You are
-not displeased with me for coming?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, indeed; it is very kind of
-you. I am glad to see you,” Franceline
-replied with bright, grateful
-eyes.</p>
-
-<p>Hope bounded up high in Ponsonby.</p>
-
-<p>“They told me you had been
-very ill. I hope it is not true.
-You don’t look it,” he said anxiously.</p>
-
-<p>“I have been frightening them a
-little more than it was worth; but
-I am quite well now. How is
-Lady Anwyll?”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, she’s just as usual;
-in very good health and a tremendous
-bustle. You know I always
-put the house topsy-turvy when I
-come down. Not that I mean to do
-it; it seems to come of itself as a
-natural consequence of my being
-there,” he explained, laughing. “Is
-M. de la Bourbonais quite well?”</p>
-
-<p>“Quite well. He will be in presently;
-he is only gone to make a
-few purchases for me.”</p>
-
-<p>“How anxious he must have
-been while you were ill!”</p>
-
-<p>“Dear papa! yes he was.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you ride much now?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not at all. I am forbidden to
-take any violent exercise for the
-present.”</p>
-
-<p>All obvious subjects being now
-exhausted, there ensued a pause.
-Ponsonby was the first to break it.</p>
-
-<p>“Have you forgiven me, Franceline?”
-he said, looking at her tenderly,
-and with a sort of sheepish
-timidity.</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed I have; forgiven and
-forgotten,” she replied; and then
-blushing very red, and correcting
-herself quickly: “I mean there was
-nothing to forgive.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s not the sort of forgiveness
-I want,” said Ponsonby, growing
-courageous in proportion as she
-grew embarrassed. “Franceline, why
-can you not like me a little? I
-love you so much; no one will ever
-love you better, or as well!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>She shook her head, but said nothing,
-only rose and went to the
-window. He followed her.</p>
-
-<p>“You are angry with me again!”
-he exclaimed, and was going to
-break out in entreaties to be forgiven;
-when stooping forward he
-caught sight of her face. It was
-streaming with tears!</p>
-
-<p>“There, the very mention of it
-sets you crying! Why do you hate
-me so?”</p>
-
-<p>“I do not hate you. I never
-hated you! I wish with all my
-heart I could love you! But I cannot,
-I cannot! And you would not
-have me marry you if I did not love
-you? It would be false and selfish
-to accept your love, with all it would
-bring me, and give so little in return?”
-She turned her dark eyes on
-him, still full of tears, but unabashed
-and innocent, as if he had been
-a brother asking her to do something
-unreasonable.</p>
-
-<p>“So little!” he cried, and seizing
-her hand he pressed it to his lips;
-“if you knew how thankful I would
-be for that little! What am I but
-an awkward lout at best! But I
-will make you happy, Franceline;
-I swear to you I will! And your
-father too. I will be as good as a
-son to him.”</p>
-
-<p>She made no answer but the
-same negative movement of her
-head. She looked out over the
-winter fields with a dreamy expression,
-as if she only half heard him,
-while her hand lay passively in
-his.</p>
-
-<p>“Say you will be my wife! Accept
-me, Franceline!” pleaded the
-young man, and he passed his arm
-around her.</p>
-
-<p>The action roused her; she
-snatched away her hand and started
-from him. It was not aversion
-or antipathy, it was terror that dictated
-the movement. Something
-within her cried out and forbade
-her to listen. She could no more
-control the sudden recoil than she
-could control the tears that gushed
-out afresh, this time with loud sobs
-that shook her from head to foot.</p>
-
-<p>“Good heavens! what have I
-done?” exclaimed Ponsonby, helpless
-and dismayed. “Shall I go
-away? shall I leave you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! it is nothing. It is over
-now,” said Franceline, her agitation
-quieted instantaneously by
-the sight of his. She dashed the
-tears from her cheeks impatiently;
-she was vexed with herself for
-giving way so before him. “Sit
-down; you are trembling all over,”
-said the young man; and he gently
-forced her into a chair. “I am sorry
-I said anything; I will never
-mention the subject again without
-your permission. Shall I go away?”</p>
-
-<p>“It would be very ungracious to
-say ‘yes,’” she replied, trying to
-smile through the tears that hung
-like raindrops on her long lashes;
-“but you see how weak and foolish
-I am.”</p>
-
-<p>“My poor darling! I will go and
-leave you. I have been too much
-for you. Only tell me, may I come
-soon again&mdash;just to ask how you
-are?”</p>
-
-<p>She hesitated. To say yes
-would be tacitly to accept him;
-yet it was odious to turn him off
-like this without a word of kindly
-explanation to soften the pang.
-Ponsonby could not read these
-thoughts, so he construed her hesitation
-according to the immemorial
-logic of lovers.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, never mind answering
-now,” he said; “I won’t bother you
-any more to-day. You will present
-my respects to the count, and say
-how sorry I was not to see him.”</p>
-
-<p>He held out his hand for good-by.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“You will meet him on the road,
-I dare say,” said Franceline, extending
-hers. “You will not tell
-him how I have misbehaved to
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>The shy smile that accompanied
-the request emboldened Ponsonby to
-raise the soft, white hand to his lips.
-Then turning away he overturned a
-little wicker flower-stand, happily
-with no injury to the sturdy green
-plant, but with considerable damage
-to the dignity of his exit.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps you will say that Mlle.
-de la Bourbonais behaved like a
-flirt in parting with a discarded
-lover in this fashion. It is easy
-for you to say so. It is not so easy
-for a woman with a heart to inflict
-unmitigated pain on a man who
-loves her, and whose love she at
-least requites with gratitude, esteem,
-and sisterly regard.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Ponsonby met the count on
-the road; he made sure of the encounter
-by walking his horse up
-and down the green lane which
-commanded the road from Dullerton
-to The Lilies. What passed
-between them remained the secret
-of themselves and the winter thrush
-that perched on the brown hedge
-close by and sang out lustily to the
-trees and fields while they conversed.</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais made no
-comment on his daughter’s tear-stained
-cheeks when he came home;
-but taking her face between his
-hands, as he was fond of doing, he
-gave one wistful look, kissed it,
-and let it go.</p>
-
-<p>“How long you have been away,
-petit père! Shall we go to our
-writing now?” she inquired cheerfully.</p>
-
-<p>“Art thou not tired, my child?”</p>
-
-<p>“Tired! What have I done to
-tire me?”</p>
-
-<p>She sat down at his desk, and
-nothing was said of Sir Ponsonby
-Anwyll’s visit.</p>
-
-<p class="break">The excitement of that day’s interview
-told, nevertheless, on Franceline.
-It left her nervous, and weaker
-than she had been since her recovery.
-These symptoms escaped
-her father’s notice, and they would
-have escaped Angélique’s, owing to
-Franceline’s strenuous efforts to
-conceal them, if a slight cough had
-not come to put her on the <i lang="fr">qui vive</i>
-more than ever. It was very slight
-indeed, only attacking her in the
-morning when she awoke, and quite
-ceasing by the time she was dressed
-and down-stairs. Franceline’s
-room was at one end of the cottage;
-Angélique slept next to her;
-and at the other end, with the
-stairs intervening, was the count’s
-room. He was thus out of ear-shot
-of the sound, which, however rare
-and seemingly unimportant, would
-have filled him with alarm. Franceline
-treated it as a trifle not
-worth mentioning; but when her
-old <i lang="fr">bonne</i> insisted on taking her
-discreetly to Dr. Blink and having
-his opinion about it, she gave in to
-humor her. The doctor once more
-applied his stethoscope, and then,
-smiling that grim, satisfied smile
-of his that was so reassuring to patients
-till they had seen it practised
-on others and found out it was
-a fallacy, remarked:</p>
-
-<p>“We are glad to be able to assure
-you again that there is nothing
-to be frightened at; no mischief
-that cannot be forestalled by care,
-and docility to our instructions,” he
-added emphatically. “We must order
-you some tonics, and you must
-take them regularly. How is the
-appetite?” turning to Angélique,
-who stood by devouring the oracle’s
-words and watching every line
-of his features with a shrewd, almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
-vicious expression of mistrust
-on her brown face.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! the appetite. She will not
-be eating many; she will be wanting
-dainty plates which I cannot
-make,” explained the Frenchwoman,
-sticking pertinaciously to
-the future tense, as usual when she
-spoke English.</p>
-
-<p>“Invalids are liable to those caprices
-of the palate,” remarked Dr.
-Blink blandly; “but Miss Franceline
-will be brave and overcome
-them. Dainty dishes are not always
-the most nourishing, and nourishment
-is necessary for her; it is essential.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is what I will be telling
-mamselle,” assented Angélique;
-“but she will not be believing
-me. I will be telling her
-every day the strength is in the
-bouillon; but she will be making a
-grimace and saying ‘Pshaw!’”</p>
-
-<p>The last word was uttered with a
-grimace so expressive that Franceline
-burst out laughing, and the
-pompous little doctor joined in it
-in spite of his dignity. She promised
-to do her best to obey him
-and overcome her dislike to the
-bouillon, Angélique’s native panacea,
-and to other substantial food.</p>
-
-<p>But she found it very hard to
-keep the promise. It required
-something savory to tempt her
-weak appetite. Angélique saw she
-was doing her best, and never pressed
-the poor child needlessly; but
-she would groan over the plate as
-she removed it, sometimes untouched.
-“I used to think myself
-a ‘blue ribbon’ until now,” she
-said once to Franceline, with an impatient
-sigh; “but I am at the end
-of my talent; I can do nothing
-to please mamselle.” And then
-she would long for Sir Simon to
-come home. It happened unluckily
-that the professed artist who
-presided over the kitchen at the
-Court was taking a holiday during
-his master’s absence. Angélique
-would have scorned to invoke the
-skill of the subaltern who replaced
-him, but she had a profound admiration
-for the <i lang="fr">chef</i> himself, and,
-though an Englishman, she bowed
-unreservedly to his superior talents.
-The belief was current that Sir Simon
-would spend the Christmas at
-Dullerton; he always did when not
-at too great a distance at that time.
-It was the right thing for an English
-gentleman to do, and his bitterest
-foe would not accuse the
-baronet of failing to act up to that
-standard.</p>
-
-<p>This year, however, it was not
-possible. The weather was glorious
-at Nice and it was anything
-but that at Dullerton, and the long
-journey in the cold was not attractive.
-He wrote home desiring
-the usual festivities to be arranged
-according to the old custom of the
-place; coals and clothing were to
-be distributed <i lang="la">ad libitum</i>; the fatted
-calf was to be killed for the
-tenantry, and everybody was enjoined
-to eat, drink, and be merry
-in spite of the host’s absence.
-They conscientiously followed these
-hospitable injunctions, but it was a
-grievous disappointment that Sir
-Simon was not in their midst to
-stimulate the conviviality by his
-kindly and genial presence. Pretty
-presents came to The Lilies, but
-they did not bring strength to
-Franceline. She grew more transparent,
-more fragile-looking, as the
-days went on. Angélique held private
-conferences with Miss Merrywig,
-and that lady suggested that
-any of the large houses in the
-neighborhood would be only too
-delighted to be of any use in sending
-jellies flavored with good strong
-wine. There was nothing so nourishing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
-for an invalid; Miss Merrywig
-would speak to one where
-there was a capital cook. But Angélique
-would not hear of it. No,
-no! Much as she longed for the
-jelly she dared not get it in this
-way. M. le Comte would never
-forgive her. “He will be so proud,
-M. le Comte! He will be a
-Scotchman! He will not be confessing
-even to me that he wants
-nothing. But Monsieur Simon will
-be coming; he will be coming soon,
-and then he will be making little
-plates for mamselle every day.”
-Meantime she and Franceline did
-their best to hide from Raymond
-this particular reason for desiring
-their friend’s return. But he noticed
-that she ate next to nothing,
-and that she often signed to Angélique
-to remove her plate on which
-the food remained untasted. Once
-he could not forbear exclaiming:
-“Ah! if we were in Paris I could
-get some <i lang="fr">friandise</i> to tempt thee!”</p>
-
-<p>In the middle of January one
-morning a letter came from Sir
-Simon, bearing the London postmark.</p>
-
-<p>He had been obliged to come to
-England on pressing business of a
-harassing nature.</p>
-
-<p>“Is Sir Simon coming home,
-petit père?” inquired Franceline
-eagerly, as her father opened the
-letter.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; but only for a day. He
-will be here after to-morrow, and
-fly away to Nice the next day.”</p>
-
-<p>“How tiresome of him! But it
-is better to see him for a day than
-not at all. Does he say what hour he
-arrives? We will go and meet him.”</p>
-
-<p>“It will be too late for thee to be
-out, my child. He comes by the
-late afternoon train, just in time to
-dress for dinner and receive us all.
-He has invited several friends in
-the neighborhood to dine.”</p>
-
-<p>“What a funny idea! And he is
-only coming for the day?”</p>
-
-<p>“Only for the day.”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond’s eyebrows closed like
-a horseshoe over his meditative
-eyes as he folded the baronet’s letter
-and laid it aside. There was
-more in it than he communicated
-to Franceline. It was the old
-story; money tight, bills falling
-due, and no means of meeting
-them. Lady Rebecca had taken a
-fresh start, thanks to an Italian
-quack who had been up from Naples
-and worked wonders with some diabolical
-elixir&mdash;diabolical beyond a
-doubt, for nothing but the black-art
-could explain the sudden and
-extraordinary rally; she was all but
-dead when the quack arrived&mdash;so
-Mr. Simpson heard from one of
-her ladyship’s attendants. Simpson
-himself was terribly put out by the
-news; it overturned all his immediate
-plans; he saw no possibility of
-any longer avoiding extremities.
-Extremities meant that the principal
-creditor, a Jew who had lent a
-sum of thirty thousand pounds on
-Sir Simon’s life-interest in Dullerton,
-at the rate of twenty per cent,
-was now determined to wait no
-longer for his arrears of twenty per
-cent, but turn the baronet out of
-possession and sell his life-interest
-in the estate. This sword of Damocles
-had been hanging over his
-debtor’s head for the last ten years.
-It was to meet this usurious interest
-periodically that Sir Simon was
-driven to such close quarters. He
-had up to this time contrived to answer
-the demand&mdash;Heaven and Mr.
-Simpson alone knew at what sacrifices.
-But now he had come to a
-point beyond which even he declared
-he could not possibly carry
-his client. He had tried to negotiate
-post-obit bills on Lady Rebecca’s
-fifty thousand pounds, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
-the Jews were too sharp for that.
-Lady Rebecca was sole master of
-her fifty thousand pounds, and
-might leave it to whom she liked.
-She had made her will bequeathing
-it to her step-son, and <em>he</em> was morally
-as certain of ultimately possessing
-the money as if it were entailed;
-but moral security is no security at
-all to a money-lender. The money
-was <em>not</em> entailed; Lady Rebecca
-might take it into her head to alter
-her will; she might leave it to a
-quack doctor, or to some clever
-sycophant of an attendant. There
-is no saying what an old lady of
-seventy-five may not do with fifty
-thousand pounds. Sir Simon pshawed
-and pooh-poohed contemptuously
-when Simpson enumerated these
-arguments against the negotiation
-of the much-needed P. O. bills;
-but it was no use. Israel was inexorable.
-And now one particular
-member of the tribe called Moses
-to witness that if he were not paid
-his “twenty per shent” on the first
-of February, he would seize upon
-the life-interest of Dullerton Court
-and make its present owner a bankrupt.
-He could sell nothing, either
-in the house or on the estate; the
-plate and pictures and furniture
-were entailed. If this were not the
-case, things need not have come to
-this with Sir Simon. Two of those
-Raphaels in the great gallery would
-have paid the Jew principal and
-interest together; but not a spoon
-or a hearth-brush in the Court
-could be touched; everything belonged
-to the heir. No mention
-has hitherto been made of
-that important person, because
-he in no way concerns this story,
-except by the fact of his existence.
-He was a distant kinsman
-of the present baronet, who had
-never seen him. He was in diplomacy,
-and so lived always abroad.
-People are said to dislike their
-heirs.</p>
-
-<p>If Sir Simon disliked any human
-being, it was his. He did not dislike
-Lady Rebecca; he was only out
-of patience with her; she certainly
-was an aggravating old woman&mdash;living
-on to no purpose, that he
-could see, except to frustrate and
-harass him. Yet he had kindly
-thoughts of her; he had only cold
-aversion towards the man who was
-waiting for his own death to come
-and rule in his stead. He had
-never spoken of him to M. de la
-Bourbonais except to inform him
-that he existed, and that he stood
-in his way on many occasions. In
-the letter of this morning he spoke
-of him once more. The letter was
-a long one, and calmer than any
-previous effusion of the kind that
-Raymond remembered. There
-was very little vituperation of the
-duns, or even of the chief scoundrel
-who was about to tear away
-the veil that had hitherto concealed
-the sores and flaws in the popular
-landlord’s life. This was what he
-felt most deeply in it all; the disgrace
-of being shown up as a sham&mdash;a
-man who had lived like a prince
-while he had been in reality a beggar,
-in debt up to his ears, and who
-was now about to be made a bankrupt.
-Raymond had never before
-understood the real nature of his
-friend’s embarrassment; he was
-shocked and distressed more than
-he could express. It was not the
-moment to judge him; to remember
-the reckless extravagance, the
-criminal want of prudence, of conscience,
-that had brought him to
-this pass. He only thought of the
-friend of his youth, the kind, faithful,
-delightful companion who had
-never failed in friendship, whatever
-his other sins may have been. And
-now he was ruined, disgraced before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
-the world, going to be driven
-forth from his ancestral home
-branded as a life-long sham. Raymond
-could have wept for pity.
-Then it occurred to him with a
-strange pang that he was to dine
-with Sir Simon the next day; the
-head cook had been telegraphed
-for to prepare the dinner; there
-was to be a jovial gathering of
-friends to “cheer him up.” What
-a mystery it was, this craving for
-being cheered up, as if the process
-were a substantial remedy that in
-some way helped to pay debts, or
-postpone payment! The count
-was too sad at heart to smile. He
-rose from the breakfast-table with a
-sigh, and was leaving the room
-when Franceline linked her hands
-on his arm, and said, looking up
-with an anxious face:</p>
-
-<p>“It is a long letter, petit père; is
-there any bad news?”</p>
-
-<p>“There is hardly any news at
-all,” he replied evasively. In truth
-there was not.</p>
-
-<p>“Then why do you look so sad?”</p>
-
-<p>“Why dost thou look so pale?”
-was the reply. And he smiled tenderly
-and sighed again as he kissed
-her forehead.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>ÆSCHYLUS.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">A sea-cliff carved into a bas-relief!</div>
-<div class="verse">Art, rough from Nature’s hand; by brooding Nature</div>
-<div class="verse">Wrought out in spasms to shapes of Titan stature;</div>
-<div class="verse">Emblems of Fate, and Change, Revenge, and Grief,</div>
-<div class="verse">And Death, and Life; in giant hieroglyph</div>
-<div class="verse">Confronting still with thunder-blasted frieze</div>
-<div class="verse">All stress of years, and winds, and wasting seas&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">The stranger nears it in his western skiff,</div>
-<div class="verse">And hides his eyes. Few, few shall dare, great Bard,</div>
-<div class="verse">Thy watery portals! Entering, fewer yet</div>
-<div class="verse">Shall pierce thy music’s meaning, deep and hard!</div>
-<div class="verse">But these shall owe to thee an endless debt;</div>
-<div class="verse">The Eleusinian caverns they shall tread</div>
-<div class="verse">That wind beneath man’s heart; and wisdom learn with dread.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">Aubrey de Vere.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>A PRECURSOR OF MARCO POLO.</h3>
-
-<p>The merchants and missionaries
-who were the first travellers and
-ambassadors of Christian times little
-thought, absorbed as they were
-in the object of their quest, how
-large a share of interest in the eyes
-of posterity would centre in the
-quaint observations, descriptions,
-and drawings which they were able
-incidentally to gather or make.
-Marco Polo’s name, and even those
-of his father and uncle, Niccolo and
-Matteo Polo, are well known, and
-are associated with all that barbaric
-magnificence the memory of which
-had a great share in keeping alive the
-perseverance of subsequent explorers.
-It was fitting that traders in
-jewels should reach the more civilized
-and splendid Tartars, and no
-doubt their store of rich presents,
-and their garments of ample dimensions
-as well as fine texture, would
-prove a passport through tribes so
-passionately acquisitive as the Tartars
-seem to have been. Nomads
-are not always simple-minded or unambitious.
-The Franciscan whose
-travels come just between the expedition
-of the elder Polo and the
-more famous Marco&mdash;Friar William
-Rubruquis&mdash;did not have the
-good-luck to see the wonders his
-successor described; but he mentions
-repeatedly that his entertainers
-made reiterated and minute
-inquiries as to the abundance of
-flocks and herds in the country he
-came from, and that they wondered&mdash;rather
-contemptuously&mdash;at the
-presents of sweet wine, dried fruits,
-and delicate cakes which were all
-he had to offer their great princes.</p>
-
-<p>Rubruquis was traveller, missionary,
-and ambassador, but in the
-two pursuits denoted by the last-mentioned
-titles his success was
-but small. As a traveller, however,
-he was hardy, persevering, and observant.
-Though not bred a horseman,
-he often rode thirty leagues a
-day, and half the time at full gallop,
-he says. His companions,
-monks like himself, could not
-stand the fatigue, and both, at different
-intervals, parted company from
-him. But Rubruquis was young and
-strong, though, as he himself says,
-corpulent and heavy; and, above all,
-he was enterprising. He was not
-more than five-and-twenty when he
-started on his quest of the Christian
-monarch whom all the rulers of
-Europe firmly believed in, and
-whose name has come down to us
-as Prester John.</p>
-
-<p>Born in 1230, he devoted himself
-early to the church, and during the
-Fourth Crusade went on a pilgrimage
-to the Holy Land. His real
-name was Ruysbroek, but, according
-to the unpatriotic fashion of
-the times, he Latinized it into Rubruquis.
-S. Louis, King of France,
-eager for the Christian alliance
-which the supposed Prester John
-would be able to enter into with
-him, had once already sent an embassy
-of monks to seek him; but
-they had failed to perform a sixth
-part of the journey set down for
-them, and had heard no tidings
-of a monarch answering to the description.
-The king, nothing daunted,
-determined to send another embassy
-on a voyage of discovery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
-Vague news of a Christian Tartar
-chief, by name Sartach, had come
-to him; probably the toleration
-extended by the Tartars to Christians&mdash;a
-contrast to the behavior of
-most Saracenic chiefs&mdash;led to this
-obstinate belief in a remote Christian
-empire of the East.</p>
-
-<p>William de Rubruquis, Bartholomew
-of Cremona, and a companion
-named Andrew, all Franciscan
-friars, were chosen for this new expedition.
-On the 7th of May, 1253
-(says his narrative, though it has
-since been calculated that, as S.
-Louis was a captive at the time, the
-date 1255 is more likely to be correct),
-the travellers, having crossed
-the Black Sea from Constantinople,
-landed at Soldaia, near Cherson.
-The king, somewhat unwisely as it
-proved, had told his envoy to represent
-himself as a private individual
-travelling on his own account.
-But the Tartars were acute and
-jealous of foreigners; they knew
-that travelling entailed too much
-fatigue and danger to be undertaken
-simply for pleasure, and they had
-small regard for any stranger, unless
-the representative of a prince. They
-guessed his mission, and taxed him
-with it, till he was obliged to acknowledge
-that he was the bearer
-of letters from the Christian King
-of France to the mighty khan, Sartach.
-But though the people do
-not seem to have taken him for a
-private person, they were puzzled
-by the poverty of his dress and the
-scantiness of the presents he offered
-them. Even small dignitaries
-expected to be royally propitiated.
-He explained his vow of poverty
-to them, but this did not impress
-the Tartars as favorably as he wished.
-Still, he met with nothing but
-civility and hospitality.</p>
-
-<p>Rubruquis says that Soldaia was
-a great mart for furs, which the
-Russians exchanged with the merchants
-of Constantinople for silks,
-cotton, spices, etc. The third day
-after his departure he met a wandering
-tribe, “among whom being
-entered,” he says, “methought I
-was come into a new world.”</p>
-
-<p>He goes on to describe their
-houses on wheels, no despicable or
-narrow habitations, even according
-to modern ideas:</p>
-
-<p>“Their houses, in which they
-sleep, they raise upon a round
-foundation of wickers artificially
-wrought and compacted together,
-the roof consisting of wickers also
-meeting above in one little roundel,
-out of which there rises upwards a
-neck like a chimney, which they cover
-with white felt; and often they lay
-mortar or white earth upon the felt
-with the powder of bones, that it
-may shine and look white; sometimes,
-also, they cover their houses
-with black felt. This cupola …
-they adorn with a variety of pictures.
-Before the door they hang
-a felt curiously painted over; for
-they spend all their colored felt in
-painting vines, trees, birds, and
-beasts thereupon. These houses
-they make so large that they contain
-thirty feet in breadth; for, measuring
-once the breadth between the
-wheel-ruts, … I found it to be
-twenty feet over, and when the
-house was upon the cart it stretched
-over the wheels on each side
-five feet at least. I told two-and-twenty
-oxen in one draught, drawing
-an house upon a cart, and
-eleven more on the other side.
-(Two rows, one in front of the
-other, we suppose.) … A fellow
-stood in the door of the house,
-driving the oxen.”</p>
-
-<p>Sometimes a woman drove, or
-walked at the head of the leaders
-to guide them. “One woman will
-guide twenty or thirty carts at once;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
-for their country is very flat, and
-they fasten the carts with camels
-or oxen one behind another. A
-girl sits in the foremost cart, driving
-the oxen, and all the rest of
-themselves follow at a like pace.
-When they come to a place which
-is a bad passage, they loose them,
-and guide them one by one.…”</p>
-
-<p>The baggage was so arranged as
-to be taken through the smaller
-rivers of Asia without being injured
-or wetted. It consisted of square
-chests of wicker-work, with a hollow
-lid or cover of the same, “covered
-with black felt, rubbed over with
-tallow or sheep’s milk to keep the
-rain from soaking through, which
-they also adorn with painting or
-white feathers.” These were placed
-on carts with very high wheels, and
-drawn by camels instead of oxen.
-The encampment was like a large
-village, well defended by palisades
-formed of the carts off which the
-houses had been taken, and which
-were drawn up in two compact lines,
-one in front and one in the rear of
-the dwellings, “as it were between
-two walls,” says our traveller. A rich
-Tartar commonly had one hundred,
-or even two hundred, such cart-houses.
-Each house had several
-small houses belonging to it, placed
-behind it, serving as closets, store-rooms,
-and sleeping chambers, and
-often as many as two hundred
-chests and their necessary carts.
-This made immense numbers of
-camels and oxen for draught necessary;
-and, besides, there were the
-animals for food and milk, and the
-horses for the men. They had
-cow’s milk and mare’s milk, two
-species of food which they used
-very differently, and even made of
-social and religious importance.
-Only the men were allowed to milk
-the mares, while the women attended
-to the cows; and any interchange
-of these offices would have been
-deemed, in a man, unpardonable
-effeminacy, and in a woman indelicacy.
-At the door of the houses
-stood two tutelary deities, monsters
-of both sexes. The cow’s milk
-served for the food of women and
-children, while the mare’s milk was
-made into a fermented liquor called
-cosmos. This was supposed to
-make a heathen of the man who
-drank it; for the Nestorian Christians
-found among them, “who keep
-their own laws very strictly, will
-not drink thereof; they account
-themselves no Christians after they
-have once drunk of it; and their
-priests reconcile them to the church
-as if they had renounced the Christian
-faith.”</p>
-
-<p>This cosmos was made thus:
-The milk was poured into a large
-skin bag, and the bag beaten with a
-wooden club until the milk began
-to ferment and turn sour. The
-bag was then shaken and cudgelled
-again until most of it turned to butter;
-after which the liquid was supposed
-to be fit for drinking. Rubruquis
-evidently liked it; says it
-was exhilarating to the spirits, and
-even intoxicating to weak heads;
-pungent to the taste, “like raspberry
-wine,” but left a flavor on the palate
-“like almond-milk.” Cara-cosmos,
-a rarer quality of the same, and reserved
-for the chiefs only, was produced
-by prolonging the beating
-of the bag until the coagulated
-portions subsided to the bottom.
-These drinks were received as tribute
-or taxes. Baatu, a chief with
-sixteen wives, received the produce
-of three thousand mares daily, besides
-a quantity of common cosmos,
-a bowl of which almost always stood
-on the threshold of every rich man’s
-house. The Tartars often drank of
-it to excess, and their banquets were
-relieved by music.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>At these feasts, in which both
-sexes participated, the guests clapped
-their hands and danced to the
-music, the men before their host,
-the women before his principal
-wife. The host always drank first.
-The moment he put his lips to the
-bowl of cosmos, his cup-bearer
-cried aloud “Ha!” and the musicians
-struck up. This almost sounds
-like a mediæval Twelfth-night banquet,
-when all the guests rose
-and shouted, “The king drinks!”
-and then drained their goblets in
-imitation of the monarch of the
-night. The Tartars respectfully
-waited till the lord of the feast had
-finished his draught, when the cup-bearer
-again cried “Ha!” and the
-music ceased. After a pause, the
-guests, male and female, drank round
-in turns, each one to the sound of
-music, with a pause and silence before
-the next person took up the
-cup. This fashion of drinking continued
-unchanged for many centuries,
-and later travellers, amid the
-increased pomp of the court of the
-Tartar emperors of China, found it
-still in force&mdash;music, cries, pauses,
-and all. We have also seen, not
-many years ago, on the occasion of
-the marriage of the late young emperor
-of China, illustrations of the
-wedding procession, representing
-immensely wide carts, drawn by
-eleven oxen abreast, laden with
-costly state furniture; and if we take
-away the pomp and gilding, the picture
-is not unlike that of the Tartar
-camp-carts seen by our traveller.
-Rubruquis hints that the Tartars
-were not a temperate people; they
-drank much and not cleanly, and
-the way of “inviting” a person to
-drink was to seize his ears and
-pull them forcibly. The sweet
-wine, of which the monk had a small
-supply, pleased them very well, but
-they thought him not lavish enough
-in his hospitality; for once, on his
-offering the master of the house
-one flagon of this wine, the man
-gravely drained it and asked for
-another, saying that “a man does
-not go into a house with one foot.”
-In return, however, they did not give
-him much to eat; but perhaps he
-suffered hunger rather from his prejudice
-to the meat they ate than
-from their niggardliness in giving.
-He at last learned to eat horse-flesh,
-but was disgusted at his friends’ eating
-the bodies of animals that had
-died of disease. The Tartars were
-honest enough, and, never even took
-things by force; but they begged for
-everything that took their fancy as
-unblushingly as some of Paul Du
-Chaillu’s negroes in Africa. It
-surprised them to be refused anything&mdash;knives,
-gloves, purses, etc.&mdash;and,
-when gratified, never thought
-it necessary to thank their guests.</p>
-
-<p>After a while Rubruquis met the
-carts of Zagatai, one of the chieftains,
-to whom he brought a letter
-from the Emperor of Constantinople.
-Here the Tartars asked “what
-we had in our carts&mdash;whether it
-were gold, or silver, or rich garments”;
-and both Zagatai and his
-interpreter were haughtily discontented
-at finding that at least some
-garment of value was not forthcoming.
-This is not wonderful,
-considering the wealth of their own
-great khans, of whom a later one,
-Kooblai, so celebrated in Marco
-Polo’s travels, gave his twelve lords,
-twelve times in the year, robes of
-gold-colored silk, embroidered with
-gold and precious stones. Zagatai,
-however, received the ambassador
-graciously. “He sat on his bed,”<a name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a>
-says Rubruquis, “holding a musical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
-instrument in his hand, and his
-wife sat by him, who, in my opinion,
-had cut and pared her nose
-between the eyes, that she might
-seem to be more flat-nosed; for she
-had left herself no nose at all in
-that place, having anointed the
-very scar with black ointment, as
-she also did her eyebrows, which
-sight seemed to me most ugly.…
-I besought him that he would accept
-this small gift at our hands,
-excusing myself that I was a monk,
-and that it was against our profession
-to possess gold, silver, or precious
-garments, and therefore that
-I had not any such thing to give
-him, unless he would receive some
-part of our victuals instead of a
-blessing.” The Tartars were always
-eager to receive a blessing over and
-above any present. He was constantly
-asked to make over them the sign
-of the cross; but it is to be feared
-that they looked upon it as a charm,
-and of charms they couldn’t have
-too many. From Zagatai, Rubruquis
-went to Sartach, who said he
-had no power of treating with him,
-and sent him on to his father-in-law,
-Baatu, the patriarch with sixteen
-wives and several hundred houses.
-Losing his ox-wagons and baggage
-on the way&mdash;for the independent
-tribes did not scruple to exact tribute
-from a traveller, even if he was
-a friend of their neighbors&mdash;he
-never lost his courage and his determination
-to sow the seeds of
-truth in Tartary. He did not know
-the language at first, and only
-learnt it very imperfectly at the
-last. Here and there a captive
-Christian, mostly Hungarians, or a
-Tartar who had learnt the rudiments
-of Christianity during an invasion
-of his tribe into Europe,
-acted as interpreter. All were
-uniformly kind to him. One of
-them, who understood Latin and
-psalmody, was in great request at
-all the funerals of his neighborhood;
-but the “Christianity” of
-the natives was but a shred of Nestorianism
-worked into a web of
-paganism, so that, the farther he
-advanced, the farther the great, powerful,
-united Christian community
-headed by Prester John seemed
-to recede. The people took kindly
-to Christian usages, and had some
-respect for the forms and ceremonies
-which the monk and his companions
-endeavored to keep up;
-but when it came to doctrine and
-morality, they grew impatient and
-unresponsive. One of Rubruquis’
-interpreters often refused to do his
-office. “And thus,” says the traveller,
-“it caused me great chagrin
-when I wished to address to them
-a few words of edification; for he
-would say to me, ‘You shall not
-make me preach to-day; I understand
-nothing of all you tell me.’
-… And then he spoke the truth;
-for afterwards, as I began to understand
-a little of their tongue, I perceived
-that when I told him one
-thing he repeated another, just according
-to his fancy. Therefore,
-seeing it was no use to talk or
-preach, I held my tongue.”</p>
-
-<p>Hard riding was not the only
-thing that distressed the ambassador
-of the King of France. His companions
-gave him meat that was
-less than half-cooked, and sometimes
-positively raw. Then the
-cold began to be severe, and still
-there were at least four months’
-travel before him. The Tartars
-were kind to him in their rough
-way, and gave him some of their
-thick sheepskins and hide shoes.
-He had insisted on journeying
-most of the time in his Franciscan
-sandals, and, full of ardor for his
-rule, had constantly refused gifts
-of costly garments. This the Tartars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
-never quite understood, but
-they respected the principle which
-caused him to make so many sacrifices
-for the sake and furtherance of
-his religion. Wherever he passed,
-he and his companions endeared
-themselves to the inhabitants by
-many little services (doubtless also
-by cures wrought by simple remedies),
-and generally by their gentle,
-unselfish conduct towards all men.
-Rubruquis observed everything minutely
-as he passed. The manners
-and customs of the people interested
-him, and perhaps he did not
-consider them quite such barbarians
-as we of later days are apt to
-do. When we read the accounts
-of domestic life among the majority
-of people in mediæval times, and
-see that refinement of manner was
-less thought of than costliness of
-apparel and wealth of plate and
-cattle, the difference between such
-manners and those of the Tartars
-is not appreciable. Few in those
-days were learned, and learning it
-is that has always made the real
-difference between a gentleman and
-a boor. The marauding chieftains
-of feudal times were only romantic
-and titled highwaymen after all.
-So were the wandering Tartars.
-The difference that has since
-sprung up between the descendants
-of the marauding barons and
-those of the Tartar chiefs is mainly
-one of race. The former are of an
-enterprising, improving race, the
-latter of a stagnant one; and while
-the European nations that then
-trembled before the invading
-hordes of Jengis-Khan have now
-developed into intellectual superiority
-over every other race in the
-world, the Tartar is still, socially
-and intellectually, on the same old
-level, and his political advantages
-have vanished with his rude warlike
-superiority before the diplomacy
-and the military organization
-of his former victims.</p>
-
-<p>Rubruquis noticed that among the
-superstitions common in Tartary was
-a belief that it was unlucky for a
-visitor to touch the threshold of a
-Tartar’s door. Modern travellers
-assert the same of the Chinese.
-Whenever our envoy paid a visit,
-he deferred to this belief by carefully
-stepping across the threshold
-of the house or tent, without letting
-any part of his person or dress
-come in contact with it. Their
-dress, on festive occasions, was
-rich; for they traded with China,
-Persia, and other southern and
-eastern countries for “stuffs of silk,
-cloths of gold, and cotton cloths,
-which they wear in time of summer;
-but out of Russia, Bulgaria, Hungaria,
-and out of Chersis (all which
-are northern regions and full of
-woods), … the inhabitants bring
-them rich and costly skins and furs
-of divers sorts, which I never saw
-in our countries, wherewithal they
-are clad in winter.” The rough
-sheepskin coats had their place also
-in their toilet, and a material made
-of two-thirds wool and one-third
-horsehair furnished them with caps,
-saddle-cloths, and felt for covering
-their wagons.</p>
-
-<p>The women’s dress was distinguished
-from the men’s simply
-by its greater length, and they
-often rode, like the men, astride
-their horses, their faces protected
-by a white veil, crossing the nose
-just below the eyes and descending
-to the breast. Immense size and
-flat noses were the great desiderata
-among them. Marriage was a
-mere bargain, and daughters were
-generally sold to the highest bidder.
-Though expert hunters, the
-Tartars were scarcely what we
-should call sportsmen. They hunted
-on the <i lang="fr">battue</i> system, spreading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
-themselves in a wide circle, and
-gradually contracting this as they
-drove the game before them, until
-the unfortunate animals being penned
-in in a small space, they were
-easily shot down by wholesale.
-Hawking was also in vogue among
-the Tartars, and was reduced as
-much to a science as in Europe.
-They strenuously punished great
-crimes with death, as, for instance,
-murder, theft, adultery, and even
-minor offences against chastity.
-This, however, was less the consequence
-of a regard for virtue <i lang="la">per
-se</i> than of a vivid perception of
-the rights of property. No code
-but the Jewish and the Christian
-ever protected the honor of women
-for its own sake. In mourning for
-the dead it is strange that violent
-howling and lamentation, even on
-the part of those not personally
-concerned, should be a form common
-to almost all nations, not only
-of different religions, but of various
-and widely-separated races.
-The Tartars, as well as the Celts,
-practised it. Rubruquis mentions
-that they made various monuments
-over the graves of their dead, sometimes
-mere mounds or barrows of
-earth, or towers of brick and even
-of stone&mdash;though no stone was to
-be found near the spot&mdash;and sometimes
-large open spaces, paved with
-stone, with four large stones placed
-upright at the corners, always facing
-the four cardinal points.</p>
-
-<p>It was during winter that the envoy
-arrived at the court or encampment
-of Mandchu-Khan. He says
-that it was at the distance of twenty
-days’ journey from Cataya, or Cathay
-(China), but it is difficult to
-say exactly where that was. Here
-Rubruquis found a number of
-Nestorian priests peacefully living
-under the khan’s protection, and
-among them one who had only arrived
-a month before the Franciscan
-friar, and said he had come, in
-consequence of a vision, to convert
-the khan and his people. He was
-an Armenian from the Holy Land.
-Our missionary describes him thus
-in his terse, direct way, which has
-this advantage over the long-winded
-and minute descriptions of our
-day, that we seem to see the man
-before us: “He was a monk, somewhat
-black and lean, clad with a
-rough hair-coat to the knees, having
-over it a black cloak of bristles,
-furred with spotted skins, girt with
-iron under his hair-cloth.” Mandchu-Khan
-was tolerant and liberal,
-and rather well disposed than otherwise
-to the Christian religion. His
-favorite wife, whom he had lately
-lost, had been a Christian, and so
-was his first secretary, but both
-Nestorian Christians. The khan,
-or his servants&mdash;who doubtless expected
-to be propitiated with the
-usual gifts if they could only succeed
-in wearying out the patience
-of the new-comers&mdash;made the envoy
-wait nine days for an audience.
-The Tartars thought it strange that
-a king’s ambassador should come
-to court bare-foot; but a boy, a
-Hungarian captive, again gave the
-required and often-repeated explanation.
-Before entering the large
-hall, whose entrance was closed by
-curtains of gayly-painted felt, the
-monks were searched, to see if
-they carried any concealed arms;
-and then the procession formed,
-the Christian missionaries entering
-the khan’s presence singing the
-hymn <cite>A Solis ortus cardine</cite>. The
-khan, like the lesser chieftains Rubruquis
-had already met, was seated
-on a “bed” or divan, dressed
-“in a spotted skin or fur, bright
-and shining.” The multitudinous
-bowings and prostrations in use at
-the Chinese court were very likely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
-exacted, though the envoy says in
-general terms that “he had to
-bend the knee.” Such simplicity
-is, however, very far from the ceremonious
-Oriental ideal of homage,
-and it was not then, as it is now,
-esteemed an honor to receive Frankish
-envoys in the Frankish manner.
-Mandchu first offered his guests a
-drink of fermented milk, of which
-they partook sparingly, not to offend
-him; but the interpreter soon
-made himself unfit for his office
-by his indulgence in his
-favorite beverage. Rubruquis stated
-his mission with modest simplicity.
-In his quality of ambassador
-he might have resented
-the delay in receiving him; he
-might have complained of the familiarity
-and want of respect with
-which he had been often treated,
-and of the advantage taken of his
-gentleness and ignorance of the
-language to plunder him; but he
-was more than a king’s messenger.
-He was intent upon preaching the
-“good tidings” to the Tartars, and
-only used human means to compass
-a divine end. He acknowledged
-that he had no rich presents nor
-temporal goods to offer, but only
-spiritual benefits to impart. His
-practice certainly did not belie his
-theory. The people never disbelieved
-him, nor suspected him of
-being a political emissary. But still,
-he was unsuccessful. He soon perceived
-that his interpreter was
-blundering, and says: “I easily
-found he was drunk, and Mandchu-Khan
-himself was drunk also, as I
-thought.” All he could obtain was
-leave to remain in the country during
-the cold season. Inquiries met
-him on all sides as to the wealth
-and state of Europe; but of religion,
-beyond the few forms that
-pleased their eye, the people did not
-seem to think. They looked down
-with lofty indifference on the faith
-of those various adventurers whom
-their sovereign kindly sheltered, and
-ranked the Christian priests they
-already knew in the same category
-with conjurers and quack doctors.
-The Christianity of these Nestorians
-was even more imperfect than that
-of the Abyssinians at the time of
-the late English invasion of the unlucky
-King Theodore’s dominions.
-Rubruquis was horrified to find
-in these priests mere superstitious
-mountebanks. They mingled Tartar
-rites with corrupt ceremonies of
-the Catholic Church, and practised
-all manner of deceptions, mixing
-rhubarb with holy water as a medicinal
-drink, and carrying to the
-bedside of the sick lances and
-swords half-drawn from their sheaths
-along with the crucifix. Upon
-these grounds they pretended to
-the power of working miracles and
-curing the sick by spiritual means
-alone. The Franciscan zealously
-tried to reform these abuses and to
-convert the Nestorians before he
-undertook to preach to the Tartars;
-but here again he was unsuccessful.
-The self-interest of these debased
-men was in question, and truth was
-little to them in comparison with
-the comfort and consideration they
-enjoyed as leeches.</p>
-
-<p>A curious scene occurred while
-at this encampment of the khan.
-There were many Mahometans in
-the country, and the sovereign, with
-impartial tolerance, protected them
-and their commerce as he did the
-person and property of other refugees.
-They, the Christians, and
-some representative Tartars were
-all assembled one day, by order of
-Mandchu, to discuss in public the
-merits of their respective faiths.
-But even on this occasion no bitterness
-was evinced, and the meeting,
-though it turned out useless in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
-a spiritual sense, ended in a friendly
-banquet. Rubruquis did his
-best to improve this opportunity of
-teaching the truth; but the hour of
-successful evangelization had not
-yet struck, and much of the indifference
-of the Tartars is to be attributed
-to the culpable practices
-of the Nestorians, whose behavior
-was enough to discredit the religion
-they pretended to profess. But if
-the missionary, notwithstanding all
-his zeal, was unable to convert the
-heathens, he at least comforted and
-strengthened many captive Christians.
-We have already mentioned
-a few of these, and in Mandchu’s
-camp he met with another, a
-woman from Metz in Lorraine, who
-had been taken prisoner in Hungary,
-and been carried back into their
-own country by the invaders. She
-had at first suffered many hardships,
-but ended by marrying a young
-Russian, a captive like herself, who
-was skilful in the art of building
-wooden houses. The Tartars prized
-this kind of knowledge, and were
-kind to the young couple, who were
-now leading a tolerably comfortable
-life, and had a family of three
-children. To fancy their joy at
-seeing a genuine Christian missionary
-is almost out of our power in
-these days of swift communication,
-when nothing is any longer a marvel;
-but if we could put ourselves in
-their place, we might paint a wonderful
-picture of thankfulness, surprise,
-and simple, rock-like faith.
-The latter part of Lent was spent
-in travelling, as the khan broke
-up his encampment, and went on
-across a chain of mountains to a
-great city, Karakorum, or Karakûm,
-on the river Orchon. Every
-vestige of such a city has disappeared
-centuries ago, but Marco Polo
-mentions it and describes its
-streets, situation, defences, etc. He
-arrived there nearly twenty years
-later, and noticed that it was surrounded
-by a strong rampart of
-earth, there being no good supply
-of stone in those parts.</p>
-
-<p>The passage of the Changai
-Mountains was a terrible undertaking;
-the cold was intense and the
-weather stormy, and the khan, with
-his usual bland eclecticism, begged
-Rubruquis to “pray to God in his
-own fashion” for milder weather,
-chiefly for the sake of the cattle.
-On Palm Sunday the envoy blessed
-the willow-boughs he saw on
-his way, though he says there were
-no buds on them yet; but they were
-near the city now, and the weather
-had become more promising. Rubruquis
-had his eyes wide open as
-he came to the first organized city
-of the Tartars, as Marco Polo affirms
-this to have been. It had
-scarcely been built twenty years
-when our monk visited it, and owed
-its origin to the son and successor
-of Jengis-Khan. “There were
-two grand streets in it,” says Rubruquis,
-“one of the Saracens, where
-the fairs are kept (held), and many
-merchants resort thither, and one
-other street of the Cathayans
-(Chinese), who are all artificers.”
-Many of the latter were captives, or
-at least subjects, of the khan; for the
-Tartars had already conquered the
-greater part of Northern China. The
-khan lived in a castle or palace
-outside the earthen rampart. In
-Karakorum, again, the monk found
-many Christians, Armenian, Georgian,
-Hungarian, and even of Western
-European origin. Among others
-he mentions an Englishman&mdash;whom
-he calls Basilicus, and who
-had been born in Hungary&mdash;and a
-few Germans. But the most important
-personage of foreign birth
-was a French goldsmith, William
-Bouchier, whose wife was a Hungarian,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
-but of Mahometan parentage.
-This Benvenuto Cellini of the East
-was rich and liberal, an excellent
-interpreter, thoroughly at home in
-the Tartar dialects, a skilful artist,
-and in high favor at court. He
-had just finished a masterpiece of
-mechanism and beauty which Rubruquis
-thus minutely describes:
-“In the khan’s palace, because it
-was unseemly to carry about bottles
-of milk and other drinks there, Master
-William made him a great silver
-tree, at the root whereof were four
-silver lions, having each one pipe,
-through which flowed pure cow’s
-milk; and four other pipes were
-conveyed within the body of the
-tree unto the top thereof, and the
-tops spread back again downwards,
-and upon every one of them was a
-golden serpent, whose tails twined
-about the body of the tree. And
-one of these pipes ran with wine,
-another with cara-cosmos, another
-with <i>ball</i>&mdash;a drink made of honey&mdash;and
-another with a drink made of
-rice. Between the pipes, at the
-top of the tree, he made an angel
-holding a trumpet, and under the
-tree a hollow vault, wherein a man
-might be hid; and a pipe ascended
-from this vault through the tree to
-the angel. He first made bellows,
-but they gave not wind enough.
-Without the palace walls there was
-a chamber wherein the several
-drinks were brought; and there
-were servants there ready to pour
-them out when they heard the angel
-sounding his trumpet. And the
-boughs of the tree were of silver,
-and the leaves and the fruit. When,
-therefore, they want drink, the master-butler
-crieth to the angel that
-he sound the trumpet. Then he
-hearing (who is hid in the vault),
-bloweth the pipe, which goeth to
-the angel, and the angel sets his
-trumpet to his mouth, and the
-trumpet soundeth very shrill. Then
-the servants which are in the chamber
-hearing, each of them poureth
-forth his drink into its proper pipe,
-and all the pipes pour them forth
-from above, and they are received
-below in vessels prepared for that
-purpose.”</p>
-
-<p>This elaborate piece of plate
-makes one think rather of the
-XVIth century banquets of the
-Medici and the Este than of feastings
-given by a nomad Tartar in
-the wilds of Central Asia. The
-goldsmith was not unknown to
-fame even in Europe, where he was
-called William of Paris. Several
-old chroniclers speak of him, and
-his brother Roger was well known
-as a goldsmith “living upon the
-great bridge at Paris.” This clever
-artist very nearly fell a victim to
-the quackery of a Nestorian monk,
-whereupon Rubruquis significantly
-comments thus: “He entreated him
-to proceed either as an apostle doing
-miracles indeed, by virtue of
-prayer, or to administer his potion
-as a physician, according to the art
-of medicine.” Besides the Tartars
-and their Christian captives, Rubruquis
-had opportunities of observing
-the numerous Chinese, or
-Cathayans, as they were called, who
-have been mentioned as the artificers
-of the town. There were also
-knots of Siberians, Kamtchatkans,
-and even inhabitants of the islands
-between the extremities of Asia
-and America, where at times the
-sea was frozen over. Rubruquis
-picked up a good deal of miscellaneous
-information, chiefly about
-the Chinese. He mentions their
-paper currency&mdash;a fact which Marco
-Polo subsequently verified&mdash;and
-their mode of writing; <i>i.e.</i>, with
-small paint-brushes, and each character
-or figure signifying a whole
-word. The standard of value of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
-the Russians, he says, consisted in
-spotted furs&mdash;a currency which
-still exists in the remoter parts of
-Siberia.</p>
-
-<p>It was not without good reason,
-no doubt, that the monk-envoy
-made up his mind to leave the
-country he had hoped either to
-evangelize or to find already as orthodox
-as his own, and ruled by
-a great Christian potentate. Such
-perseverance as he showed throughout
-his journey was not likely to
-be daunted by slight obstacles; but
-finding the object of his mission as
-far from attainment as when he
-first entered Tartary, he at last reluctantly
-left the field. Only one
-European besides himself had ventured
-so far&mdash;Friar Bartholomew of
-Cremona; but even he shrank before
-a renewal of the hardships of
-mountain and desert travel, and
-chose rather to stay behind with
-Master William, the hospitable goldsmith,
-till some more convenient
-opportunity should present itself
-of returning to his own country.
-Rubruquis accordingly started
-alone, with a servant, an interpreter,
-and a guide; but though he had
-asked for leave to go on Whitsunday,
-the permission was delayed till
-the festival of S. John Baptist, the
-24th of June. The khan made
-him a few trifling presents, and gave
-him a complimentary letter to the
-King of France; but no definite results
-were obtained. The homeward
-journey was long and tedious,
-and the only provision made for
-the sustenance of the party was a
-permission from the khan to take
-a sheep “once in four days, wherever
-they could find it.” Sometimes
-they had nothing to eat
-for three days together, and only a
-little cosmos to drink, and more
-than once, having missed the stations
-of the wandering tribes whom
-they had reckoned on meeting,
-even the supply of cosmos was exhausted.
-About two months after
-his departure from Karakorum,
-Rubruquis met Sartach, the great
-chief who had sheltered him for
-some time on his way to the river
-Don. Some belongings of the mission
-having been left in Sartach’s
-care, the envoy asked him to return
-them, but was told they were in
-charge of Baatu, Rubruquis’ other
-friend and protector. Sartach was
-on his way to join Mandchu-Khan,
-and was of course surrounded by
-the two hundred houses and innumerable
-chests which belonged to
-the establishment of a Tartar patriarch.
-If this was not exactly
-civilization, it was companionship,
-and the envoy must have been glad
-of a meeting which replenished his
-exhausted stores and suggested
-domestic comfort and abundance.
-More rough travelling on horseback,
-more experiences of hunger
-and cold (for the autumn was already
-coming on), more fording of
-rivers, and the monk found himself
-at Baatu’s court. It was the
-16th of September&mdash;a year after he
-had left the chieftain to push on
-to the court of the Grand-Khan.
-Here he was joyfully and courteously
-received, and recovered nearly
-all his property; but as the Tartars
-had concluded that the whole
-embassy must have perished long
-ago, they had allowed some Nestorian
-priest, a wanderer under the
-protection now of Sartach, now of
-Baatu and other khans, to appropriate
-various Psalters, books, and
-ecclesiastical vestments. Three
-young men, Europeans, whom Rubruquis
-had left behind, had nearly
-been reduced to bondage under
-the same pretext, but they had
-not suffered personal ill-treatment.
-The kind offices of some influential<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
-Armenians had staved off the evil
-day, and the timely arrival of the
-long-missing envoy secured them
-their freedom. Rubruquis now
-joined Baatu’s court, which was
-journeying westward to a town
-called Sarai, on the eastern bank
-of the Volga; but the progress of
-the encumbered Tartars was so
-slow that he left them after a
-month’s companionship, and pushed
-on with his party, till he reached
-Sarai on the feast of All Saints.
-After this the country was almost
-an unbroken desert; but our traveller
-once more fell in with one of
-his Tartar friends, a son of Sartach,
-who was out upon a hawking
-expedition, and gave him a guard
-to protect him from various fierce
-Mahometan tribes that infested the
-neighborhood.</p>
-
-<p>Here ended his travels in Tartary
-proper; but his hardships were
-far from ended yet. Through Armenia
-and the territories of Turkish
-and Koordish princes he journeyed
-slowly and uncomfortably, in
-dread of the violence of his own
-guides and guards, as well as of the insults
-of the populations whose country
-he traversed. He says these delays
-“arose in part from the difficulty
-of procuring horses, but chiefly because
-the guide chose to stop, often
-for three days together, in one
-place, for his own business; and,
-though much dissatisfied, I durst
-not complain, as he might have
-slain me and those with me, or
-sold us all for slaves, and there was
-none to hinder it.”</p>
-
-<p>Journeying across Asia Minor
-and over Mount Taurus, he took
-ship at last for Cyprus. Here he
-learnt that S. Louis, who had
-been in the Holy Land at the time
-of his departure, had gone back to
-France. He would very much
-have wished to deliver his letters
-and presents of silk pelisses and
-furs to the king in person; but this
-was not granted him. The provincial
-of his order, whom he met at
-Cyprus, desired him to write his
-account and send his gifts to the
-king; and as in those days there
-was creeping in among the monks
-a habit of restless wandering, his
-superior, who was, it seems, a reformer
-and strict disciplinarian,
-tried the obedience and humility
-of the famous traveller by sending
-him to his convent at Acre, whence,
-by the king’s order, he had started.
-Rubruquis stood the test, but
-could not forbear imploring the king,
-by writing, to use his influence
-with the provincial to allow him a
-short stay in France and one audience
-of his royal master. Little
-is known of the great traveller and
-pioneer after this; and whether he
-ever got leave to see the king is doubtful.
-He fell back into obscurity,
-and it is presumed that Marco Polo
-did not even know of his previous
-travels over the same ground as
-the Polos explored. No record of
-his embassy remained but the Latin
-letter addressed to S. Louis, and
-even in France his fame was unknown
-for many centuries. It was
-not till after the invention of printing
-that his adventures became fairly
-known to the literary world, although
-Roger Bacon, one of his
-own order, had given a spirited
-abstract of his travels in one of his
-works. This, too, was in Latin, and
-after a time became a sealed book
-to the vulgar; so that it was not at
-least till the year 1600 that the old
-traveller’s name was again known.
-Hakluyt’s <cite>Collection of Voyages and
-Travels</cite> contains an English translation
-of Rubruquis’ letter, and
-twenty-five years later Purchas reproduced
-it <i lang="la">in toto</i> from a copy
-found in a college library at Cambridge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
-Bergeron, a French priest,
-put it into French, not from the
-original, but from Purchas’ English
-version. Since then Rubruquis
-has taken his place among the few
-famous voyagers of olden times; but
-from the vagueness of his language,
-the lack of geographical science
-in his day, and perhaps also the
-mistakes of careless copyists, it is
-not easy to trace his course upon
-the map. One fact, however, he
-ascertained and insisted upon, which
-a geographical society, had it existed
-in his time, would have been
-glad to register, together with an
-honorable mention of the discoverer&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>,
-the nature of the great lake
-called the Caspian Sea. The old
-Greeks had correctly called it an
-<em>inland</em> sea, but an idea had since
-prevailed that it possessed some
-communication with the Northern
-Ocean. Rubruquis proved the contrary,
-but no attention was paid
-to his single assertion, and books
-of geography, compiled at home
-from ancient maps and MSS., without
-a reference, however distant,
-to the <em>facts</em> recorded by adventurous
-men who had seen foreign
-shores with their eyes, calmly
-continued to propagate the old
-error.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A PARAPHRASE, FROM THE GREEK.</h3>
-
-<p class="center">Οὐκ ἔθανες, Πρώτη, κ. τ. λ.&mdash;<cite>Greek Anthology.</cite></p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent5">Protê, thou didst not die,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">But thou didst fly,</div>
-<div class="verse">When we saw thee no more, to a sunnier clime;</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">In the isles of the blest,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">In the golden west,</div>
-<div class="verse">Where thy spirit let loose springs joyous and light</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">O’er the verdurous floor,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">That is strewn evermore</div>
-<div class="verse">With blossoms that fade not, nor droop from their prime.</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Thou hast made thee a home</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Where no sorrow shall come,</div>
-<div class="verse">No cloud overshadow thy noon of delight;</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Cold or heat shall not vex thee,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Nor sickness perplex thee,</div>
-<div class="verse">Nor hunger, nor thirst; no touch of regret</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">For the things thou hast cherished,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">The forms that have perished,</div>
-<div class="verse">For lover or kindred, thy fancy shall fret;</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">But thy joy hath no stain,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Thy remembrance no pain,</div>
-<div class="verse">And the heights that we guess at thy sunshine makes plain.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE LAW OF GOD AND THE REGULATIONS OF SOCIETY.<br />
-<span class="smaller">SUMMARY CONSIDERATIONS ON LAW.</span></h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF THE COMTE DE BREDA.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“There are laws for the society of ants and of bees; how could any one suppose that there are none for
-human society, and that it is left to the chance of inventing them?”&mdash;<cite>De Bonald.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<h4>I.&mdash;THE MODERN STATE.</h4>
-
-<p>Never before was liberty so
-much talked about; never before
-was the very idea of it so utterly
-lost. Tyrants have been destroyed,
-it is said. This is a false assertion
-it may be (or rather, is it not
-certain?) that it has become more
-difficult for a sovereign to govern
-tyrannically, but tyranny is not
-dead&mdash;quite the contrary.</p>
-
-<p>All unlimited power is, of its own
-nature, tyrannical. Now, it is such
-a power that the modern state desires
-to wield. The state is held up to
-us as the supreme arbiter of good
-and evil; and, if we believe its defenders,
-it cannot err, its laws being
-in every case, and at all times,
-binding.</p>
-
-<p>People have banished God from
-the government of human society;
-but they have made to themselves
-a new god, despotic and blind,
-without hearing and without voice,
-whose power knows how to reach
-its slaves as well in the temple as
-in the public places, as well in the
-palace as in the humblest cot.</p>
-
-<p>What is there, indeed, more divine
-than not to do wrong? God
-alone, speaking to the human conscience,
-either directly or by his
-representatives, is the infallible
-judge of good and evil. No
-human power whatsoever can declare
-all that emanates from it
-to be necessarily right without
-usurping the place of God, and declaring
-itself the sovereign master
-of the soul as well as of the body.
-The last refuge of the slaves of
-antiquity&mdash;the human conscience&mdash;would
-no longer exist for the people
-of modern times, if it were true that
-every law is binding from the mere
-fact of its promulgation. Hence
-the modern state, but lately so
-boastful, has begun to waver and
-to doubt its own powers. It encounters
-two principal obstacles, as
-unlike in their form as in their
-origin.</p>
-
-<p>On one hand it beholds Catholics,
-sustained by their knowledge
-of law, its origin and its essence,
-resisting passively, and preparing
-themselves to submit to persecutions
-without even shrinking. On
-the other it meets, in these our
-days, the most formidable insurrections.
-There are multitudes, blind
-as the state representatives&mdash;but
-excusable, inasmuch as their rebellion
-is against an authority which
-owes its sway only to caprice
-or theory&mdash;who reply thus to
-power: “We are as good as you;
-you have no right over us other
-than that of brute force; we will
-endeavor to oppose you with a
-strength equal to yours; and
-when we shall have gained the
-victory, we will make new laws and
-new constitutions, wherein all that
-you call lawful shall be called unlawful,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
-and all that you consider
-crime shall be deemed virtue.”</p>
-
-<p>If it were true that law could
-spring only from the human will,
-these madmen would be reasonable
-in the extreme. Thus the state is
-powerless against them. It drags
-on an uncertain existence, constantly
-threatened with the most
-terrible social wars, and enjoying a
-momentary peace only on condition
-of never laying down arms.
-Modern armies are standing ones;
-the modern police have become
-veritable armies, and they sleep
-neither day nor night. At this
-price do our states exist, trade, grow
-rich, and become satisfied with
-themselves.</p>
-
-<p>These constant commotions are
-not alone the vengeance of the living
-God disowned and outraged;
-they are also the inevitable consequence
-of that extremity of pride
-and folly which has induced human
-assemblies to believe that it belongs
-to them to decide finally between
-right and wrong.</p>
-
-<p>In truth, “if God is not the author
-of law, there is no law really
-binding.” We may, for the love of
-God, obey existing powers, even
-though they be illegitimate; but
-this submission has its limits. It
-must cease the moment that the
-human law prescribes anything
-contrary to the law of God. As
-for people without faith, we would
-in vain seek for a motive powerful
-enough to induce them to submit to
-anything displeasing to them.</p>
-
-<h4>II.&mdash;MODERN LIBERTY.</h4>
-
-<p>The people of our generation
-consider themselves more free,
-more unrestrained, than those who
-have gone before them. It is not
-to our generation, however, that
-the glory accrues of having first
-thrown off the yoke. Our moderns
-themselves acknowledge that they
-have had predecessors, and they
-agree with us in declaring that
-“the new spirit” made its appearance
-in the world about the XVIth
-century.<a name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p>
-
-<p>In truth, the only yoke which
-has been cast off since then is that
-of God, which seemed too heavy.
-All at once thought pronounced
-itself freed from the shackles of ecclesiastical
-authority; but, at the
-outset, it was far from intended to
-deny the idea of a divine right superior
-to all human right.</p>
-
-<p>Despite the historical falsehoods
-which have found utterance in our
-day, it was chiefly princes who propagated
-Protestantism; and, most often,
-they attained their end only by
-violence. When successful, they
-added to their temporal title a religious
-one; they made themselves
-bishops or popes, and thus became
-all the more powerful over
-their subjects. There was no longer
-any refuge from the abuse of
-power of the rulers of this world;
-for it was the interest of these despots
-to call themselves the representatives
-of God. By means of
-this title they secularized dioceses,
-convents, the goods of the church,
-and even the ministers of their new
-religion. This term was then used
-to express in polite language an
-idea of spoliation and of hypocritical
-and uncurbed tyranny.</p>
-
-<p>The moderns have gone farther:
-they have attempted to secularize
-law itself. This time, again, the
-word hides a thought which, if it
-were openly expressed, would shock;
-the law has become atheistical,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
-and not all the opposition which
-the harshness of this statement has
-aroused can prevent it from still
-expressing a truth. The inexorable
-logic of facts leads directly
-from the Reformation to the Revolution.
-Princes themselves sowed
-the seeds of revolt which will yet
-despoil them of their power and
-their thrones; while as for the
-people, they have gained nothing.
-They are constantly tyrannized
-over; but their real masters are
-unknown, and their only resource
-against the encroachments or the
-abuse of power is an appeal to arms.</p>
-
-<p>It is not, then, true that liberty
-finds greater space in the modern
-world than in the ancient Christian
-world. To prove this, I need but
-a single fact which has direct relation
-with my subject.</p>
-
-<p>While Europe was still enveloped
-in “the darkness of the Middle
-Ages,” Catholic theologians freely
-taught, from all their chairs, that
-“an unjust law is no law”&mdash;“Lex
-injusta non est lex.” Now, are
-there, at the present day, many
-pulpits from which this principle,
-the safeguard of all liberty and of all
-independence, the protector of all
-rights, and the defence of the helpless,
-might be proclaimed with impunity?
-Do we not see the prohibitions,
-the lawsuits, the <i lang="fr">appels
-comme d’abus</i> which the boldness of
-such a maxim would call forth?</p>
-
-<p>Human governments have changed
-in form, but their tyranny has
-not ceased to grow; and the free
-men of the olden society have become
-the slaves in a new order of
-things&mdash;they have even reached a
-point at which they know not even
-in what liberty consists.</p>
-
-<h4>III.&mdash;DIVINE ORIGIN OF LAW.</h4>
-
-<p>I know, and I hear beforehand,
-the response which the doctors of
-modern rights will here give me
-“Yes,” say they, “it is very true
-that the Catholic Church has always
-claimed the right of judging
-laws and of refusing obedience to
-such as displeased her; but in this
-is precisely the worst abuse. That
-which would domineer over human
-reason, the sovereign of the world,
-is tyranny <i lang="fr">par excellence</i>; this, in
-truth, is the special mark of Catholicity,
-and it is this which has ever
-made it the religion of the ignorant
-and the cowardly.”</p>
-
-<p>Is, then, the maxim I have just
-recalled the invention of Catholic
-theologians? Is it true that the
-teachers of the ultramontane doctrine
-alone have contended that
-the intrinsic worth of a law must
-be sought beyond and above them,
-beyond and above the human power
-which proclaims it? Not only has
-this elementary principle not been
-devised by our theologians, but
-even the pagan philosophers themselves
-had reached it. Cicero but
-summed up the teaching universally
-received by philosophers worthy
-of the name, when he said that the
-science of law should not be sought
-in the edicts of the pretor, nor
-even in the laws of the twelve
-tables; and that the most profound
-philosophy alone could aid in judging
-laws and teaching us their
-value.<a name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p>
-
-<p>This is not to degrade reason,
-which this same Cicero has defined,
-or rather described, in admirable
-language. He found therein something
-grand, something sublime;
-he declared that it is more fit to
-command than to obey; that it values
-little what is merely human;
-that it is gifted with a peculiar elevation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
-which nothing daunts, which
-yields to no one, and which is unconquerable.<a name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p>
-
-<p>But remark, it is only with regard
-to human powers and allurements
-that reason shows itself so
-exalted and haughty. It requires
-something greater than man to
-make it submit; and it <em>obeys</em> only
-God or his delegates. “Stranger,”
-said Plato to Clinias the Cretan,
-“whom do you consider the first
-author of your laws? <em>Is it a god?
-Is it a man?</em>”</p>
-
-<p>“Stranger,” replied Clinias, “it
-is a god; we could not rightly accord
-this title to any other.”<a name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p>
-
-<p>So, also, tradition tells us that
-Minos went, every ninth day, to
-consult Jupiter, his father, whose
-replies he committed to writing.
-Lycurgus wished to have his laws
-confirmed by the Delphian Apollo,
-and this god replied that he would
-dictate them himself. At Rome
-the nymph Egeria played the same
-<i lang="fr">rôle</i> with Numa. Everywhere is
-felt the necessity of seeking above
-man the title in virtue of which
-he may command his fellow-men.</p>
-
-<p>If we turn now from the fabulous
-traditions of the ancient world,
-we still find an absolute truth proclaimed
-by its sages; one that affirms
-the existence of an eternal
-law&mdash;<i lang="la">quiddam æternum</i>&mdash;which was
-called the natural law, and which
-serves as a criterion whereby to
-judge the worth of the laws promulgated
-by man.</p>
-
-<p>Cicero declares it absurd to consider
-right everything set down in
-the constitutions or the laws.<a name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a>
-And he is careful to add that
-neither is public opinion any
-more competent to determine the
-right.<a name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p>
-
-<p>The sovereign law, therefore&mdash;that
-which no human law may violate
-without the penalty of becoming
-void&mdash;has God himself for its
-author.</p>
-
-<p>The laws of states may be unjust
-and abominable, and, by consequence,
-bind no one. There is,
-on the other hand, a natural law,
-the source and measure of other
-laws, originating before all ages, before
-any law had been written or
-any city built.<a name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></p>
-
-<p>This doctrine, to support which
-I have designedly cited only pagan
-authors, is also that of Catholic
-theologians; for example, S. Thomas
-and Suarez. But the philosophical
-school of the last century has
-so perverted the meaning of the
-term <em>nature&mdash;law of nature</em>, that certain
-Catholic authors (M. de Bonald,
-for instance) have scrupled to use
-the consecrated term. It is necessary,
-then, to explain its true sense.</p>
-
-<h4>IV.&mdash;NATURAL LAW ACCORDING TO PAGAN
-PHILOSOPHERS.</h4>
-
-<p>The nature of a being is that
-which constitutes its fitness to attain
-its end. The idea, therefore,
-which a person has of the nature of
-man, by consequence determines
-that which he will have of his end,
-and hence of the rule which should
-govern his actions.</p>
-
-<p>The materialists, for example,
-who deny the immortality of the
-soul, and whose horizon is bounded
-by the limits of the present life, are
-able to teach only a purely epicurean
-or utilitarian morality.
-They cannot consistently plead a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
-motive higher than an immediate,
-or at least a proximate, well-being;
-for, what is more uncertain than
-the duration of our life? In the
-strikingly anti-philosophic language
-of the XVIIIth century, <em>the state
-of nature</em> was a hypothetical state,
-at once innocent and barbarous,
-anterior to all society. It is to
-society that this theory attributes
-the disorders of man and the
-loss of certain primitive and inalienable
-rights which the sect of
-pseudo-philosophers boasted of
-having regained, and by the conquest
-whereof the corrupted and doting
-France of 1789 was prostrated.</p>
-
-<p>The philosophers of antiquity, on
-the contrary, notwithstanding their
-numerous errors, and despite the polytheism
-which they exteriorly professed,
-had arrived at so profound a
-knowledge of man and his nature
-that the fathers and doctors of the
-church have often spoken of the
-discoveries of their intellect as a
-kind of <em>natural revelation</em> made to
-them by God.<a name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></p>
-
-<p>We have already heard Cicero
-say that the natural law is eternal,
-and superior to all human laws. I
-shall continue to quote him, because
-of his clearness, and because he admirably
-sums up the teaching of the
-philosophers who preceded him.<a name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></p>
-
-<p>The sound philosophy which
-should guide us&mdash;according to him,
-the science of law&mdash;teaches us that it
-is far more sublime to submit to
-the divine mind, to the all-powerful
-God, than to the emperors and
-mighty ones of this earth; for it is
-a kind of partnership between God
-and man. Right reason (<i lang="la">ratio recta</i>)
-is the same for the one and the
-other; and law being nothing else
-than right reason, it may be said
-that one same law links us with the
-gods. Now, the common law is
-also the common right, and when
-people have a common right they
-belong, in some manner, to the
-same country. We must, then, consider
-this world as a country common
-to the gods and to men. Man
-is, in truth, like to God. And for
-what end has God created and gifted
-man like to himself? That he
-may arrive at justice.</p>
-
-<p>Human society is bound by one
-same right, and law is the same for
-all. This law is the just motive
-(the right reason, <i lang="la">ratio recta</i>) of all
-precepts and prohibitions; he who
-is ignorant of it, whether written or
-not, knows not justice. If uprightness
-consisted in submission to the
-written laws and constitutions of
-nations, and if, as some pretend,
-utility could be the measure of
-good, he who expected to profit
-thereby would be justified in neglecting
-or violating the laws.</p>
-
-<p>This remark is peculiarly applicable
-to the present time. It is precisely
-utility and the increase of
-wealth or of comforts&mdash;in a word,
-material interests&mdash;which the greater
-number of modern legislators
-have had chiefly in view; the result
-is that society scarcely has the
-right to feel indignant against those
-who may deem it to their advantage
-to disturb it. Religion, say
-they, has nothing in common with
-politics; the state, inasmuch as it
-is a state, need not trouble itself
-about God; the things of this
-world should be regulated with regard
-to this world, and without
-reference to the supernatural. Suppose
-it so; but then, in virtue of
-what authority will you impose
-your laws? There is no human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
-power able to bend or to conquer
-one human will which does not
-acknowledge it.<a name="FNanchor_55" id="FNanchor_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p>
-
-<p>The basis of right is the natural
-love of our fellow-beings which nature
-has planted within us. Nature
-also commands us to honor God.
-It is not fear which renders worship
-necessary; it is the bond
-which exists between God and man.
-If popular or royal decrees could
-determine right, a whim of the multitude
-might render lawful theft,
-adultery, or forgery. If it be true
-that a proclamation dictated by
-fools can change the order of nature,
-why may not evil become, one day,
-good? But the sages teach that
-the human mind did not invent law;
-it has its birth-place in the bosom of
-God, and is co-eternal with him; it
-is nothing else than the unerring
-reason of Jupiter himself; it is reflected
-in the mind of the wise
-man; it can never be repealed.</p>
-
-<p>This “right reason which comes
-to us from the gods” (<i lang="la">recta et a
-numine deorum tracta ratio</i>) is what
-is usually termed the <em>natural</em> law;
-and the beautiful language of Cicero
-recalls this magnificent verse of the
-IVth Psalm: “Quis ostendit nobis
-bona? Signatum est super nos
-lumen vultus tui, Domine.”</p>
-
-<h4>V.&mdash;INFLUENCE OF PANTHEISM ON MODERN
-LAW.</h4>
-
-<p>Pagan teaching, how elevated soever
-it may be, is always incomplete;
-and this is evident even from
-the words of Cicero.</p>
-
-<p>Since law comes from God, it is
-very clear that it will be known
-more or less correctly according as
-our idea of God is more or less
-correct. This it is that gives so
-great a superiority, first, to the law
-of Moses, before the coming of
-Jesus Christ, and to all Christian
-legislation since.</p>
-
-<p>The Jews had not merely a vague
-knowledge of the precepts of the
-divine law. This law, in its principal
-provisions, had been directly
-revealed to them. Christians have
-something better still, since the
-Eternal Word was made man, and
-the Word is precisely “the true
-light which enlighteneth every man
-coming into this world.”<a name="FNanchor_56" id="FNanchor_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> The
-philosophers of antiquity saw this
-light from afar off; we have <em>beheld</em>
-that of which they merely affirmed
-the existence; the Jews contemplated
-it as through a veil, and
-awaited its coming. <span class="smcap">It</span> was made
-flesh; it brought us life; “it shone
-in the darkness, but the darkness
-did not comprehend it.”<a name="FNanchor_57" id="FNanchor_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></p>
-
-<p>It is not the fault of the Word or
-of his manifestation, says S. Thomas
-on this subject, if there are minds
-who see not this light. There is
-here, not darkness, but closed
-eyes.<a name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></p>
-
-<p>It is God himself, therefore, whom
-man refuses to acknowledge when
-he rejects the fundamental law,
-which alone deserves the name of
-law. Human pride and insolence
-go beyond forgetfulness or simple
-negation when they have the audacity
-to put a human law in the place
-of and above the divine law; which
-last crime is nothing less than the
-deification of man. This philosophic
-consequence of the secularization
-of the law was inevitable, and
-is openly displayed in modern doctrines.
-Atheists, properly so called,
-are rare; but the present generation
-is infected with Pantheism. Now,
-Pantheism proclaims, without disguise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
-and without shame, the divinity
-of man.</p>
-
-<p>Let us add that this error is the
-only foundation upon which man
-may logically rest to defend modern
-rights. It produces, with regard to
-constitutions and laws, two principal
-effects, which it suffices but to
-indicate, that every honest mind
-may at once recognize their existence
-and their lamentable consequences.</p>
-
-<p>Pantheism, firstly, destroys individualities,
-or, as the Germans call
-them, <em>subjectivities</em>; it sweeps them
-away, and causes them to disappear
-in the Great Whole. Do we not
-likewise see personality, simple or
-associated&mdash;that is to say, individual
-liberty, associations, and corporations&mdash;little
-by little reduced to
-annihilation by the modern idea of
-the state? Does not modern theory
-make also of the state another
-grand whole, beside which nothing
-private can exist?</p>
-
-<p>To reach this result, they represent
-the state as expressing the aggregate
-of all the particular wills,
-and they seek, in a pretended “general
-will,” the supreme and infallible
-source of law. But even were
-this will as general as theory desires,
-it would not be the less human, or,
-by consequence, the less subject to
-error. Whence comes it, then, that
-they make it the sovereign arbiter
-of good and evil, of truth and falsehood,
-of justice and injustice?
-The Pantheists reply that “God is
-in man and in the world; that he
-is one and the same thing with the
-world; that he is identical with the
-nature of things, and consequently
-subject to change.” The general
-will, the expression of the universal
-conscience, is then a manifestation of
-the divine will; and this would allow
-it to change without ever erring.</p>
-
-<p>This answers all, in truth; but it
-may lead us too far. If, as says
-Hegel, God is subjective&mdash;that is to
-say, if He is in man, or, more exactly
-still, if He is man himself and
-the substance of nature&mdash;neither
-right, nor law, nor justice could remain
-objective. In other words, if
-man is God, there is no longer any
-possible distinction between good
-and evil. And this conclusion has
-been drawn by the learned German
-socialist, Lassalle. He denies the
-notion of an immutable right; he
-is unwilling that we should any
-longer speak of the family, property,
-justice, etc., in absolute terms.
-According to him, these are but
-abstract and unreal generalities.
-There have been, on all these subjects,
-Greek, Roman, German, etc.,
-ideas; but these are only historical
-recollections. Ideas change, some
-even disappear; and if, some day,
-the universal conscience should decide
-that the idea of proprietorship
-has had its day, then would commence
-a new era in history, during
-which there could be no longer
-either property or proprietors without
-incurring the guilt of injustice.<a name="FNanchor_59" id="FNanchor_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a>
-From the stand-point of
-Pantheism, this reasoning is irrefutable;
-and, on the other hand, we
-have just seen that Pantheism alone
-could justify the modern theory of
-the general will, the supreme arbiter
-of law.</p>
-
-<h4>VI.&mdash;HAS THE GENERAL WILL RULED SINCE
-1789?</h4>
-
-<p>I have just quoted a socialist
-whose works, though little known
-in France, are of extreme importance.
-Ferdinand Lassalle, a Jew
-by birth, by nationality a Prussian,
-is possessed of extensive knowledge,
-critical genius of the highest
-order, and unsparing logic. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
-have seen him draw the theoretical
-consequences of Pantheism applied
-to law; and it will not be without
-interest to know how he judges the
-practical results of the modern
-theory of rights, as shown in the
-French Revolution. The socialists
-have a special authority for speaking
-of “immortal principles”; for
-they admit them without hesitation,
-and their teaching proved that they
-comprehend them wonderfully.</p>
-
-<p>The <cite>Declaration of the Rights of
-Man</cite> is the most authentic summing
-up of these famous principles;
-and it is therein that the
-modern theory of law will be found
-most clearly stated. “Law,” says
-Art. 6, “is the expression of the
-general will. Every citizen has the
-right of co-operating in its formation,
-either personally or by his
-representatives.”</p>
-
-<p>It would seem, from this solemn
-proclamation, that since then, or at
-least in the first fervor of this “glorious”
-revolution, the majority of
-the “sovereign people” should have
-been called to “form the laws.”
-This has been said; it has even
-been supported at the mouth of
-the cannon&mdash;for, as has been wittily
-remarked by M. de Maistre, “the
-masters of these poor people have
-had recourse even to artillery while
-deriding them. They said to them:
-‘You think you do not will this
-law; but, be assured, you do will
-it. If you dare to refuse it, we will
-pour upon you a shower of shot, to
-punish you for not willing what you
-do will.’ And it was done.”<a name="FNanchor_60" id="FNanchor_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p>
-
-<p>What then took place, and how
-did it happen that the general will,
-which had undertaken to make
-fundamental and irrevocable laws,
-should have accepted, in the first
-five years of its freedom, three different
-constitutions and a <i lang="fr">régime</i>
-like that of the Reign of Terror?</p>
-
-<p>Lassalle replies that it is not
-at all the people who made the revolution,
-and that the general will
-was not even asked to manifest itself.
-He recalls the famous pamphlet
-of Sieyès, and corrects its title.
-It is not true, says he, that the
-<i lang="fr">Tiers État</i> was then nothing; the
-increase of personal property has,
-since then, brought about a <i lang="fr">révolution
-économique</i>, thanks to which
-the <i lang="fr">tiers état</i> was, in truth, all. But
-legally it was nothing, which was
-not much to its liking; for the former
-ranks of society still existed
-by right, although their real strength
-was not in keeping with their legal
-condition. The work of the French
-Revolution was, therefore, to give
-to the <i lang="fr">tiers état</i> a legal position
-suitable to its actual importance.</p>
-
-<p>Now, the <i lang="fr">tiers</i>, first and foremost,
-assumed itself to be the equivalent
-of the entire people. “It considered
-that its cause was the cause of
-humanity.” Thus the attraction
-was real and powerful. The voices
-raised to protest were unable to
-make themselves heard. Our author
-cites, on this subject, a curious
-instance of clear-sightedness.
-An anti-revolutionary journal, <cite>The
-Friend of the King</cite>, exclaimed,
-“Who shall say whether or not the
-despotism of the <i lang="fr">bourgeoisie</i> shall
-not succeed the pretended aristocracy
-of the nobility?”</p>
-
-<p>It is this, indeed, which has come
-to pass, continues Lassalle; the
-<i lang="fr">tiers état</i> has become, in its turn, the
-privileged class. The proof is that
-the wealth of the citizen became
-immediately the legal condition of
-power in the state.</p>
-
-<p>Since 1791, in the constitution
-of Sept. 3 we find (chap. i., sects.
-1 and 2) a distinction established
-between active citizens and passive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
-citizens. The former are those
-who pay a certain quota of direct
-contribution; and they alone possess
-the right of voting. Moreover,
-all hired laborers were declared not
-active; and this excluded workmen
-from the right of voting. It matters
-little that the tax was small;
-the principle was laid down requiring
-some amount of fortune in order
-to exercise a political right.
-“The wealth of the citizen had become
-the condition necessary for
-obtaining power in the state, as
-nobility or landed property had
-been in the Middle Ages.”</p>
-
-<p>The principle of the vote-tax
-held sway until the recent introduction
-of universal suffrage.</p>
-
-<p>Our socialist, proceeding directly
-to the question of taxes, proves
-that the <i lang="fr">bourgeoisie moderne</i>, without
-inventing indirect taxation, has
-nevertheless made it the basis of
-an entire system, and has settled
-upon it all the expenses of state.
-Now, indirect taxes are such as are
-levied beforehand upon all necessaries,
-as salt, corn, beer, meat, fuel,
-or, still more, upon what we need
-for our protection&mdash;the expenses
-of the administration of justice,
-stamped paper, etc. Generally, in
-making a purchase, the buyer pays
-the tax, without perceiving that it
-is that which increases the price.
-Now, it is clear that because an
-individual is twenty, fifty, or a
-hundred times richer, it does not
-follow that he will, on that account,
-consume twenty, fifty, or a hundred
-times more salt, bread, meat, etc.,
-than a workman or a person of
-humble condition. Thus it happens
-that the great body of indirect
-taxes is paid by the poorest
-classes (from the single fact that
-they are the most numerous).
-Thus is it brought about, in a hidden
-way, that the <i lang="fr">tiers état</i> pay relatively
-less taxes than the <i lang="fr">quatrième
-état</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Concerning the instruction of
-adults, Lassalle says that, instead of
-being left to the clergy as heretofore,
-it now in fact belongs to the
-daily press. But securities, stamps,
-and advertisements give to journalism
-another privilege of capital.<a name="FNanchor_61" id="FNanchor_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p>
-
-<p>This sketch suffices; and I deem
-it needless to add that I am far
-from concluding with the socialists.
-I am so much the more free to disagree
-with them as I do not by any
-means admit the “immortal principles,”
-but it seems to me to follow
-evidently from the preceding observations
-that it is not true, in
-fact, that the general will has made
-the laws since 1789.</p>
-
-<h4>VII.&mdash;DOES UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE EXPRESS
-THE GENERAL WILL?</h4>
-
-<p>Has the introduction of universal
-suffrage modified, in any great degree,
-this state of things? Is it
-any more certain since 1848, than
-before, that the nation is governed
-by the general will? We may content
-ourselves here by appealing to
-the testimony of honest men. If
-the general will were truly the master
-of all the powers in France, our
-country, which to-day, so it is said,
-has only the government that it desires,
-would be a model of union
-and concord; there could be in
-the opposition party only an exceedingly
-small minority (otherwise
-the term general would be unjustifiable),
-and we would follow peacefully
-the ways most pleasing to us.</p>
-
-<p>This would not be saying&mdash;mark
-it well!&mdash;that those ways are good.
-That is another question, to which
-we will return; but now we are
-dealing with the question, Are our
-laws to-day formed or not formed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
-by the general will, according to
-the formula which I have quoted
-from the <cite>Declaration of the Rights
-of Man</cite>?</p>
-
-<p>Notwithstanding the evidence for
-the negative, I think it well here to
-analyze hastily that which M. Taine
-has just given in a little pamphlet
-containing many truths.<a name="FNanchor_62" id="FNanchor_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> M. Taine,
-being a free-thinker and a man of
-the times, cannot be suspected of
-taking an ultramontane or clerical
-view of the case.</p>
-
-<p>M. Taine is far from demanding
-the abolition of universal suffrage.
-He believes it in conformity with
-justice; for he does not admit that
-his money can be demanded or he
-himself sent to the frontier without
-his own consent, either expressed
-or tacit. His only wish is that the
-right of suffrage be not illusory,
-and that the electoral law be adapted
-“to the French of 1791, to the
-peasant, the workman, etc.,” be he
-“stupid, ignorant, or ill-informed.”
-From this M. Taine proves at the
-outset that the ballot-roll is a humbug;
-and I believe that no person
-of sense will contest the point.
-He immediately enters upon a statistical
-examination of the composition
-of the elective world in
-France; and he arrives at the following
-result: “Of twenty voters,
-ten are peasants, four workmen,
-three demi-bourgeois, three educated
-men, comfortable or rich.
-Now, the electoral law, as all law,
-should have regard to the majority,
-to the first fourteen.” It behooves
-us, then, to know who these fourteen
-are who are called to frame the law;
-that is to say, to decide, by their
-representatives it is true, but sovereignly,
-on good and evil, justice
-and injustice, and, necessarily, the
-fate of the country.</p>
-
-<p>M. Taine, in this connection,
-makes some new calculations which
-may be thus summed up: The rural
-population embraces seventy
-out of one hundred of the entire
-population, hence fourteen voters
-out of twenty. Now, in France,
-there are thirty-nine illiterate out
-of every hundred males, almost all
-belonging to the classes which M.
-Taine numbers among the rural
-population; which enables him to
-find that seven out of every fourteen
-rural voters cannot even read.
-I may observe, in passing, that a
-peasant who cannot read, but who
-knows his catechism, may be of a
-much sounder morality than M.
-Taine himself; but I willingly proclaim
-that the seven electors in
-question could and should have a
-mediocre political intelligence.</p>
-
-<p>This agreeable writer recounts,
-in a spicy way, a number of anecdotes
-which prove “the ignorance
-and credulity” of the rural populations
-on similar matters; and he
-thence concludes that the peasants
-“are still subjects, but under a
-nameless master.” This is precisely
-what I said at the beginning,
-not only of peasants, but of all
-modern people in general. Be
-there a king on the throne or not,
-somebody decrees this, somebody
-decrees that; and the subject depends,
-in a hundred ways, on this
-abstract and undetermined somebody&mdash;“Through
-the collector,
-through the mayor, through the
-sub-inspector of forests, through
-the commissary of police, through
-the field-keeper, through the clerks
-of justice, for making a door, for
-felling a tree, building a shed, opening
-a stall, transporting a cask of
-wine, etc., etc.”</p>
-
-<p>All this expresses well and depicts
-admirably the ways of modern
-liberty; and I cannot refrain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
-from citing this last sketch, equally
-amusing and true: “The mayor
-knows that in town, in an elegant
-apartment, is a worthy gentleman,
-attired in broidered gown, who receives
-him two or three times a
-year, speaks to him with authority
-and condescension, and often puts
-to him embarrassing questions.
-But when this gentleman goes
-away, another takes his place quite
-similar and in the same garb, and
-the mayor, on his return home, says
-with satisfaction: ‘Monsieur the
-prefect always preserves his good
-will towards me, although he has
-been changed many times.’”</p>
-
-<p>The <i lang="fr">plébiscite</i>, the appeal to the
-people, the invitation to vote on
-the form of government, addressed
-to this kind of electors&mdash;is it not all
-a cunning trick? M. Taine thinks
-so, and many others with him; but
-he supposes that this same elector
-will be, at least, capable of “choosing
-the particular man in whom he
-has most confidence.” It is with
-him, says he, in the choice of one
-who shall make the laws, as in the
-choice of the physician or the lawyer
-whom one may prefer. Although
-it is not my intention to
-discuss here the opinions of this
-author, I beg him to remark that
-his comparison is strikingly faulty;
-we cannot choose whom we please
-for our physician or for our lawyer.
-The former is obliged to go through
-a course of studies in order to merit
-his diploma; the latter must fulfil
-the conditions necessary to be admitted
-to the bar. To frame the
-laws is another thing; not the
-slightest preparation is exacted
-from those eligible to this duty.
-Apparently it is not considered
-worth the trouble.</p>
-
-<p>The ballot-roll and <i lang="fr">plébiscite</i> being
-disposed of, M. Taine returns
-to figures, to study what transpires
-when the electors are called upon
-to choose a deputy by district.
-This gives, says he, one deputy for
-twenty thousand voters spread over
-a surface of one thousand kilometres
-square, etc. Of the twenty
-thousand voters, how many will
-have a definite opinion of the candidate
-presented to them? Scarcely
-one in ten beyond the outskirts of
-the town; scarcely one in four or
-five in the whole district. There
-remains the resource of advice; but
-“the spirit of equality is all-powerful,
-and the hierarchy is wanting.”</p>
-
-<p>We touch here the most sorrowful
-wound of our social state; and
-this term even, is it not misapplied?&mdash;for
-we have no longer any order,
-or, by consequence, any social state.
-“As a general rule,” continues M.
-Taine, “the country people receive
-counsel only from their equals.”
-Therefore it is easy to employ evil
-means. These evil means may be
-summed up, according to the same
-author, in the abuse of governmental
-influence, and in a corruption
-whose form varies, but which makes
-the affair of an election an affair of
-money.</p>
-
-<p>There should be, and I have
-alluded to it in passing, many exceptions
-made with regard to what
-M. Taine says concerning the rural
-population. He believes them
-manifestly less able to vote than
-the city populations, while I am of
-quite the contrary opinion; but it
-still remains true that direct universal
-suffrage, such as we have, does
-not allow a person to choose from
-a knowledge of the case, and that,
-in reality, the general will has not,
-up to the present day, been able to
-find its true expression.</p>
-
-<p>This is all that I need prove for
-the present.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
-
-<h4>VIII.&mdash;IS THE GENERAL WILL COMPETENT
-TO MAKE LAWS?</h4>
-
-<p>This is a still higher question,
-and one which we must now approach.
-Admitting that the general
-will could make itself known, is
-it an authority competent to make
-laws?</p>
-
-<p>But before starting let us lay
-down a first principle which, quite
-elementary as it is, seems to be as
-much forgotten as the others: if
-the natural law exist not anteriorly
-to enjoin respect for human laws,
-human power would have no other
-ground of existence, no other support
-than force. Without a divine
-lawgiver, there is, in truth, no
-moral obligation.<a name="FNanchor_63" id="FNanchor_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> The hypothesis
-of a previous agreement among
-the members of society would not
-resolve the difficulty; for an agreement
-would not be able to bind
-any one, at least if there were no
-higher authority to secure it.<a name="FNanchor_64" id="FNanchor_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></p>
-
-<p>Whatever may be the immediate
-origin of law&mdash;be it promulgated by
-a sovereign, enacted by an assembly,
-or directly willed by the multitude&mdash;it
-would still be unable to rule,
-if we do not suppose a law anterior
-and, as Cicero says, eternal, which,
-in the first place, prescribes obedience
-to subjects, and, in the second,
-fidelity to reciprocal engagements,
-promises, and oaths. This
-superior law being the natural law,
-it is always, and in every case, impossible
-to suppress or to elude it.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, what is understood
-by the general will? Is it the
-unanimity of wills? No one, so
-far as I know, has ever exacted this
-condition. The question is, then,
-taking things at their best, of the
-will of the majority. People grant
-this, and often give to our modern
-governments the name of governments
-of the majority. They deduce
-then from this principle, that
-in a population of thirty millions
-of men, for example, it is lawful
-that the will of the twenty millions
-should rule over that of the remaining
-ten millions. If the constitution
-of a kingdom, says Burke,
-is an arithmetical problem, the calculation
-is just; but if the minority
-refuse to submit, the majority
-will be able to govern only by the
-aid of <i lang="fr">la lanterne</i>.<a name="FNanchor_65" id="FNanchor_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></p>
-
-<p>Scaffolds, shootings, exile, prison&mdash;such
-are, in truth, the institutions
-which have chiefly flourished since
-the famous <cite>Declaration of the Rights
-of Man</cite>.</p>
-
-<p>In the eyes of a man who knows
-how to reason, continues the English
-orator, this opinion is ridiculous.</p>
-
-<p>It could not be justified, unless
-it were well proved that the majority
-of men are enlightened, virtuous,
-wise, self-sacrificing, and incapable
-of preferring their own interest
-to that of others. No one has
-ever dared to say that legislators
-should make laws for the sake of
-making them, and without troubling
-themselves concerning the welfare
-of those for whom the laws
-are made. Now, the laws being
-made for all, the majority, if it had
-the qualities necessary for legislating,
-should concern itself still more
-about the minority than about itself.</p>
-
-<p>The Comte de la Marck<a name="FNanchor_66" id="FNanchor_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> relates
-that when Mirabeau became too
-much excited concerning the rights
-and privileges of man, it happened
-sometimes that he amused himself
-by curtailing his accounts. He
-cut off first women, children, the
-ignorant, the vicious, etc. Once,
-the nation being thus reduced to
-the little portion whose moral qualities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
-it became necessary to estimate,
-“I began,” says he, “to deduct
-those who lack reason, those
-who have false notions, those who
-value their own interests above
-everything, those who lack education
-and knowledge matured by reflection;
-and I then asked him if
-the men who merit to be spoken
-of with dignity and respect would
-not find themselves reduced to a
-number infinitely small. Now, according
-to my principle, I maintained
-that the government should
-act <em>for</em> the people, and not <em>by</em> them&mdash;that
-is to say, not by the opinion
-of the multitude; and I proved, by
-historical extracts and by examples
-which we had unfortunately under
-our eyes, that reason and good
-sense fly from men in proportion
-as they are gathered together in
-greater numbers.”</p>
-
-<p>Mirabeau contented himself with
-replying that one must flatter the
-people in order to govern them,
-which amounts to saying that one
-must cheat them.</p>
-
-<p>For the rest, this same Mirabeau
-acknowledged that equality, in the
-revolutionary sense, is absurd, and
-the passion which some have for it
-he called a violent paroxysm. It is
-he who best characterized the true
-result of the destruction of all social
-order. He called it “vanity’s upsetting.”
-He could not have spoken
-better; and the vanity which
-goes so low could have no other
-result than that which we behold&mdash;the
-premeditated absence or suppression
-of all true superiority.</p>
-
-<p>This episode on equality is not a
-digression, for the system of majorities
-supposes it. Now, it is absolutely
-anti-natural. According to
-the beautiful idea of Aristotle:<a name="FNanchor_67" id="FNanchor_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a>
-there is in man himself a soul and
-a body; the one predominating and
-made to command, the other to
-obey; the equality or the shifting
-of power between these two elements
-would be equally fatal to
-them. It is the same between man
-and the other animals, between
-tame animals and wild. The harmony
-of sex is analogous, and we
-even find some traces of this principle
-in inanimate objects; as, for
-example, in the harmony of sounds.
-Therefore S. Augustine defines order
-thus: “Such a disposition of
-things similar and dissimilar as
-shall give to each what is proper to
-it”&mdash;<i lang="la">Ordo est parium dispariumque
-rerum sua cuique tribuens dispositio</i>;<a name="FNanchor_68" id="FNanchor_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a>
-and S. Thomas hence concludes that
-order supposes inequality: <i lang="la">Nomen
-ordinis inæqualitatem importat</i>.<a name="FNanchor_69" id="FNanchor_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></p>
-
-<p>But the “immortal principles”
-have changed all that, according to
-Sganarelle; so their work, in its
-final analysis, results in a disorder
-without name.</p>
-
-<p>The external disorder is visible
-and pretty generally acknowledged;
-but the moral disorder passes unperceived.
-By means of equality
-on the one hand, and of the secularization
-of the law on the other,
-they arrive at this frightful result:
-for example, that regicide and parricide
-are, in justice, but ordinary
-crimes; if, moreover, regicide profits
-the people, it is worthy of eulogy.
-Sacrilege is nothing more
-than a superstitious fiction. In
-fine, <em>respect</em> being no longer possible
-nor even reasonable, according
-to the prediction of Burke,<a name="FNanchor_70" id="FNanchor_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> “the
-laws have no other guardian than
-terror, … and in perspective,
-from our point of view, we see
-but scaffolds,” or courts-martial,
-which amount to the same thing.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
-
-<h4>IX.&mdash;CONSEQUENCES OF THE SECULARIZATION
-OF LAW.</h4>
-
-<p>How often do we not hear it said
-that almost all our misfortunes, and,
-above all, our inability to repair
-our losses, come from the little respect
-we have for the law! This
-statement, which has become almost
-trite, indicates most frequently a
-strange wandering. After having
-destroyed respect for persons, is it
-not absurd to claim it for their
-works? But they have done more:
-they have denied the mission of a
-legislator. The secularization of
-the law&mdash;that is to say, the denial
-of a divine sanction applied to law&mdash;has
-no other meaning. Legislators
-being no longer the mandataries of
-God, or not wishing to be such,
-now speak only in virtue of their
-own lights, and have no real commission.
-By what title, then, would
-you have us respect them? Every
-one is at liberty to prefer his own
-lights and to believe that he would
-have done better.</p>
-
-<p>I hear the reply: “It is to the
-interest of all that order should
-reign, were it but materially, and
-the law is the principal means of
-maintaining order.” You may
-hence conclude that it would be
-more advantageous to see the laws
-obeyed; but a motive of interest is
-not a motive of respect, and there
-is a certain class of individuals who
-may gain by the disorder. No, you
-will have the right to claim respect
-for the law only when you shall
-have rendered the law truly respectable;
-and to do this you
-must prove that you have the mission
-to make the law, even were
-you the <i lang="fr">élite</i> of our statesmen and
-doctors of the law, and much more
-if you are but a collection of the
-most uncultivated tax-payers in
-the world.</p>
-
-<p>Knowledge is something; it is
-something also to represent real
-and considerable interests; and I
-do not deny the relative importance
-of the elements of which legislative
-bodies are composed. But nothing
-of all this can supply the place of a
-commission; and you will have
-that only when you shall have consented,
-as legislators, to acknowledge
-the existence of God, to submit
-yourselves to his laws, and to
-conform your own thereto.</p>
-
-<p>People have but a very inadequate
-idea of the disastrous consequences
-which, one day or other,
-may ensue from the secularization
-of law. Until now the only danger
-of which they have dreamed is
-that with which extreme revolution
-menaces us.</p>
-
-<p>This is a danger so imminent, so
-undisguised, that every one sees it;
-and some have ended by understanding
-that without a return to
-God society is destined to fall.
-Nay, more, the Assembly now sitting
-at Versailles has made an act of
-faith by ordering public prayers;
-and this first step has caused hope
-to revive in the hearts of men of
-good-will. But it is not, perhaps,
-inopportune to draw the attention
-of serious men to another phase of
-the question.</p>
-
-<p>What would happen if modern
-law should go so far as to enjoin a
-crime upon Christians? The hypothesis
-is not purely imaginary;
-and although, happily, thanks to
-Heaven, it has not yet come to pass,
-there is a whole party which threatens
-to reach this extreme. In other
-countries there has been something
-like a beginning of its realization.
-I would like to speak of the school
-law and the avowed project of imposing
-a compulsory and lay education.
-We know what is meant
-by <em>lay</em> in such a case; and experience
-proves that the state schools<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
-are often entrusted to men whose
-avowed intention is to bring up the
-children in infidelity. What would
-happen if such a law were passed,
-which supposes that everywhere, at
-the same time, parents would be
-compelled to put their children in
-imminent danger of losing their
-faith? The Catholic Church is
-very explicit in her doctrine on the
-obligation of obeying even a bad
-government; she orders that useless,
-unjust, and even culpable laws
-be borne with, so long as this can
-be done without exposing one’s self
-to commit a sin. Neither plunder
-nor the danger of death excuses
-revolt in her eyes. But in this case
-do we understand to what we would
-be reduced? To resist passively,
-and to allow one’s self to be punished
-by fines, by prison, by torture, or
-by death, would not remedy the
-evil; the soul of the child remains
-without defence, and the father is
-responsible for it. This kind of
-persecution is, then, more serious in
-its consequences, and may lead to
-deeper troubles, than even the direct
-persecution, which might consist,
-for example, in exacting apostasy
-from adults. In this last case the
-martyr bears all, and the first Christians
-have shown us the way; but
-here the torments of the parents
-cannot save the children, and the
-parents cannot abandon them;
-whatever becomes of the body, the
-soul must be guarded until death.</p>
-
-<p>It belongs not to me to decide;
-for in this case, as in all those of
-a similar kind, the line of conduct
-to be followed ought to be traced
-by the only competent authority;
-but the problem is worth proposing,
-and by it alone it is already easy
-to throw great light on the abysses
-to which the atheism of the law
-is leading the people by rapid
-strides.</p>
-
-<h4>X.&mdash;CHRISTIAN DEFINITION OF NATURAL
-LAW.</h4>
-
-<p>It remains to explain in a few
-words the great principles which
-should form the basis of law, and
-which were never completely ignored
-until these days of aberration
-and wretchedness. I could not expect
-to give here, in these few pages,
-a course of natural law, nor even
-to trace its outline; but there are
-some perfectly incontestable truths
-which it is very necessary to recall
-since people have forgotten them.
-When one has no personal authority,
-he feels a certain timidity in
-broaching so grave a subject, and
-in speaking of it as if he aspired to
-enlighten his kind; and meanwhile
-error is insinuated, preached, disseminated,
-commanded, with a skill
-so infernal and a success so great
-that ignorance of truth is almost
-unbounded. Of such elementary
-rules we often find influential persons,
-and sometimes persons of
-real merit, totally ignorant. In
-other days they would have known
-them on leaving school, or even
-from their catechism.</p>
-
-<p>Let us go back, then, to the definition
-of the word nature, and it
-will serve as a starting-point from
-which to treat of what the laws destined
-to govern man should be.</p>
-
-<p>The nature of a being is that
-which renders it capable of attaining
-its end. This is true of a plant
-or an animal as well as of man; but
-there are two kinds of ends subordinate
-one to the other. The end
-for which God created the world
-could be no other than God himself.<a name="FNanchor_71" id="FNanchor_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a>
-The Creator could only propose
-to himself an end worthy of
-himself, and, he alone being perfect,
-he could not find outside himself
-an end proportioned to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
-greatness. God is, then, the last
-end of all creatures. But there are
-particular ends; and it is in their
-subordination that the order of the
-world consists. The primary ends
-are, in a certain sense, but a means
-for arriving at the last end.</p>
-
-<p>But God being unable to add
-anything to his infinite perfection,
-the end which he proposed to himself
-could not be to render himself
-more perfect; hence he could
-seek only an exterior glory, which
-consists in manifesting himself to
-his creatures. For this it was necessary
-that some of these creatures
-should be capable of knowing him.
-These reasonable creatures are superior
-to the others and are their
-primary end; therefore it is that
-theologians call man a microcosm,
-a compendium of the universe, and
-king of the world.</p>
-
-<p>Man is placed in creation to admire
-it, and by means of it to render
-homage to God; for, in his
-quality of a creature gifted with
-reason, he knows his end, which is
-God, and the essential characteristic
-of his nature is the ability to
-attain this end. He is, moreover,
-endowed with an admirable prerogative&mdash;liberty,
-or free-will; that is
-to say, he is called on to will this
-end; and God, in his infinite bounty,
-will recompense him for having
-willed his own good. But man has
-need of an effort to will good; for
-his primitive nature has been corrupted
-by the original fall. He
-has, therefore, an inclination to evil,
-against which he must incessantly
-struggle; and the greatest number
-of political and social errors have
-their source in ignorance or forgetfulness
-of this perversion of human
-nature.</p>
-
-<p>This granted, the natural law
-comprises the obligations imposed
-on man in order that he may reach
-his end, together with the prohibition
-of all that could turn him away
-from it. This law obliges all men,
-even those who have no knowledge
-of the positive divine law&mdash;that is to
-say, the revealed law.</p>
-
-<p>Behold how Gerson has defined
-it:</p>
-
-<p>“The natural law is a sign imprinted
-upon the heart of every man
-enjoying the right use of reason,
-and which makes known to him the
-divine will, in virtue of which the
-human creature is required to do
-certain things and to avoid certain
-others, in order to reach his end.”
-Among the precepts which God
-has engraved upon the hearts of all
-men is found, in the first rank, that
-which obliges them to refer themselves
-to God as to their last end.</p>
-
-<p>From this it follows that every
-law which tends to hinder or prevent
-the progress of men toward
-God is a law against nature, and
-consequently null (<i lang="la">lex injusta non
-est lex</i>); for no human law can
-change or abrogate the natural law.</p>
-
-<h4>XI.&mdash;CONTINUATION: THE END OF SOCIETY
-ACCORDING TO THE NATURAL
-LAW.</h4>
-
-<p>The considerations of the preceding
-chapter have reference to
-man considered abstractly from society.
-But man cannot exist alone.
-For life and subsistence, during his
-early childhood, he has need of his
-kind; so that, from the first moment
-of his existence, he forms part
-of a domestic society&mdash;the family.</p>
-
-<p>The family being certainly of divine
-institution, and the duties which
-it imposes being of the number of
-those which the natural law commands,
-we find therein the first
-elements of all society: authority,
-hierarchy, consequently inequality,
-mutual love, and protection&mdash;in a
-word, varied and reciprocal duties.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
-But the family suffices not for man’s
-social cravings. Man naturally
-longs after his like; he possesses
-the marvellous gift of speech for
-communication with his fellows;
-he bears engraven on his heart the
-first precept of his duty towards
-them: “Do unto others that which
-you would have others do unto
-you; and do not unto them that
-which you would not that they do
-to you.” The existence of society
-is, therefore, still a law of nature.</p>
-
-<p>Once formed, society itself has
-its duties; it has its proper end,
-which not only should not be opposed
-to the end of man considered
-singly, but should moreover contribute
-to facilitate the attainment
-of that end. The end of man being
-God, and this end being attainable
-only by virtue, the principal end
-of society will necessarily be to
-aid men in the practice of virtue;
-and, that I may not be accused of
-depending exclusively on theology,
-I will adduce what Aristotle has
-said on this subject: “The most
-perfect state is evidently that in
-which each citizen, whoever he
-may be, may, by favor of the laws,
-best practise virtue and be most
-secure of happiness.”<a name="FNanchor_72" id="FNanchor_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> And what
-is happiness, according to Aristotle?
-“We consider it a point perfectly
-established that happiness is
-always in proportion to wisdom; …
-[for] the soul, speaking absolutely
-and even relatively to us, is more
-precious than wealth and the
-body.… Following the laws of
-nature, all exterior goods are desirable
-only insomuch as they serve
-the soul, and wise men should
-not desire them except for this end;
-whereas the soul should never be
-placed in comparison with them.”<a name="FNanchor_73" id="FNanchor_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a></p>
-
-<p>We are assuredly far off from
-this pagan, and he goes still further
-even than the foregoing; for he
-lays down as incontestable a principle
-which is the formal condemnation
-of the secularization of the
-law. “The elements of happiness,”
-says he, “are the same for
-the individual and for the city.”<a name="FNanchor_74" id="FNanchor_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a>
-We have just seen what he understands
-by happiness; but he adds,
-in order that he may be the better
-comprehended, that if the felicity
-of the individual consisted in wealth,
-it would be the same for the city.
-According to Aristotle, therefore,
-the moral law obliges society as it
-does the individual. Now, it is precisely
-this which the partisans of
-atheistical or merely secular law
-deny.</p>
-
-<h4>XII.&mdash;CHRISTIAN LAW.</h4>
-
-<p>I have designedly quoted the
-ancient philosophers, because certain
-diseased minds who shrink from
-the authority of the sacred books
-accept more willingly that of the
-learned; but I believe that from
-what precedes one could easily infer
-the true rule of the relations between
-church and state. I will
-not undertake it now; nevertheless,
-as I address myself, by preference,
-to those who profess the same faith
-as myself, I will take the liberty to
-point out to them some inevitable
-corollaries of the principles I have
-just recalled.</p>
-
-<p>The natural law, properly so called,
-has been confirmed and completed
-by revelation. Although
-the precepts whose observance is
-indispensable to man to reach his
-end are engraven in the depths of
-his heart, the blindness and the
-evil propensities which are the consequences
-of his fall render him
-but too forgetful of his duties. Besides,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
-God, having resolved to save
-man, chose to himself a privileged
-people, that from it he might cause
-the Messias to be born; and for
-the accomplishment of his merciful
-designs he guided this people and
-made it the guardian of his law,
-even to the day on which the promises
-were fulfilled.</p>
-
-<p>To this end God charged Moses
-with the promulgation of a positive
-divine law which contained moral
-precepts&mdash;precepts relating to the
-ceremonies of the ancient worship&mdash;and
-political precepts; that is to say,
-precepts relating to the civil government
-of the Jewish people. The
-last two classes of precepts no longer
-oblige; but those which concern
-morals&mdash;that is to say, those
-of the Decalogue&mdash;retain all their
-force, because they are the precepts
-of the natural law.</p>
-
-<p>But it is no longer by virtue of
-the promulgation of Moses that we
-are bound by the moral obligations
-contained in the old law. He who
-is our Judge, our Legislator, our
-King,<a name="FNanchor_75" id="FNanchor_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> has come himself to give us
-a more perfect law: “Mandatum
-novum do vobis” (Joan. 13). According
-to the expression of Suarez,
-Jesus Christ has made known more
-perfectly the natural law in completing
-it by new precepts. Jesus
-Christ has done still more: he has
-founded a new kingdom&mdash;the church,
-the mystical body, of which he is
-the head. He has, therefore, appointed
-interpreters and guardians
-of his law, who have the mission to
-proclaim it to those who know it
-not; to pardon in his name those
-who, having violated it, confess and
-repent; and, finally, to distribute
-the numberless succors of divine
-grace&mdash;all which have for their
-object to help us to observe the
-law as perfectly as possible, and
-consequently to enable us ourselves
-to approach perfection. The new
-precepts added by Christ to those
-of the natural law are those which
-enjoin upon us the use of the sacraments
-and which determine their
-form; these articles of the new law&mdash;if
-we may be allowed so to term
-them&mdash;are all as obligatory as those
-of the natural law, because they
-have God himself for their author.
-Behold how S. Thomas sums up
-the whole of the new law, or the
-law of grace, which Christ came to
-bring us: “It comprises,” says he,
-“the precepts of the natural law,
-the articles of faith, and the sacraments
-of grace.”</p>
-
-<p>One of the most remarkable characteristics
-of the Christian law is
-that it was not written. Jesus
-Christ <em>spoke</em> his commandments,
-and, <em>his word being divine</em>, it engraved
-them upon the hearts of his
-apostles and disciples;<a name="FNanchor_76" id="FNanchor_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> but the
-Incarnate Word had nothing written
-during the time he spent upon
-earth. The first Gospel appeared
-at least eight years after the death
-of Jesus Christ. If to this observation
-we add the common belief
-of theologians, according to which
-it was only from the coming of the
-Holy Ghost&mdash;that is to say, from the
-day of Pentecost and after the Ascension&mdash;that
-the law of Christ became
-obligatory, we arrive at this
-conclusion: that the means of oral
-teaching was expressly chosen by
-the Word for the transmission of
-his law and his will.</p>
-
-<p>Nothing throws greater light
-upon the sovereign importance of
-the church and its hierarchy; nothing
-manifests better the extreme
-necessity of a permanent infallibility
-residing somewhere in the mystical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
-body of Christ. The Council
-of the Vatican, conformably to the
-tradition of all Christian ages, has
-<em>defined</em> that “the Roman Pontiff
-enjoys the plenitude of that infallibility
-with which it was necessary
-for the church to be provided in
-defining doctrine touching faith or
-morals.”</p>
-
-<p>These last words show that the
-Pope is the unfailing interpreter of
-the natural law, and the judge,
-from whom there is no appeal of
-its violations.</p>
-
-<p>The decisions given by the Sovereign
-Pontiff upon human laws
-are not recognized at the present
-day by the powers of the earth.
-But neither is God recognized; and
-thus it is that, little by little violence
-has overrun the world and
-law has vanished. Europe is returning
-to a worse than primitive
-barbarism; and Catholics are no
-longer alone in saying it.</p>
-
-<p>At the epoch at which the bishops
-were gathered together at Rome
-for the last council, a publicist of
-great merit, an Englishman and a
-Protestant, speaking in the name
-of his co-religionists, addressed an
-appeal to the Pope entreating him
-to labor for the re-establishment of
-the rights of the people.</p>
-
-<p>The rights of the people, or the
-law of nature, said Mr. Urquhart,
-is the Ten Commandments applied
-to society. After having cited
-Lord Mansfield, who says that this
-right “is considered to form part
-of the English law,” and that “<em>the
-acts</em> of the government cannot alter
-it,” Mr. Urquhart fears not to
-add “that it is against their governments
-that nations should protect
-this right.” And why did this Protestant
-appeal to Rome? Because,
-in sight of the unjust wars which
-ravage Europe, he hoped that the
-Ecumenical Council “would lay
-down a rule enabling Catholics to
-distinguish the just from the unjust;
-so that the Pope might afterwards
-exercise juridical power over
-communities, nations, and their sovereigns.”<a name="FNanchor_77" id="FNanchor_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a></p>
-
-<p>The rule exists; for the natural
-or divine law engraven by God
-from the beginning upon the hearts
-of all men, and more expressly revealed
-in the Decalogue, was the
-subject of the teaching of Christ.
-The juridical power and the tribunal
-from which there is no appeal
-equally exist; but the voice
-of the judge is no longer listened
-to by those who govern human society.
-But it is not this which is
-important, and Mr. Urquhart is
-right&mdash;it is the nations which should
-invoke against their new tyrants
-the only efficacious protection; it
-is the people who should first bend
-before the beneficent authority of
-the infallible master of the moral
-law; there would then be no further
-need of the consent of governments.</p>
-
-<h4>XIII.&mdash;CONCLUSION.</h4>
-
-<p>I said, in beginning the last paragraph,
-that it was addressed to
-Catholics by right of corollary
-from the preceding considerations.
-It is certain, indeed, that if all
-Catholics were truly instructed and
-well convinced of the truths that I
-have endeavored to set forth as
-briefly and clearly as I could, a
-great step in the right path would
-already have been taken.</p>
-
-<p>But there is a much-used, widely-spread,
-and very convenient objection
-which many excellent men fail
-not to proffer in such a case. “It
-is true,” say they, “that if human
-discussions and quarrels could be
-referred to the highest moral authority
-on earth, it would afford<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
-great advantages; but this is not
-<em>practicable</em>. Times have changed,
-and it is impossible to hope that
-this authority can ever recover the
-influence it would require in order
-to act efficaciously.”</p>
-
-<p>If good men adhere to the fatal
-habit they have acquired of renouncing
-beforehand all effort, for
-fear it will not be successful, nothing
-can be done; and there remains
-to us nothing but to veil our faces
-while awaiting the destruction of
-our country and of all organized
-society. But even were we reduced
-to despair, we never have
-the right of renouncing our convictions
-nor of ceasing to act personally
-according to the prescriptions
-of our faith. Before concerning
-ourselves about the doings of
-others, and without needing to
-count on success, we must begin by
-conforming ourselves to the teachings
-of truth, which is by its nature
-unchangeable; for there is no progress
-or civilization which can alter
-one iota of the divine laws.</p>
-
-<p>Moreover, he is very bold who
-would dare to predict what Europe
-will or will not be several years
-hence. Either it is condemned&mdash;and
-then, for his own peace of
-mind, a man should allow himself
-to be guided by his conscience with
-the full certainty of not doing
-wrong&mdash;or God wills to save Europe
-still another time; and this can
-never be, save by truth.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to practical means,
-of which they make so much at the
-present day, I see no one who proposes
-them inspiring any confidence.
-Every one hesitates,
-gropes, and most often acknowledges
-that he can only invent.
-The present hour is favorable to
-good, in this sense: that the greater
-number of <em>practical</em> errors no longer
-exercise the same seduction as at
-the beginning of the century.</p>
-
-<p>Evil presses us on all sides, and,
-according to the expression of one
-of our most distinguished publicists,
-“1789 has failed.”<a name="FNanchor_78" id="FNanchor_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> After 1789
-there is no middle way between social
-war and the return to good.
-We meet at every step upright
-minds who break their idols; there
-are too many who know not yet
-with what to replace them, but it
-is still much to have seen one’s
-error.</p>
-
-<p>Furthermore, there are untiring
-seekers, some of whom have found
-the whole truth, and others who
-find but the fragments; all help to
-prepare the way for the reconstruction
-of the social edifice. He to
-whom I have dedicated this work<a name="FNanchor_79" id="FNanchor_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a>
-will pardon me, I hope, if I
-quote from him. I do not believe
-that there is another example of an
-equal influence so rapidly exercised
-by a book so serious, so grave in
-matter, so little attractive to the
-frivolous reader, as that which he
-has written upon <cite>Social Reform</cite>.
-To rediscover social truth by the
-method of observation and analysis
-was already a phenomenon which I
-consider unique of its kind; to
-cause it to be adopted by so great
-a number of minds biassed and filled
-with hostile prejudices, and
-most frequently badly prepared by
-their previous studies, is a fact still
-more astonishing. Thus, as I said
-in my dedicatory epistle, it is impossible
-for me not to see herein
-one of the most consoling signs of
-our age. The scientific processes
-of M. Le Play were, perhaps, the
-only ones which would find favor
-with a generation so dialectical and
-so enamored with the exact sciences
-as ours.</p>
-
-<p>Notwithstanding the sorrows
-which oppress us, we must not despair;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
-and, above all, we must not
-trouble ourselves too much concerning
-the errors of what people
-agree to call public opinion.</p>
-
-<p>The errors regarding the general
-will reproduce themselves, under
-another form, in the uneasiness
-which this self-styled queen of the
-world instils into the minds of men
-of good-will. If we consider closely
-what the elements of opinion are,
-we very quickly perceive that, in
-general, it merits the name of public
-only because it proclaims itself
-very loudly and makes itself known
-in all the public squares. In reality,
-a party much less considerable than
-we suppose announces to the world,
-and imagines, most frequently in
-good faith, that it alone is enlightened.
-Its boldness inspires awe,
-and by degrees those who compose
-it succeed in persuading the multitude,
-and in persuading themselves
-that they represent the only <em>opinion</em>
-worthy of note. And who are
-these? Financiers and journalists
-who carry on business in common;
-loud-voiced lawyers; professors
-much tainted themselves; officers
-occupying a position, and others
-wishing to obtain one from them;
-the idle pleasure-seeking men
-and women. Is it, then, true that
-these represent the nation?</p>
-
-<p>Eager for their own interest or
-for that of others, these pretended
-echoes of public opinion are wont
-to say “The people believe, the
-people wish, the people will never
-consent, it does not suit the people,
-etc. What a pity! The people
-are nothing in revolutions in which
-they are but passive instruments.
-France no longer ardently desires
-anything except repose. At first
-sight this proposition would seem
-true&mdash;the previous consent of the
-French is necessary for the re-establishment
-of the monarchy.
-Nothing is more false. The multitude
-never obtains what it wills;
-it always accepts, it never chooses.
-We may even notice an <em>affectation</em>
-of Providence (if I may be allowed
-the expression), inasmuch as the
-efforts of the people to attain an
-object are the very means which it
-makes use of to withdraw them
-from it.</p>
-
-<p>“In the French Revolution the
-people were constantly chained, outraged,
-ruined, torn by factions; and
-the factions, in their turn, the sport
-of one another, constantly drifted
-(notwithstanding all their efforts),
-only to be dashed against the rock
-which awaited them.… In the
-establishment and the overthrow of
-sovereignties … the mass of the
-people enter only as the wood and
-the cord employed by a machinist.
-Their chiefs even are such only to
-strangers; in reality, they are led as
-they lead the people. When the
-proper moment shall arrive, the Supreme
-Ruler of empires will chase
-away these noisy insects. Then we
-shall be astonished at the profound
-nothingness of these men.</p>
-
-<p>“Do people imagine that the political
-world goes on by chance,
-and that it is not organized, directed,
-animated, by the same wisdom
-which shines in the physical world?
-Great malefactors who overthrow
-the state necessarily produce melancholy,
-internal dismemberments
-… but when man labors to re-establish
-order, he associates himself
-with the Author of order, he
-is favored by nature&mdash;that is to say,
-by the aggregate of secondary
-causes which are the instruments
-of the Divinity. His action has
-something divine; it is at once gentle
-and powerful; it forces nothing
-and nothing resists it.”<a name="FNanchor_80" id="FNanchor_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></p>
-
-<p>These beautiful words are as true
-to-day as in 1797.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>DURATION.</h3>
-
-<h4>II</h4>
-
-<p>All change implies succession.
-Hence the duration of contingent
-beings, inasmuch as they are subject
-to actual change, involves succession.
-The duration of the
-changes brought about by purely
-spiritual operations transcends our
-experience; for we are not pure
-spirits. Hence we have no means
-of measuring such changes by their
-intrinsic measure. But the duration
-of the changes which occur in
-the material world through local
-movements lies within the range of
-our apprehensive faculty, and can
-be measured by us; for we find in
-nature many movements which, by
-their constant recurrence and their
-uniformity, are calculated to serve
-as terms of comparison for measuring
-the length of successive duration.</p>
-
-<p><i>Definitions of time.</i>&mdash;The duration
-of local movement, which we measure
-by a given standard, is called
-“time.” And therefore time may
-be properly and adequately defined
-as the duration of local movement:
-<i lang="la">Duratio motus</i>. From this definition
-it immediately follows that
-where there is no movement there
-can be no time. Accordingly, there
-was no time before creation, as
-there was no movement. It follows
-also that the duration of created
-things, inasmuch as it expresses the
-permanence of those things in their
-own being, is not time; for it is of
-the essence of time to be successive,
-and there is no succession where
-there is no change, and no change
-without movement. Hence, when
-we say that contingent beings exist
-in time, we do not refer to their
-essence or substance as such, but
-to their successive modes of being,
-by which their duration acquires
-its accidental successivity. Were
-the whole world reduced to perfect
-stillness by impeding or suspending
-the actions and movements of all
-creatures, time would at the same
-instant cease to flow; for time is
-not the duration of things, but the
-duration of movement.</p>
-
-<p>Time may be considered either
-as a <em>relation</em> or as a <em>quantity</em>. In
-fact, intervals of successive duration
-are, like distances, real relations;
-but when we think of the
-greater or less extent of space which
-can be measured with a given velocity
-between two correlated terms
-of time, these same intervals exhibit
-themselves under the form of
-continuous quantities.</p>
-
-<p>Time, as a relation, is defined by
-S. Thomas and by all the ancients
-as <i lang="la">Ratio prioris et posterioris motus</i>&mdash;that
-is, as the link between the “before”
-and the “after” of any movement;
-and, as a quantity, it is defined
-as <i lang="la">Numerus motus</i>&mdash;that is, as a
-number arising from the mensuration
-of the movement. This movement
-is always local, as we have
-already intimated; for we cannot
-measure successive duration by any
-other kind of movement. Hence
-it is that the duration which is predicated
-of spiritual substances and
-of their operations differs in kind
-from our time. For, since such
-substances are not subjected to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
-local movements, their duration
-cannot be measured in terms of
-space and velocity, as our time, but
-only in terms of intellectual movements,
-which have nothing common
-with the periodical revolutions from
-which we desume the measure of
-our days, years, and centuries.
-When we say that angels have existed
-for centuries, we measure the
-duration of their existence by a
-measure which is altogether extrinsic
-to them; and in the same manner
-we measure the duration of our own
-intellectual operations by a measure
-extrinsic to them&mdash;that is, by comparing
-it with the duration of some
-movement occurring in our bodies
-or in the surrounding world.</p>
-
-<p>Since time is the duration of
-movement, it is plain that when we
-perceive movement we immediately
-perceive time; and since movement
-implies a continuous change,
-it is plain also that the greater the
-number of changes we can distinctly
-perceive in a given succession,
-the better we realize the flowing of
-time. It is for this reason that
-time seems longer in sickness or in
-a sleepless night than in good
-health and in a pleasurable occupation;
-for gladness and amusement
-distract our minds, and do not allow
-us to reflect enough on what is going
-on around us; whilst anything
-which affects us painfully calls our
-attention to ourselves and to our
-sensations, and thus causes us to
-reflect on a great number of movements
-to which in other circumstances
-we would pay no attention
-at all. It is for this reason, also,
-that when we are fast asleep we
-have no perception of the flowing
-of time. The moment one falls
-asleep he ceases to perceive the
-succession of changes, both interior
-and exterior, from the consideration
-of which time should be estimated;
-hence, when he awakes, he
-instinctively unites the present <em>now</em>
-with that in which he fell asleep, as
-if there had been no intermediate
-time. Thus, in the same manner as
-there is no time without movement,
-there is no actual perception of
-time without the actual perception
-of movement.</p>
-
-<p><i>Measure of time.</i>&mdash;We have said
-that time, as a quantity, is measured
-by movement. The sense of this
-proposition is that a body moving
-with uniform velocity describes
-spaces proportional to the times
-employed; and therefore, if we
-assume as a unit of measure the
-time employed in describing a certain
-unit of space with a given velocity,
-the duration of the movement
-will contain as many units of
-time as there are units of space
-measured by that velocity. Thus,
-if the revolution of the earth around
-its axis is taken as the unit of movement,
-and its duration, or the day,
-as the unit of time, the number of
-days will increase at the same rate
-as the number of revolutions.
-Speaking in general, if the time
-employed in describing uniformly a
-space <i>v</i> be taken as a unit of time,
-and <i>t</i> be the time employed in describing
-uniformly a space <i>s</i> with
-the same constant velocity, we have
-the proportion&mdash;</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>s</i>:<i>v</i>::<i>t</i>:1.</p>
-
-<p>The unit of time is necessarily
-arbitrary or conventional. For
-there is no natural unit of measure
-in continuous quantities whose divisibility
-has no end, as we have
-explained in a preceding article.</p>
-
-<p>The space <i>v</i> uniformly described
-in the unit of time represents the
-velocity of the movement; and
-therefore the duration of the movement
-comprises as many units of
-time as there are units in the ratio
-of the space to the constant velocity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
-with which it is measured. In
-other terms, time is the ratio of
-the space described to the velocity
-with which it is described.</p>
-
-<p>We often hear it said that as
-time is measured by movement, so
-also movement is measured by
-time. But this needs explanation.
-When we say that time is measured
-by movement, we mean that time is
-represented by the ratio of the
-space to the velocity with which it
-is described, or by the ratio of the
-material extension to the formal
-extending of the movement; for
-the proportion above deduced gives</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>t</i> = <i>s</i>/<i>v</i>,</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">where <i>s</i> represents the length of
-the movement in space (which
-length is its material constituent)
-and <i>v</i> represents its intensity (which
-is its formal constituent). On the
-other hand, when we say that movement
-is measured by time, we either
-mean that the ratio of the space to
-the velocity is represented by the
-time employed in the movement,
-and thus we merely interchange
-the members of our equation, by
-which no new conclusion can be
-reached; or we mean that the
-length and the velocity of the
-movement are measured by time.
-But this cannot be; for our equation
-gives for the length of the
-movement</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>s</i> = <i>vt</i>;</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">and this shows that time alone cannot
-measure the length of the space
-described. On the other hand, the
-same equation gives for the velocity</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>v</i> = <i>s</i>/<i>t</i>;</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">and this shows that time is not the
-measure of velocity, as the one diminishes
-when the other increases.</p>
-
-<p>This suffices to show that the
-phrase “movement is measured by
-time” must be interpreted in a very
-limited sense, as simply meaning
-that between movement and time
-there is a necessary connection,
-and that, all other things remaining
-equal, the length of the movement
-is proportional to the length of the
-time employed. Yet this does not
-mean that the length of the movement
-depends entirely on the time
-employed, for the same length may
-be described in different times; but
-it means that the time employed
-depends on the material and formal
-extent of the movement, as above
-explained; for, according as we
-take different velocities, different
-lengths will be described in equal
-time, and equal lengths in different
-times. It is not the time that extends
-the movement, but it is the
-movement that by its extension extends
-its own time.</p>
-
-<p>The true measure of movement
-is its velocity; for the measure of
-any given quantity is a unit of the
-same kind, and velocity is the unit
-of movement. Time, as measured
-by us, is a number which arises
-from the mensuration of the movement
-by its velocity; and therefore
-time results from the movement
-as already measured. This shows
-again that time is not the measure
-of the <em>extent</em> of the movement.
-We have seen, also, that time is not
-the measure of the <em>intensity</em> of the
-movement. It follows, therefore,
-that the quantity of movement is
-not measured by time.</p>
-
-<p>Time, being the ratio of two
-quantities mathematically homogeneous,
-is represented by an <em>abstract</em>
-number. Yet the same time may
-be expressed by different numbers,
-according as we measure it by different
-units, as days, hours, minutes,
-etc. These numbers, however,
-are only virtually discrete, as
-time cannot be discontinued.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Balmes from the equation</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>v</i> = <i>s</i>/<i>t</i></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">deduces the consequence that “the
-velocity is essentially a relation;
-for it cannot be otherwise expressed
-than by the ratio of the space
-to the time.”<a name="FNanchor_81" id="FNanchor_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> We think that this
-conclusion is faulty. Space and
-time are not homogeneous quantities;
-hence the mathematical ratio
-of space to time is not an abstract
-but a concrete number, and therefore
-it represents an absolute quantity.
-Space divided by time is a
-length divided into equal parts;
-hence the quotient&mdash;viz., the velocity&mdash;represents
-the length of the
-movement made in the unit of
-time. And since Balmes admits
-that the length of the movement is
-a quantity having a determinate
-value, we do not see how he can
-escape the consequence that velocity,
-too, is a quantity of the
-same kind, and not a mere relation.
-“In the expression of velocity,”
-says Balmes, “two terms
-enter&mdash;space and time. Viewing
-the former in the real order, abstraction
-made of that of phenomena,
-we more easily come to regard
-it as something fixed; and we comprehend
-it in a given case without
-any relation. A foot is at all times
-a foot, and a yard a yard. These
-are quantities existing in reality,
-and if we refer them to other quantities
-it is only to make sure that
-they are so, not because their reality
-depends upon the relation.
-A cubic foot of water is not a cubic
-foot because the measure so
-says, but, on the contrary, the measure
-so says because there is a cubic
-foot. The measure itself is also
-an absolute quantity; and in general
-all extensions are absolute, for
-otherwise we should be obliged to
-seek measure of measure, and so
-on to infinity” (loc. cit.) This
-passage shows that a length described
-in space is, according to
-Balmes, an absolute quantity. And
-since the mathematical value of
-velocity represents a length described
-in space, as we have just
-proved, it follows that velocity has
-an absolute value.</p>
-
-<p>But leaving aside all mathematical
-considerations, we may show
-that velocity has an absolute value
-by reference to metaphysical data.
-What is velocity but the development
-in extension of the intensity
-of the momentum impressed on a
-material point? Now, the intensity
-of the momentum is an absolute
-quantity, equal to the quantity of
-the action by which it is produced.
-Hence it is evident that, as the
-action has an absolute value, greater
-or less, according to circumstances,
-so also the momentum impressed
-has an absolute value; and consequently
-the velocity also, which
-is nothing else than the momentum
-itself as developing its intensity
-into extension, has an absolute value,
-and is an absolute quantity.</p>
-
-<p>Balmes thought the contrary, for
-the following reason: “If the denominator,
-in the expression of velocity,
-were a quantity of the same
-kind as space&mdash;that is, having determinate
-values, existing and conceivable
-by themselves alone&mdash;the
-velocity, although still a relation
-might also have determinate values,
-not indeed wholly absolute, but
-only in the supposition that the
-two terms <i>s</i> and <i>t</i>, having fixed values,
-are compared.… But from the
-difficulties which we have, on the one
-hand, seen presented to the consideration
-of time as an absolute thing,
-and from the fact that, on the other
-hand, no solid proof can be adduced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
-to show such a property to have
-any foundation, it follows that we
-know not how to consider velocity
-as absolute, even in the sense above
-explained” (loc. cit.)</p>
-
-<p>This reason proves the contrary
-of what the author intends to establish.
-In fact, if the denominator
-were of the same kind as the
-numerator, the quotient would be
-an abstract number, as we know
-from mathematics; and such a
-number would exhibit nothing more
-than the relation of the two homogeneous
-terms&mdash;that is, how many
-times the one is contained in the
-other. It is precisely because the
-denominator is not of the same
-kind as the numerator that the
-quotient must be of the same kind
-as the numerator. And since the
-numerator represents space, which,
-according to Balmes, is an absolute
-quantity, it follows that the quotient&mdash;that
-is, the number by which
-we express the velocity&mdash;exhibits a
-quantity of the same nature: a conclusion
-in which all mathematicians
-agree. When a man walks a mile,
-with the velocity of one yard per
-second, he measures the whole mile
-yard by yard, with his velocity.
-If the velocity were not a quantity
-of the same kind with the space
-measured, how could it measure
-it?</p>
-
-<p>True it is that velocity, when
-considered in its metaphysical aspect,
-is not a length of space, but
-the intensity of the act by which
-matter is carried through such a
-length. Yet, since Balmes argues
-here from a mathematical equation,
-we must surmise or presume that
-he considers velocity as a length
-measured in space in the unit of
-time, as mathematicians consider
-it; for he cannot argue from mathematical
-expressions with logical consistency,
-if he puts upon them construction
-of an unmathematical character.
-After all, it remains true that
-the velocity or intensity of the movement
-is always to be measured by
-the extension of the movement in
-the unit of time; and thus it is necessary
-to admit that velocity exhibits
-an absolute intensive quantity
-measured by the extension
-which it evolves.</p>
-
-<p>We therefore “know how to consider
-velocity as absolute,” though
-its mathematical expression is drawn
-from a relation of space to time.
-The measure of any quantity is
-always found by comparing the
-quantity with some unit of measure;
-hence all quantity, inasmuch
-as measured, exhibits itself under
-a relative form as <i lang="la">ratio mensurati
-ad suam mensuram</i>; and it is only
-under such a form that it can be
-expressed in numbers. But this
-relativity does not constitute the
-nature of quantity, because it presupposes
-it, and has the whole reason
-of its being in the process of
-mensuration.</p>
-
-<p>We have insisted on this point
-because the confusion of the absolute
-value of velocity with its relative
-mathematical expression would
-lead us into a labyrinth of difficulties
-with regard to time. Balmes,
-having overlooked the distinction
-between the mathematical expression
-and the metaphysical character
-of velocity, comes to the striking
-consequence that “if the whole
-machine of the universe, not excluding
-the operations of our soul,
-were accelerated or retarded, an
-impossibility would be realized;
-for the relation of the terms would
-have to be changed without undergoing
-any change. If the velocity
-be only the relation of space to
-time, and time only the relation of
-spaces traversed, it is the same
-thing to change them all in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
-same proportion, and not to change
-them at all. It is to leave every
-thing as it is” (loc. cit.) The
-author is quite mistaken. The
-very equation</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>t</i> = <i>s</i>/<i>v</i>,</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">on which he grounds his argument,
-suffices to show that if the velocity
-increases, the time employed in
-measuring the space <i>s</i> diminishes;
-and if the velocity diminishes, the
-time increases. This being the
-case, it is evident that an acceleration
-of the movements in the whole
-machine of the universe would be
-a <em>real</em> acceleration, since the same
-movements would be performed in
-less time; and a retardation would
-be a <em>real</em> retardation, since the same
-movements would require more
-time. We are therefore far from
-realizing an impossibility when we
-admit that, in the hypothesis of the
-author, time would vary in the inverse
-ratio of the velocity of the
-universal movement.</p>
-
-<p><i>Division of time.</i>&mdash;Philosophers
-divide time into <em>real</em> and <em>imaginary</em>.
-We have already explained this
-division when speaking of flowing
-duration. The reality of time evidently
-depends on the reality of
-movement; hence any time to
-which no real movement corresponds
-is imaginary. Thus if you
-dream that you are running, the
-time of your running is imaginary,
-because your running, too, is imaginary.
-In such a case the real time
-corresponds to your real movements&mdash;say,
-to your breathing,
-pulse, etc.&mdash;while the dream continues.</p>
-
-<p>Imaginary time is often called
-also <em>ideal</em> time, but this last epithet
-is not correct; for, as time is the
-duration of local movement, it is in
-the nature of time to be an object
-of the imagination. And for this
-reason the duration of the intellectual
-movements and operations of
-pure spirits is called time only by
-analogy, as we have above stated.
-However, we are wont to think of
-such a duration as if it were homogeneous
-with our own time; for we
-cannot measure it except by reference
-to the duration of the movements
-we witness in the material
-world.</p>
-
-<p>Time is also divided into <em>past</em>,
-<em>present</em>, and <em>future</em>. The past corresponds
-to a movement already
-made, the future to a movement
-which will be made, and the present
-to a movement which is actually
-going on. But some will ask: Is
-there really any present time?
-Does not the <em>now</em>, to which the
-present is confined, exclude all
-<em>before</em> and all <em>after</em>, and therefore
-all succession, without which it is
-impossible to conceive time? We
-concede that the <em>now</em>, as such&mdash;that
-is, considered in its absolute reality&mdash;is
-not time, just as a point is not a
-line; for, as the point has no length,
-so the <em>now</em> has no extension. Yet,
-as a point in motion describes a
-line, so also the <em>now</em>, by its flowing
-from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>, extends time.
-Hence, although the <em>now</em>, as such, is
-not time, its flowing from <em>before</em> to
-<em>after</em> is time. If, then, we consider
-the present as the link of the immediate
-past with the immediate future&mdash;that
-is, if we consider the <em>now</em>
-not statically, but dynamically&mdash;we
-shall see at once that its actual
-flowing from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em> implies
-succession, and constitutes an infinitesimal
-interval of time.</p>
-
-<p>This may also be shown by reference
-to the nature of uniform local
-movement. When a material point
-describes a line with uniform velocity,
-its movement being continuous,
-its duration is continuous; and
-therefore every flowing instant of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
-its duration is continuous, as no
-discontinuous parts can ever be
-reached in the division of continuum.
-Hence every flowing instant
-has still the nature of time. This
-conclusion is mathematically evident
-from the equation</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>t</i> = <i>s</i>/<i>v</i>,</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">for, <i>v</i> being supposed constant, we
-cannot assume <i>t</i> = 0 unless we
-also assume <i>s</i> = 0. But this latter
-assumption would imply rest instead
-of movement, and therefore
-it is out of the question. Accordingly,
-at no instant of the movement
-can we assume <i>t</i> = 0; or, which
-is the same, every flowing instant
-partakes the nature of time.</p>
-
-<p>The same conclusion can be
-established, even more evidently,
-by the consideration of accelerated
-or retarded movements. When a
-stone is thrown upwards, the velocity
-of its ascent suffers a <em>continuous</em>
-diminution till at last it becomes
-= 0; and at the very instant it becomes
-= 0 an opposite velocity begins
-to urge the stone down, and
-increases continually so long as the
-stone does not reach the ground or
-any other obstacle. Now, a continuous
-increase or decrease of the
-velocity means that there are not
-two consecutive moments of time
-in which the stone moves at exactly
-the same rate; and hence nothing
-but an instant corresponds to each
-successive degree of velocity. But
-since the duration of the movement
-is made up of nothing but such instants,
-it is clear that the succession
-of such instants constitutes time;
-and consequently, as time is continuous,
-those instants, though infinitesimal,
-are themselves continuous;
-and thus every flowing instant
-is really time.</p>
-
-<p>From this it is plain, first, that
-although the <em>now</em>, as such, is not
-time, yet its actual flowing is time.</p>
-
-<p>Secondly, it follows that infinitesimals
-of time, as employed in dynamics,
-are not mathematical figments,
-but realities, for time flows
-only through infinitesimal instants;
-and therefore to deny the reality of
-such infinitesimals would be to
-deny the reality of time.</p>
-
-<p>Thirdly, we gather that the absolute
-<em>now</em> differs from an actual infinitesimal
-of time; because the former,
-as such, is only a term of time,
-whereas the latter is the flowing of
-that term from its immediate <em>before</em>
-to its immediate <em>after</em>. Hence an
-infinitesimal of time is infinitely
-less than any designable duration.
-In fact, its <em>before</em> and its <em>after</em> are
-so immediately connected with the
-same absolute <em>now</em> that there is no
-room for any designable length of
-duration between them.</p>
-
-<p>Fourthly, whilst the absolute <em>now</em>
-is no quantity, the infinitesimal of
-time is a real quantity; for it implies
-real succession. This quantity,
-however, is nascent, or <i lang="la">in fieri</i>
-only; for the <em>now</em>, which alone is
-intercepted between the immediate
-<em>before</em> and the immediate <em>after</em>, has
-no formal extension.</p>
-
-<p>Fifthly, the infinitesimal of time
-corresponds to a movement by
-which an infinitesimal of space is
-described. And thus infinitesimals
-of space, as considered in dynamics,
-are real quantities. To deny that
-such infinitesimals are real quantities
-would be the same, in fact, as
-to deny the real extension of local
-movement; for this movement
-flows and acquires its extension
-through such infinitesimals only.
-And the same is true of the infinitesimal
-actions by which the rate of
-local movement is continually modified.
-These latter infinitesimals
-are evidently real quantities, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
-infinitely less than any designable
-quantity. They have an infinitesimal
-intensity, and they cause an infinitesimal
-change in the rate of the
-movement in an infinitesimal of
-time.</p>
-
-<p><i>Evolution of time.</i>&mdash;The preceding
-considerations lead us to understand
-how it is that in any interval of time
-there is but one absolute <em>now</em> always
-the same <i lang="la">secundum rem</i>, but
-changing, and therefore manifold
-<i lang="la">secundum rationem</i>. S. Thomas, in
-his opuscule <cite>De Instantibus</cite>, c. ii., explains
-this truth in the following
-words: “As a point to the line, so
-is the <em>now</em> to the time. If we imagine
-a point at rest, we shall not
-be able to find in it the causality of
-any line; but if we imagine that
-point to be in movement, then, although
-it has no dimensions, and
-consequently no divisibility in itself,
-it will nevertheless, from the
-nature of its movement, mark out a
-divisible line.… The point, however,
-does in no way belong to the
-essence of the line; for one and the
-same real term, absolutely indivisible,
-cannot be at the same time in
-different parts of the same permanent
-continuum.… Hence the
-mathematical point which by its
-movement draws a line is neither
-the line nor any part of the line;
-but, remaining one and the same in
-itself, it acquires different modes
-of being. These different modes
-of being, which must be traced to
-its movement, are really in the line,
-whilst the point, as such, has no
-place in it. In the same manner,
-an instant, which is the measure of
-a thing movable, and adheres to it
-permanently, is one and the same
-as to its absolute reality so long as
-the substance of the thing remains
-unimpaired, for the instant is the
-inseparable measure of its being;
-but the same instant becomes manifold
-inasmuch as it is diversified by
-its modes of being; and it is this
-its diversity that constitutes the
-essence of time.”<a name="FNanchor_82" id="FNanchor_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a></p>
-
-<p>From this explanation we may
-infer that, as each point, or primitive
-element, of matter has its own
-<em>now</em>, one in its absolute reality, but
-manifold in its mode of being,
-there are in nature as many <em>nows</em>
-describing distinct lines of time as
-there are material points in movement.
-Accordingly, there are as
-many particular times as there are
-elements moving in space. The
-proposition that in time there is
-only <i lang="la">unum instans in re</i> is, therefore,
-to be limited to the particular time
-of one and the same subject of
-motion. S. Thomas did not think
-of this limitation, because he believed,
-according to the old astronomical
-theory, that the movement
-of the <i lang="la">primum mobile</i>&mdash;that is, of the
-supreme sphere&mdash;was the natural
-measure of time; and for this reason
-he thought that, as the first
-movement was one, time also was
-one, and constituted the common
-measure of all simultaneous movements.<a name="FNanchor_83" id="FNanchor_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a>
-But the truth is that there
-must be as many distinct particular
-times as there are things actually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
-moving. This is a manifest consequence
-of the doctrine which assimilates
-a flowing <em>now</em> to a point
-describing a line. For as every
-point in movement describes a distinct
-line in space, so also must the
-absolute <em>now</em> of every distinct being
-describe by its flowing a distinct
-line of time.</p>
-
-<p>The general time, which we regard
-as <em>one</em> successive duration, is
-the duration of the movement from
-the beginning of the world to our
-day, conceived in the abstract&mdash;that
-is, without reference to the particular
-beings concerned in the movement.
-Time, when thus conceived,
-is a mere abstraction; whereas the
-particular times of particular movements
-are concrete in their continuous
-extension, notwithstanding
-their being represented by abstract
-numbers. If we knew of any special
-body created and put in movement
-before any other body, we
-might regard it as <i lang="la">primum mobile</i>,
-and take its movement, if uniform,
-as the natural measure or standard
-of general time; but as we know
-of no such particular body, and as
-we have reason to believe that the
-creation of all matter was made in
-one and the same moment, we are
-led to admit an exceedingly great
-multitude of <i lang="la">prima mobilia</i>, every
-one of which was from the beginning
-of time the subject of duration.
-It is clear that we cannot
-reduce their distinct durations to
-one general duration, except by
-making abstraction of all particular
-subjects, and considering movement
-in the abstract.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, as we inhabit the
-earth, we usually restrict our consideration
-of time to those periodical
-intervals of duration which
-correspond to the periodical movements
-we witness in, or from, our
-planet; and thus we take the duration
-of the diurnal or of the orbital
-movement of the earth as our
-standard for the measure of time.
-If other planets are inhabited by
-rational beings, it is obvious that
-their time will be measured by
-other standards, as their diurnal
-and orbital movements differ from
-those of our earth.</p>
-
-<p>To the doctrine that time is
-evolved by the flowing of a single
-instant, S. Thomas adds an important
-remark to the effect that the
-<em>now</em> of contingent things should
-not be confounded with the <em>now</em> of
-eternity. He proposes to himself
-the following objection: “To stand
-and to move are not essential differences,
-but only different manners
-of being. But the <em>now</em> of eternity
-is standing, and the <em>now</em> of time is
-moving. The one, therefore, seems
-to differ from the other in nothing
-but in the manner of being.
-Hence the <em>now</em> of time would be
-substantially the same as the <em>now</em>
-of eternity, which is absurd.”<a name="FNanchor_84" id="FNanchor_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a></p>
-
-<p>S. Thomas replies: “This cannot
-be true, according to our doctrine;
-for we have seen that eternity
-and time differ essentially.
-Moreover, when of two things the
-one depends on the other as an effect
-from a cause, the two things
-essentially differ; but the <em>now</em> of
-eternity (which does not really differ
-from eternity itself) is the cause
-of time and of the <em>now</em> of time;
-therefore the <em>now</em> of time and the
-<em>now</em> of eternity are essentially different.
-Furthermore, the <em>now</em> of
-time unites the past with the future,
-which the <em>now</em> of eternity does not
-do; for in eternity there is no past
-and no future, because eternity is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
-all together. Nor has the objection
-any force. That to stand and
-to move do not constitute an essential
-difference is true of those
-things which are liable both to
-stand and to move; but that which
-always stands without possibility
-of moving differs essentially from
-that which always moves without
-the possibility of standing. And
-this is the case with the <em>now</em> of
-eternity on the one hand, and the
-<em>now</em> of time on the other.”<a name="FNanchor_85" id="FNanchor_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></p>
-
-<p><i>Beginning of time.</i>&mdash;Here the
-question arises whether time must
-have had a beginning. Those who
-believe that the world could have
-been created <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> will answer
-that time could have existed without
-a beginning. But we are convinced
-that the world could not be
-created <i lang="la">ab æterno</i>; and therefore
-we maintain that time must have
-begun.</p>
-
-<p>Our argument is drawn from the
-contingency of all things created.</p>
-
-<p>The duration of a contingent being
-cannot be without a beginning;
-for the contingent being itself must
-have had a beginning. In fact, as
-that cannot be annihilated which
-has never been in existence, so that
-cannot be educed from nothing
-which has never been nothing. It
-is therefore necessary to admit that
-every creature had a beginning of
-its existence, and consequently of
-its duration also; for nothing endures
-but inasmuch as it exists.</p>
-
-<p>Nor can this argument be evaded
-by saying that a contingent being
-may have <i lang="la">initium naturæ</i>, without
-having <i lang="la">initium temporis</i>. This distinction,
-though suggested and employed
-by S. Thomas, has no
-foundation, because the beginning
-of the created nature is the beginning
-also of its duration; and he
-who concedes that there must be
-an <i lang="la">initium naturæ</i> cannot consistently
-deny the <i lang="la">initium temporis</i>.
-In fact, no contingent being can be
-said to have been created, if there
-was no instant in which it was
-created; in other terms, every
-creature must be traced to the <em>now</em>
-of its creation. But the <em>now</em> of its
-creation is the beginning of its duration
-no less than of its existence.
-Surely, whatever has a first <em>now</em>
-has a beginning of duration; but
-every creature has its first <em>now</em>&mdash;viz.,
-the <em>now</em> of its creation; therefore
-every creature has a beginning of
-duration. That the <em>now</em> of creation
-is the first <em>now</em> is self-evident; for
-the <em>now</em> of creation is that point of
-duration in which the passage is
-made from not being to being; and
-therefore it marks the beginning of
-the existence of the created being.
-And since we cannot say that the
-duration of the created being preceded
-its existence, we are bound
-to conclude that the <em>now</em> of its creation
-is the beginning of its duration
-as well as of its existence.</p>
-
-<p>Some will object that we assume
-what is to be proved&mdash;viz., the very
-<em>now</em> of creation. For, if the world
-had been created <i lang="la">ab æterno</i>, no <em>now</em>
-of creation could be pointed out.
-To this we answer that the <em>now</em>
-of creation, whether we can point
-it out determinately or not, must
-always be admitted. To suppress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
-it, is to suppress creation. For,
-if we assume that a thing had no
-<em>now</em> of creation, we are compelled
-to deny that such a thing has ever
-been created. In other terms, if
-anything has no beginning of duration,
-it was always in act, it never
-lacked actual existence, and it
-never passed from non-existence to
-actual existence&mdash;that is, it is no
-creature at all; for to be a creature
-is to have passed from non-existence
-to actual existence. And
-thus we must conclude that to create
-is to make a beginning of time.</p>
-
-<p>The impossibility of a world
-created <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> has also been
-argued from the impossibility of an
-infinite ascending series. The force
-of this proof does not, however, lie
-in the absurdity of an infinite
-series&mdash;for such an absurdity, as S.
-Thomas remarks, has never been
-demonstrated&mdash;but it lies in the
-necessity of granting a beginning to
-every term of the series itself; for,
-if every term of the series has a beginning,
-the whole series must have
-a beginning. S. Thomas, as we
-have just stated, teaches that an infinite
-ascending series is not to be
-judged impossible, “even if it were
-a series of efficient causes,” provided
-it depend on an extrinsic cause:
-<i lang="la">In infinitum procedere in causis agentibus
-non reputatur impossibile.</i><a name="FNanchor_86" id="FNanchor_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a>
-This doctrine is universally rejected,
-and was fiercely attacked even
-in the time of the holy doctor; but
-he persisted in maintaining it
-against all, and wrote a special
-treatise to defend it <i lang="la">contra murmurantes</i>.
-The reason why S. Thomas
-embraced this doctrine seems to
-have been that the creation of the
-world in the beginning of time was
-an article of faith; and the saint
-believed that articles of faith are
-proved only by authority, and not
-by natural reason. He was therefore
-obliged to maintain that the
-beginning of time could not be demonstrated
-by reason alone. “The
-newness of the world,” says he,
-“cannot be demonstrated from the
-consideration of the world itself,
-because the principle of demonstration
-is the quiddity of things. Now,
-things, when considered as to their
-quiddity or species, do not involve
-the <i lang="la">hic et nunc</i>; and for this reason the
-universals are said to be everywhere
-and in all time. Hence it cannot
-be demonstrated that man or any
-other thing did not always exist.”<a name="FNanchor_87" id="FNanchor_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></p>
-
-<p>To this argument we respectfully
-reply that, when the necessary conditions
-of a contingent fact are to
-be demonstrated, the principle of
-demonstration is not the abstract
-quiddity, or intelligible essence, of
-the things, but the contingency of
-their actual existence. But it is
-evident that whatever exists contingently
-has been educed out of nothing.
-It is therefore necessary to
-conclude that all contingent things
-have had a first moment of existence
-and of duration.</p>
-
-<p>The Angelic Doctor refers also to
-a similitude by which some philosophers
-mentioned by S. Augustine
-undertook to explain the creation
-<i lang="la">ab æterno</i>. If a foot had been
-<i lang="la">ab æterno</i> pressed on the dust, the
-impression made by it would be <i lang="la">ab
-æterno</i>. In the same manner the
-world might have been <i lang="la">ab æterno</i>:
-for God, its maker, is eternal.<a name="FNanchor_88" id="FNanchor_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
-we humbly reply that the impression
-of the foot on the dust cannot
-be <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> if it is contingent.
-For, if it is contingent, it has necessarily
-a beginning of its existence,
-and therefore of its duration also,
-as we have already shown. Whatever
-is made has a beginning of
-duration. Hence the fathers of
-the church, to prove that the divine
-Word was not made, thought it
-sufficient to point out the fact that
-he was <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> like his Father.</p>
-
-<p>S. Thomas, after stating his conclusion
-that the temporal beginning
-of the world is not demonstrable,
-but simply credible, remarks as follows:
-“And this should be kept in
-mind, lest, by presuming to demonstrate
-what is matter of faith by insufficient
-proofs, we be laughed at
-by the infidels, who may think that
-on the strength of such proofs we
-believe our articles of faith.”<a name="FNanchor_89" id="FNanchor_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a>
-This advice is good. But we need
-not tell our readers that what we
-hold as of faith we hold on divine
-authority, irrespective of our philosophical
-reasons.</p>
-
-<p><i>Perpetuity of time.</i>&mdash;That time
-may go on without end is an evident
-truth. But will it go on for
-ever, or will it cease at last? To
-this question we answer that time
-will for ever continue. As long as
-there will be movement there will
-be time. There will ever be movement;
-therefore there will ever be
-time. The major of this syllogism
-needs no explanation; for time is
-nothing but the duration of movement.
-The minor is quite certain.
-For not only the rational creatures,
-but the earth itself and other corporeal
-things, will last for ever, as is
-the common doctrine of philosophers,
-who hold that God will never
-destroy what he has created. These
-material things will therefore continue
-to celebrate God’s glory for
-ever&mdash;that is, will continue to exert
-their motive power and to bring
-about divers movements; for such
-is their nature, and such their manner
-of chanting the praises of their
-Creator. Moreover, we know by
-faith that we shall rise from death
-and live for ever, and that the glorious
-bodies of the saints will possess,
-besides other privileges, the
-gift of agility, which would evidently
-be of no use if there were to be
-no local movement and no succession
-of time. Hence it follows that
-time will last for ever.</p>
-
-<p>And let no one say that the Sacred
-Scriptures teach the contrary.
-For wherever the Sacred Scriptures
-mention <em>the end of time</em>, they speak,
-not absolutely and universally, but
-only with reference to certain particular
-periods or epochs of time
-characterized by some special
-events or manifestation of divine
-Providence. Thus we read in the
-Apocalypse that “there will be
-time no more”&mdash;<i lang="la">Tempus non erit amplius</i>&mdash;and
-yet we find that after
-the end of that time there will be a
-thousand years; which shows that
-the phrase “there will be time no
-more” refers to the time of mercy
-and conversion. Thus also we
-read in Daniel that “time has its
-end”&mdash;<i lang="la">Quoniam habet tempus finem
-suum</i>&mdash;but we see by the context
-that he speaks there of the Antichristian
-epoch, which of course
-must have an end. And the like is
-to be said of other similar passages.</p>
-
-<p>The most we can admit in regard
-to the cessation of time is that, owing
-to the great catastrophe and
-the wonderful changes which the
-consummation of the present epoch
-shall bring about, the diurnal and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
-the annual revolutions, which serve
-now as measures of time, may be so
-modified as to give rise to a new
-order of things, in which time shall
-be measured by a different standard.
-This seems to be the opinion of many
-interpreters of the Sacred Scriptures;
-though some of them speak as if after
-the consummation of the present
-things there were to be time no more,
-but only eternity. This manner of
-speaking, however, is no proof
-against the continuance of time; for
-the word “eternity,” when applied
-to the duration of creatures, means
-nothing else than sempiternity&mdash;that
-is, time without end, according to
-the scriptural phrase: <i lang="la">Annos æternos
-in mente habui</i>. We learn from
-S. Thomas that the word “eternity”
-is used in three different senses:
-First, we call eternity the measure
-of the duration of a thing which is
-always invariably the same, which
-acquires nothing from the future,
-and loses nothing from the past.
-And this is the most proper meaning
-of the word “eternity.” Secondly,
-we call eternity the measure
-of the duration of a thing which
-has a fixed and perpetual being,
-which, however, is subject to accidental
-changes in its operations.
-Eternity, when thus interpreted,
-means what we should call <i lang="la">ævum</i>
-properly; for the <i lang="la">ævum</i> is the measure
-of those things whose being
-lasts for ever, but which admit of
-succession in their operations, as
-is the case with pure intelligences.
-Thirdly, we call eternity the measure
-of a successive duration,
-which has <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> without
-beginning and without end, or simply
-without end, though it have a
-beginning; and in this sense the
-world has been said to be eternal,
-although it is really temporal.
-This is the most improper meaning
-of the word “eternity”; for the
-true concept of eternity excludes
-<em>before</em> and <em>after</em>.<a name="FNanchor_90" id="FNanchor_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> Thus far S. Thomas.</p>
-
-<p>We may be allowed to remark on
-this passage that, according to the
-principles which we have established
-in our articles on <cite>Substantial
-Generations</cite>,<a name="FNanchor_91" id="FNanchor_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> not only the pure intelligences,
-but all primitive and elementary
-substances are substantially
-incorruptible, and have a fixed
-and permanent being. Hence
-the distinction made by the holy
-doctor between <i lang="la">ævum</i> and endless
-time ceases to have a foundation,
-and the whole difference between
-the endless duration of spiritual
-and of material changes will be reduced
-to this: that the movements
-of spiritual substances are intellectual,
-whereas those of the material
-elements are local.</p>
-
-<p><i>The phrase “before creation.”</i>&mdash;We
-often hear of such expressions
-as these: “Before creation there
-was God alone,” “Before creation
-there was no time,” etc.; and since
-such expressions seem to involve a
-contradiction in terms, we think it
-will not be superfluous to give their
-rational explanation. Of course, if
-the words “before creation” be
-understood absolutely&mdash;that is, excluding
-any creation either made
-or imagined&mdash;those words will be
-contradictory. For the preposition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
-<em>before</em> is relative, and implies succession;
-and it is contradictory to
-suppose succession without anything
-capable of succession. When
-no creature existed there could be
-nothing flowing from <em>before</em> to <em>after</em>,
-because there was no movement,
-there being nothing movable.</p>
-
-<p>Nor can it be said that the <em>now</em>
-of divine eternity gives us a sufficient
-ground for imagining any <em>before</em>
-and <em>after</em> without referring to
-something exterior to God himself.
-The <em>now</em> of eternity has in itself
-neither <em>before</em> nor <em>after</em>; and when
-we say that it is equivalent to all
-imaginable time, we do not affirm
-that it implies succession, but only
-acknowledge that it is the supreme
-reason of the possibility of succession
-in created things. Hence,
-when we use the phrase “Before
-creation” in an absolute sense, we
-in fact take away all real <em>before</em>
-and all real <em>after</em>; and thus the
-words “Before creation,” taken
-absolutely, involve a contradiction.
-They affirm explicitly what they implicitly
-deny.</p>
-
-<p>The truth is that, when we use
-the phrase in question, we express
-what is in our imagination, and
-not in our intellect. We imagine
-that before time there was eternity
-because we cannot picture to ourselves
-eternity, except by the phantasm
-of infinite time. It is for this
-reason that in speaking of eternity
-we use the terms by which we are
-accustomed to express the relations
-of time. The words “Before creation”
-are therefore to be understood
-of a time which was possible
-in connection with some possible
-anterior creation, but which has
-never existed. This amounts to
-saying that the <em>before</em> which we conceive
-has no existence except in
-our imagination.</p>
-
-<p>S. Thomas proposes to himself
-the question whether, when we say
-that God was before the world, the
-term “before” is to be interpreted
-of a priority of nature or of
-a priority of duration. It might
-seem, says he, that neither interpretation
-is admissible. For if God
-is before the world only by priority
-of nature, then it follows that, since
-God is <i lang="la">ab æterno</i>, the world too is
-<i lang="la">ab æterno</i>. If, on the contrary, God
-is before the world by priority of
-duration, then, since priority and
-posteriority of duration constitute
-time, it follows that there was time
-before the creation of the world;
-which is impossible.<a name="FNanchor_92" id="FNanchor_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a></p>
-
-<p>In answer to this difficulty the
-holy doctor says that God is before
-the world by priority of duration,
-but that the preposition “before”
-designates here the priority,
-not of time, but of eternity. Or
-else we must answer, he adds, that
-the word “before” designates a
-priority, not of real, but of imaginary,
-time, just as the word “above”
-in the phrase “above the heavens
-there is nothing” designates an imaginary
-space which we may conceive
-by thinking of some imaginary
-dimensions superadded to the
-dimensions of the heavens.<a name="FNanchor_93" id="FNanchor_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></p>
-
-<p>It strikes us that the first of
-these two answers does not really
-solve the difficulty. For the priority
-of eternity cannot mean but a
-priority of nature and of pre-eminence,
-by which God’s permanent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
-duration infinitely <em>excels</em>, rather
-than <em>precedes</em>, all duration of creatures.
-In accordance with this,
-the objector might still urge on his
-conclusion that, if God does not
-precede the world, the world is <i lang="la">ab
-æterno</i> like God himself. The second
-answer agrees with what we
-ourselves have hitherto said. But
-as regards the objection proposed,
-it leaves the difficulty entire. For,
-if God was before the world by a
-priority, not of real, but of imaginary
-time, that “before” is imaginary,
-and not real. And the consequence
-will be that God was not
-really “before” the world, but we
-imagine him to have been so.</p>
-
-<p>We must own that with our imperfect
-language, mostly fashioned
-by imagination, it is not easy to
-give a clear and popular solution
-of the objection. Perhaps the
-most summary manner of dealing
-with it would be to deny the inference
-in the first horn of the dilemma&mdash;viz.,
-that if God is before the
-world by priority of nature only,
-then the world will be <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> as
-much as God himself. This inference,
-we say, is to be denied; for
-it involves the false supposition
-that a thing is <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> if there is
-no time before it; whereas that
-only is <i lang="la">ab æterno</i> which has no beginning
-of duration.</p>
-
-<p>Thus there is no need of saying
-that God <em>precedes</em> the world in duration;
-for it suffices to admit that
-he was before the world by priority
-of nature and of causality. The
-duration of eternity has no “before”
-and no “after,” though we
-depict it to ourselves as extending
-into indefinite time. Even the
-verb <em>was</em> should not be predicated
-of God; for God, strictly speaking,
-neither was, nor will be, but permanently
-<em>is</em>. Hence it seems to us
-that it would be a contradiction to
-affirm that God was <em>before</em> the
-world by the duration of his eternity,
-while we acknowledge that in
-his eternity there is no “before.”
-But enough about this question.</p>
-
-<p><i>The duration of rest.</i>&mdash;Supposing
-that a body, or an element of matter,
-is perfectly at rest, it may be
-asked how the duration of this rest
-can be ascertained and measured.
-Shall we answer that it is measured
-by time? But if so, our reader
-will immediately conclude that time
-is not merely the duration of movement,
-as we have defined it, but
-also the duration of rest. On the
-other hand, how can we deny that
-rest is measured by time, when we
-often speak of the rest of a few
-minutes or of a few hours?</p>
-
-<p>We might evade the question by
-answering that nothing in creation
-lies in absolute rest, but everything
-is acting and acted upon
-without interruption, so that its
-movement is never suspended. But
-we answer directly that, if there
-were absolute rest anywhere in the
-world, the duration of that rest
-should be measured by the duration
-of exterior movements. In
-fact, rest has no <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> in
-itself, because it is immovable, but
-only outside of itself. It cannot
-therefore have an intrinsic measure
-of its duration, but it must borrow
-it from the <em>before</em> and <em>after</em> of exterior
-movement. In other words,
-the thing which is in perfect rest
-draws no line of time; it has only
-a statical <em>now</em> which is a mere term
-of duration; and if everything
-in the world were in absolute
-rest, time would cease altogether.
-Hence what we call the duration
-of rest is simply the duration of a
-movement exterior to the thing
-which is at rest.</p>
-
-<p>This will be easily understood by
-considering that between a flowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
-and a standing <em>now</em> there is the
-same relation as between a moving
-and a standing point.</p>
-
-<p>Now, to change the relation of
-distance between two points in
-space, it suffices that one of them
-move while the other stands still.
-This change of distance is measured
-by the movement of the first
-point; and thus the point which is
-at rest undergoes, without moving,
-a continuous change in its relation
-to the moving point. In a similar
-manner, two <em>nows</em> being given, the
-one flowing and the other standing,
-the time extended by the flowing
-of the first measures the change of
-its relation to the second, and consequently,
-also, the change of the
-relation of the second to the first.
-This shows that the time by which
-we measure the duration of rest is
-nothing but the duration of the
-movement extrinsic to the thing at
-rest.</p>
-
-<p>But, as we have said, nothing in
-creation is in absolute rest; and
-therefore what we consider as resting
-has really some movement imperceptible
-to our senses&mdash;as, <i>v.g.</i>,
-molecular vibrations&mdash;by which the
-duration of its supposed rest is intrinsically
-measured. In God’s
-eternity alone there is perfect immobility;
-but its duration cannot
-be measured by time, even as an
-extrinsic measure, because the
-standing duration of eternity has
-nothing common with the flowing
-duration of creatures. As local
-movement cannot measure divine
-immensity, so flowing duration cannot
-measure divine eternity; because,
-as the <i lang="la">ubi</i> of a creature never
-changes its relation to God’s immensity,
-so the <i lang="la">quando</i> of a creature
-never changes its relation to God’s
-eternity.</p>
-
-<p><i>Continuity of time.</i>&mdash;We will conclude
-with a few remarks on the
-continuity of time. That time is
-essentially continuous is evident;
-but the question has been proposed:
-What if God were to annihilate
-all existing creatures, and to
-make a new creation? Would the
-instant of annihilation be immediately
-followed by the instant of
-the new creation, or could there be
-an interval of time between them?</p>
-
-<p>The right answer to this question
-is that between the annihilation
-and the new creation there would
-be no time: because there cannot
-be time without succession, and no
-succession without creatures. Yet,
-it would not follow that the instant
-of the annihilation should be immediately
-united with the instant
-of the new creation; in other words,
-the duration of the new world would
-not be a continuation of the duration
-of the world annihilated. The
-reason of this is that there cannot
-be a continuation of time, unless
-the same <em>now</em> continues to flow.
-For when one flowing <em>now</em> ceases
-to be, and another begins, the line
-of time drawn by the first comes to
-an end, and another line, altogether
-distinct, begins, and this latter cannot
-be a continuation of the former.
-If the English mail, for instance,
-reaches New York at a given instant,
-and the French mail at the
-same instant starts from Paris, no
-one will say that the movement of
-the French mail is a continuation
-of the movement of the English
-mail. Hence the duration of the
-movement of the one is not the
-continuation of that of the other.</p>
-
-<p>Moreover, from what we have
-seen about the distinct lines of time
-described by distinct subjects of
-flowing duration, it is plain that
-even the durations of simultaneous
-movements are always distinct from
-one another, as belonging to distinct
-subjects; and accordingly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
-when one of the said movements
-ceases, the continuation of the
-others cannot be looked upon as
-its continuation. Hence, if the
-present world were annihilated, its
-duration would cease altogether;
-and the duration of a newly-created
-world would draw a new line of
-time quite distinct from that of the
-present world, though between the
-end of the one and the beginning
-of the other there would be no time.
-“The two worlds in question,” as
-Balmes remarks, “would have no
-mutual relation; consequently there
-would be neither distance nor immediateness
-between them.”<a name="FNanchor_94" id="FNanchor_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></p>
-
-<p>Time is <em>formally</em> continuous.
-Formal continuity we call that of
-which all the constituent elements
-have their own formal and distinct
-existence in nature. In time such
-elements are those flowing instants
-which unite the immediate past
-with the immediate future. This
-continuity is essentially successive.
-It is owing to its successivity that
-time, as well as movement, can be,
-and is, formally continuous. For
-no formal continuum can be simultaneous,
-as we have shown where
-we refuted the hypothesis of continuous
-matter.<a name="FNanchor_95" id="FNanchor_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> But let this suffice
-about time.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>AN INCIDENT OF THE REIGN OF TERROR.</h3>
-
-<p>The close of the XVIIIth century
-found the good people of these
-United States in a most amiable
-mood. The consciousness of all
-they had achieved, by sustaining
-their Declaration of Independence
-in the face of overwhelming difficulties,
-produced a glow of national
-self-complacency that has thrown
-its glamour over the first page of our
-public annals, which&mdash;as history
-counts her pages by centuries&mdash;we
-are only now preparing to turn.
-Not until we were drawing near its
-close was the light of that agreeable
-illusion obscured by the shadow
-of a question whether the “glorious
-Fourth” was not like to prove,
-after all, a most <em>in</em>glorious failure.</p>
-
-<p>Self-complacency is never an
-elevating sentiment, and seldom
-sustained by the merits upon the
-assumed possession of which it is
-based. But our people had many
-substantial virtues, sufficient to
-atone abundantly for their indulgence
-in a pleasant foible. Among
-these was the principle of gratitude,
-to which none but truly noble natures
-are subject. That they possessed
-it was proved by their
-promptness in hastening to relieve
-and comfort the French refugees
-whom the Reign of Terror had
-driven to our shores when it was
-devastating that fair realm across
-the Atlantic which had been the
-first to extend assistance and sympathy
-to us in the hour of need.</p>
-
-<p>We have vivid recollections of
-sitting for hours&mdash;patchwork in
-hand&mdash;at the feet of a dear relative
-in the pleasant home of our childhood,
-listening to thrilling tales of
-those times, many of them connected
-with the French emigrants&mdash;of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
-the cordial hospitality with which
-all the homes of her native city of
-Hartford, Conn., were thrown open
-to receive these interesting exiles;
-of the shifts the inhabitants devised
-and the discomforts they endured
-in order to provide comfortable
-shelter and sustenance for so many
-from means already impoverished
-by the drain of the conflict through
-which we ourselves had but just
-passed.</p>
-
-<p>Now, this dear relative was the
-possessor of a small gold locket of
-antique fashion and exquisite workmanship,
-which was an object of
-unceasing admiration to our childish
-fancy. In form it was an oblong
-octagon. The border was a
-graceful tiny pattern in mosaic-gold
-inlaid with amethyst and pearl.
-In the centre were two miniatures
-painted on glass with marvellous
-distinctness and accuracy: the one
-a likeness of that most unfortunate
-queen, Marie Antoinette, the other
-of her beloved sister-in-law, the
-amiable Princess Elizabeth. A
-heavy pebble crystal, perfectly
-transparent, covered the pictures
-without in the least obscuring their
-delicate tints. In the back of the
-locket was an open space, within
-which, our relative said, was once
-laid, upon the ground of dark satin
-that still remained, a knot formed
-by two small locks of glossy, silken
-hair, one a light rose-tinged auburn,
-the other flaxen with a golden
-sheen. A glass covered these also.</p>
-
-<p>After much persuasion our relative
-related to us the following</p>
-
-<h4>STORY OF THE LOCKET.</h4>
-
-<p>My father was an officer in the
-Continental army, and, soon after
-the war of our Revolution closed,
-returned to his former home in the
-city of Hartford, Conn., where he
-accepted an office of high municipal
-trust. He was moved by the
-generous impulses of his nature to
-a life of active benevolence; and
-when, in 1792-3, the Revolution in
-France drove thousands of her citizens
-to take refuge in our republic,
-none were more zealous and untiring
-than he in seeking out and providing
-for the unfortunate strangers.
-Every apartment in our spacious
-house was soon filled. Rooms
-were prepared in the carriage-house
-and barns for my brothers and the
-domestics of the household, while
-my sisters and myself took possession
-of a small room in the attic
-which had been a repository for the
-spare bedding, now called into use.</p>
-
-<p>Among our guests was one lady
-who was distinguished by having a
-spacious room set apart for her sole
-use, and who seldom left it or mingled
-with her companions in misfortune
-and exile. Upon the rare
-occasions when she did appear
-briefly in their circle, it was striking
-to observe the ceremonious
-deference, amounting almost to
-veneration, with which she was received.
-Where or how my father
-found her I never knew; but his
-manner towards her was so profoundly
-respectful as to impress us
-all with feelings akin to fear in her
-presence. Yet these impressions
-were produced by the demeanor of
-others only; for on her own part
-there was not the slightest self-assertion
-or assumption of stateliness.
-Simple and unobtrusive as a child
-in her manners, she was indescribably
-affable to all; but her countenance
-wore an expression which,
-when once seen, could never be forgotten.
-More forcibly and clearly
-than words did it convey the story
-that some overwhelming deluge of
-calamity had swept from her life
-every vestige of earthly hope and
-joy. By no outward token did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
-she parade her griefs. Her dress,
-plain, even severe, in its perfect
-neatness and simplicity, displayed
-no mourning-badge, but her very
-smile was an intimate revelation of
-sorrow.</p>
-
-<p>She was known by the title of
-“Madame,” though some of our
-guests would now and then add,
-when speaking of her in an undertone&mdash;not
-lost upon a small listener
-like myself&mdash;“la Comtesse.” Her
-waiting-maid, Celeste, was entirely
-devoted to her, and always served
-her slight and simple meals to her
-in her own room.</p>
-
-<p>Soon after her arrival I was sent
-on some errand to madame’s apartment,
-and her agitation upon seeing
-me was a thing to be remembered
-for a lifetime. She drew me to her
-bosom, caressing me with many
-tears, suppressed sobs, and rapid
-exclamations in her own language.
-I learned afterwards from Celeste
-that I was of the same age and
-bore a striking resemblance in form
-and face to her daughter, who had
-been torn from her in the storm
-and turmoil of their escape. They
-had been rescued by a faithful servant,
-and hurried off, more dead
-than alive, in the fright, confusion,
-and uproar of a terrible outbreak
-in Paris, and had discovered, when
-too late, that her daughter had been
-separated from them and was missing.
-Their deliverer promised to
-make every possible effort to find
-the child, but Celeste had little
-hope; for she had heard from the
-servant of another lady, who escaped
-later&mdash;but had never told her mistress&mdash;that
-one of the women who
-daily watched the carts which conveyed
-the victims to the guillotine
-had averred that she was sure she
-saw the child among their number.</p>
-
-<p>From the first I was a welcome
-visitor in the lady’s room. She encouraged
-me to pass all the time
-with her which could be spared
-from household duties; for in those
-days every child was required to
-perform a portion of these. The
-schools in Hartford were, for the
-most part, closed during that period,
-that the buildings might be devoted
-to the accommodation of the
-strangers, who requited the kindness
-by teaching the children of
-each household where they were
-entertained, daily. I was the
-chosen pupil of madame. She
-soon imparted sufficient knowledge
-of the French to give her instructions
-in her own language. Never
-was child blest with a more gentle
-and painstaking teacher! To a
-thorough course in the simple
-branches of study she added many
-delicate accomplishments then unknown
-in our country, and the
-most patient training in all matters
-connected with dress and deportment.
-After lessons she would
-hold long conversations with me,
-more profitable than the lessons
-themselves, awakening interest by
-suggestions and inquiries tending to
-form habits of thinking, as well as
-of acquiring knowledge. Then
-such wonderful fairy tales as she
-would relate! I used to listen
-perfectly entranced. Never have
-I heard in English any fairy lore
-that would compare with it. Translations
-we may have, but the fairy
-charm of the original is lost.</p>
-
-<p>At that time the spirit of infidelity
-and atheism which laid the train
-for the horrors of the French Revolution
-prevailed widely in our own
-country. When too young to comprehend
-their import, I had often listened
-to warm discussions between
-my father, who was strongly tinctured
-with those opinions&mdash;while in
-politics he was an ultra-democrat&mdash;and
-my maternal grandfather, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
-High-Churchman and Tory. The
-latter always insisted&mdash;and it was
-all I understood of their conversations&mdash;that
-it was impossible for a
-government founded upon popular
-unbelief and insubordination to
-stand. He was utterly hopeless for
-ours, not because it was democratic
-in form, but because the people no
-longer reverenced authority, had
-ceased to be imbued with the first
-principle of loyalty to God as Supreme
-Ruler, and to the “powers
-that be” as his appointed instruments.
-These subjects were themes
-of constant debate, and were treated
-with a warmth that commanded
-even the notice of children.</p>
-
-<p>Some of our guests affected a gay
-and careless indifference to the
-claims of God and man that
-amounted to a rejection of both;
-others vehemently denounced all
-religion as a figment of priest-craft;
-while still another class met such
-questions with the solemnity arising
-from a conviction of the tremendous
-temporal and eternal interests
-which they involved.</p>
-
-<p>It was refreshing to steal away
-from these evening debates in the
-drawing-room to the peaceful atmosphere
-of madame’s apartment.
-I frequently found her saying her
-beads, of which I knew nothing,
-only that they were exceedingly
-beautiful to the sight, and composed
-of very costly materials. I used
-to enter her room very quietly, and
-take my accustomed seat in silence,
-until her devotions were closed.
-Of her religion I knew no more
-than the name; but its evident influence
-upon every action of her
-life left an indelible impression
-upon my mind that it was a power
-above and beyond any of the prevailing
-forms around us. She never
-spoke expressly of her religion
-to me, but the purely Christian tone
-of her instructions upon all the duties
-of life, social and domestic, exemplified
-by her own conduct,
-proved abundantly that it was more
-than a mere sentiment or a name.
-I was too young at that time to
-reason upon these things, but, as I
-have said, they left an indelible impression,
-and, as life advanced, furnished
-food for many reveries
-which at length ripened into serious
-thought.</p>
-
-<p>How the weary months must have
-dragged along for those exiled unfortunates!
-Yet the cheerfulness,
-even gayety, with which they endured
-their misfortunes and the
-torturing suspense of their position,
-was a matter of constant marvel to
-their New England friends. They
-watched the arrival of every ship
-from France with intense anxiety,
-and a renewal of grief and mourning
-was sure to follow the tidings it
-brought. Yet the polite amenities
-and courtesies of their daily life,
-which seemed a part of their nature,
-were never for a moment abated,
-and in the wildest storm of grief
-even the women never lost that exquisite
-sense of propriety which
-distinguishes their nation.</p>
-
-<p>And so the time wore on until a
-certain memorable night in September,
-1794. My father’s residence
-was situated upon an elevated
-street which commanded a wide
-view of the city and its environs.
-How well I remember standing
-with my sisters by the window of
-our attic dormitory, looking out
-upon the quiet city sleeping under
-the calm light of the harvest moon,
-on that never-to-be-forgotten night!
-The contemplation of the scene
-was too pleasant to be easily relinquished,
-and it was late before we
-could turn away from its fascinations
-to our rest. We were scarcely
-lost in sleep when we were awakened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
-suddenly by a thrilling shout in
-the street, accompanied by the wild
-huzzahs of an excited multitude.
-We hastened to the lower rooms,
-where we found the strangers gathered
-around the open windows,
-from which they were waving handkerchiefs,
-hats, and scarfs, and
-mingling their shouts with those of
-the throng outside.</p>
-
-<p>In the street the city crier moved
-along in advance of the crowd,
-mounted on a tall white horse, and
-waving an immense banner. At
-every crossing he would pause and
-shout through a speaking-trumpet,
-“Rejoice! rejoice! Robespierre,
-the tyrant, has fallen! has fallen!”
-Then followed the jubilant cheers
-of the rapidly-increasing crowd.
-And so they passed on through
-every street in the city.</p>
-
-<p>I sought madame’s apartment,
-and found her kneeling in the same
-reverent attitude of humble devotion
-with which I had so long been
-familiar. Strange to say, my first
-thought upon hearing the news so
-joyful to others was one of dismal
-apprehension, and my first emotion
-one of ineffable sadness! Quick as
-thought came the painful assurance
-to my heart that this was the signal
-for my final separation from the
-loving friend, the gentle teacher, to
-whom I had become inexpressibly
-attached. As she arose and extended
-her arms towards me, I
-threw myself into them, and, hiding
-my face in her bosom, gave way
-to a burst of uncontrollable grief.
-Words were not necessary to explain
-its cause. Understanding it
-at a glance, she caressed and soothed
-me with assurances of her undying
-love, and that she could never
-forget or cease to pray for the child
-whom heaven had appointed to be
-her dearest consolation under her
-great afflictions.</p>
-
-<p>My apprehensions proved well
-founded. The same ship which
-brought tidings of the tyrant’s fall
-brought letters also to madame from
-faithful friends, urging her immediate
-return to France.</p>
-
-<p>My father accompanied her to
-Boston, in order to make needful
-preparation for her departure on
-the next outward-bound vessel. I
-was thrown into such an agony of
-grief at the thought of parting with
-her that madame begged I might
-be permitted to go with them, urging
-that the change of scene and a
-visit to relatives in Boston might
-divert my thoughts and soothe the
-bitter anguish of my young heart.
-He consented, and, when we reached
-the city, he left us at the house
-of his sister, where I found my
-cousins all engaged preparing for
-an examination and exhibition
-which was to take place the next
-day to close the term of the school
-they were attending, on the same
-street and near by.</p>
-
-<p>They insisted that I should go
-with them, and madame dressed me
-in a white muslin with a blue sash.
-She then hung the locket you so
-much admire, suspended from a
-delicate gold chain, around my neck,
-and I set off with my cousins.</p>
-
-<p>We found the girls grouped together
-in great glee, awaiting the
-opening exercises. In the centre
-of the group was a fair and graceful
-girl, near my own age and size,
-with a large basket containing bouquets
-of flowers arranged with admirable
-taste, which the girls were
-purchasing for themselves and to
-decorate the school-room.</p>
-
-<p>My cousins replied to my questions
-about the young stranger:
-“Oh! we call her the little flower
-girl. She lives with a farmer just
-out of the city. The family are
-very fond of her, and he gives her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
-a little place in the garden to cultivate
-flowers, and lets her come with
-him on market days to sell them for
-herself in the city. She heard of
-what was going on here, and thought
-this would be a good market for
-her bouquets; and so it has been,
-for she has sold them all.”</p>
-
-<p>For some reason I could not
-turn my eyes from the child. There
-seemed to be a mutual fascination
-which drew us together, and I observed
-she was looking intently
-and with much emotion at the
-locket I wore. I asked her why
-she was so much interested in it.
-She answered with a slight French
-accent: “My mamma had such a
-locket, and all the ladies of the
-queen’s household wore them.”</p>
-
-<p>“And where is your mamma?” I
-inquired.</p>
-
-<p>“Alas! I do not know if she is
-living. I lost her in a great crowd
-in the streets of Paris, and was so
-frightened at the horrors around
-me that I remember nothing until
-I found myself on board the ship
-which brought me here. How I
-came there I never knew. The
-kind-hearted farmer with whom I
-live was on the wharf when we
-landed, and, in great pity for my
-bewildering loneliness and grief,
-took me to his home, where I have
-since received every attention and
-sympathy.”</p>
-
-<p>Almost sinking under agitation, I
-turned to my cousins, who had been
-too much occupied with their own
-affairs to notice us, and faintly
-gasped: “She is, she must be,
-the daughter for whom madame
-mourns!”</p>
-
-<p>At the bare suggestion all else
-was forgotten! There was an impetuous
-huddling of our electrified
-companions around the bewildered
-little stranger, and a petition that
-the school exercises might be delayed
-until they could escort her to
-my aunt and learn whether my
-conjecture was true. So great
-was their excitement that it was
-useless to deny the request, and we
-led our heroine off with hasty steps.</p>
-
-<p>On the way we decided that my
-aunt should break the matter gently
-to madame, and introduce the
-child to her in her room.</p>
-
-<p>There was no need of an introduction!
-The moment their eyes
-met the exclamations “Antoinette!”
-“Mamma!” burst from their lips,
-and my aunt left them locked in a
-close embrace. The scene was too
-sacred for intrusion!</p>
-
-<p>The news flew with the speed of
-the wind, and there were great rejoicings
-far and near over the
-timely discovery brought about by
-means of the locket, which madame
-bestowed upon me (after removing
-the knot of hair, too precious,
-as a relic of her lamented queen
-and the Princess Elizabeth, to be
-relinquished) in memory of this
-joyful event, and as a souvenir of
-the beloved friend and teacher with
-whom I had passed so many happy
-and profitable hours.</p>
-
-<p>Soon after the reunion of the
-mother and child they sailed for
-France, and I returned with my
-father to a home which was now
-bereft of a charm that could never
-be replaced or restored. But my
-sympathy with their joy was too
-sincere to be chilled by selfish regrets.</p>
-
-<p>During my father’s stay in Boston
-he made some final arrangements
-connected with a large territory
-of wild lands which he had received
-from the government in partial
-requital of his services in the
-army.</p>
-
-<p>To that distant wilderness he removed
-his family immediately after
-our return. The absence of mail<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
-communication with such remote
-districts, in those days, was doubtless
-the reason why we never received
-further tidings from one who
-had placed us among the favored
-few that “have entertained angels
-unawares.”</p>
-
-<p>In the loneliness of my forest
-home, and through a long life
-marked by many changes and sorrows,
-I have cherished grateful
-memories of the early lessons I received
-from her lips, and they have
-proved, through their influence upon
-my religious and moral being, a
-legacy far more precious than a
-thousand caskets of gold and precious
-stones.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE CHARITIES OF ROME.</h3>
-
-<p>The present sacrilegious invaders
-of Rome have done much to change
-the religious aspect of the city, and
-obliterate every trace of the influence
-of the popes upon the charities
-once so liberally thrown open
-to the people of every clime and
-color. In the true spirit of modern
-“progress,” philanthropy has usurped
-the place of charity, and the
-state, taking possession of institutions
-founded and hitherto directed
-in many points by the church, banishes
-her as far from them as possible.
-It may be interesting to
-pass in review some of those magnificent
-charities which sprang up
-and flourished so long under pontifical
-protection, but which have
-lately either been violently suppressed
-or are fast disappearing
-under the difficulties of the political
-situation. We will write of
-these charities as they existed in
-1869, which was the last year during
-the whole of which the papal
-government had control of them.
-In that year an English Protestant
-writer, long resident in Rome,
-was obliged by the clearness of
-facts to tell his readers that “few
-cities in Europe are so distinguished
-for their institutions of public
-charity as Rome, and in none are
-the hospitals more magnificently
-lodged or endowed with more
-princely liberality. The annual endowments
-of these establishments
-are no less than 258,390 scudi, derived
-from lands and houses, from
-grants, and from the papal treasury.”</p>
-
-<p>When S. Peter entered Rome
-for the first time, and looked upon
-the miserable condition of those to
-whom the favors of fortune were denied,
-he recalled to mind the words
-addressed to his forefathers about
-to enter into the promised land:
-“There shall be no poor nor beggar
-among you: that the Lord thy God
-may bless thee in the land which
-he giveth thee to possess” (Deut.
-xv. 4), and saw before him one of
-the greatest obstacles to be overcome&mdash;involving
-a change of what
-was second nature to the Romans
-(hardness of heart), they being, as
-S. Paul wrote (Rom. i. 31), “without
-affection, without mercy”&mdash;but
-knowing that it was also said in
-the same holy text “Poor will not
-be wanting in the land: therefore I
-command thee to open thy hand
-to thy needy and poor brother,” and
-having heard the blessed Lord Jesus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
-say of the new dispensation,
-“The poor ye have always with
-you,” he understood that God’s
-object was not to forbid mendicity,
-but to leave no room for it. Therefore
-to the rich and powerful, when
-brought by grace to his apostolic
-feet, he enjoined: “Deal thy bread
-to the hungry, and bring the needy
-and the harborless into thy house”
-(Isaias lviii. 7). The faith of the
-Roman Christians was illustrious
-throughout the world, and so was
-their charity. From the days of
-S. Peter it had been customary to
-take up collections on Sundays in
-all the congregations of the city for
-the relief of the confessors condemned
-to labor in the public
-mines and other works, or languishing
-in prison, or wandering in
-exile; and Eusebius has preserved
-in his <cite>Ecclesiastical History</cite>
-(lib. iv. cap. 23) the testimony of
-Dionysius, Bishop of Corinth (161-192),
-in favor of the long-established
-charitable institutions of the Romans,
-and in praise, at the same
-time, of the piety of his contemporary,
-Pope S. Soter, who not only retained
-these customs of his people,
-but surpassed them in sending
-money to the Christians of other
-parts of the world, and in receiving,
-as though they were his own
-children, all faithful pilgrims to
-Rome. In the year 236 Pope S.
-Fabian gave charge of the poor
-of Rome to seven deacons each of
-whom superintended two of the
-fourteen civil divisions or regions,
-whence they were called regionary
-deacons. A memorial of
-their occupation still remains in
-the dalmatic, or deacon’s vestment,
-the wide sleeves of which served
-originally for pockets; and Pope
-Innocent III., in his treatise on the
-Mass, remarks that this kind of dress
-is attributed to deacons because, in
-the first institution of their order,
-the distribution of alms was assigned
-to them. A council of the IVth
-century, held under Pope Sylvester,
-decreed that one-fourth part of the
-church revenues should be set
-apart for the poor. S. Jerome attests
-in one of his letters that a noble
-matron named Fabiola erected
-a hospital in the year 400; and
-about the same time S. Gallicanus,
-a man of consular dignity, who had
-also been honored with a triumph,
-becoming a Christian, founded a
-similar institution at the mouth of
-the Tiber for the accommodation
-of pilgrims and of the sick. He
-waited upon them in person. In
-1869 Rome had a population of
-about 220,000 inhabitants, and, although
-the climate is not unhealthy,
-it is hardly one of the most salubrious
-in the world. The low land
-upon which a great part of the modern
-city is built; the turbid Tiber,
-which, passing through it in a
-winding course, is apt to overflow
-its banks; the open position of the
-city, which is exposed, according to
-the season, either to the sultry African
-wind or to the piercing blasts
-from the neighboring mountains;
-and the large floating population,
-which is everywhere a likely subject
-of disease, combine to make it desirable
-that Rome should be well provided
-with institutions of succor and relief.
-While under papal rule, she
-was not wanting in this respect, but
-was even abundantly and excellently
-supplied.</p>
-
-<p>Man, being composed of spirit
-and matter, having consequently a
-soul and a body to look after, has
-wants of two kinds, corresponding
-to the twofold claims of his nature.
-We should therefore divide the
-charities man is capable of receiving
-into two classes. He received
-them in Rome with a generous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
-hand. The first class comprehended
-relief to the indigent, the sick,
-the destitute, the insane, the convalescent;
-possessed hospitals and
-asylums, brought aid into private
-families, opened nocturnal retreats,
-offered work to the honest needy,
-gave marriage portions to the nubile,
-shielded widows, protected
-orphans, advanced money on the
-easiest terms. These were charities
-of subsistence. The second
-class embraced poor schools and
-other establishments for gratuitous
-education in trades, arts, and
-sciences, conservatories for the exposed,
-hospices for the reformed,
-and made provision for the legal
-defence of the weak. These were
-called charities of education.</p>
-
-<p>There were two institutions in
-Rome that assisted the poor before
-they had fallen into misery or become
-destitute. These were the
-<i lang="it">Monte di Pietà</i> and the savings-bank.
-The first was a bank of
-loan and deposit. The idea of
-such an institution was suggested
-by a pious and shrewd Franciscan,
-named Barnabas of Terni, who was
-painfully struck, during a mission
-he was giving in Perugia in the
-year 1462, by the enormous usury
-(a crime then practised almost exclusively
-by Jews) which the poor
-were forced to pay for any advance
-of money they might need. This
-practical friar prevailed upon several
-wealthy persons to mass sums
-of money into one fund, out of
-which to lend to the poor at a reasonable
-(and in some cases merely
-nominal) rate of interest. Hence
-the distinctive name of Monte di
-Pietà, which means literally mountain
-of mercy. The Roman <i lang="it">Monte</i>
-was the third institution of the sort
-that was opened. This was in the
-year 1539. It was to lend money
-up to a certain amount without
-taking interest; above this amount
-for a very small interest. It was to
-take articles on pawn, and give
-the appraised value, less one-third.
-Over $100,000 used, under the papal
-government, to be annually loaned
-out on pawns or otherwise without
-one cent of interest. This establishment
-occupied a superb public
-building, and was under the control
-of the Minister of Finance.
-Honest visitors were freely admitted
-into every part of it; and we
-have heard many (even hard-fisted)
-English and Americans express
-themselves surprised, if not satisfied,
-with this reasonable and conscientious
-manner of saving the
-poor from the gripe of usurers
-and pawn-brokers, while imposing
-enough restraint to discourage improvidence.
-No hope was held
-out of indiscriminate relief. Looking
-at the <i lang="it">Monte</i> in an antiquarian
-light, it was a perfect museum of
-modern life, and to go through it
-was as good as visiting a hundred
-consolidated old curiosity-shops.
-Its administration employed, including
-a detachment of the Swiss
-Guard, one hundred persons. The
-capital, which consisted of every
-kind of property that at various
-periods and from many benefactors
-had come to it, was about three
-million dollars. The most orthodox
-political economists acknowledge
-that institutions of this sort
-were devised only as a lesser evil;
-and consequently the Roman government
-was glad to see the business
-of the <i lang="it">Monte</i> fall away considerably
-after the opening of the
-savings-bank in 1836. This was a
-charitable institution, because it
-was governed gratuitously by an
-administration of eleven honest and
-intelligent men, among whom were
-some of the first nobility, who thus
-gave a portion of their time and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
-talents to the poor. The cashier,
-Prince Borghese, gave, besides his
-services, a part of his magnificent
-palace to be turned into offices for
-the business transactions of the
-bank.</p>
-
-<p>The Apostolic Almonry in the
-Vatican next claimed our attention
-in the quiet days of the Pope.
-From the earliest period the vicars
-of Christ have made it a practice
-to visit in person the poor, and distribute
-alms with their own hands,
-in love and imitation of Him who
-“went about doing good.” As the
-wealth of the church in Rome increased,
-it was found necessary for
-the better ordering of things to
-have some administrative assistance
-in the distribution of these private
-charities. S. Conon I., in the VIIth
-century, employed the arch-priest
-Paschal to dispense the bounty of
-the privy purse; and in the year
-1271 Blessed Gregory X. created
-the perpetual office of grand almoner
-in the papal court. This
-officer is always an archbishop <i lang="la">in
-partibus</i>, and lives under the same
-roof as the Holy Father, in order
-to be ready at all times to receive
-his commands. Besides the many
-standing largitions issued from the
-Grand Almonry, there were occasional
-ones, such as the largess of
-$300 which was distributed in the
-great court-yard of Belvidere on
-each anniversary of the Pope’s
-coronation. This sum was doubled
-the first year. On each of the
-following civil or religious festivals,
-Christmas, Easter, and Coronation
-day, $165 were divided among a
-certain number of the best-behaved
-prisoners confined in Rome.
-About $650 a month were paid out
-either at the word of the sovereign
-or on his order; while a sum of
-$2,000 was annually divided among
-one hundred poor families. Besides
-this, the Grand Almonry supported
-a number of free schools,
-dispensed food and medicines, and
-performed many acts of more secret
-charity. A memorial of the
-earlier personal distribution of alms
-by the popes is retained in the <i lang="la">Succinctorium</i>,
-which they wear in solemn
-pontificals. It is an ornament
-of silk of the color of the feast,
-fringed with gold, and suspended
-down the left side from the girdle.
-On Good Friday the succinctory is
-not worn, in execration of the evil
-use Judas Iscariot made of the
-purse when he betrayed our Lord
-for thirty pieces of silver.</p>
-
-<p>Another of the great charities
-of Rome was the Commission of
-Subsidies established by Pope Leo
-XII., in 1826, to give assistance
-and employment to poor but honest
-people, willing to help themselves
-if they could find the opportunity.
-The whole tendency of Roman charities
-under the popes was to frown upon
-sloth and vagrancy, and encourage
-self-reliance and mutual support;
-for S. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians
-(2, iii. 10): “If any man will not
-work, neither let him eat.” The
-commission received a yearly subsidy
-from government of $88,500.
-In each of the fourteen rioni or
-wards of the city a physician, surgeon,
-pharmacist, and midwife rendered
-gratuitous services under its
-control. It was by the judicious
-employment of such men, thrown
-on the hands of the commission,
-that within the last thirty years so
-much was done in making excavations
-in and about Rome in search
-of antiquities and in studying its
-ancient topography. We have sometimes
-heard English and American
-sight-seers make brutal remarks
-about “those dirty, lazy Romans,”
-as they would stop a moment to
-look at some party of these poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>
-fellows taking their work so easily
-in the Forum, on the Palatine, or elsewhere;
-but we should rather applaud
-the paternal government
-that refrained from calling poverty
-a crime or driving the poor and
-weak to their work like galley-slaves;
-and while contributing a
-generous support, gave them enough
-to do to save their self-respect.</p>
-
-<p>No such thing as work-houses,
-in the English sense, have ever
-been maintained where Catholic
-influences have predominated; and
-for this we may thank God.</p>
-
-<p>Another category of Roman charities
-comprised the confraternities.
-These associations for purposes of
-piety and mutual help convey in
-their name the idea of brotherliness
-and union. There were no
-fewer than ninety-one confraternities
-in Rome under the popes. The
-oldest and most famous of these
-was the Annunciation, which was
-founded in 1460 by the Dominican
-Cardinal John Torquemada, in
-Santa Maria-in-Minerva, the head
-church of his order in Rome.<a name="FNanchor_96" id="FNanchor_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> Its
-particular object was to give portions
-to poor but virtuous young
-females, that they might either marry
-or enter a religious house if
-they had a vocation. On the 25th
-of March, Lady-day, the pope, cardinals,
-and prelates, with the rest
-of the court, used to assist at Mass
-in that church, and preside at the
-distribution of dowers which followed
-immediately. The girls were
-always dressed in plain white; such
-as had signified their choice of the
-heavenly Spouse being distinguished
-by a wreath on the head. On
-this occasion the pontiff gave one
-hundred golden scudi, and each
-cardinal present gave one, to the
-funds of the confraternity. There
-were fourteen other confraternities
-that had the same object, although
-carried out with less solemnity. In
-this way $42,000 used to be expended
-annually.</p>
-
-<p>The Confraternity of the Twelve
-Apostles made it a special point to
-find out and relieve in a delicate
-manner those who, having known
-better days, were fallen into reduced
-circumstances. The Confraternity
-of Prayer and Death buried
-the dead; and if an accident in
-or about Rome was reported in
-which life was lost, a party was detailed
-to go and bring the body
-in decently for Christian burial.
-Sometimes a poor herdsman on the
-Campagna had been gored by an
-ox, or some fellow had been swept
-away and drowned in the Tiber, or
-perhaps a reaper been prostrated
-by the heat; at whatever hour of
-the day or night, and at all seasons,
-a band of this confraternity went
-out, and returned carrying the unfortunate
-person on a stretcher
-upon their shoulders. It must be
-remarked in this connection that
-the members of the confraternity
-always observed the laws concerning
-deaths of this kind, not interfering
-with, but merely placing
-themselves at the disposal of, the
-officers of justice, to give a body
-burial at their own expense and in
-consecrated ground. The Confraternity
-of Pity for Prisoners was
-founded in 1575 by Father John
-Tallier, a French Jesuit. It provided
-religious instruction for prisoners,
-distributed objects of piety
-among them, looked after their
-families if destitute, and assisted
-them to pay their debts and fines
-if they had any. The Confraternity
-of S. John Baptist was composed
-exclusively of Florentines and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
-descendants of Florentines. Its
-object was to comfort and assist to
-the last, criminals condemned to
-death. As decapitation was the
-mode of judicial punishment, S.
-John Baptist, who was slain by Herod,
-was their patron, and his head
-on a charger the arms of the confraternity.
-Although there were
-so many confraternities and other
-pious associations in Rome, connected
-by their object with institutions
-of every kind, sanitary, corrective,
-etc., they were very careful
-never to interfere with the regulations
-of such establishments; and
-consequently, by minding their own
-business, they were not in the way
-of the officials, but, on the contrary,
-were looked upon as valuable assistants.
-The Society of S. Vincent
-of Paul was started in Rome
-in 1842 by the late venerable Father
-de Ravignan, S.J. It counted twenty-eight
-conferences and one thousand
-active members, clergy and laymen,
-titled folks and trades-people
-all working harmoniously together.
-About $2,100 was annually dispensed
-by the society. The Congregation
-of Ladies was founded in 1853 by
-Monsignor&mdash;now Cardinal&mdash;Borromeo
-to give work, especially needle-work,
-to young women out of employment.
-A great many ecclesiastical
-vestments were thus made
-under the direction of the ladies,
-and either sent as presents to poor
-missions, or sold, for what they
-would bring, at the annual fair
-held for the purpose of disposing
-of them.</p>
-
-<p>There were seven public hospitals
-in Rome, under the immediate
-direction of a general board of administration
-composed of twelve
-members, of whom three belonged
-to the clergy and the rest to the
-laity. The oldest, largest, and best-appointed
-institution of this kind
-was Santo Spirito, situated in the
-Leonine quarter of the city, on the
-border of the Tiber. Its site has
-been occupied by a charitable institution
-ever since <span class="smcapuc">A.D.</span> 728; the
-earliest building having been founded
-there for his countrymen by
-Ina, King of Wessex. For this reason
-the whole pile of buildings is
-called Santo Spirito <em>in Saxia</em>&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>,
-in the quarter of the (West) Saxons.
-There are three distinct establishments
-under the administration of
-Santo Spirito&mdash;viz., the hospital itself,
-the Foundling Hospital, and
-the Lunatic Asylum. The first was
-founded by Pope Innocent III. in
-1198, the Saxons having abandoned
-this locality for a more central position&mdash;the
-present S. Thomas-of-the-English.
-It has received since
-then many additions, until it has assumed
-the enormous proportions
-that we now admire. Every improvement
-was made to keep pace with
-the advance of hygienic knowledge.
-This hospital was for men only. It
-had 1,616 beds and an annual average
-of 14,000 patients. The wards
-were twelve in number, in which the
-cleanliness was refreshing, the ventilation
-excellent, and the water-supply
-pure and abundant. The
-principal parts of the exterior, and
-some of the interior parts of the
-building, were by distinguished
-architects; while some of the wards
-had their ceilings and upper walls
-painted in fresco with scenes from
-Sacred Scripture, such as the sufferings
-of Job and the miraculous cures
-made by our Lord. Not only the
-eye but the ear too of the poor patients
-was pleased; for three times a
-week they were entertained with
-organ music from a lofty choir
-erected at one end of the largest
-wards. The spiritual care of the
-sick was perfect; it was impossible
-for any one to die without the rites<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
-of the church. In the centre of
-every ward there was a fixed altar,
-upon which Mass was said daily.
-The Confraternity of Santo Spirito,
-composed of clergy and laymen, assisted
-the regular ministers of religion
-in attendance day and night.
-These volunteers brought flowers
-to the patients, read to them, prepared
-them for confession and other
-sacraments, and disposed them to
-die a good death, besides performing
-for them the most menial services.</p>
-
-<p>We remember to have read a letter
-addressed to the New York <cite>Post</cite>
-by an eminent Protestant clergyman
-of New York, in which, after describing
-this institution (then under
-papal rule), he said that he could
-not speak too highly of the excellent
-attendance the patients received
-from the kind-hearted religious
-who were stationed there, and added
-that if ever he had to come to a
-hospital, he hoped it would be
-Santo Spirito. The Foundling Hospital
-was opened by Pope Innocent
-III.; and the Lunatic Asylum, for
-both sexes, was founded in 1548 by
-three Spaniards, a priest and two
-laymen. It was called the House
-of Our Lady of Mercy. A fine
-garden on the Janiculum Hill was
-attached to it for the recreation of
-the patients. We do not know how
-it is conducted since it has changed
-hands, but formerly it was managed
-on the system of kindness towards
-even the fiercest madmen, using
-only so much restraint as was positively
-necessary. It was then under
-the care of religious. The Hospital
-of the Santissimo Salvatore, near
-St. John of Lateran, was founded
-in 1236 by a Cardinal Colonna.
-It was for women only. Another
-Cardinal Colonna founded the Hospital
-of S. James, for incurables, in
-1339. Our Lady of Consolation
-was a fine hospital near the Forum
-for the maimed and wounded; while
-San Gallicano, on the other side of
-the river, was for fevers and skin-diseases.
-San Rocco was a small
-lying-in hospital, with accommodation
-for 26 women. It was founded
-at the beginning of the XVIIth
-century by a Cardinal Salviati.
-The most delicate precautions were
-always used there to save any sense
-of honor that might still cling to a
-victim of frailty. Guilt could at
-least blush unnoticed. The Santissima
-Trinità was founded by S.
-Philip Neri for convalescents of
-both sexes and for poor pilgrims.
-It could lodge 488 patients, had
-beds for 500 pilgrims, and table-room
-for 900. In the great refectory
-of this building the members
-of the confraternity came on every
-Holy Thursday evening to wash the
-feet of the pilgrims and wait on
-them at table. Of course the two
-sexes were in different parts of the
-building, and each was attended by
-its own. We remember the delightful
-ardor with which the late Cardinal
-Barnabo on such occasions
-would turn up his sleeves, twitch
-his apron, and, going down on his
-knees, give some poor man’s feet a
-better washing than they had had
-before in a year. There was much
-raising of soap-suds in that wooden
-tub, and a real, earnest kiss on one
-foot when the washing was over.
-The Hospital of S. John Calabyta
-was so called from a Spaniard, the
-founder of the Brothers of Charity
-(commonly called the <i lang="it">Benfratelli</i>),
-who attended it. It was opened in
-1581, on the island of the Tiber;
-and by a coincidence then perhaps
-unknown, but since fully brought
-to light, it stood on the very site of
-an <i lang="la">asclepium</i> which the priests of Esculapius
-kept near their god’s temple
-two thousand years ago. The Hospital<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
-of Santa Galla was founded in
-1650 by the princely Odescalchi
-family. It gave a night asylum to
-homeless men. There were 224
-beds, distributed through nine
-dormitories. Another night refuge,
-called S. Aloysius, was founded
-about the year 1730 by Father Galluzzi,
-a Florentine Jesuit. It is for
-women. We can get some idea of
-the great charity such refuges are
-when we know that during the year
-ending December, 1869, no less than
-135,000 persons sought a resting-place
-at night in the station-houses
-of New York. Besides these public
-hospitals, almost every Catholic
-country had a private national one.
-One of the picturesque and not
-least of the Roman charities used
-to be the daily distribution of food
-at the gates of monasteries, convents,
-and nunneries, the portals of
-palaces, and the doors of seminaries,
-colleges, and boarding-schools.</p>
-
-<p>With all this liberality, there was
-still some room for hand-alms.
-There used to be beggars in Rome;
-assassins have taken their place.
-Under the papal government a limit
-was put to beggary, and we have
-never seen the <em>sturdy</em> beggar who
-figures so maliciously in some Protestant
-books about Rome. Beggary
-may become an evil; it is not
-a crime. We confess to liking beggars
-if they are not too numerous
-and importunate. Few scenes have
-seemed to us more venerable, picturesque,
-and Christian than the
-double row of beggars, with their
-sores and crippled limbs, their
-sticks and battered hats and outstretched
-hands, imploring <i lang="it">per è
-amore di Dio</i>, as we pass between
-them to the church or cemetery or
-other holy place on feast-day afternoons
-in Rome.</p>
-
-<p>The Hospice of San Michele was
-founded in 1686 by a Cardinal
-Odescalchi. In this asylum nearly
-800 persons used to be received.
-They were divided into four classes&mdash;old
-men, old women, boys, and
-girls. The institution had an annual
-endowment of $52,000; but
-some years ago the aged of both
-sexes were removed elsewhere, and
-their part of the building was converted
-into a house of correction
-for women and juvenile offenders.
-The hospice, in its strict sense, now
-consists of a House of Industry
-for children of both sexes, and a
-gratuitous school of the industrial
-and fine arts. The carping author
-of Murray’s <cite>Hand-book</cite> (1869), although
-he acknowledges that this
-school of arts has produced some
-eminent men, says that “the education
-of the boys might be turned,
-perhaps, to more practically useful
-objects!” As if, forsooth, it were a
-lesser charity, in the great home of
-the arts that Rome is, to help a
-poor lad of talent to become an architect,
-for instance, than to make
-him a tailor! The orphan asylum
-of Saint Mary of the Angels was
-near the Baths of Diocletian. The
-boys numbered 450, under the care
-of male religious, and the girls 500,
-under that of female religious.
-The institution received annually
-$38,000 from the Commission of
-Subsidies. In the same quarter of
-the city is the Deaf and Dumb Asylum.
-It was opened in 1794 by
-Father Silvestri, who had been sent
-to Paris by Pope Pius VI. to receive
-instruction from the celebrated
-Abbé de l’Epée in the art of
-teaching this class of unfortunates.
-Visitors to the house are made welcome,
-and are often invited to test
-the knowledge of the pupils by asking
-them questions on the blackboard.
-The first time we called
-there was in 1862, and, having asked
-one of the boys, taken at hazard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
-who was the first President of the
-United States, we were a little surprised
-(having thought to puzzle
-him) to have the correct answer at
-once. The House of Converts
-was an establishment where persons
-who wished to become Catholics
-were received for a time and
-instructed in the faith. It was
-founded in 1600 by a priest of the
-Oratory. Other interesting hospices
-were the Widows’ Home and
-the House for Aged Priests, where
-the veterans of the Roman clergy
-could end their days in honorable
-comfort. A peculiar class of Roman
-charities were the conservatories.
-They were twenty-three in
-number. Some of them were for
-penance, others for change of life,
-and others again to shield unprotected
-virtue. The Infant Asylum
-was a flourishing institution directed
-by female religious. Even fashion
-was made to do something for
-it, since a noble lady years ago suggested
-that the members of good
-society in Rome should dispense
-with their mutual New Year visits
-on condition of giving three pauls
-(a small sum of money) to the asylum,
-and having their names published
-in the official journal.</p>
-
-<p>The Society for the Propagation
-of the Faith was established at
-Rome in 1834. No city of the size
-and population of Rome was better
-supplied with free schools of every
-description. The night-schools
-were first opened in 1819. In connection
-with studies we should
-mention the liberal presents of
-books, vestments, and liturgical articles
-made to young missionaries
-by the Propaganda, and the books
-on learned subjects, which, being
-printed at government expense, were
-sold at a reduced price to students
-of every nation on showing a certificate
-from one of their professors.</p>
-
-<p>It is written (Matthew iv. 4),
-“Man liveth not by bread alone”;
-and consequently Rome multiplied
-those pious houses of retreat in
-which the soul could rest for a time
-from the cares of life. There were
-five such establishments in the
-city. Another great Roman charity
-was the missions preached by
-the Jesuits and Franciscans in and
-around the city, thus bringing the
-truths of the Gospel constantly before
-the people. We have given
-but a brief sketch of our subject.
-It has been treated in a complete
-manner by Cardinal Morichini in a
-new and revised edition of his interesting
-work entitled <cite>Degl’ Istituti
-di Pubblica Carità ed istruzione primaria
-e delle prigioni in Roma</cite>.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SONG.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">I.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">When in the long and lonely night</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That brings no slumber to mine eyes,</div>
-<div class="verse">Through dark returns the vision bright,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The face and form that day denies,</div>
-<div class="verse">And, like a solitary star</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Revealed above a stormy sea,</div>
-<div class="verse">Thy spirit soothes me from afar,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I mourn thee not, nor weep for thee.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">II.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">And when I watch the dawn afar</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Awake her sleeping sister night,</div>
-<div class="verse">And overhead the dying star</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Return into her parent light,</div>
-<div class="verse">And in the breaking day discern</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The glimmer of eternity,</div>
-<div class="verse">The goal, the peace, for which I yearn,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I mourn thee not, nor weep for thee.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">III.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">And when the melancholy eve</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Brings back the hour akin to tears,</div>
-<div class="verse">And through the twilight I perceive</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The settled, strong, abiding spheres,</div>
-<div class="verse">And gently on my heart opprest</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Like dew descending silently,</div>
-<div class="verse">There falls a portion of thy rest,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I mourn thee not, nor weep for thee.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">IV.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">But when once more the stir of life</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Makes all these busy highways loud,</div>
-<div class="verse">And fretted by the jarring strife,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The noisy humors of the crowd,</div>
-<div class="verse">The subtle, sweet suggestions born</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Of silence fail, and memory</div>
-<div class="verse">Consoles no more, I mourn, I mourn</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That thou art not, and weep for thee.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>PROGRESS <i lang="la">VERSUS</i> GROOVES.</h3>
-
-<p>“How do you like your new minister,
-Mrs. B.?”</p>
-
-<p>“Very much indeed! He is
-progressive&mdash;is not fixed in any of
-the old grooves. His mind does
-not run in those ancient ruts that
-forbid advance and baffle modern
-thought.”</p>
-
-<p>How strangely this colloquy between
-a Methodist and Congregationalist
-fell upon the Catholic ear
-of their mutual friend! Comment,
-however, was discreetly forborne.
-That friend had learned in the very
-infancy of a Catholic life, beginning
-at the mature age of thirty-five
-by the register, the futility of
-controversy, and that the pearls of
-truth are too precious to be carelessly
-thrown away. Strangely
-enough these expressions affected
-one whose habits of thought and
-conduct had been silently forming
-in accordance with that life for
-twenty-five years!</p>
-
-<p>“Old grooves” indeed! Lucifer
-found them utterly irreconcilable
-with his “advanced ideas” in heaven.
-Confessedly, the success of
-his progressive enterprise was not
-encouraging; but the battle and
-its results established his unquestionable
-claim as captain and leader
-of the sons and daughters of
-progress for all time.</p>
-
-<p>“Modern thought!” So far as
-we can discover, the best it has
-done for its disciples is to prove to
-them beyond a doubt that their
-dear grandpapa of eld was an ape,
-and that they, when they shake off
-this mortal coil, will be gathered to
-their ancestors in common with
-their brethren, the modern monkeys!</p>
-
-<p>We, who believe the authentic
-history of the past, can see in this
-boasted new railroad, upon which
-the freight of modern science and
-advanced civilization is borne, a
-pathway as old as the time when
-our dear, credulous old grandmamma
-received a morning call in
-Eden from the oldest brother of
-these scientific gentlemen, who convinced
-her in the course of their
-pleasant chat that poor deluded
-Adam and herself were fastened in
-the most irrational rut&mdash;a perfect
-outrage upon common sense&mdash;and
-that a very slight repast upon “advanced
-ideas” would lift them out
-of it, emancipate thought, and
-make them as “gods knowing good
-and evil.”</p>
-
-<p>We all know how well they succeeded
-in their first step on the
-highway of progress. They lost a
-beautiful garden, it is true, of limited
-dimensions, but they gained a
-world of boundless space, and a
-freedom of thought and action
-which was first successfully and
-completely illustrated by their first-born
-son when he murmured,
-“Why?” and killed his brother,
-who was evidently attached to
-grooves.</p>
-
-<p>They left the heritage thus gained
-to a large proportion of their
-descendants. A minority of them,
-it is true, prefer to “seek out the
-old paths” of obedience to the
-commands of God, “and walk
-therein”&mdash;to shun the “broad
-road” along which modern civilization
-is rolling its countless throngs,
-and to “enter in at the strait
-gate” which leadeth to life eternal,
-to the great disgust of the disciples<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
-of modern thought, who spare no
-effort to prove their exceeding liberality
-by persecuting such with
-derision, calumny, chains, imprisonment,
-and death!</p>
-
-<p>Thank God this is all they can
-do! Rage they never so furiously,
-He that sitteth in the heavens laughs
-them to scorn. He will defend and
-preserve his anointed against all the
-combined hosts of Bismarcks, kaisers,
-and robber princes, who illustrate
-the liberal ideas that govern
-the march of modern civilization.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>TRACES OF AN INDIAN LEGEND.</h3>
-
-<p>It has been said of our energetic
-republic that it had no infancy;
-that it sprang into a vigorous and
-complete existence at a bound.
-However true this may be with respect
-to its material structure in
-the hands of the remarkable men
-who first planted colonies on American
-soil, there is another view of
-the picture which presents widely
-different features.</p>
-
-<p>To the eye of the Christian philosopher
-the religious and moral aspects
-of our country to this day
-afford subjects for anything but satisfactory
-reflection.</p>
-
-<p>The pioneers of civilization along
-the northeastern borders of our
-territory were&mdash;whatever their professions
-to the contrary may have
-been&mdash;worshippers of material prosperity.
-The worship of God and
-the claims of religion were indeed
-important and proper in their place
-for a portion of the seventh part
-of each week, but the moment they
-came in conflict with Mammon
-there was little question which
-should yield. It was not to be expected
-that the saints whom the
-Lord had specially chosen, and unto
-whom “He had given the earth,”
-should be diverted from their pursuit
-of the great “main chance” by
-precepts which were applicable only
-to ordinary and less favored mortals.</p>
-
-<p>Whatever progress the church
-has yet achieved in this region
-is the result of appalling labors
-and sacrifices. The foundation
-was laid in sufferings, fatigues,
-and perils, from the contemplation
-of which the self-indulgent Christians
-of our day would shrink
-aghast; laid long before the so-called
-Pilgrim fathers landed at
-Plymouth, while the savage still
-roamed through the unbroken forests
-of New England, and disputed
-dominion with wild beasts hardly
-more dangerous than himself to
-the messengers of the Gospel of
-peace. Amid the wonderful beauty
-and variety of the panorama which
-her mountains, lakes, and valleys
-unfold to the tourists and pleasure-seekers
-of to-day, there is scarcely
-a scene that has not been traversed
-in weariness, in hunger, and cold by
-those dauntless servants of God
-who first proclaimed the tidings of
-salvation to the wild children of
-the forest.</p>
-
-<p>Futile, and even foolish, as the
-toils of these early fathers may appear
-to the materialist and utilitarian
-of this day, because of their
-tardy and apparently inadequate
-fruits, the designs of Heaven have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>
-not been frustrated, and its light reveals
-a very different history. We
-read therein how He who causes
-“the weak and foolish things of
-this world to confound the wise”
-and to proclaim his praise, sent
-his ministering angels to hover over
-the pathway moistened with the
-tears and blood of his servants, to
-note each footprint through the
-dreary wilderness, to gather the incense
-of each prayer, and to mark
-each pain and peril of their sacrificial
-march for record in the archives
-of eternity, as an earnest for
-future good to those regions, and
-as enduring testimony before the
-high court of heaven to their fitness
-for the crown&mdash;far surpassing
-in glory all earthly crowns&mdash;which
-they won by their burning zeal and
-unwavering patience.</p>
-
-<p>Nor were their efforts in the field
-of their earthly labors so vain as
-some of our modern historians
-would have us suppose. Prayer
-and exertion in the service of God
-are never fruitless. If it is true&mdash;as
-the great Champlain was wont
-to say&mdash;“that one soul gained for
-heaven was of more value than the
-conquest of an empire for France,”
-they gained from the roving tribes
-of the desert many sincere and steadfast
-adherents to the faith&mdash;whose
-names are recorded in the book
-of life&mdash;and scattered benedictions
-along their painful pathway which
-have shed their beneficent influences
-over the scenes they traversed
-down to the present day. We
-hope to illustrate and sustain this
-assertion in the following sketch,
-drawn from our memory, of traditions&mdash;preserved
-among the Indians
-of St. Regis&mdash;to which we listened
-many years ago.</p>
-
-<p>Scattered along the southern
-shores of the St. Lawrence, from
-the foot of Lake Ontario to the village
-of St. Regis&mdash;while St. Lawrence
-County, N.Y., was yet for
-the most part covered with primitive
-forests&mdash;were many encampments
-of these Indians. That
-whole region abounded in game
-and furnished favorite hunting-grounds,
-to which they claimed a
-right in connection with their special
-reservation in the more immediate
-neighborhood of St. Regis.
-At each of these encampments an
-aged Indian was sure to be found,
-who, without the title of chief, was
-a kind of patriarch among his
-younger brethren, exercised great
-influence in their affairs, and was
-treated with profound respect by
-them. He was their umpire in all
-disputes, their adviser in doubtful
-matters, and the “leader of prayer”
-in his lodge&mdash;always the largest and
-most commodious of the wigwams,
-and the one in which they assembled
-for their devotions.</p>
-
-<p>One of the oldest of these sages&mdash;called
-“Captain Simon”&mdash;must
-have been much more than a hundred
-years of age, judging from the
-dates of events of which he retained
-a distinct remembrance as an
-eye-witness, and which occurred in
-the course of the French and Indian
-wars, over a century previous
-to the time when we listened to his
-recital. His head was an inexhaustible
-store-house of traditions
-and legends, many of them relating
-to the discovery and settlement of
-Canada and the labors of the first
-missionaries. He was very fond
-of young people, and, gathering
-the children of the white settlers
-around him, he would hold them
-spell-bound for hours while he related
-stories of those early days in
-his peculiarly impressive and figurative
-language. He claimed that
-his grandfather was one of the
-party who accompanied Champlain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
-on his first voyage through the lake
-which bears his name, and that he
-afterwards acted as guide and interpreter
-to the first priest who visited
-the valley of Lake Champlain.
-When he heard that we were from
-Vermont, he asked for a piece of
-chalk, and, marking on the floor an
-outline of the lake and the course
-of the Richelieu River, he proceeded
-to narrate the voyage of
-Champlain and his party in the
-summer of 1609.</p>
-
-<p>Embosomed within the placid
-waters of Lake Champlain, near its
-northern extremity, is a lovely island,
-of which Vermonters boast as
-the “Gem of the Lake,” so remarkable
-is it for beauty and fertility.
-Here the party landed, and Champlain,
-erecting a cross, claimed the
-lake&mdash;to which he gave his own
-name&mdash;its islands and shores, for
-France and for Christianity. Half
-a century later one La Motte built
-a fort upon this island, which he
-named St. Anne, giving the island
-his own name; and it is called the
-Isle La Motte to this day.</p>
-
-<p>Champlain explored the lake as
-far as Crown Point, where they encountered
-and defeated a band of
-Iroquois Indians; but not deeming
-it wise to adventure further at that
-time so near such powerful foes,
-they returned down the lake without
-delay. This encounter was
-the first act of that savage drama
-which so long desolated New
-France, and threatened it with entire
-destruction.</p>
-
-<p>Six years later, in the summer
-of 1615, another party landed on
-the Isle La Motte. It was made
-up of a missionary of the Recollect
-Order and his escort of Indians in
-two bark canoes. The grandfather
-of our narrator was one of these.
-They remained a day or two on
-the island, and the missionary offered
-the Christian sacrifice for the
-first time within the territory now
-embraced by the State of Vermont.<a name="FNanchor_97" id="FNanchor_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a></p>
-
-<p>The object of his journey was to
-visit scattered bands of hunters who
-were encamped along the eastern
-shore of the lake and its vicinity,
-at different points in the valley of
-Lake Champlain.</p>
-
-<p>Leaving the Isle La Motte, they
-steered for the mouth of the Missisque
-River, which they navigated
-up to the first falls, where the village
-of Swanton now stands. Here
-they found a flourishing encampment,
-and remained some days for
-the purpose of instructing the Indians
-in the truths of Christianity.
-The missionary found that some
-dim reports of the Christian teachers
-had preceded him, and prepared
-the way for his work, the success
-of which encouraged and consoled
-him.</p>
-
-<p>From that place they proceeded
-on foot for some miles to the base
-of a line of hills, sketched by the
-narrator, and corresponding to
-those east of St. Alban’s. Here
-they also remained several days,
-the reverend father toiling early
-and late in the duties of his vocation.
-He was now surrounded by
-a crowd of eager listeners; for not
-only did his former audience accompany
-him, but a goodly number
-from the surrounding hills and
-from Bellamaqueau and Maquam
-Bays&mdash;distant three and five miles
-respectively&mdash;flocked to hear his
-instructions and to be taught “The
-Prayer” revealed to them by the
-Great Spirit through his servant.</p>
-
-<p>Here they brought to him also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
-the beautiful Indian maiden, of
-whom her race cherish the legend
-that her declining health led her
-people to bring her to these hills,
-hoping the change from the low
-lands and damp atmosphere of her
-home to the bracing mountain air
-might prove beneficial. Instead
-of finding relief, she only declined
-the more rapidly, so that she was
-soon unable to be carried back.
-She, too, had heard whispers of
-holy men who had come to teach
-her race the path of heaven, and
-wistfully she had sighed daily, as
-she repeated the yearning aspiration:
-“Oh! if the Great Spirit would
-but let me see and listen to his
-messenger, I could die in peace!”</p>
-
-<p>The Indians, to this day, tell with
-what joy she listened to his words;
-how eagerly she prayed that she
-might receive the regenerating waters;
-how, when they were poured
-upon her head, her countenance became
-bright with the light of heaven;
-and how her departure soon
-after was full of joy and peace. Her
-burial-place was made on one of
-those eastern hills. It was the first
-Christian burial for one of her race
-in Vermont, and her people thought
-her intercessions would not fail to
-bring down blessings upon all that
-region.</p>
-
-<p>Pursuing their journey by the
-trail of those who had preceded
-them through the dense wilderness&mdash;for
-our aborigines were skilled
-in tracing lines of communication
-between their different camps with
-extreme directness by aid of their
-close observations of nature&mdash;the
-party arrived at another camp on
-the bank of a river discovered by
-Champlain, and named by him the
-Lamoille.</p>
-
-<p>At this place an Indian youth
-came to the missionary in great distress.
-His young squaw was lying
-at the point of death, and the medicine
-men and women could do nothing
-more for her. Would not
-“The Prayer” restore her? Oh!
-if it would give her back to him, he,
-with all his family, would gratefully
-embrace it! The reverend father
-went to her, and, when he found she
-desired it, baptized her and her
-new-born infant in preparation for
-the death which seemed inevitable.
-Contrary to all expectation, she recovered.
-Her husband and his
-family, together with her father’s
-family, afterwards became joyful
-believers.</p>
-
-<p>After some days the Indians of
-that place accompanied the party
-in canoes to the lake and along its
-shores to the mouth of the Winooski
-River, which they ascended as
-far as the first falls. Here they remained
-many days, during which
-time the missionary visited the present
-site of Burlington, and held
-two missions there&mdash;one at a camp
-on the summit of a hill overlooking
-the valley of the Winooski as it
-approaches the lake, and one near
-the lake shore.</p>
-
-<p>If Vermonters who are familiar
-with the magnificent scenery which
-surrounds the “queen city” of
-their State never visit the place
-without being filled with new admiration
-at the infinite variety and
-beauty of the pictures it unfolds
-from every changing point of view,
-we may imagine how strangers must
-be impressed who gaze upon them
-for the first time. Not less picturesque,
-and if possible even more
-striking, were its features when,
-crowned by luxuriant native forests
-and fanned by gentle breezes from
-the lake, it reposed within the embrace
-of that glorious amphitheatre
-of hills, in the undisturbed tranquillity
-of nature. It was not
-strange that the natives were drawn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
-by its unparalleled attractions to congregate
-there in such numbers as to
-require from their reverend visitor
-a longer time than he gave to any
-other place in this series of missions.</p>
-
-<p>In the course of three months
-the party had traversed the eastern
-border of the lake to the last encampment
-near its southern extremity.
-This was merely a summer
-camp, as the vicinity of the
-Iroquois made it unsafe to remain
-there longer than through that
-portion of the season when the Mohawks
-and their confederates were
-too busy with their own pursuits
-among the hills of the Adirondacks
-to give much heed to their neighbors.
-At the close of the mission
-this camp was broken up for
-that season, and its occupants joined
-the reverend father and his party
-in canoes as far as the mouth of
-the Winooski River, whence men
-were sent to convey them to the
-starting-point at Swanton, where
-their own canoes were left.</p>
-
-<p>On their way thither they lingered
-for some days on Grand Isle,
-then, as now, a vision of loveliness
-to all admirers of the beautiful, and
-a favorite annual resort of the natives
-for the period during which
-they were safe from the attacks of
-their merciless foes.</p>
-
-<p>At every mission thus opened the
-missionary promised to return himself,
-or send one of his associates,
-to renew his instructions and minister
-to the spiritual wants of his
-converts. This promise was fulfilled
-as far as the limited number of
-laborers in this vineyard permitted.
-The brave and untiring sons of
-Loyola afterwards entered the field,
-and proved worthy successors of
-the zealous Recollects who first
-announced the Gospel message in
-those wilds.</p>
-
-<p>Our Indian narrator, when he
-had finished his recital of missionary
-labors in this and other regions,
-would always add with marked emphasis:
-“And it is firmly believed
-by our people, among all their
-tribes, that upon every spot where
-the Christian sacrifice was first
-offered a Catholic church will one
-day be placed.”</p>
-
-<p>There seemed to his Protestant
-listeners but slight probability of
-this prediction ever being fulfilled
-in Vermont&mdash;settled for the most
-part by the straitest sect of the
-Puritans&mdash;as there was not then,
-or until twenty years from that
-time, a Catholic priest or church
-in the State. Yet at this writing&mdash;and
-the fact has presented itself
-before us with startling effect
-while tracing these imperfect reminiscences&mdash;there
-is at every point
-indicated in his narrative a fine
-church, and in many places flourishing
-Catholic schools.</p>
-
-<p>The labors of an eminent servant
-of God&mdash;to whom Vermont cannot
-be too grateful&mdash;have been particularly
-blessed on the Isle La Motte,
-where the banner of the cross was
-first unfurled within her territory.
-A beautiful church has been erected
-there with a thriving congregation
-and school.</p>
-
-<p>Much as remains to be accomplished
-in this field, when we reflect
-upon all that has been done since
-the first quarter of this XIXth century,
-we can see great cause for
-encouragement and gratitude to Almighty
-God, who has not withheld
-his blessing from the work of
-his servants of the earliest and the
-latest times. “Going on their way,
-they went and wept, scattering the
-seed,” the fruits of which we are
-now gathering into sheaves with
-great joy.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>FINDING A LOST CHURCH.</h3>
-
-<p>The present age is pre-eminently
-one of discovery. In spite of the
-wise man’s saying, “Nothing under
-the sun is new,” mankind, wiser
-in its own conceit than the wise
-man, insists upon the newness of its
-every production. In Rome a different
-spirit prevails. While the
-new is not entirely neglected, the
-great delight of many Romans is to
-find something old&mdash;the older the
-better. They live so much in the
-past that they follow with an eager
-interest the various steps taken to
-enlighten them on the lives and
-deeds of the men of old, their ancestors
-on the soil and in the faith
-which they profess.</p>
-
-<p>Foremost in the pursuit and discovery
-of Christian antiquities
-stands the Commendatore de Rossi.
-It has been said that poets are born,
-not made: De Rossi’s ability as a
-Christian archæologist seems to be
-more the gift of nature than the
-result of study. With unwearied
-industry, with profound knowledge,
-with an almost unerring judgment,
-he finds out and illustrates the remains
-of Christian antiquity scattered
-around Rome&mdash;not on the
-surface, but in the deeps of the
-earth. The latest and one of the
-most important discoveries he has
-made forms the subject of the present
-paper.</p>
-
-<p>Tor Marancia is a name not much
-known out of Rome, yet it designates
-a place which was of some
-importance in its day. The traveller
-who contemplates the works of
-ancient art collected in the Vatican
-Museum cannot fail to be interested
-in two very beautiful black and
-white mosaics which form the floor
-of the gallery known as the Braccio
-Nuovo. Mythological fables and
-Homeric legends are represented
-in these pavements, and they come
-from Tor Marancia. In the Gallery
-of the Candelabra, and in the
-library of the same museum, a collection
-of frescos, busts, statues, and
-mosaics of excellent workmanship
-and of great interest, likewise discovered
-at Tor Marancia, are exhibited.
-All these objects were
-found at that place in the course
-of excavations made there in the
-reign of Pope Pius VI. In ancient
-times a villa stood at Tor Marancia,
-of which these formed the decorations.</p>
-
-<p>At this spot also is found the entrance
-to a very extensive catacomb
-which contains three floors,
-and diverges in long, winding ways
-under the soil of the Campagna.
-The catacomb has been called by
-the name of S. Domitilla, on evidence
-found during the excavations
-made there. This lady was a
-member of the Flavian family, which
-gave three occupants to the imperial
-throne&mdash;Vespasian, Titus, and
-Domitian. It is a well-known fact
-that those early Christians who
-were blessed with wealth were in
-the habit of interring the bodies of
-their brethren, of saints, and of martyrs
-within the enclosure of their
-villas. Such villas were situated
-outside the limits of the city; and
-hence we find the entrance to every
-catacomb beyond the city walls,
-with the solitary exception of the
-catacomb or grottos of the Vatican,
-and the entrances to all of
-them are found in sites ascertained
-to have been the property of Christians.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
-It might be easy to multiply
-instances of this, taking the
-facts from the <cite>Acts of the Martyrs,</cite>
-wherein the places of sepulture are
-indicated, and the names of those
-who bestowed the last rites upon
-the dead recorded.</p>
-
-<p>Domitilla, or Flavia Domitilla,
-as she is sometimes termed, was a
-niece of the consul Flavius Clemens,
-who was cousin of the Emperor
-Domitian. She was a Christian,
-having been baptized by S. Peter;
-and, after a life spent in charitable
-works, amongst which was the burial
-of the martyrs “in a catacomb
-near the Ardeatine Way,” the same
-of which we write, she also suffered
-martyrdom. Her two servants,
-Nereus and Achilleus, were put to
-death previously, and their bodies
-were placed in this catacomb by
-Domitilla.</p>
-
-<p>In 1854, while De Rossi was pursuing
-his researches in the catacomb
-of S. Domitilla, he came upon the
-foundations of a building which
-pierced the second floor of the subterranean
-cemetery. This was a
-most unusual occurrence, and the
-eminent archæologist eagerly followed
-up his discovery. He found
-a marble slab which recorded the
-giving up of a space for burial “Ex
-indulgentia Flaviæ Domitillæ”&mdash;a
-confirmation of the proprietorship
-of the place.</p>
-
-<p>De Rossi naturally concluded
-that the building thus incorporated
-in the Christian cemetery was of
-great importance. The <i lang="la">loculi</i>, or
-resting-places of the dead, were
-very large, which indicates great
-antiquity; the inscriptions likewise
-were of a very early date; and <i lang="la">sarcophagi</i>
-adorned with lions’ heads,
-marble columns overturned, and
-other signs, led the discoverer to
-the conclusion that he had come
-upon the foundations of a church
-constructed within this cemetery.
-In the course of his excavations he
-had penetrated into the open air,
-and found himself in a hollow depression
-formed by the falling in
-of the surface. Amongst other objects
-discovered were four marble
-slabs containing epitaphs furnished
-with consular dates of the years
-335, 380, 399, and 406; and also a
-form of contract by which the right
-of burial in the edifice was sold.
-The proprietor of the land above
-the cemetery opposed the continuance
-of the excavations, and the
-discoverer, obliged to withdraw,
-covered up the materials already
-found with earth, and turned his
-attention to other recently-discovered
-objects in another place.</p>
-
-<p>Twenty years after, in 1874, Monsignor
-de Merode purchased the
-land overlying the catacomb and
-church, and the excavations were
-again undertaken under most favorable
-circumstances. In vain did the
-Commission of Sacred Archæology,
-under De Rossi’s guidance, seek
-for the four marble columns and
-the two beautiful <i lang="la">sarcophagi</i> that
-had been seen there twenty years
-before. The proprietor is supposed
-to have carried them away.
-But they found instead the floor of
-the church or basilica, with its
-three naves, the bases of the four
-columns, the apse, the place where
-the altar stood, and the space occupied
-by the episcopal chair behind
-the altar. The basilica is as large
-as that of San Lorenzo beyond the
-walls. The left aisle is sixty feet
-long by thirteen broad; the central
-nave is twenty-four feet broad; and
-the right aisle, which is not yet entirely
-unearthed, is considered to
-be of the same breadth as the first
-mentioned; the greatest depth of
-the apse is fifteen feet. “The
-church,” says De Rossi, “is of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
-gigantic proportions for an edifice
-constructed in the bowels of the
-earth and at the deep level of the
-second floor of a subterranean
-cemetery.”</p>
-
-<p>Here, then, was a basilica or
-church discovered in the midst of
-a catacomb. That the latter belonged
-to Flavia Domitilla was
-well known; and yet another proof,
-which illustrates archæological difficulties
-and the method of overcoming
-them, was found here. It
-was a broken slab of marble containing
-a portion of an inscription:</p>
-
-<p class="center monospace">......RVM<br />
-.....ORVM<br />
-(*)</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">and having the image of an anchor
-at the point(*). It was concluded
-that the anchor was placed at an
-equal distance from both ends of
-the inscription, and the discoverer,
-with the knowledge he already has
-of the place, supplied the letters
-which he considered wanting to
-the completion of the inscription,
-and thus produced the words,</p>
-
-<p class="center monospace">SEPVLCRVM<br />
-FLAVIORVM<br />
-*</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">(sepulchre of the Flavii). This
-reading is very probably the right
-one, and its probability is greatly
-strengthened by the position of
-the anchor, since the full inscription,
-as here shown, leaves that
-sign still in the centre.</p>
-
-<p>But to find the name borne by
-these ruins when the building of
-which they are the sole remnants
-was fresh and new presented a
-task to their discoverer. It was necessary
-to seek in ancient works&mdash;pontifical
-books and codices&mdash;for
-some account of a basilica on the
-Ardeatine Way. In the life of S.
-Gregory the Great it is related that
-this pontiff delivered one of his
-homilies “in the cemetery of S.
-Domitilla on the Ardeatine Way, at
-the Church of S. Petronilla.” The
-pontifical books and codices, although
-they differ in details&mdash;some
-saying in the cemetery of Domitilla,
-and others in that of Nereus and
-Archilleus, which is the same place
-under another name&mdash;agree in the
-principal fact. On the small remnant
-of plaster remaining on the
-wall of the apse an unskilled hand
-had traced a <i lang="it">graffito</i>, or drawing
-scratched on the plaster with a
-pointed instrument, somewhat resembling
-those found on the walls
-of Pompeii. This <i lang="it">graffito</i> represents
-a bishop, vested in episcopal robes,
-seated in a chair, in the act of
-delivering a discourse. This rude
-sketch of a bishop so occupied, taken
-in conjunction with the fact
-that S. Gregory did here deliver
-one of his homilies, is a link in
-the chain of evidence which identifies
-the ruin with the ancient basilica
-of S. Petronilla.</p>
-
-<p>But a still more convincing testimony
-was forthcoming. A large
-fragment of marble, containing a
-portion of what appeared to have
-been a long inscription, was found
-in the apse. There were but few
-complete words in this fragment,
-and these were chiefly the termination
-of lines in what seemed to have
-been a metrical composition. Odd
-words, selected at random from a
-poem, standing alone, devoid of
-preceding or succeeding words,
-might not seem to furnish very rich
-materials even to an archæologist.
-These wandering words were, however,
-recognized to be the terminal
-words of a poem or eulogium written
-by Pope Damasus in honor of
-the martyrs Nereus and Achilleus.
-Now the connection between this
-metrical eulogium and the basilica
-was to be sought for. In the Einsiedeln
-Codex the place where this
-poem was to be seen is stated to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
-have been the sepulchre of SS.
-Nereus and Achilleus, on the Appian
-Way, at S. Petronilla. The
-poem, or rather this fragment of it,
-being found at this sepulchre, it
-was natural to conclude that the
-church was that of S. Petronilla.
-The Appian Way is the great high-road
-from which the Ardeatine Way
-branches off near this spot.</p>
-
-<p>Again, the basilica of S. Petronilla
-was frequented by pilgrims
-from many nations in the VIIth
-century. Among these were Gauls,
-Germans, and Britons. In their
-itineraries of the martyrs’ sepulchres
-in Rome, and in the collection of
-the metrical epigraphs written at
-these places, it is proved that the
-original name of this church was
-that of S. Petronilla. “Near the
-Ardeatine Way is the Church of S.
-Petronilla,” say these old documents,
-and they likewise inform
-us that S. Nereus and S. Achilleus
-and S. Petronilla herself are buried
-there: “Juxta viam Ardeatinam
-ecclesia est S. Petronillæ; ibi
-quoque S. Nereus et S. Achilleus
-sunt et ipsa Petronilla sepulti.”</p>
-
-<p>A second fragment of the slab
-containing the metrical composition
-of Pope Damasus has since been
-found, and this goes to confirm the
-testimony furnished by the former
-fragment. In the following copy
-of the inscription the capital letters
-on the right-hand side are those on
-the fragment first discovered; those
-on the left belong to the recently-discovered
-portion:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">“<span class="smcap">Nereus et Achilleus Martyres</span>.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Militiæ nomen dederant sævumQ gerebant</div>
-<div class="verse">Officium pariter spectantes jussA TYRanni</div>
-<div class="verse">Præceptis pulsante metu serviRE PARati</div>
-<div class="verse">Mira fides rerum subito posueRE FVRORem</div>
-<div class="verse">COnversi fugiunt ducis impia castrA RELINQVVNT</div>
-<div class="verse">PROiiciunt clypeos faleras telAQ. CRVENTA</div>
-<div class="verse">CONFEssi gaudent Christi portaRE TRIVMFOS</div>
-<div class="verse">CREDITe per Damasum possit quid GLORIA</div>
-<div class="verse">CHRISTI.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The date of the church was likewise
-ascertained. It is known that
-Pope Damasus, the great preserver
-of the martyrs’ graves, would never
-allow the Christian cemeteries to be
-disturbed for the purpose of building
-a church therein; and although
-he himself strongly desired that his
-remains should repose in one of
-these sacred places by the side of
-his predecessors, he abandoned
-this desire rather than remove the
-sacred ashes of the dead. It may
-naturally be concluded, then, that
-this church was built after his day&mdash;he
-died in 384&mdash;as were the
-churches of S. Agnes, S. Lawrence,
-and S. Alexander, all of which are
-beyond the city walls and built in
-catacombs. The catacombs under
-the Church of S. Petronilla showed
-an inscription bearing the date of
-390, and in the church itself a monumental
-slab with the date of 395
-has been found. It is thus almost
-certain that between the highest
-date found <em>under</em>, and the lowest
-date found <em>in</em>, the church&mdash;that is,
-between the years 390 and 395&mdash;the
-basilica of S. Petronilla was constructed.</p>
-
-<p>For about three centuries and a
-half this church was well frequented.
-We have records of gifts sent
-to it, precious vestments, etc., by
-Pope Gregory III., who reigned
-from 715 to 741. But in 755 the
-Longobards came down upon
-Rome; they desecrated the churches
-and cemeteries around the city,
-and then began the siege of Rome.
-After peace was made, the pontiff
-of the period, Paul I., transferred
-the relics and remains of the saints
-to safer custody, and the Church
-of S. Petronilla became deserted.
-From unmistakable signs it seems
-that this desertion was conducted in
-a most regular manner, and that it
-was closed and despoiled of its precious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
-objects. The door which entered
-the left aisle was found walled
-up; the altar, the seats of the choir,
-the episcopal chair, and the ambons
-or marble pulpits ware all
-removed and transported elsewhere.
-The floor of the church, so
-far below the level of the surrounding
-soil, formed a resting-place for
-the water which drained through
-the neighboring lands after rains
-had fallen, and this undoubtedly
-formed the strongest reason for the
-abandonment of S. Petronilla. Nothing
-was left in it but <i lang="la">sarcophagi</i>
-and sepulchres, the pavements
-with their marble epitaphs&mdash;so valuable
-to-day in revealing history&mdash;some
-columns with their beautifully-carved
-capitals, which time or
-an earthquake has overturned and
-hidden within the dark bosom of
-the earth for more than a thousand
-years.</p>
-
-<p>The hundred pilgrims who came
-from America, with a hundred new-found
-friends, assembled on the
-14th of June, 1874, to pray in that
-disentombed old church. They
-had come from a world unknown
-and undreamt of by the pilgrims
-who had formerly knelt within
-these walls; and as they looked
-around on the wide and desolate
-Campagna, and on the monument
-of Cecilia Metella shining in the
-distance white and perfect, in spite
-of the nineteen centuries that have
-passed away since it received its
-inmate, and at the blue, changeless
-sky overhead, and then turned
-their eyes upon the church, decorated
-that morning with festoons of
-green branches and gay flowers,
-the same as it may have been on
-other festive occasions a thousand
-years ago, they may have felt that
-time has effected almost as little
-change in the works of man as in
-those of nature, and that all things
-in Rome partake of Rome’s eternity.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Le Culte Catholique ou Exposition
-de la Foi de l’Eglise Romaine sur le
-Culte du aux Saints et a leurs
-Reliques, a la bienheureuse Vierge
-Marie, aux Images</span>, etc., en réponse
-aux objections du Protestantisme, suivie
-d’une dissertation historique et
-critique sur le celibat du clergé. Par
-l’Abbé Louis-Nazaire Bégin, Docteur
-en Théologie, Professor à la Faculté
-de Théologie de l’Université Laval.
-Quebec: Typographie d’Augustin Cote
-et Cie. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p><cite>Le Culte Catholique</cite> is another valuable
-addition to controversial literature, by
-the author of <cite>The Bible and the Rule of
-Faith</cite>.</p>
-
-<p>It is true that the days of controversy
-seem to be drawing to a close. The
-Greek schism still holds itself aloof in
-sullen isolation; but the controversy is
-exhausted, and all that is left of a church
-has become the mere unfruitful appanage
-of a northern despotism.</p>
-
-<p>As to Protestantism, it never had any
-positive existence as a confession. Three
-hundred years have exhausted its theological
-pretensions. As a religion it has
-ceased to exist, and it lies buried beneath
-the weight of its own negations. The
-only formidable enemies of the church
-now are the disowners both of Christ and
-God, and they seek her destruction because
-they know that she alone offers an
-insuperable obstacle to the universal
-atheism which they hope to bring about.</p>
-
-<p>Under such circumstances works like
-Dr. Bégin’s are chiefly useful for the information
-of Catholics, and for the support
-they render to their faith.</p>
-
-<p><cite>Le Culte Catholique</cite> is, the writer tells us,
-“an exposition of the faith of the Roman
-Church in the matters of the worship of
-the saints and of their relics, of the blessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>
-Virgin Mary, of images, etc., in reply
-to the objections of Protestantism, followed
-by a historical and critical dissertation
-on the celibacy of the clergy.”
-On these trite subjects little that is new
-can be said. But the work before us is
-a terse and lucid summary of Catholic
-teaching on the above points.</p>
-
-<p>It is the object of the society of Freemasons
-to effect the universal deification, the
-rejection, that is, of the belief in any existence
-higher than the human being, and in
-any superiority of one man over another.
-For this they find it convenient to support
-the foolish Protestant objection to a
-splendid ritual and costly churches, on
-the ground that “God is a spirit, and
-they that worship him must worship him
-in spirit and in truth.” Dr. Bégin quotes
-the following telling passage from a contemporary
-writer in answer to this frivolous
-objection:</p>
-
-<p>“I know the old tirades about the temple
-of nature. No doubt the starry vault
-of heaven is a sublime dome; but no
-worship exists which is celebrated in the
-open air. A special place of meeting is
-required for collective adoration, because
-our religious sociability urges us to gather
-together for prayer, as it were to make
-a common stock of our joys and griefs.
-Besides, should the time come when we
-shall have nothing but the cupola of
-heaven to shelter our religious assemblies,
-it would require a considerable
-amount of courage to betake ourselves
-thither, especially in winter. And the
-philosophers who find our cathedrals so
-damp would not be the most intrepid
-against the inclemency of the sanctuary
-of nature. Thus do great errors touch
-on the ridiculous. Reasoning begins
-their refutation; a smile ends it.”</p>
-
-<p>The second chapter is an admirable exposition
-of the special worship (<i lang="la">hyperdulia</i>)
-paid to the Blessed Virgin Mary, in
-the course of which he shows triumphantly
-that the definition of her Immaculate
-Conception was no new doctrine, but
-a mere definite and dogmatic statement
-of a doctrine which had been all along
-held implicitly in the church. The following
-simile, illustrative of this argument,
-appears to us to be worth quoting:
-“Modern science, which is daily making
-such extraordinary progress, discovers,
-ever and anon, fresh stars, which seem to
-float in the most distant depths of space,
-which become more bright as they are
-more attentively observed, and which end
-by becoming stars of continually-increasing
-splendor. These stars are not of recent
-date; they are not new; they are
-only perceived. Something analogous
-takes place in the heavens of the church
-on the subject of certain truths of our
-faith. Their light reveals itself and develops
-by degrees. Sometimes the shock
-of controversy illuminates them. Then
-comes a definition to invest them with
-fresh splendor. But in receiving this
-supplement of light, destined to make
-them better understood by the faithful,
-they lose nothing of their proper nature;
-their essence is not in the slightest degree
-changed; only our minds appropriate
-them with more facility.”</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Flowers from the Garden of the Visitation</span>;
-or, Lives of Several Religious
-of that Order. Translated from the
-French. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet &amp; Co.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>To those who have attempted to form
-an adequate conception of the charitable
-and ascetic spirit, the simple record of
-these saintly lives must have a wonderful
-fascination. To those, even, who are
-wholly absorbed in a life of pleasure it
-will at least possess the merit of a new
-sensation, if they can forget the silent reproof
-which such examples convey.</p>
-
-<p>It affords matter of encouragement in
-these days of combined luxury and destitution
-to look over the history of those&mdash;many
-of whom were delicately reared&mdash;who
-left all for God, content to do whatsoever
-he appointed them to do, and to
-submit to extraordinary mortifications
-for his sake. The work embraces six
-brief biographies of Visitation Nuns eminent
-for their self-sacrificing labors for
-the moral and intellectual education of
-their charges, and in other good and
-charitable offices. Their names, even,
-may be quite new to English-speaking
-readers, but that fact is all the more in
-keeping with their hidden lives. We have
-said enough to indicate the general character
-of the volume.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">John Dorrien</span>: A novel. By Julia
-Kavanagh. New York: D. Appleton
-&amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The writer succeeds, in the very opening
-chapter, in so portraying the character
-of a child as to make it a living
-breathing reality to the reader. The story
-of his humble life in childhood and his
-struggles and trials in later years is told
-without any attempt at fine writing&mdash;indeed,
-all the characters are simply and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>
-well drawn, and retain their individuality
-to the end. The heroine, neglected in
-childhood, and without any guide in matters
-of faith, is easily persuaded by a
-suitor that religion is contrary to reason;
-and thus, left to her own unaided judgment,
-and notwithstanding her innate love
-of truth, soon finds herself entangled in a
-web of deceit and hypocrisy. She only
-escapes the unhappiness which such a
-course entails by forsaking it.</p>
-
-<p>The moral of the tale (if that is not an
-obsolete term) is what the reader would
-naturally infer&mdash;the necessity of early religious
-instruction, and the advantage,
-even in this life, of a belief in revealed
-truth. We are glad to note the absence
-of the faults which disfigure much of the
-imaginative literature of the day, not excepting,
-we are sorry to say, that which
-emanates from the writer’s own sex. We
-see no attempt to give false views of life,
-or to undermine the moral and religious
-principles of the reader; on the contrary,
-there is reason to infer much that is positively
-good, though not so definitely
-stated as we should have liked.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Bible and the Rule of Faith.</span>
-By the Abbé Louis-Nazaire Bégin,
-Doctor of Theology, Theological Professor
-in the University of Laval.
-Translated from the French by G. M.
-Ward [Mrs. Pennée].</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Protestantism is well-nigh defunct. It
-is in its last throes. It has not sufficient
-vitality left to care for its own doctrines,
-such as they are. As a religion it has
-almost ceased to exist. Disobedience to
-the faith has been succeeded by indifference;
-indifference by the hatred of Christ.
-Its rickety old doctrines, whose folly has
-been exposed over and over again thousands
-of times, have quietly tumbled out
-of existence. Protestants themselves
-have almost forgotten them, and certainly
-do not care enough about them to defend
-them. Paganism has returned&mdash;paganism
-in its last stage of sceptical development.
-We have to contend now for the
-divinity of Christ and the existence of a
-God. The Bible and the rule of faith are
-up amongst the lumber.</p>
-
-<p>Yet it may be&mdash;as the writer of this
-work asserts; we much doubt it, however&mdash;that
-there are still “many poor souls in
-the bosom of Protestantism a prey to the
-anguish of doubt.” To such the Abbé Bégin’s
-treatise on the rule of faith may be
-of the utmost service. The argument is
-extremely terse and lucid. In short, were
-the minds of Protestant fanatics open to
-reason, it could not fail to convince them
-of the unreasoning folly of their notions
-about the Bible being the one only rule of
-faith.</p>
-
-<p>The first part of this work treats of the
-rule of faith in general, and proves,
-amongst other things, that such a rule
-must be sure, efficient, and perpetual to
-put an end to controversies.</p>
-
-<p>The second part exhibits the logical
-impossibility of the Protestant rule of
-faith, remote and proximate. That is to
-say, that it is impossible for the unexplained
-text of the Bible to be a sure, efficient,
-and perpetual rule of faith, and for
-an immediate inspiration of its meaning
-to individuals by the Holy Ghost to be its
-means of explanation.</p>
-
-<p>The third part proves very exhaustively
-that the Catholic rule of faith is the only
-possible sure, efficient, and perpetual
-one; namely, Holy Scripture, the remote
-rule, and the teaching church, the proximate
-one.</p>
-
-<p>To any souls “in the bosom of Protestism”
-who are “a prey to the anguish of
-doubt,” if indeed there be such, we cordially
-recommend this treatise. Its tone
-is kind and gentle, its reasoning irresistible,
-and, with the blessing of God, is
-able to put an end to all their doubts on
-the fundamental question as to the true
-rule of faith.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Personal Reminiscences.</span> By Cornelia
-Knight and Thomas Raikes. New
-York: Scribner, Armstrong &amp; Co.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is another of the pleasant “Bric-à-Brac
-series,” edited by Richard Henry
-Stoddard. Miss Knight was that nondescript
-kind of being known as a “lady
-companion” to the Princess Charlotte
-of Wales. Her position gave her peculiar
-facilities for enjoying the privilege, so
-dear to certain hearts, of a peep behind
-the scenes of a royal household. Never
-having been married, she had plenty of
-time for jotting down her notes and observations
-on men, women, and things.
-Many of the men and women she met
-were famous in their way and in their
-time. As might be expected, there is
-much nonsense in her observations,
-mingled with pleasant glimpses of a kind
-of life that has now passed away. Mr.
-Raikes’ journal is similar in character to
-that of Miss Knight, with the advantage
-or disadvantage, as may be considered,
-of having been written by a man.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2 id="No129"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.<br />
-<span class="smaller">VOL. XXII., No. 129.&mdash;DECEMBER, 1875.</span></h2>
-
-<p class="center smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. <span class="smcap">I. T. Hecker</span>, in the Office of the
-Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>MR. GLADSTONE AND MARYLAND TOLERATION.</h3>
-
-<p>It was supposed that Mr. Gladstone
-had been so triumphantly refuted,
-as a polemic, that he would
-take a prudent refuge in silence.
-At a moment when neighboring nations
-were rent with religious dissensions,
-and when England needed
-repose from, rather than fuel
-added to, her internal agitations, a
-statesman and ex-premier of the
-British Empire assumes the <i lang="fr">rôle</i>
-of a religious agitator and accuser,
-and startles, as well as offends, the
-public sense of appropriateness by
-his useless and baseless indictment
-against the Catholic Church, to
-which England owes all that is glorious
-in her constitution and in her
-history; against English Catholics
-in particular, his fellow-subjects,
-who of all others, by their loyalty
-and Christian faith and virtues, can
-preserve the liberties and the institutions
-of their country, now threatened
-alike by infidel corruption,
-Protestant indifference, and communistic
-malice; and against that
-saintly and illustrious pontiff whose
-hand is only raised to bless, whose
-lips breathe unfaltering prayer, and
-whose voice and pen have never
-ceased to announce and defend the
-eternal truths of religion, to uphold
-morality, and to refute the crying
-errors and evils of our times. The
-unanswerable refutations which Mr.
-Gladstone’s attacks elicited from
-Cardinal Manning, Bishops Ullathorne
-and Vaughan, Drs. Newman
-and Capel, and Canon Neville, not
-to speak of the Italian work of
-Mgr. Nardi and the rebukes administered
-by the periodical press,
-had, it was believed, even by impartial
-Protestants, effectually driven
-this new champion of the old
-No-popery party in England from
-the field of polemics. But, like all
-new recruits, the ex-premier seems
-incapable of realizing defeat, or
-perhaps is anxious, at least, to retire
-with the honors of war.</p>
-
-<p>Not content with the serial publication
-of his three tracts, he has
-just now republished them in one
-volume, with a <cite>Preface</cite>, under the
-title of <cite>Rome and the Newest Fashions
-in Religion</cite>&mdash;a title as unbecoming
-the gravity of his subjects as it
-is unsupported by the contents of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>
-the work. The preface to the republication
-not only reiterates his
-accusations on all points, but the
-author, not satisfied with his new
-part as theologian, essays the <i lang="fr">rôle</i>
-of historical critic, and thus gives
-prominence to a historical question
-of deep interest and of especial
-importance to the Catholics of this
-country.</p>
-
-<p>The same <i lang="la">animus</i> which inspired
-Mr. Gladstone’s attacks against the
-church, against his Catholic fellow-countrymen,
-and against the most
-august and venerable personage in
-Christendom, has also induced him
-to deny to the Catholic founders of
-Maryland the honorable renown,
-accorded to them heretofore by
-historians with singular unanimity,
-of having, when in power, practised
-religious toleration towards
-all Christian sects, and secured
-freedom of conscience, not only by
-their unwavering action and practice,
-but also by giving it the stability
-and sanctions of statute law.
-This is certainly the only phase in
-this celebrated controversy upon
-which it remains for Mr. Gladstone
-to be answered.</p>
-
-<p>His Eminence Cardinal Manning,
-in <cite>The Vatican Decrees in their
-bearing on Civil Allegiance</cite>, at page
-88 (New York edition), writes:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“For the same reasons I deplore the
-haste, I must say the passion, which carried
-away so large a mind to affirm or to
-imply that the church of this day would,
-if she could, use torture, and force, and
-coercion in matters of religious belief.…
-In the year 1830 the Catholics
-of Belgium were in a vast majority, but
-they did not use their political power to
-constrain the faith or conscience of any
-man. The ‘Four Liberties’ of Belgium
-were the work of Catholics. This is the
-most recent example of what Catholics
-would do if they were in possession of
-power. But there is one more ancient
-and more homely for us Englishmen. It
-is found at a date when the old traditions
-of the Catholic Church were still vigorous
-in the minds of men.… If the
-modern spirit had any share in producing
-the constitution of Belgium, it certainly
-had no share in producing the constitution
-of Maryland. Lord Baltimore, who
-had been Secretary of State under James
-I., in 1633 emigrated to the American
-plantations, where, through Lord Stafford’s
-influence, he had obtained a grant
-of land.… They named their new
-country Maryland, and there they settled.
-The oath of the governor was in these
-terms: ‘I will not, by myself or any
-other, directly or indirectly, molest any
-person professing to believe in Jesus
-Christ, for or in respect of religion.’
-Lord Baltimore invited the Puritans of
-Massachusetts&mdash;who, like himself, had
-renounced their country for conscience’
-sake&mdash;to come into Maryland. In 1649,
-when active persecution had sprung up
-again in England, the Council of Maryland,
-on the 21st of April, passed this
-statute; ‘And whereas the forcing of the
-conscience in matters of religion hath
-frequently fallen out to be of dangerous
-consequence in the commonwealth where
-it has been practised, and for the more
-quiet and peaceable government of the
-province, and the better to preserve mutual
-love and amity among the inhabitants,
-no person within the province
-professing to believe in Jesus Christ
-shall be anyways troubled, molested, or
-discountenanced for his or her religion,
-or in the free exercise thereof.’ The
-Episcopalians and Protestants fled from
-Virginia into Maryland. Such was the
-commonwealth founded by a Catholic
-upon the broad moral law I have here
-laid down&mdash;that faith is an act of the
-will, and that to force men to profess
-what they do not believe is contrary to
-the law of God, and that to generate faith
-by force is morally impossible.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone, in his <cite>Vaticanism</cite>,
-page 96, replies to the above as follows:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“It appears to me that Archbishop
-Manning has completely misapprehended
-the history of the settlement of Maryland
-and the establishment of toleration
-there for all believers in the Holy Trinity.
-It was a wise measure, for which the
-two Lords Baltimore, father and son, deserve
-the highest honor. But the measure
-was really defensive; and its main<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>
-and very legitimate purpose plainly was
-to secure the free exercise of the Roman
-Catholic religion. Immigration into the
-colony was by the charter free; and only
-by this and other popular provisions
-could the territory have been extricated
-from the grasp of its neighbors in Virginia,
-who claimed it as their own. It
-was apprehended that the Puritans would
-flood it, as they did; and it seemed certain
-that but for this excellent provision
-the handful of Roman Catholic founders
-would have been unable to hold their
-ground. The facts are given in Bancroft’s
-<cite>History of the United States</cite>, vol. i.,
-chap. vii.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Again, in his <cite>Preface</cite> to <cite>Rome and
-the Newest Fashions in Religion</cite>, page
-viii., Mr. Gladstone writes:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“It has long been customary to quote
-the case of Maryland in proof that, more
-than two centuries ago, the Roman Catholic
-Church, where power was in its
-hands, could use it for the purposes of
-toleration. Archbishop Manning has repeated
-the boast, and with very large exaggeration.</p>
-
-<p>“I have already shown from Bancroft’s
-<cite>History</cite> that in the case of Maryland
-there was no question of a merciful use
-of power towards others, but simply of a
-wise and defensive prudence with respect
-to themselves&mdash;that is to say, so far as
-the tolerant legislation of the colony was
-the work of Roman Catholics. But it
-does not appear to have been their work.
-By the fourth article of the charter we
-find that no church could be consecrated
-there except according to the laws of the
-church at home. The tenth article guaranteed
-to the colonists generally ‘all privileges,
-franchises, and liberties of this our
-kingdom of England.’ It was in 1649 that
-the Maryland Act of Toleration was passed,
-which, however, prescribed the punishment
-of death for any one who denied the
-Trinity. Of the small legislative body
-which passed it, two-thirds appear to have
-been Protestant, the recorded numbers
-being sixteen and eight respectively. The
-colony was open to the immigration of
-Puritans and all Protestants, and any
-permanent and successful oppression by
-a handful of Roman Catholics was altogether
-impossible. But the colonial act
-seems to have been an echo of the order
-of the House of Commons at home, on
-the 27th of October, 1645, that the inhabitants
-of the Summer Islands, and such
-others as shall join themselves to them,
-‘shall without any molestation or trouble
-have and enjoy the liberty of their consciences
-in matters of God’s worship’;
-and of a British ordinance of 1647.</p>
-
-<p>“Upon the whole, then, the picture of
-Maryland legislation is a gratifying one;
-but the historic theory which assigns the
-credit of it to the Roman Church has little
-foundation in fact.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Let us first test Mr. Gladstone’s
-accuracy and consistency as a historical
-critic. He begins by alleging
-that the Maryland Toleration
-Act was a measure of defensive prudence
-in the interests of the Catholics
-themselves, and that “its main
-and very legitimate purpose plainly
-was to secure the free exercise of
-the Roman Catholic religion.” He
-then asserts that this act of toleration
-was not the work of the Catholics
-at all, but of a Protestant majority
-in the legislature which passed
-it. We have, then, here presented
-the extraordinary picture of an alleged
-Protestant legislature passing
-a law which was really intended to
-protect Catholics against Protestant
-ascendency and apprehended
-Protestant persecution, and whose
-“main and very legitimate purpose
-was to secure the free exercise
-of the Roman Catholic religion.”
-Surely, the Protestants of that day
-were liberal and generous, especially
-as it was an age of persecution,
-when not only were Catholics hunted
-down both in England and her
-Virginia and New England colonies,
-but even Protestants of different
-sects were relentlessly persecuting
-each other. And in what proper
-sense can <em>they</em> be said to have been
-Protestants with whom it was “<em>a
-very legitimate purpose</em>” to legislate
-in the express interests of Roman
-Catholics?</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone also states that
-the Toleration Act was passed in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
-the apprehension of an influx of
-Puritans, and to protect the colony
-“from the grasp of its neighbors
-in Virginia”; whereas his favorite
-author, Mr. Bancroft, informs Mr.
-Gladstone that Lord Baltimore invited
-both the Episcopalians of
-Virginia and the Puritans of New
-England into his domains, offering
-a gift of lands as an inducement;
-and it is a historical fact that numbers
-of them accepted the invitation.</p>
-
-<p>Again, Mr. Gladstone, while apparently
-treating the Toleration
-Act as a Catholic measure, animadverts
-with evident disapproval
-on that feature in it which “prescribed
-the punishment of death
-for any one who denied the Trinity,”
-and then immediately he claims
-that the legislature which passed
-the act was a Protestant body&mdash;“two-thirds,”
-he writes, “appear
-to have been Protestants”&mdash;thus
-imposing upon his Protestant friends
-the odium of inflicting death for
-the exercise of conscience and religious
-belief; and that, too, not
-upon Papists, as they were not included
-in the punishment.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone, in <cite>The Vatican
-Decrees in their bearing on Civil Allegiance</cite>
-(page 83), expressing no
-doubt the common sentiments of
-Protestants since the time of Luther
-and Henry VIII., uses these irreverent
-words in regard to the Blessed
-Virgin Mary, that peerless and immaculate
-Lady whom four-fifths of
-the Christian world venerate as the
-Mother of God:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The sinlessness of the Virgin Mary
-and the personal infallibility of the Pope
-are the characteristic dogmas of modern
-Romanism.… Both rest on pious fiction
-and fraud; both present a refined
-idolatry by clothing a pure humble woman
-and a mortal sinful man with divine
-attributes. The dogma of the Immaculate
-Conception, which exempts the Virgin
-Mary from sin and guilt, perverts
-Christianism into Marianism.… The
-worship of a woman is virtually substituted
-for the worship of Christ.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>And yet with such sentiments,
-in which doubtless the Protestants
-of Maryland in 1649 concurred, he
-attributes to, and claims for, those
-Protestants who, he says, constituted
-two-thirds of the Maryland
-Colonial Legislature in 1649, the
-passage of a law which enacted
-“that whosoever shall use or utter
-any reproachful words or speeches
-concerning the Blessed Virgin Mary,
-the Mother of our Saviour, … shall
-for the first offence forfeit five
-pounds sterling, or, if not able to
-pay, be publicly whipped and imprisoned
-during pleasure, etc.; for
-the second offence, ten pounds, etc.;
-and for the third shall forfeit all his
-lands and goods, and be banished
-from the province.”</p>
-
-<p>The following anecdote, related
-by the Protestant Bozman,<a name="FNanchor_98" id="FNanchor_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> is quite
-pertinent to our subject and to our
-cause:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“And in the time of the Long Parliament
-when the differences between the Lord
-Baltimore and Colonell Samuel Matthews,
-as agent for the colony of Virginia, were
-depending before a committee of that
-parliament for the navy, that clause in the
-sayd law, concerning the Virgin Mary,
-was at that committee objected as an exception
-against his lordship; whereupon
-a worthy member of the sayd committee
-stood up and sayd, that he wondered
-that any such exception should be taken
-against his lordship; for (says hee) doth
-not the Scripture say, that all generations
-shall call her blessed? (The author here
-cites in the margin, ‘Lu. i. 48.’) And the
-committee insisted no more on that exception.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The authorities relied upon by
-Mr. Gladstone, besides Bancroft,
-whom we shall presently refer to,
-are <cite>Maryland Toleration</cite>, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>
-Rev. Ethan Allen, and <cite>Maryland
-not a Catholic Colony</cite>, by E. D. N.
-The former is a pamphlet of sixty-four
-pages addressed by the author,
-a Protestant minister, to his brethren
-in the ministry in 1855, is
-purely a sectarian tract, hostile to
-every Catholic view and interest,
-and partisan in spirit and in
-matter. The latter is a few pages
-of printed matter, consisting of
-three newspaper articles published
-last year in the <cite>Daily Pioneer</cite> of St.
-Paul, Minnesota, and recently reprinted
-in the <cite>North-Western Chronicle</cite>
-of the same place, the editor of
-which states that the author of the
-letters is the Rev. Edward D.
-Neill, also a Protestant minister,
-and president of Macalester College.
-The letters of “E. D. N.”
-were sharply and ably replied to by
-Mr. William Markoe, formerly an
-Episcopal minister, now a member
-of the Catholic Church. The letters
-of “E. D. N.” are more sectarian
-than historical, and cannot be
-quoted in a controversy in which
-such names as Chalmers, Bancroft,
-McSherry, Bozman, etc., figure.
-The attack of “E. D. N.” on the
-personal character of Lord Baltimore
-is enough to condemn his effort.</p>
-
-<p>But Mr. Gladstone’s principal
-author is Bancroft, from whose
-pages he claims to have shown that
-“in the case of Maryland there was
-<em>no question</em> of a merciful use of
-power towards others, but <em>simply</em> of
-a wise and defensive prudence with
-respect to themselves.” Motives
-of <em>self-interest</em> are thus substituted
-for those of <em>benevolence</em> and <em>mercy</em>.
-If this were correctly stated, why
-does Mr. Gladstone state that the
-Act of Toleration was a measure
-“for which the two Lords Baltimore,
-father and son, deserve the
-highest honor”? But our task is
-now to inquire how far his author
-sustains Mr. Gladstone in denying
-to the Catholics of Maryland, who
-enacted religious toleration, all motives
-of benevolence and mercy.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Bancroft, on the contrary,
-asserts that the “new government
-[of Maryland] was erected on a
-<em>foundation</em> as extraordinary as its
-results were <em>benevolent</em>.”<a name="FNanchor_99" id="FNanchor_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> In speaking
-of Lord Baltimore, the founder
-of Maryland, its chief statesman
-and law-giver, he extols his <em>moderation</em>,
-<em>sincerity of character</em>, and <em>disinterestedness</em>,<a name="FNanchor_100" id="FNanchor_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a>
-and proceeds to
-say:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Calvert deserves to be ranked among
-the most wise and <em>benevolent</em> law-givers
-of all ages. He was the first in the history
-of the Christian world to seek for religious
-security and peace by the practice
-of justice, and not by the exercise of power;
-to plan the establishment of popular
-institutions with the enjoyment of liberty
-of conscience; to advance the career of civilization
-by recognizing the rightful equality
-of all Christian sects. The asylum of
-Papists was the spot where, in a remote
-corner of the world, on the banks of rivers
-which, as yet, had hardly been explored,
-the <em>mild forbearance</em> of a proprietary
-adopted religious freedom as the <em>basis</em> of
-the state.”<a name="FNanchor_101" id="FNanchor_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Referring to the act of taking
-possession of their new homes in
-Maryland by the Catholic pilgrims,
-the same author says, thereby “religious
-liberty obtained a home, its
-only home in the wide world, at the
-humble village which bore the name
-of St. Mary’s.”<a name="FNanchor_102" id="FNanchor_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> And speaking of
-the progress of the colony, he further
-says: “Under the <em>mild</em> institutions
-and munificence of Baltimore
-the dreary wilderness soon bloomed
-with swarming life and activity
-of prosperous settlements; the Roman
-Catholics who were oppressed
-by the laws of England were sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>
-to find a peaceful asylum in the
-quiet harbors of the Chesapeake;
-and there, too, Protestants were
-sheltered against Protestant intolerance.”<a name="FNanchor_103" id="FNanchor_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a>
-Such, in fine, is the repeated
-language of an author
-whom Mr. Gladstone refers to in
-proof of his assertion that toleration
-in Maryland was <em>simply</em> a measure
-of self-defence.</p>
-
-<p>Chalmers bears the following testimony
-to the same point: “He”
-(Lord Baltimore) “<em>laid the foundation</em>
-of his province upon the broad
-<em>basis</em> of security to property and of
-freedom of religion, granting, in absolute
-fee, fifty acres of land to
-every emigrant; establishing Christianity
-according to the old common
-law, of which it is a part, without
-allowing pre-eminence to any
-particular sect. The wisdom of his
-choice soon converted a dreary
-wilderness into a prosperous colony.”<a name="FNanchor_104" id="FNanchor_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></p>
-
-<p>And Judge Story, with the history
-of the colony from its beginning
-and the charter before him, adds
-the weight of judicial approval in
-the following words: “It is certainly
-very honorable to the liberality
-and public spirit of the proprietary
-that he should have introduced into
-his <em>fundamental</em> policy the doctrine
-of general toleration and equality
-among Christian sects (for he does
-not appear to have gone further),
-and have thus given the earliest example
-of a legislator inviting his
-subjects to the free indulgence of
-religious opinion. This was anterior
-to the settlement of Rhode
-Island, and therefore merits the
-enviable rank of being the first
-recognition among the colonists of
-the glorious and indefeasible rights
-of conscience.”<a name="FNanchor_105" id="FNanchor_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p>
-
-<p>But there is another view, clearly
-sustained by an important and certain
-chain of facts, which has never
-occurred to the historical writers
-on Maryland toleration, at least in
-this connection, though they give
-the facts upon which the view is
-based, and which wholly destroys
-the theory of Mr. Gladstone and
-his authorities. The latter may
-dispute in regard to the merits and
-motives of the statute of 1649, but
-they do not touch the real question.
-It is an incontestable fact that the
-religious toleration which historians
-have so much extolled in the
-Catholic colonists and founders of
-Maryland did not originate with,
-or derive its existence from, that
-law of 1649, but, on the contrary, it
-existed long anterior to, and independent
-of, it. This great feature
-in the Catholic government of
-Maryland had been established by
-the Catholic lord-proprietary, his
-lieutenant-governor, agents, and
-colonists, and faithfully practised
-for fifteen years prior to the Toleration
-Act of 1649. From 1634 to
-1649 it had been enforced with unwavering
-firmness and protected
-with exalted benevolence. This
-important fact is utterly ignored by
-Mr. Gladstone and his authors, the
-Rev. Ethan Allen and the Rev. Edward
-D. Neill, but the facts related
-by Bancroft, and indeed by all historians,
-prove it beyond a question.
-Bancroft records that the very
-“<em>foundations</em>” of the colony were
-laid upon the “<em>basis</em>” of religious
-toleration, and throughout the eulogiums
-pronounced by him on the
-religious toleration of Maryland,
-which we have quoted above, refers
-entirely to the period of the
-fifteen years preceding the passage
-of the act of 1649. The Toleration
-Act was nothing else than the declaration
-of the existing state of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
-things and of the long and cherished
-policy and practice of the colony&mdash;a
-formal sanction and statutory
-enactment of the existing common
-law of the province.</p>
-
-<p>Before proceeding to demonstrate
-this fact, we will briefly examine
-how far Mr. Bancroft sustains the
-theory or views of Mr. Gladstone
-in regard to the act itself. After
-extolling the motives and conduct
-of the Catholics of Maryland in establishing
-religious toleration, as
-we have remarked above, during
-the fifteen years preceding the passage
-of the act, Mr. Bancroft refers
-to that statute in terms of highest
-praise. He barely hints at the possibility
-that a foresight, on the part
-of the colonists, of impending dangers
-to themselves from threatened
-or apprehended Protestant ascendency
-and persecution, might have
-entered among the motives which
-induced them to pass that act; but
-he nowhere asserts the fact, nor
-does he allege anything beyond
-conjecture for the possibility of the
-motive. Indeed, his mode of expressing
-himself indicates that,
-though he thought it possible, his
-own impression was that such motive
-did not suggest in part even
-the passage of the act; for he
-writes: “<em>As if</em>, with a foresight of
-impending danger and an earnest
-desire to stay its approach, the Roman
-Catholics of Maryland, with
-the earnest concurrence of their governor
-and of the proprietary, determined
-to place upon their statute-book
-an act for <em>the religious freedom
-which had ever been sacred on
-their soil</em>.” Compare this with the
-language of Mr. Gladstone, who excludes
-every motive but that of
-self-interest, and refers to Bancroft
-in support of his view, but
-does not quote his language. Mr.
-Bancroft, on the other hand, after
-quoting from the statute, exclaims,
-such was “its sublime tenor.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Griffith does not agree with
-the suggestion that a sense of fear
-or apprehension entered into the
-motives of the Maryland lawgivers,
-and says: “That this liberty did
-not proceed from fear of others, on
-the one hand, or licentious dispositions
-in the government, on the
-other, is sufficiently evident from
-the penalties prescribed against
-blasphemy, swearing, drunkenness,
-and Sabbath-breaking, by the preceding
-sections of the act, and proviso,
-at the end, that such exercise
-of religion did not molest or conspire
-against the proprietary or his
-government.”<a name="FNanchor_106" id="FNanchor_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a></p>
-
-<p>Let us now proceed to examine
-still further whether Maryland was
-a Catholic colony, whether it was
-by Catholics that religious toleration
-was established there, and
-whether it had its origin in the act
-of 1649 or in the long previous
-practice and persistent generosity
-and mercy of the Catholic rulers
-of the province. It is true that
-while the territory afterwards granted
-to Lord Baltimore was subject
-to the Virginia charter, a settlement
-of Episcopalians was made on
-Kent Island; but they were very
-few in numbers, always adhered to
-Virginia rather than to Maryland
-in their sympathies, were so turbulent
-and disloyal that Governor
-Calvert had to reduce them by
-force of arms, and no one has
-ever pretended that they founded a
-State. We will show what relation
-they had in point of numbers and
-political influence to the colony,
-and that they did not form even
-the slightest element of power in
-the founding of the province.</p>
-
-<p>Maryland was founded alone by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>
-the Catholic Lord Baltimore and
-his colonists. Such is the voice of
-history. It is rather disingenuous
-in the reverend authors of the
-pamphlets mentioned by Mr. Gladstone
-that upon so flimsy a circumstance
-they assert that Maryland
-was not settled first by Catholics.
-Their voices are drowned by the
-concurrent voice of tradition and
-of history. It is only the reassertion
-of the pretensions of these
-zealous sectarians by so respectable
-a person as Mr. Gladstone,
-and that, too, in one of the most
-remarkable controversies of the
-age, that renders a recurrence to
-the historical authorities and their
-results at all desirable or necessary.</p>
-
-<p>The colony of Maryland was
-conceived in the spirit of liberty.
-It was the flight of English Catholics
-from Protestant persecution in
-their native country. The state of
-the penal laws in England against
-Catholics at this period is too well
-known. The zealous Protestant
-Bozman writes that they “contained
-severities enough to keep
-them [the Catholics] in all due
-subjection.”</p>
-
-<p>It was at this hour of their extremest
-suffering that the Catholics
-of England found a friend and
-leader in Sir George Calvert, who
-held important trusts under the governments
-of James and Charles,
-and enjoyed the confidence of
-his sovereigns and of his country.
-“In an age when religious controversy
-still continued to be active,
-when increasing divisions among
-Protestants were spreading a general
-alarm, his mind sought relief
-from controversy in the bosom of
-the Roman Catholic Church, and,
-preferring the avowal of his opinions
-to the emoluments of office,
-he resigned his place and openly
-professed his conversion.”<a name="FNanchor_107" id="FNanchor_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> Even
-after this he was advanced to the
-peerage under the title of Lord
-Baltimore&mdash;an Irish title&mdash;and was
-appointed one of the principal secretaries
-under James I. His positions
-in the government gave him not
-only an acquaintance with American
-colonization, but an official connection
-with it. Of these he now
-availed himself to provide an asylum
-abroad for his fellow-Catholics
-from the relentless persecution
-they were suffering at home. His
-first effort was to found a Catholic
-colony on the shores of Newfoundland.
-A settlement was begun.
-Avalon was the name it received,
-and twice did Lord Baltimore
-cross the ocean to visit his
-cherished cradle of liberty. Baffled
-by political difficulties, the
-severity of the climate, and an ungenerous
-soil, he abandoned the
-endeavor. That his motive all
-along was to found a place of refuge
-for Catholics from persecution
-is certain from the time and circumstances
-under which the enterprise
-was undertaken, as well as
-from the testimony of historians.
-Oldmixon says: “This gentleman
-[Lord Baltimore], being of the
-Romish religion, was uneasy at
-home, and had the same reason to
-leave the kingdom as those gentlemen
-had who went to New England,
-to enjoy the liberty of his
-conscience.”<a name="FNanchor_108" id="FNanchor_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> Bozman writes that
-“by their [the Puritans’] clamors
-for a vigorous execution of the
-laws against Papists, it became now
-necessary for them [the Catholics]
-also to look about for a place of
-refuge.”<a name="FNanchor_109" id="FNanchor_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> The same writer also
-refers to a MS. in the British Museum,
-written by Lord Baltimore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>
-himself, in which this motive is
-mentioned. Driven from Avalon
-by the hardness of the climate, he
-visited Virginia with the same view;
-but hence again he was driven
-by religious bigotry and the presentation
-of an anti-popery oath
-from a colony “from which the
-careful exclusion of Roman Catholics
-had been originally avowed as
-a special object.” His mind, filled
-with the thought of founding a
-place of refuge for Catholics, next
-turned to the country beyond the
-Potomac, which had been embraced
-originally in the Virginia charter,
-but which, upon the cancellation
-of that charter, had reverted to the
-crown. He obtained a grant and
-charter from the king, so liberal in
-its terms that, Griffith says, it became
-the model for future grants.
-The name was changed from Crescentia
-to that of Maryland, in
-honor of the Catholic queen of
-Charles; but the devout Catholics
-of the expedition, in their piety, extended
-the term <i lang="la">Terra Mariæ</i>, the
-Land of Mary, into an act of devotion
-and honor to Mary, the
-Queen of Heaven.</p>
-
-<p>The first Lord Baltimore did not
-live to see his project carried into
-effect; he died on the 25th of
-April, 1632, was succeeded by his
-son Cecilius, second Lord Baltimore,
-who, as Bancroft says, was
-the heir of his <em>intentions</em> no less
-than of his fortunes; to him was
-issued the charter negotiated by
-his father, bearing date the 15th of
-June, 1632.</p>
-
-<p>Founded by a Catholic, designed
-as an asylum for persecuted Catholics,
-is it to be supposed that Lord
-Baltimore and his brother, Governor
-Leonard Calvert, who organized
-and led forth the pilgrims,
-would be so inconsistent at this
-moment of their success as to lose
-sight of the main object of the
-movement, and carry <em>Protestant</em>
-colonists with whom to found a
-<em>Catholic</em> colony? If, as Rev. Edward
-D. Neill, author of <cite>Maryland
-not a Catholic Colony</cite>, says, there
-were only twenty Catholic gentlemen
-in the ship, and three hundred
-servants, mostly Protestants, would
-it have been deemed necessary to
-carry two Catholic priests and their
-assistants along to administer to
-the souls of so small a number?
-In point of fact, the Protestants
-were so few that they brought no
-minister with them, and it was several
-years before their entire numbers
-justified their having either a
-minister or a place of worship.
-The voyage on the <i>Ark</i> and <i>Dove</i>
-was more like a Catholic pilgrimage
-than a secular expedition.
-The principal parts of the ship
-(the <i>Ark</i>), says Father White in his
-<cite>Narrative</cite>, were committed to the
-protection of God especially, and
-to his Most Holy Mother, and S.
-Ignatius, and all the guardian angels
-of Maryland. The vessel was a
-floating chapel, an ocean shrine of
-Catholic faith and devotion, consecrated
-by the unbloody sacrifice,
-and resounding with Latin litanies;
-its safety from many a threatened
-disaster was attributed to the intercession
-of the Blessed Virgin and
-the saints, whose mediation was
-propitiated by votive offerings promised
-and promptly rendered after
-their safe arrival at St. Mary’s.
-The festivals of the saints were
-faithfully observed throughout the
-voyage, the feast of the Annunciation
-of the Blessed Virgin was selected
-for landing, and the solemn act
-of taking possession was according
-to the Catholic form. Father White
-thus describes the scene:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“On the day of the Annunciation of the
-Most Holy Virgin Mary (March 25), in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
-the year 1634, we celebrated the Mass for
-the first time on this island [St. Clement’s].
-This had never been done before
-in this part of the world. After we
-had completed the sacrifice, we took upon
-our shoulders a great cross which we
-had hewn out of a tree, and advancing in
-order to the appointed place, with the assistance
-of the governor and his associates,
-and the other Catholics, we erected
-a trophy to Christ the Saviour, humbly
-reciting on our bended knees the Litanies
-of the Sacred Cross with great emotion.”<a name="FNanchor_110" id="FNanchor_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>They founded a city, the capital
-of the colony, and called it St.
-Mary’s. A Catholic chapel was
-subsequently erected there; and this
-too was dedicated to S. Mary.
-The city has passed away, but the
-little chapel still stands, preserved
-alike by Catholic and Protestant
-hands, as a monument of the faith
-and zeal of the Catholic pilgrims
-of Maryland. Mr. Griffith, the historian,
-uniting his voice to that of
-Bancroft and other writers, speaking
-of the object which inspired
-the settlement from its inception by
-Lord Baltimore in England, says:
-“Out of respect for their religion
-they planted the cross, and, after
-fortifying themselves, plainly and
-openly set about to obtain, by the
-fairest means in their power, other
-property and homes, where they
-should escape the persecutions of
-the religious and political reformers
-of their native country at that
-time.”<a name="FNanchor_111" id="FNanchor_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a></p>
-
-<p>The church and parish of S.
-Mary were for many years the headquarters
-of the Jesuit missions of
-Maryland. During the succeeding
-years prior to 1649 there was a
-steady influx of Catholics into the
-colony from England, as is evident
-by the land records and other official
-documents, and by the fact
-that the number of Catholic priests
-required for the settlement increased
-from two in 1634 to four priests
-and one coadjutor prior to 1644.
-The Catholic strength was also increased
-by numerous conversions,
-as is shown by Father White’s
-<cite>Narrative</cite>, in which, at page 56,
-he relates that, “among the
-Protestants, nearly all who came
-over from England, in this year
-1638, and many others, have been
-converted to the faith, together
-with four servants … and five
-mechanics whom we … have in
-the meantime won to God.” So
-numerous were these conversions,
-and they created so great a sensation
-in England, that measures were
-taken there to check them.</p>
-
-<p>That the colony was Catholic in
-its origin, and so continued until
-after the year 1649, when the Toleration
-Act was passed, has never
-been denied, according to our researches,
-except by Mr. Gladstone
-and the two Protestant ministers
-whom he quotes. Bancroft, writing
-of the religious toleration which
-prevailed in Maryland during this
-period, always speaks of it as the
-work of Catholics. In referring to
-the original colonists he adds,
-“most of them Roman Catholic
-gentlemen and their servants.”
-Even so unfriendly a writer as Bozman
-says: “The most, if not all, of
-them were Catholics.” Chancellor
-Kent speaks of the colony as
-“the Catholic planters of Maryland,”
-and Judge Story says they
-were “chiefly Roman Catholics.”
-Father White, in his <cite>Narrative</cite>,
-speaks of the few Protestants on
-board the <i>Ark</i> as individuals, and
-not as a class. Bozman, alluding
-to the year 1639, and to “those in
-whose hands the government of
-the province was,” says: “A majority
-of whom were, without doubt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>
-Catholics, as well as much the
-greater number of the colonists.”
-Mr. Davis, a Protestant, who drew
-his information from the official
-documents of the colony and State,
-gives unanswerable proofs of the
-fact for which we are contending.
-We give a single passage from his
-work on this point:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“St. Mary’s was the home&mdash;the chosen
-home&mdash;of the disciples of the Roman
-Church. The fact has been generally received.
-It is sustained by the tradition
-of two hundred years and by volumes of
-unwritten testimony; by the records of the
-courts; by the proceedings of the privy
-council; by the trial of law-cases; by the
-wills and inventories; by the land-records
-and rent-rolls; and by the very
-names originally given to the towns and
-<em>hundreds</em>, to the creeks and rivulets, to
-the tracts and manors of the county. The
-state itself bears the name of a Roman
-Catholic queen. Of the six <em>hundreds</em> of
-this small county, in 1650, five had the
-prefix of <em>St.</em> Sixty tracts and manors, most
-of them taken up at a very early period,
-bear the same Roman Catholic mark.
-The creeks and villages, to this day, attest
-the widespread prevalence of the
-same tastes, sentiments, and sympathies.
-Not long after the passage of the act relating
-to ‘religion,’ the Protestants, it is
-admitted, outgrew their Roman Catholic
-brethren, and in 1689 succeeded very
-easily in their attempt to overthrow the
-proprietary. But judging from the composition
-of the juries in 1655, we see no
-reason to believe that they then had a majority.”<a name="FNanchor_112" id="FNanchor_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone seems to favor the
-view that religious toleration in
-Maryland was derived from the
-charter. We are surprised at this,
-since “E. D. N.” (Rev. Edward
-D. Neill), whose pamphlet has furnished
-the substance of the entire
-passage we have quoted from Mr.
-Gladstone’s <cite>Preface</cite>, says in his
-<cite>Maryland not a Roman Catholic Colony</cite>,
-“The charter of Maryland
-granted to Lord Baltimore was not
-a charter of religious liberty, but
-the very opposite.” McSherry, a
-Catholic historian, says that “the
-ecclesiastical laws of England, so
-far as related to the consecration
-and presentation of churches and
-chapels, were extended to the colony,
-but the question of state religion
-was left untouched, and therefore
-within the legislative power of
-the colonists themselves.”<a name="FNanchor_113" id="FNanchor_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> And
-Bozman, a Protestant historian,
-adopts the same view of the charter,
-for he regards the “Act for
-Church Liberties” passed in 1639,
-enacting that “Holy Church within
-this province shall have all her
-rights and privileges,” as an attempt
-to exercise a control of religion, and
-says: “We cannot but suppose that
-it was the intention of the Catholic
-government to erect a hierarchy,
-with an ecclesiastical jurisdiction,
-similar to the ancient Church of
-England before the Reformation,
-and to invest it with all its rights,
-liberties, and immunities.”<a name="FNanchor_114" id="FNanchor_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> The
-same views are expressed by the
-same author at pages 68 and 350 of
-his history. While civil liberty
-was guaranteed by the charter to
-all within the province, we find no
-mention of religious toleration in its
-provisions. Nor do we find that
-immigration was made free by the
-charter, as alleged by Mr. Gladstone;
-the provision to which he
-refers simply assures to the subjects
-of England, “transported or
-to be transported into the province,
-all privileges, franchises, and liberties
-of this our kingdom of England,”
-but the decision of the point
-as to who should be transplanted
-or admitted to settle there was
-left to the lord proprietary and
-the provincial legislature. The
-grant by the king to Lord Baltimore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>
-of all the lands of the province
-in itself gave him the full
-control over immigration, by enabling
-him to fix the conditions to
-the grants of land to colonists,
-which would have kept out all except
-such as the lord proprietary
-wished to enter.</p>
-
-<p>We think we have shown that the
-Catholics were in the majority during
-the whole period covered by
-our discussion, and that the charter
-left them free to protect themselves
-from intrusion; that they were, consequently,
-all-powerful to perpetuate
-their numerical preponderance
-and control of the government.
-Why had they not the same motives
-for practising intolerance as the
-Puritans? Their positions, respectively
-and relatively, were the
-same in this particular, and the
-same reasons apply to both. No,
-they were actuated by a different
-spirit, and guided by different traditions.
-They possessed the power,
-and used it with mercy and benevolence;
-not only permitting
-but inviting Christians of every
-shade of opinion to settle in the
-province, but also offering grants
-of land on easy terms, and protecting
-the settlers from molestation on
-account of their religion. If they
-had not the power to proscribe,
-why should Bancroft, Griffith,
-Chambers, Kent, Story, and nearly
-all writers on the subject, have bestowed
-such encomiums on them for
-doing what they could not have refrained
-from doing? Why extol
-the toleration enjoined by Lord
-Baltimore and proclaimed by Governor
-Leonard Calvert, and the subsequently
-enacted Toleration Act
-of 1649, if the liberty it enacts was
-already secured by the charter of
-1632?</p>
-
-<p>It is not necessary for us to go
-further into this question, since in
-either event the honor and credit
-of religious toleration in Maryland
-is due to a Catholic source. If the
-charter secured it, our answer is
-that the charter itself was the work
-of a Catholic, for Lord Baltimore
-is the acknowledged author of that
-document. “The nature of the
-document itself,” says Bancroft,
-“and concurrent opinion, leave no
-doubt that it was penned by the
-first Lord Baltimore himself, although
-it was finally issued for the
-benefit of his son.”<a name="FNanchor_115" id="FNanchor_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> “It was prepared
-by Lord Baltimore himself,”
-says McSherry, “but before it was
-finally executed that truly great
-and good man died, and the patent
-was delivered to his son, Cecilius,
-who succeeded as well to his noble
-designs as to his titles and estates.”<a name="FNanchor_116" id="FNanchor_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a>
-It will be more than sufficient
-to add here that both Mr.
-Bozman and the Rev. Ethan Allen
-concede that Lord Baltimore was
-the author of the charter.</p>
-
-<p>We propose now to show that the
-religious toleration which prevailed
-in Maryland had its origin in
-the good-will, generosity, and mercy
-of the Catholic lord proprietary
-and his Catholic government and
-colony of Maryland; was practised
-from the very beginning of the settlement,
-and that we are not indebted
-for it to the Toleration Act
-of 1649, except perhaps as a measure
-by which its provisions were
-prolonged. Toleration was the
-course adopted in organizing the
-Maryland colony, even in England
-and before the landing of the pilgrims.
-Thus we find that some
-Protestants were permitted to accompany
-the colonists and share
-equal rights and protection with
-their Catholic associates. Father
-White speaks of them on board the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>
-<i>Ark</i> and <i>Dove</i>. The author of
-<cite>Maryland not a Catholic Colony</cite> refers
-to the fact that “Thomas
-Cornwallis and Jerome Hawley,
-who went out as councillors of the
-colony, were adherents of the
-Church of England,” as evidence
-in part that Maryland was “not a
-Catholic colony.” We take the
-same fact to show that not only
-were Protestants tolerated in the
-colony from its inception, but were
-liberally and generously given a
-share in its government. The Rev.
-Ethan Allen relates a succession
-of proofs of this fact, though not
-for that purpose, in the following
-passage: “Witness the fact of so
-large a portion of the first colonists
-being Protestants; his invitation to
-Capt. Fleet; his invitation to the
-Puritan colonists of Massachusetts
-to come and reside in the colony
-in 1643; his constituting Col. Stone
-his governor in 1648, who was a
-Protestant, and was to bring five
-hundred colonists; his admitting
-the Puritans of Virginia in the same
-year; and in the year following
-erecting a new county for Robert
-Brooke, a Puritan, and his colonists.”<a name="FNanchor_117" id="FNanchor_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a>
-McSherry says, speaking
-of the act of possession on landing
-in 1634: “Around the rough-hewn
-cross, on the island of St. Clement’s,
-gathered the Catholic and the Protestant,
-hand in hand, friends and
-brothers, equal in civil rights, and
-secure alike in the free and full
-enjoyment of either creed. It was
-a day whose memory should make
-the Maryland heart bound with
-pride and pleasure.”<a name="FNanchor_118" id="FNanchor_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> The same
-author says that the Toleration Act
-of 1649 was passed “to give <em>additional</em>
-security to the safeguards
-which Lord Baltimore <em>had already
-provided</em>.” Bancroft makes religious
-toleration commence from the
-first landing “when the Catholics
-took possession,” and extend
-throughout the fourteen years up
-to the passage of the act of 1649.
-He says that “the apologist of
-Lord Baltimore could assert that
-his government, in conformity
-with his strict and repeated injunctions,
-had <em>never</em> given disturbance
-to any person in Maryland for matter
-of religion.”<a name="FNanchor_119" id="FNanchor_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> The Rev. Ethan
-Allen relates that the Protestants
-in the colony were allowed to have
-their own chapel and to conduct
-therein the Protestant service. He
-cites a case in which a Catholic
-was severely punished for abusive
-language towards some Protestant
-servants in respect to their religion,
-and remarks that “the settling of
-the case was unquestionably creditable
-and honorable to the Catholic
-governor and council.”<a name="FNanchor_120" id="FNanchor_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> Mr.
-Davis, a Protestant, says: “A
-freedom, however, of a wider sort
-springs forth at the <em>birth of the colony&mdash;not
-demanded by that instrument</em>
-[the charter], but permitted
-by it&mdash;not graven upon the tables
-of stone, nor written upon the paper
-of the statute-books, but conceived
-in the very bosom of the
-proprietary and of the original pilgrims&mdash;not
-a formal or constructive
-kind, but a living freedom, a
-freedom of the most practical sort.
-It is the freedom which it remained
-for them, and for them alone,
-<em>either to grant or deny</em>&mdash;a freedom
-embracing within its range, and
-protecting under its banner, all
-those who were believers in Jesus
-Christ.”<a name="FNanchor_121" id="FNanchor_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a></p>
-
-<p>Again, the same author writes:
-“The records have been carefully
-searched. No case of persecution<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
-occurred, during the administration
-of Gov. Leonard Calvert, from
-the foundation of the settlement
-at St. Mary’s to the year 1647.”<a name="FNanchor_122" id="FNanchor_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a>
-Langford, a writer contemporaneous
-with the period of which we are
-treating, in his <cite>Refutation of Babylon’s
-Fall</cite>, 1655, confirms the
-result of Mr. Davis’ investigation
-of the records. The Protestants
-of the colony themselves, in a <em>declaration</em>,
-of which we will speak
-again, attribute the religious toleration
-they enjoyed not solely to
-the Toleration Act, but also to
-“<em>several other strict injunctions and
-declarations of his said lordship for
-that purpose made and provided</em>.”
-Gov. Leonard Calvert also enjoined
-the same by a proclamation,
-which is mentioned by numerous
-historians. A case arising under
-this proclamation is given by Bozman
-and others in 1638, eleven
-years before the passage of the
-Toleration Act. Capt. Cornwallis’
-servants, who were Protestants, were
-lodged under the same roof with
-William Lewis, a zealous Catholic,
-who was also placed in charge of
-the servants. Entering one day
-the room where the servants were
-reading aloud from a Protestant
-book&mdash;Mr. Smith’s <cite>Sermons</cite>&mdash;at
-the very moment the Protestants
-were reading aloud a passage to
-the effect “that the pope was Antichrist,
-and the Jesuits were anti-Christian
-ministers,” supposing
-that the passage was read aloud especially
-for him to hear, he ordered
-them with great warmth not to
-read that book, saying that “it was
-a falsehood, and came from the devil,
-as all lies did; and that he that
-writ it was an instrument of the
-devil, and he would prove it; and
-that all Protestant ministers were
-ministers of the devil.” All the
-parties were tried before the governor
-and his council; the case
-against the servants was postponed
-for further testimony, but Mr. Lewis,
-the Catholic, was condemned
-to pay a fine of five hundred pounds
-of tobacco (then the currency of
-the colony), and to remain in the
-sheriff’s custody until he found
-sufficient sureties in the future.
-Bozman thus remarks upon this decision:
-“As these proceedings took
-place before the highest tribunal
-of the province, composed of the
-three first officers in the government,
-they amply develop the
-course of conduct with respect to
-religion which those in whose
-hands the government of the province
-was placed, had resolved to
-pursue.”<a name="FNanchor_123" id="FNanchor_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> Not only did the Catholic
-lord proprietary, in 1648, appoint
-Mr. Stone, a Protestant, to
-be the governor of the province,
-but also he at the same time appointed
-a majority of the privy
-councillors from the same faith.</p>
-
-<p>We will close our testimony on
-this point with the official oath
-which Lord Baltimore required the
-governor and the privy councillors
-to take; it was substantially as
-follows:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“I will not by myself nor any person,
-directly or indirectly, trouble, molest, or
-discountenance any person whatsoever in
-said province professing to believe in
-Jesus Christ, for or in respect to his or
-her religion, nor in his or her free exercise
-thereof.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>We cannot determine when this
-oath began to be used. Bancroft
-places it between 1636 and 1639.
-Chalmers, Dr. Hawks, and others
-give the time as between 1637 and
-1657. It is certain that this oath
-was prescribed prior to the passage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
-of the Toleration Act; for Governor
-Stone and the councillors took
-the oath in 1648, and there is reason
-to believe that it was in use at
-a much earlier period.</p>
-
-<p>Referring to the period anterior
-to the passage of the Toleration
-Act, Bancroft says: “Maryland at
-that day was unsurpassed for happiness
-and liberty. Conscience was
-without restraint.”<a name="FNanchor_124" id="FNanchor_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> Mr. Davis, in
-reference to this subject, writes:
-“The toleration which prevailed
-from the first, and for fifteen years
-later, was formally ratified by the
-voice of the people” (in 1649).</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone’s view of the
-subject is evidently superficial;
-it relates exclusively to the passage
-of the Toleration Act, and
-was conceived and published without
-the knowledge of the fact,
-which we have demonstrated, that
-the toleration for which the Catholics
-of Maryland have been so
-much praised had been practised
-for fifteen years before the passage
-of that act. Surely, there can be
-no rival claim set forth in behalf
-of Protestants for the period we
-have mentioned. Mr. Gladstone
-sets up his claim for the Protestants
-under that act. We cannot admit
-the justice or truth of the pretension.
-Let us examine it. This
-law enacted that “no one professing
-to believe in Jesus Christ shall
-be troubled, molested, or discountenanced
-for his religion, or the free
-exercise thereof, nor compelled to
-the belief or exercise of any other
-religion against his consent.” Now
-here, too, the claim set up by Mr.
-Gladstone, and by the authors of
-the pamphlets he quotes, is met by
-stern facts.</p>
-
-<p>In the first place, the Toleration
-Act of 1649 was the work of a
-Catholic. It was prepared in England
-by Lord Baltimore himself,
-and sent over to the Assembly with
-other proposed laws for their action.
-This fact is related by nearly
-all writers on Maryland history, including
-those consulted by Mr.
-Gladstone, except the writer of
-<cite>Maryland not a Roman Catholic
-Colony</cite>, who does not refer to the
-subject, except to claim that it was
-but the echo of a previous and
-similar order of the English House
-of Commons in 1645 and of a statute
-passed by it in 1647. The last-named
-writer even intimates that
-the Rev. Thomas Harrison, the
-former pastor of the Puritans at
-Providence, afterward Annapolis,
-in Maryland, suggested the whole
-matter to Lord Baltimore. We
-might even admit this pretension
-without impairing the Catholic
-claim. It does not destroy the
-credit due to the Catholics of
-Maryland in passing the Toleration
-Act to show that others, even Puritans,
-entertained in one or two instances
-similar views and enacted
-similar measures. We know that
-the Puritans in England were proscriptive,
-and that in New England
-they did not practise the toleration
-of Maryland. Even if Lord
-Baltimore had the measure suggested
-to him by the Puritan Harrison,
-the act itself, when adopted
-by him and put in practice, is still
-his act and that of the Assembly
-which passed it. It remains their
-free and voluntary performance.
-The merit which attaches to the
-good deeds of men is not destroyed
-by having been suggested by
-others. A Puritan might even
-share in the act without appropriating
-the whole credit to himself.
-But whatever merit is claimed for
-the Puritans in these measures&mdash;which
-we cannot perceive&mdash;is lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
-by their subsequent conduct. They
-overturned the government of Lord
-Baltimore in Maryland, and under
-their ascendency Catholics were
-persecuted in the very home of
-liberty to which Catholics had
-invited the Puritans. But of the
-existence of the English toleration
-acts mentioned by the writer
-referred to and by Mr. Gladstone,
-we have been supplied with no
-proof. That the Puritan Harrison
-suggested the measure to Lord Baltimore
-is hinted at, not roundly asserted,
-certainly not sustained by
-proof.</p>
-
-<p>But public facts give the negative
-to these pretensions. The
-Toleration Act of 1649 was the
-immediate echo of the actual toleration
-which, under the injunctions
-of Lord Baltimore, the proclamation
-of Governor Calvert, and
-the uniform practice of the colonists,
-had long become the common
-law of the colony. Why seek,
-in the turbulent and confused proceedings
-of the Long Parliament, a
-model or example for the Maryland
-law, when such exemplar is
-supplied nearer home by the colony
-itself from its first inception?
-To the people of Maryland, in
-1649, the Toleration Act was nothing
-new; it was readily and unanimously
-received; it produced no
-change in the constitution of the
-province. Toleration was not the
-law or the practice of that day,
-either in England or her colonies;
-the echo was too remote and too
-readily drowned by the din of persecution
-and of strife.</p>
-
-<p>But the Maryland Toleration Act
-contains intrinsic evidence of a
-purely Catholic origin. The clause
-enforcing the honor and respect
-due to “the blessed Virgin Mary,
-the Mother of our Saviour,” which
-we have already quoted, gives a
-Catholic flavor to the whole statute,
-and excludes the theory of parliamentary
-or puritanical influence
-in originating the measure. The
-claim thus set up is also against the
-concurrent voice of history, which,
-with great accord, gives the authorship
-of the law to Lord Baltimore,
-who, as he had enjoined and enforced
-its provisions on the colony
-for fifteen years, needed no assistance
-in reducing them to the form
-of a statute, which we are informed
-he did.</p>
-
-<p>But who were the lawgivers of
-1649, and what was their religion?</p>
-
-<p>By the charter the law-making
-power was vested in Lord Baltimore
-and the Assembly. It was for
-some years a matter of contest between
-them which possessed the
-right to initiate laws. The lord
-proprietary, however, finally conceded
-this privilege to the Assembly.
-It was not uncommon for the
-Assembly to reject the laws first
-sent over by the lord proprietary,
-and afterwards to bring them forward
-themselves and pass them.
-But in 1648, when Governor Stone
-was appointed, the Toleration Act
-was among the measures sent by
-Lord Baltimore, for the action of the
-Assembly. The government, then,
-consisted of Cecilius, Lord Baltimore,
-a Catholic, without whose
-sanction no law could be enacted,
-and whose signature to the measure
-in question was given the following
-year. The journal of the Maryland
-legislature was lost or destroyed,
-but fortunately a fragment of it is
-preserved, consisting of a report
-from the financial committee of the
-Assembly, and the action of that
-body on the bill of charges. With
-this document, and the aid of the
-historical facts recorded by Bozman
-and other historians, we are
-enabled to ascertain the names of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
-the members of the Assembly in
-1649.</p>
-
-<p>Gov. Stone was lieutenant-governor
-and president of the council,
-which was composed of Thomas
-Green, John Price, John Pile, and
-Robert Vaughan, commissioned by
-the lord proprietary; and the remaining
-councillors were Robert
-Clarke, surveyor-general, and Thomas
-Hatton, secretary of the colony,
-<i lang="la">ex-officio</i> members of the council.
-The other members of the Assembly
-were the representatives of the
-freemen, or burgesses, as follows:
-Cuthbert Fenwick, Philip Conner,
-William Bretton, Richard Browne,
-George Manners, Richard Banks,
-John Maunsell, Thomas Thornborough,
-and Walter Peake, nine in
-number. The governor, councillors,
-and burgesses made sixteen in
-all; but as Messrs. Pile and Hatton,
-one Catholic and one Protestant,
-were absent, the votes actually cast
-were fourteen. On the memorable
-occasion in question the councillors
-and burgesses sat in one
-“house,” and as such passed the
-Toleration Act. Of the fourteen
-thus voting, Messrs. Green, Clarke,
-Fenwick, Bretton, Manners, Maunsell,
-Peake, and Thornborough were
-Catholics, and Messrs. Stone, Price,
-Vaughan, Conner, Banks, and
-Browne were Protestants. The
-Catholics were eight to six Protestants.</p>
-
-<p>But the Assembly was not the
-only law-making branch of the government.
-The executive, or lord
-proprietary, was a co-ordinate
-branch, and without his co-operation
-no law could pass. Now, the
-executive was a Catholic, and a
-majority of the Assembly were Catholics;
-so that we have it as a historical
-fact that in a government
-composed of two co-ordinate
-branches, <em>both branches of the law-making
-power</em> which enacted the
-Toleration Act <em>were Catholic</em>. It
-is an important fact that if all the
-Protestant members of the Assembly
-had voted against the law, the Catholic
-majority could and would
-have passed it, and the Catholic
-executive was only too ready to
-sanction his own measure. It cannot,
-therefore, be said that the Catholics
-could not have passed the
-law without the Protestant votes;
-for we have seen that both of the
-co-ordinate branches of the government
-were in the hands of the Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>Waiving, however, the division
-of the government into two co-ordinate
-branches, by which method
-we have the entire government
-Catholic; and regarding the lord
-proprietary merely as individual,
-computing the lawgivers of 1649
-simply numerically, we have the
-following result:</p>
-
-<p class="center">LAWGIVERS OF 1649.</p>
-
-<table summary="Lawgivers of 1649">
-  <tr>
-    <td><i>Catholics.</i></td>
-    <td><i>Protestants.</i></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Lord Baltimore.<br />
-        Mr. Green.<br />
-        Mr. Clarke.<br />
-        Mr. Fenwick.<br />
-        Mr. Bretton.<br />
-        Mr. Manners.<br />
-        Mr. Maunsell.<br />
-        Mr. Peake.<br />
-        Mr. Thornborough&mdash;9.
-    </td>
-    <td>Lt.-Gov. Stone.<br />
-        Mr. Price.<br />
-        Mr. Vaughan.<br />
-        Mr. Conner.<br />
-        Mr. Banks.<br />
-        Mr. Browne&mdash;6.
-    </td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>As Catholics we would be quite
-content with this showing; but we
-are indebted to several Protestant
-authors&mdash;more impartial than
-Messrs. Gladstone, Allen, and Neill,
-who write solely in the interests of
-sect&mdash;for a computation of the respective
-Catholic and Protestant
-votes in the Assembly in 1649, which,
-leaving out Lord Baltimore, and
-making the number of votes fourteen,
-gives, according to their just
-and strictly legal computation,
-<em>eleven Catholic votes and three Protestant
-votes for the Act of Toleration</em>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
-Mr. Davis, in his <cite>Day-Star of American
-Freedom</cite>, and Mr. William Meade
-Addison, in his <cite>Religious Toleration
-in America</cite>, both Protestant authors,
-take this view, and enforce it with
-strong facts and cogent reasonings.
-We will quote a passage, however,
-from only one of these works, the
-former, showing their views and
-the method by which they arrive at
-the respective numbers <em>eleven</em> and
-<em>three</em>. Mr. Davis writes: “The
-privy councillors were all of them,
-as well as the governor, the special
-representatives of the Roman Catholic
-proprietary&mdash;under an express
-pledge, imposed by him shortly before
-the meeting of the Assembly
-(as may be seen by the official oath),
-to do nothing at variance with the
-religious freedom of any believer in
-Christianity&mdash;and removable any
-moment at his pleasure. It would
-be fairer, therefore, to place the
-governor and the four privy councillors
-on the same side as the six
-Roman Catholic burgesses. Giving
-Mr. Browne to the other side, <em>we
-have eleven Roman Catholic against
-three Protestant votes</em>.”<a name="FNanchor_125" id="FNanchor_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></p>
-
-<p>We think, however, that if the
-computation is to be made by numbers,
-Lord Baltimore must be included,
-as the act received his executive
-approval, and could never
-have become a law without it.
-Thus, according to the views of
-Messrs. Davis and Addison, with
-this amendment by us, the numbers
-would stand twelve Catholic
-against three Protestant votes. But
-we prefer taking our own two several
-methods of computation, viz.,
-by co-ordinate branches of the government,
-showing&mdash;</p>
-
-<table summary="Another method of computation">
-  <tr>
-    <td><i>Catholic.</i></td>
-    <td><i>Protestant.</i></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>The executive, Lord Baltimore,<br />
-        The Assembly, 2.</td>
-    <td>None.</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class="noindent">&mdash;and that estimated by numbers,
-counting Lord Baltimore as one,
-showing&mdash;</p>
-
-<table summary="Another method of computation">
-  <tr>
-    <td>Catholics, 9.</td>
-    <td>Protestants, 6.</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>This surely is a very different result
-from that announced by Mr.
-Gladstone, following the author of
-<cite>Maryland not a Roman Catholic Colony</cite>&mdash;viz.,
-sixteen Protestant against
-eight Catholic votes. So far the
-numbers given by Mr. Gladstone
-and the writer he follows are mere
-assertion, unsupported by authority,
-either as to the composition
-of the Assembly or the respective
-religious beliefs of the members.
-Mr. Davis, however, gives in detail
-every member’s name, and refers to
-the proof by which he arrives at
-their names and number; and the
-same testimony is open, we presume,
-to the examination of all.
-In order that there may be no
-lack of proof as to the religious
-faiths they professed, he gives a
-personal sketch of each member
-of the Assembly in 1649, and
-proves from their public acts, their
-deeds of conveyance, their land
-patents, their last wills and testaments,
-the records of the courts,
-etc., that those named by him as
-Catholics were incontestably of
-that faith.</p>
-
-<p>The population of the colony in
-1649 was also largely Catholic beyond
-dispute. We have already
-shown that it was Catholic by a
-large majority during the fifteen
-years preceding and up to that
-time. The above computations,
-showing a majority of the legislature
-to be Catholic, strongly indicates
-the complexion of the religious
-faith of their constituents.
-Up to 1649 St. Mary’s, the Catholic
-county, was the only county in
-the State, and Kent, the seat of the
-Protestant population, was only a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>
-<em>hundred</em> of St. Mary’s. Kent was
-not erected into a county until the
-year the Toleration Act was passed.
-While St. Mary’s was populous
-and Catholic, Kent was Protestant
-and thinly settled. There
-were six <em>hundreds</em> in St. Mary’s, all
-Catholic except perhaps one, and
-of that one it is uncertain whether
-the majority was Catholic or Protestant.
-“But the population of
-Kent,” says Davis, “was small. In
-1639, if not many years later, she
-was but a <em>hundred</em> of St. Mary’s
-county.<a name="FNanchor_126" id="FNanchor_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> In 1648 she paid a fifth
-part only of the tax, and did not
-hold in the Assembly of that year
-a larger ratio of political power.
-That also was before the return, we
-may suppose, of all the Roman
-Catholics who had been expelled
-or exported from St. Mary’s by
-Capt. Ingle and the other enemies
-of the proprietary. In 1649 she
-had but one delegate, while St.
-Mary’s was represented by eight.
-And this year she paid but a sixth
-part of the tax, and for many years
-after as well as before this Assembly
-there is no evidence whatever
-of a division of the island (of
-Kent) or the county, even into
-<em>hundreds</em>. Its population did not,
-in 1648, exceed the fifth, nor in
-1649 the sixth, part of the whole
-number of free white persons in
-the province.”<a name="FNanchor_127" id="FNanchor_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> After a thorough
-examination of the records, Mr.
-Davis arrives at the conclusion that
-the Protestants constituted only
-one-fourth of the population of
-Maryland at the time of the passage
-of the Toleration Act, in
-1649. His investigations must
-have been careful and thorough,
-for he gives the sources of his information,
-refers to <i lang="la">liber</i> and <i lang="la">folio</i>,
-and cites copiously from the public
-records. He thinks that for twenty
-years after the first settlement&mdash;to
-wit, about the year 1654&mdash;the Catholics
-were in the majority. He concludes
-his chapter on this subject
-with the following passage: “Looking,
-then, at the question under
-both its aspects&mdash;regarding the
-faith either of the delegates or of
-those whom they substantially represented&mdash;we
-cannot but award the
-chief honor to the members of the
-Roman Church. To the Roman
-Catholic freemen of Maryland is
-justly due the main credit arising
-from the establishment, by a solemn
-legislative act, of religious freedom
-for all believers in Christianity.”<a name="FNanchor_128" id="FNanchor_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a></p>
-
-<p>But, fortunately, we have another
-document at hand, signed in the
-most solemn manner by those who
-certainly must have known the
-truth of the case, as they were the
-contemporaries, witnesses of, and
-participators in, the very events of
-which we are treating. This is
-what is usually known as the Protestant
-<cite>Declaration</cite>, made the year
-after the passage of the Toleration
-Act, and shortly after it was known
-that Lord Baltimore had signed the
-act and made it the law of the
-land. This important document is
-an outpouring of gratitude from
-the Protestants of the colony to
-the Catholic proprietary for the
-religious toleration they enjoyed
-under his government. It is signed
-by Gov. Stone, the privy councillors
-Price, Vaughan, and Hatton&mdash;all
-of whom were members
-of the Assembly that passed the
-Toleration Act&mdash;by all the Protestant
-burgesses in the Assembly
-of 1650, and by a great number of
-the leading Protestants of the colony.
-They address Lord Baltimore
-in these words:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“We, the said lieutenant, council,
-burgesses, and other <em>Protestant</em> inhabitants
-above mentioned, whose names are
-hereunto subscribed, do declare and certify
-to all persons whom it may concern
-that, according to an act of Assembly
-here, <em>and several other strict injunctions
-and declarations by his said lordship</em>, we
-do here enjoy all fitting and convenient
-freedom and liberty in the exercise of our
-religion, under his lordship’s government
-and interest; and that none of us are
-anyways troubled or molested, for or by
-reason thereof, within his lordship’s said
-province.”<a name="FNanchor_129" id="FNanchor_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This important document is dated
-the 17th of April, 1650. It
-proves that the religious toleration
-they enjoyed was not due alone to
-the act of 1649, but to the uniform
-policy of Lord Baltimore and his
-government; and that even for the
-Toleration Act itself, which had recently
-become a law by his signature,
-they were indebted to a Catholic.
-Comment on such testimony
-is unnecessary.</p>
-
-<p>Chancellor Kent, with the charter,
-the public policy of Lord Baltimore,
-of his colonial officers and
-colonists, and the Toleration Act of
-1649, all submitted to his broad and
-profound judicial inquiry and
-judgment, has rendered the following
-opinion and tribute to the
-Catholic lawgivers of Maryland, to
-whom he attributes the merit of
-the generous policy we are considering:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The legislature had already, in 1649,
-declared by law that no persons professing
-to believe in Jesus Christ should be
-molested in respect to their religion, or
-in the free exercise thereof, or compelled
-to the belief or exercise of any other religion
-against their consent. Thus, in
-the words of a learned and liberal historian
-(Grahame’s <cite>History of the Rise and
-Progress of the United States</cite>), the Catholic
-planters of Maryland won for their
-adopted country the distinguished praise
-of being the first of American States in
-which toleration was established by law,
-and while the Puritans were persecuting
-their Protestant brethren in New England,
-and Episcopalians retorting the
-same severity on the Puritans in Virginia,
-the Catholics, against whom the others
-were combined, formed in Maryland a
-sanctuary where all might worship and
-none might oppress, and where even Protestants
-sought refuge from Protestant
-intolerance.”<a name="FNanchor_130" id="FNanchor_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Catholics have written comparatively
-little upon this subject. The
-historians of Maryland have been
-chiefly Protestants. As long as
-Protestants so unanimously accorded
-to the Catholic founders of
-Maryland the chief credit of this
-great event, it was unnecessary for
-Catholics to speak in their own behalf.
-It has remained for Mr. Gladstone
-and the two sectarian ministers
-he follows to attempt to mar
-the harmony of that grateful and
-honorable accord of the Protestant
-world, by which Catholic Maryland
-received from the united voice of
-Protestant history the enviable title
-of “<cite>The Land of the Sanctuary</cite>.”</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ARE YOU MY WIFE?</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,” ETC.</p>
-
-<h4>CHAPTER XI.<br />
-<span class="smaller">A DINNER AT THE COURT, WITH AN EPISODE.</span></h4>
-
-<p>Crossing from the station to his
-brougham, Sir Simon saw Mr. Langrove
-issuing from a cottage on the
-road. The vicar had been detained
-later than he foresaw on a sick-call,
-and was hurrying home to
-dress for dinner. It was raining
-sharply. Sir Simon hailed him:</p>
-
-<p>“Shall I give you a lift, Langrove?”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you; I shall be very
-glad. I am rather late as it is.”
-And they got into the brougham together.</p>
-
-<p>“And how wags the world with
-you, my reverend friend? Souls
-being saved in great numbers, eh?”
-inquired the baronet when they
-had exchanged their friendly greetings.</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! I am thankful not to
-have the counting of them,” was
-the reply, with a shake of the head
-that boded ill for the sanctification
-of Dullerton.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s it, is it? Well, we are
-all going down the hill together;
-there is some comfort in that. But
-how about Miss Bulpit? Don’t
-her port wine and tracts snatch a
-few brands from the burning?”</p>
-
-<p>“For the love of heaven don’t
-speak to me of her! Don’t, I beg
-of you!” entreated the vicar, throwing
-up his hands deprecatingly, and
-moved from the placid propriety
-that seemed a law of nature to him.</p>
-
-<p>“Suppose I had good news to
-report of her?”</p>
-
-<p>“How so?” cried Mr. Langrove
-with sudden vivacity. “She’s not
-going to marry Sparks, is she?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not just yet; but the next best
-thing to that. She is going to leave
-the neighborhood.”</p>
-
-<p>“You don’t mean it!”</p>
-
-<p>“I do indeed. How is it you’ve
-not heard of it before? She’s been
-pestering Anwyll these two years
-about some repairs or improvements
-she wants done in her house&mdash;crotchets,
-I dare say, that would
-have to be pulled to pieces for the
-next tenant. He has always politely
-referred her to his agent,
-which means showing her to the
-door; but at last she threatened to
-leave if he did not give in and do
-what she wants.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! is that all?” exclaimed the
-vicar, crestfallen. “I might have
-waited a little before I hallooed;
-we are not out of the woods yet.
-Anwyll is sure to give in rather
-than let her go.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing of the sort. He dislikes
-the old lady, and so does his
-mother, and so particularly does
-your venerable <i lang="fr">confrère</i> of Rydal
-Rectory. I met Anwyll this morning
-at the club, and he told me he
-had made up his mind to let her
-go. It happens&mdash;luckily for you,
-I suspect&mdash;that he has a tenant in
-view to take her place. Come,
-now, cheer up! Is not that good
-news?”</p>
-
-<p>“Most excellent!” said the vicar
-emphatically. “I wonder where
-she will move to?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps I could tell you that
-too. She is in treaty with Charlton
-for a dilapidated old hunting lodge
-of his in the middle of a fir-wood
-the other side of Axmut Common,
-about twenty miles the other side
-of Moorlands; it is as good as settled,
-I believe, and if so we are
-all safe from her.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, you do surprise me!” exclaimed
-Mr. Langrove, his countenance
-expanding into a breadth of
-satisfaction that was absolutely radiant.
-“Who is the incumbent of
-Axmut, let me see?” he said, musing.</p>
-
-<p>“There is as good as none; it is
-a lonely spot, with no church within
-ten miles, I believe. I shrewdly
-suspect this was the main attraction;
-for the life of him, Charlton
-says, he can’t see any other. It is a
-tumble-down, fag-end-of-the-world-looking
-place as you would find in
-all England. It must be the clear
-coast for ‘dealing with souls,’ as she
-calls it, that baited her. There is
-a community of over a hundred
-poor people, something of the gypsy
-sort, scattered over the common
-and in a miserable little hamlet
-they call the village; so she may
-preach away to her heart’s content,
-and no one to compete or interfere
-with her but the blacksmith, who
-rants every Sunday under a wooden
-shed, or on a tub on the common,
-according to the state of the
-weather.”</p>
-
-<p>“Capital! That’s just the place
-for her!” was the vicar’s jubilant
-remark.</p>
-
-<p>In spite of the pleasure that lit
-up his features, usually so mild and
-inexpressive, Sir Simon, looking
-closely at the vicar, thought him
-worn and aged. “You look tired,
-Langrove. You are overworked, or
-else Miss Bulpit has been too much
-for you; which is it?” he said
-kindly.</p>
-
-<p>“A little of both, perhaps,” the
-vicar laughed. “I have felt the
-recent cold a good deal; the cold
-always pulls me down. I’ll be all
-right when the spring comes round
-and hunts the rheumatism out of my
-bones,” he added, moving his arm
-uncomfortably.</p>
-
-<p>“You ought to do like the swallow&mdash;migrate
-to a warm climate before
-the cold sets in,” observed Sir
-Simon; “nothing else dislodges
-rheumatism.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s just what Blink was saying
-to me this morning. He urged
-me very strongly to go away for a
-couple of months now to get out of
-the way of the east winds. He wants
-me to take a trip to the South of
-France.” Mr. Langrove laughed
-gently as he said this.</p>
-
-<p>“And why don’t you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Because I can’t afford it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nonsense, nonsense! Take it
-first, and afford it afterwards.
-That’s my maxim.”</p>
-
-<p>“A very convenient maxim for
-you, but not so practicable for an
-incumbent with a large family and
-a short income as for the landlord
-of Dullerton,” said Mr. Langrove
-good-humoredly.</p>
-
-<p>The baronet winced.</p>
-
-<p>“Prudence and economy are all
-very well,” he replied, “but they
-may be carried too far; your health
-is worth more to you than any
-amount of money. If you want the
-change, you should take it and pay
-the price.”</p>
-
-<p>“I suppose we might have most
-things, if we choose to take them on
-those terms,” remarked the vicar.
-“‘Take it and pay the price!’ says
-the poet; but some prices are too
-high for any value. Who would do
-my work while I was off looking after
-my health? Is that Bourbonais
-hurrying up the hill? He will get
-drenched; he has no umbrella.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Like him to go out a day like
-this without one,” said Sir Simon
-in an accent of fond petulance.
-“How is he? How is Franceline?
-How does she look?”</p>
-
-<p>“Poorly enough. If she were
-my child, I should be very uneasy
-about her.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! does Bourbonais seem uneasy?
-Do you see much of him?”</p>
-
-<p>“No; not through my fault, nor
-indeed through his. We have each
-our separate work, and these winter
-days are short. I met him this
-morning coming out of Blink’s as I
-went in. I did not like his look;
-he had his hat pulled over his eyes,
-and when I spoke to him he answered
-me as if he hardly knew
-who I was or what he was saying.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you did not ask if there
-was anything amiss?” said Sir Simon
-in a tone of reproach.</p>
-
-<p>“I did, but not him. I asked
-Blink.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! what did he say?” And
-the baronet bent forward for the
-answer with an eager look.</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing very definite&mdash;you
-know his grandiloquent, vague talk&mdash;but
-he said something about hereditary
-taint on the lungs; and I
-gathered that he thought it was a
-mistake not having taken her to a
-warm climate immediately after
-that accident to her chest; but
-whether the mistake was his or the
-count’s I could not quite see. I
-imagine from what he said that
-there was a money difficulty in
-the way, or he thought there
-was, and did not, perhaps, urge the
-point as strongly as he otherwise
-would.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon fell back on the cushions,
-muttering some impatient exclamation.</p>
-
-<p>“That was perhaps a case where
-the maxim of ‘take it first and afford
-it afterwards’ would seem justifiable,”
-observed Mr. Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>“Of course it was! But Bourbonais
-is such an unmanageable
-fellow in those things. The strongest
-necessity will never extract
-one iota of a sacrifice of principle
-from him; you might as well try to
-bend steel.”</p>
-
-<p>“He has always given me the
-idea of a man of a very high sense
-of honor, very scrupulous in doing
-what he considers his duty,” said
-Mr. Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>“He is, he is,” assented the baronet
-warmly; “he is the very ideal
-and epitome of honor and high
-principle. Not to save his life
-would he swerve one inch from the
-straight road; but to save Franceline
-I fancied he might have been
-less rigid.” He heaved a sigh, and
-they said no more until the brougham
-let Sir Simon down at his own
-door, and then drove on to take Mr.
-Langrove to the vicarage.</p>
-
-<p>A well-known place never appears
-so attractive as when we look at it
-for the last time. An indifferent
-acquaintance becomes pathetic
-when seen through the softening
-medium of a last look. It is like
-breaking off a fraction of our lives,
-snapping a link that can never be
-joined again. A sea-side lodging,
-if it can claim one sweet or sad
-memory with our passing sojourn
-there, wears a touching aspect when
-we come to say “good-by,” with
-the certainty that we shall never
-see the place again. But how if the
-spot has been the cradle of our
-childhood, the home of our fathers
-for generations, where every stone
-is like a monument inscribed with
-sacred and dear memories? Sir
-Simon was not a sentimental man;
-but all the tenderness common to
-good, affectionate, cultivated natures
-had its place in his heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>
-He had always loved the old home.
-He was proud of it as one of the
-finest and most ancient houses of
-his class in England; he admired
-its grand and noble proportions, its
-architectural strength and beauty;
-and he had the reverence for it
-that every well-born man feels for
-the place where his fathers were
-born, and where they have lived and
-died. But never had the lordly
-Gothic mansion looked to him so
-home-like as on this cold January
-evening when he entered it, in all
-human probability, for the last time.
-It was brilliantly lighted up to welcome
-him. The servants, men and
-women, were assembled in the hall
-to meet him. It was one of those
-old-fashioned patriarchal customs
-that were kept up at the Court,
-where so many other old customs
-survived, unhappily less harmless
-than this. As Sir Simon passed
-through the two rows of glad, respectful
-faces, he had a pleasant
-word for all, as if his heart were
-free from care.</p>
-
-<p>The hall was a sombre, cathedral-like
-apartment that needed floods
-of light to dispel its oppressive solemnity.
-To-night it was filled with
-a festal breadth of light; the great
-chandelier that hung from the groined
-roof was in a blaze, while the
-bronze figures all around supported
-clusters of lamps that gleamed
-like silver balls against the dark
-wainscoting. The dining-room and
-library, which opened to the
-right, stood open, and displayed a
-brilliant illumination of lamps and
-wax-lights. Huge fires burned hospitably
-on all the hearths. The
-table was ready spread; silver
-and crystal shone and sparkled on
-the snowy damask; flowers scented
-the air as in a garden. Sir Simon
-glanced at it all as he passed.
-Could it be that he was going to
-leave all this, never to behold it
-again? It seemed impossible that
-it could be true.</p>
-
-<p>As he stood once more in the
-midst of his household gods, those
-familiar divinities whose gentle power
-he had never fully recognized until
-now, it seemed to him that he
-was safe. There was an unaccountable
-sense of security in their mere
-presence; they smiled on him, and
-seemed to promise protection for
-their shrine and their votary.</p>
-
-<p>The baronet went straight to his
-room, made a hasty toilet, and came
-down to the library to await his
-guests.</p>
-
-<p>He was in hopes that Raymond
-would have come before the others,
-and that they might have a little
-talk together. But Raymond was
-behind them all. Everybody was
-assembled, the dinner was waiting,
-and he had not yet arrived.</p>
-
-<p>It was a mere chance that he
-came at all. Nothing, in fact, but
-the dread of awakening Franceline’s
-suspicions had withheld him from
-sending an excuse at the last moment;
-but that dread, which so
-controlled his life in every act, almost
-in every thought, compelling
-him to hide his feelings under a
-mask of cheerfulness when his heart
-was breaking, drove him out to
-join the merry-makers. It was all
-true what Mr. Langrove had said.
-There had been a return of the
-spitting of blood that morning, very
-slight, but enough to frighten Angélique
-and hurry her off with her
-charge to the doctor. He had talked
-vaguely about debility&mdash;nervous
-system unstrung&mdash;no vital mischief
-so far; the lungs were safe. The
-old woman was soothed, and went
-home resolved to do what was to
-be done without alarming her master
-or telling him what had occurred.
-She counted, however, without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>
-Miss Merrywig. That pleasant
-old lady happened from the distance
-to see them coming from the
-doctor’s house, and, on meeting the
-count next morning, asked what
-report there was of Franceline.
-Raymond went straight to Blink’s.</p>
-
-<p>“I ask you as a man of honor to
-tell me the truth,” he said; “it is
-a matter of life and death to me to
-know it.”</p>
-
-<p>The medical man answered his
-question by another: “Tell me
-frankly, are you in a position to
-take her immediately to a warm
-climate? I should prefer Cairo;
-but if that is impossible, can you
-take her to the South of France?”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond’s heart stood still.
-Cairo! It had come to this, then.</p>
-
-<p>“I can take her to Cairo,” he
-said, speaking deliberately after a
-moment’s silence. “I will take her
-at once.”</p>
-
-<p>He thought of Sir Simon’s blank
-check. He would make use of it.
-He would save his child; at least
-he would keep her with him a few
-years longer. “Why did you not
-tell me this sooner?” he asked in
-a tone of quick resentment.</p>
-
-<p>“I did not believe it to be essential.
-I thought from the first it
-would have been desirable; but
-you may recollect, when I suggested
-taking her even to the South of
-France, your daughter opposed the
-idea with great warmth, and you
-were silent. I inferred that there
-was some insuperable obstacle in
-the way, and that it would have
-been cruel as well as useless to
-press the matter.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you say it is not too late?”</p>
-
-<p>“No. I give you my word, as
-far as I can see, it is not. The return
-of the spitting of blood is a
-serious symptom, but the lungs as
-yet are perfectly sound.” M. de la
-Bourbonais went home, and opened
-the drawer where he kept the
-blank check; not with the idea of
-filling it up there and then&mdash;he
-must consider many things first&mdash;but
-he wanted to see it, to make
-sure it was not a dream. He examined
-it attentively, and replaced
-it in the drawer. A gleam of satisfaction
-broke out on the worn,
-anxious face. But it vanished
-quickly. His eye fell on Sir Simon’s
-letter of the day before.
-He snatched it up and read it
-through again. A new and horrible
-light was breaking on him. Sir Simon
-was a ruined man; he was going
-to be turned out of house and
-home; he was a bankrupt. What
-was his signature worth? So much
-waste paper. He could not have a
-sixpence at his bankers’ or anywhere
-else; if he had, it was in the hands
-of the creditors who were to seize
-his house and lands. “Why did he
-give it to me? He must have known
-it was worth nothing!” thought
-Raymond, his eyes wandering over
-the letter with a gaze of bewildered
-misery.</p>
-
-<p>But Sir Simon had not known it.
-It was not the first time he had
-overdrawn his account with his
-bankers; but they were an old-fashioned
-firm, good Tories like
-himself. The Harnesses had banked
-with them from time immemorial,
-and there existed between them
-and their clients of this type a sort
-of adoption. If Sir Simon was in
-temporary want of ready money, it
-was their pleasure as much as their
-business to accommodate him; the
-family acres were broad and fat.
-Sir Simon was on friendly but not
-on confidential terms with his
-bankers; they knew nothing of
-the swarm of leeches that were fattening
-on those family acres, so
-there was no fear in their minds as
-to the security of whatever accommodation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>
-he might ask at their
-hands. When Sir Simon signed
-the check he felt certain it would
-be honored for any amount that
-Raymond was likely to fill it up
-for. But since then things had
-come to a crisis; his signature was
-now worth nothing. Lady Rebecca,
-on whose timely departure from
-this world of care he had counted
-so securely as the means of
-staving off a catastrophe, had again
-disappointed him, and the evil hour
-so long dreaded and so often postponed
-had come. Little as Raymond
-knew of financial mysteries,
-he was too intelligent not to guess
-that a man on the eve of being
-made a bankrupt could have no
-current account at his bankers’.
-Dr. Blink’s decree was, then, the
-death-warrant of his child! Raymond
-buried his face in his hands
-in an agony too deep for tears.
-But the sound of Franceline’s step
-on the stairs roused him. For her
-sake he must even now look cheerful;
-love is a tyrant that allows no
-quarter to self. She came in and
-found her father busy, writing away
-as if absorbed in his work. She
-knew his moods. Evidently he did
-not want her just now; she would
-not disturb him, but drew her little
-stool to the chimney corner and
-began to read. An hour passed.
-It was time for her father to dress
-for dinner; but still the sound of
-the pen scratching the paper went
-on diligently.</p>
-
-<p>“Petit père, it is half-past six,
-do you know?” said the bright, silvery
-voice, and Raymond started
-as if he had been stung.</p>
-
-<p>“So late, is it? Then I must be
-off at once.” And he hurried
-away to dress, and only looked in
-to kiss her as he ran down-stairs,
-and was off.</p>
-
-<p>“Loiterer!” exclaimed Sir Simon,
-stretching out both hands and clasping
-his friend’s cordially.</p>
-
-<p>“I have kept you waiting, I fear.
-The fact is, I got writing and forgot
-the hour,” said the count apologetically.</p>
-
-<p>Dinner was announced immediately,
-and the company went into
-the dining-room.</p>
-
-<p>They were a snug number, seven
-in all; the only stranger amongst
-them being a Mr. Plover, who happened
-to be staying at Moorlands.
-He was an unprepossessing-looking
-man, sallow, keen-eyed, and with a
-mouth that superficial observers
-would have called firm, but which
-a physiognomist might have described
-as cruel. His hair was
-dyed, his teeth were false&mdash;a
-shrunken, shrivelled-looking creature,
-whose original sap and verdure,
-if he ever had any, had been
-parched up by the fire of tropical
-suns. He had spent many years in
-India, and was now only just returned
-from Palestine. What he
-had been doing there nobody particularly
-understood. He talked
-of his studies in geology, but they
-seemed to have been chiefly confined
-to the study of such stones
-as had a value in the general market;
-he had a large collection of
-rubies, sapphires, and diamonds,
-some of which he had shown to
-Mr. Charlton, and excited his wonder
-as to the length of the purse
-that could afford to collect such
-costly souvenirs of foreign lands
-simply as souvenirs. Mr. Plover
-had met his host accidentally a week
-ago, and discovered that he and the
-father of the latter had been school-fellows.
-The son was not in a position
-either to verify or disprove
-the assertion, but Mr. Plover was
-so fresh in his affectionate recollection
-of his old form-fellow that
-young Charlton’s heart warmed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>
-him, and he then and there invited
-him down to Moorlands. He could
-not do otherwise than ask Sir Simon
-to include him in his invitation to
-the Court this evening; but he
-did it reluctantly. He was rather
-ashamed of his pompous, self-sufficient
-friend, whose transparent faith
-in the power and value of money
-gave a dash of vulgarity to his
-manners, which was heightened by
-contrast with the well-bred simplicity
-of the rest of the company.
-He had not been ten minutes in
-the room when he informed them
-that he meant to buy an estate if
-he could find an eligible one in this
-neighborhood; if not, he would
-rent the first that was to be had on
-a long lease. He wanted to be
-near his young friend Charlton.
-Sir Simon was extremely civil to
-him&mdash;surprisingly so.</p>
-
-<p>The other faces we know: Mr.
-Langrove, bland, serious, mildly
-exhilarated just now, like a man
-suddenly relieved of a toothache&mdash;Miss
-Bulpit was going from the
-parish; Mr. Charlton running his
-turquois ring through his curly
-light hair, and agreeing with everybody
-all round; Lord Roxham,
-well-bred and lively; Sir Ponsonby
-Anwyll, a pleasant sample of the
-English squire, blond-visaged, good-tempered,
-burly-limbed, and displaying
-a vast amount of shirt-front;
-M. de la Bourbonais, a distinct
-foreign type, amidst these familiar
-English ones, the face furrowed
-with deep lines of study, of
-care too, unmistakably, the forehead
-moulded to noble thought,
-the eyes deep-set under strong projecting
-black brows, their latent
-fire flashing out through the habitually
-gentle expression when he
-grew animated. He was never a
-talkative man in society, and to-night
-he was more silent than
-usual; but no one noticed this, not
-even Sir Simon. He was too much
-absorbed in his own preoccupation.
-Raymond sat opposite him as his
-<i lang="la">alter ego</i>, doing the honors of one
-side of the hospitable round table.</p>
-
-<p>The conversation turned at first
-on generalities and current events;
-the presence of Mr. Plover, instead
-of feeding it with a fresh stream,
-seemed to check the flow and prevent
-its becoming intimate and personal.
-Sir Simon felt this, and
-took it in his own hands and kept
-it going, so that, if not as lively as
-usual, it did not flag. Raymond
-looked on and listened in amazement.
-Was yesterday’s letter a
-dream, and would this supreme
-crisis vanish as lesser ones had so
-often done? Was it possible that a
-man could be so gay&mdash;so, to all appearance,
-contented and unconcerned,
-on the very brink of ruin, disgrace,
-beggary, banishment&mdash;all, in
-a word, that to a man of the baronet’s
-character and position constitute
-existence? He was not in
-high spirits. Raymond would not
-so much have wondered at that.
-High spirits are sometimes artificial;
-people get them up by stimulants
-as a cloak for intense depression.
-No, it was real cheerfulness and
-gayety. Was there any secret hope
-bearing him up to account for the
-strange anomaly? Raymond could
-speculate on this in the midst of
-his own burning anxiety; but for
-the first time in his life bitterness
-mingled with his sympathy for the
-baronet. Was it not all his own
-doing, this disgrace that had overtaken
-him? He had been an unprincipled
-spendthrift all his life,
-and now the punishment had come,
-and was swallowing up others in its
-ruin. If he had not been the reckless,
-extravagant man that he was,
-he might at this moment be a harbor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>
-of refuge to Raymond, and save
-his child from a premature death.
-But he was powerless to help any
-one. This is what his slavish
-human respect had brought himself
-and others to. A few hundred
-pounds might save, or at any rate
-prolong for perhaps many years,
-the life of the child he professed to
-love as his own, and he had not
-them to give; he had squandered
-his splendid patrimony in the most
-contemptible vanity, in selfish indulgence
-and unprofitable show.
-And there he sat, a piece of tinsel
-glittering like true gold, affable,
-jovial, as if care were a hundred
-miles away from him. M. de la
-Bourbonais felt as if he were in a
-dream, as if everything were unreal&mdash;everything
-except the vulture that
-was gnawing silently at his own
-heart.</p>
-
-<p>The conversation grew livelier as
-the wine went round. Mr. Plover
-was attending carefully to his dinner,
-and was content to let others
-do the most of the talking. A discussion
-arose as to a case of something
-very like perjury that a magistrate
-of the next county had been
-involved in. Some were warmly
-defending, while others as warmly
-condemned, him. Mr. Plover suspended
-the diligence of his knife
-and fork to join with the latter;
-he was almost aggressive in his
-manner of contradicting the other
-side. The story was this: A magistrate
-had to judge a case of libel
-where the accused was a friend of
-his own, who had saved him from
-being made a bankrupt some years
-before by lending him a large sum
-of money without interest or security.
-The evidence broke down, and
-the man was acquitted. It transpired,
-however, a few days later,
-that the magistrate had in his possession
-at the time of the trial proof
-positive of his friend’s guilt. In
-answer to this charge he replied
-that the evidence in question had
-come to his knowledge under the
-seal of confidence; that he was
-therefore bound in honor not only
-not to divulge it, but to ignore its
-existence in forming his judgment
-on the case. The statement was
-denied, and it was affirmed that the
-only seal which bound him was one
-of gratitude, and that he was otherwise
-perfectly free to make use of
-his information to condemn the
-accused.</p>
-
-<p>The dispute as to the right and
-the wrong of the question was growing
-hot, when Sir Ponsonby Anwyll,
-who noticed how silent Raymond
-was, called out to him across the
-table:</p>
-
-<p>“And what do you say, count?”</p>
-
-<p>“I should say that gratitude in
-such a case might stand in the
-place of a verbal promise and
-compel the judge to be silent,” replied
-Raymond.</p>
-
-<p>“The temptation to silence was
-very strong, no doubt, but would it
-justify him in pronouncing an acquittal
-against his conscience?”
-asked Mr. Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>“It was not against his conscience,”
-replied the count; “on
-the contrary, it was in accordance
-with it, since it was on the side of
-mercy.”</p>
-
-<p>“Quite a French view of the
-subject!” said Mr. Plover superciliously,
-showing his shining teeth
-through his coal-black moustache.
-“If I were a criminal, commend me
-to a French jury; but if innocent,
-give me an English one!”</p>
-
-<p>“Mercy has perhaps too much
-the upper hand with our tender-hearted
-neighbors,” observed Sir
-Simon; “but justice is none the
-worse for being tempered with it.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is neither here nor there,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>
-said Mr. Plover. “Justice is justice,
-and law is law; and it strikes
-me this Mr. X&mdash;&mdash; has tampered
-with both, and it’s a very strange
-thing if he is not tabooed as a perjurer
-who has dodged the letter of
-the law and escaped the hulks, but
-whom no gentleman ought from this
-out to associate with.”</p>
-
-<p>“Come, come, that is rather
-strong language,” said Mr. Langrove.
-“We must not outlaw on
-mere inferential evidence a man
-who has borne all his life a most
-honorable name; and if worse
-comes to worst, we must remember
-it would go hard with the best of us
-to put a social brand on a friend that
-we were deeply indebted to, if we
-could by any possibility find a loophole
-of escape for him. A man
-may remain strictly honest in the
-main, and yet not be heroic enough
-not to save a friend on a quibble.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, to be sure; there are honest
-men and honest men,” assented
-Plover. “I’ve known some whose
-moral capacity expanded to camels
-when expediency demanded the
-feat and it could be done discreetly.
-It’s astounding what some of
-these honest men can swallow.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon felt what this speech
-implied of impertinence to Mr.
-Langrove, and, indeed, to everybody
-present. “Roxham,” he said irrelevantly,
-“why is your glass
-empty? Bourbonais, are you passing
-those delectable little <i lang="fr">patés de
-foie gras</i>?”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond helped himself mechanically,
-as the servant presented
-again the rejected dish.</p>
-
-<p>“It would be a nice thing to define
-exactly the theory of truth
-and its precise limits,” observed
-Mr. Langrove in his serious, sententious
-way, addressing himself to
-no one in particular.</p>
-
-<p>“One should begin by defining
-the nature of truth, I suppose,”
-said Mr. Plover. “Let us have a
-definition from our host!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! if you are going in for
-metaphysics, I hand you over to
-Bourbonais!” said Sir Simon good-humoredly.
-“Take the pair of
-them in hand, Raymond, and run
-them through the body for our edification.”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond smiled.</p>
-
-<p>“I should very much like to
-have the count’s opinion on this
-particular point of metaphysics or
-morals, whichever it may be,” said
-Mr. Plover. “Do you believe it
-possible for a man to effect such a
-compromise with his conscience,
-and yet be, as our reverend friend
-describes him, a blameless and upright
-man?”</p>
-
-<p>“I do,” answered M. de la Bourbonais
-with quiet emphasis. “I
-doubt if any simple incident can
-with safety be taken as the key of
-a man’s character. One fault, for
-instance, may stand out in his life
-and color it with dishonor, and yet
-be a far less trustworthy index to his
-real nature than, a very slight fault
-committed deliberately and involving
-no consequences. We are more
-deliberate in little misdeeds than in
-great ones. When a man commits
-a crime, he is not always a free
-agent as regards the command of
-his moral forces; there are generally
-a horde of external influences
-at work overpowering his choice,
-which is in reality his individual
-self. When he succumbs to this
-pressure from without, we cannot
-therefore logically consider him as
-the sole and deliberate architect of
-his sin; hard necessity, fear of disgrace,
-love of life, nay, some generous
-feeling, such as gratitude or
-pity, may hurry a man into a criminal
-action as completely at variance
-with the whole of his previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>
-and subsequent life as would
-be the act of a Christian flinging
-himself out of the window in a fit
-of temporary insanity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Subtly put,” sneered Mr. Plover.
-“If we were to follow up that
-theory, we might find it necessary
-on investigation to raise statues to
-our forgers and murderers, instead
-of sending them to the hulks and
-the gallows.”</p>
-
-<p>“It opens a curious train of
-thought, nevertheless,” remarked
-Lord Roxham.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t fancy it would be a
-very profitable one to pursue,” said
-Plover.</p>
-
-<p>“I have sometimes considered
-whether it may not on given occasions
-be justifiable to do evil; I
-mean technically evil, as we class
-things,” said Lord Roxham.</p>
-
-<p>“For instance?” said Mr. Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, for instance&mdash;I’ll put it
-mildly&mdash;to convey a false idea of
-facts, as your friend X&mdash;&mdash; seems to
-have done in this libel business. I
-suppose there are cases where it
-would be morally justifiable?”</p>
-
-<p>“To tell a lie, you mean? That
-is a startling proposition,” said the
-vicar, smiling.</p>
-
-<p>“It has the merit of originality,
-at least,” observed Mr. Plover,
-helping himself to a tumblerful of
-claret.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m afraid it can’t boast even
-that,” said Lord Roxham; “it is
-only an old sophism rather bluntly
-put.”</p>
-
-<p>“I should like to hear the Count
-de la Bourbonais’ opinion on it,”
-said Mr. Plover, rolling the decanter
-across to his self-elected antagonist.</p>
-
-<p>Raymond had feigned unconsciousness
-of the stranger’s insolent
-tone thus far, though he had detected
-it from the first, and was only too
-deeply possessed by other thoughts
-to resent it or to care a straw for
-what this stranger or any human
-being thought of him or said to
-him. But the persistency of the attack
-forced him to notice it at last,
-if not to repel it; he was not sufficiently
-interested in the thing for
-that. But he was roused from the
-kind of stinging lethargy in which he
-had hitherto sat there, nibbling at
-one thing or another, oftener playing
-with his knife and fork, and touching
-nothing. He laid them down
-now, and pushed aside his glass,
-which had been emptied to-night
-oftener than was his wont.</p>
-
-<p>“You mean to ask,” he said, “if,
-according to our low French code
-of morals, we consider it justifiable
-to commit a crime for the sake of
-some good to ourselves or others?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t go quite that length,”
-replied Mr. Plover; “but I assume
-from what you have already said
-that you look on it as permissible
-to&mdash;tell a lie, for example, under
-given circumstances.”</p>
-
-<p>“I do,” said Raymond.</p>
-
-<p>There was a murmur of surprise
-and dissent.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear Bourbonais! you are
-joking, or talking for the mere sake
-of argument,” cried Sir Simon,
-forcing a laugh; but he looked
-vexed and astonished.</p>
-
-<p>“I am not joking, nor am I arguing
-for argument’s sake,” protested
-Raymond with rising warmth.
-“I say, and I am prepared to prove
-it, that under given circumstances
-we are justified in withholding the
-truth&mdash;in telling a lie, if you like
-that way of putting it better.”</p>
-
-<p>“What are they?”</p>
-
-<p>“Prove it!”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us hear!”</p>
-
-<p>Several spoke together, excited
-and surprised, and every head was
-bent towards M. de la Bourbonais.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>
-Raymond moved his spectacles, and,
-fixing his dark gray eyes on Mr.
-Plover as the one who had directly
-challenged him, he said:</p>
-
-<p>“Let us take an illustration.
-Suppose you entrust me with that
-costly diamond ring upon your
-finger, I having promised on my
-oath to carry it to a certain person
-and to keep its possession a
-secret. We will suppose that your
-life and your honor depend on its
-being delivered at its destination by
-me and at a given time. On my
-way thither I meet an assassin, who
-puts his pistol to my breast and
-says, ‘Deliver up your purse and a
-diamond which I understand you
-have on your person, or I shoot
-you and take them; but if you give
-me your word that you have not
-got it, I will believe you and let
-you go.’ Am I not justified, in order
-to save your honor and life and
-my own in answering, ‘No, I have
-not got the diamond’?”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly not!” cried Plover
-emphatically, bringing his jewelled
-hand down on the table with a
-crash.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear sir!…” began
-some one; but Raymond echoed
-sharply:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Certainly not!’ Just so. But
-suppose I draw my pistol and shoot
-the robber dead on the spot? God
-and the law absolve me; I have a
-right to kill any man who threatens
-my life or my property, or that of
-my neighbor.”</p>
-
-<p>“You have! Undoubtedly you
-have!” said two or three, speaking
-together.</p>
-
-<p>“And yet homicide is a greater
-sin than a lie!” cried Raymond.
-He was flushed and excited; his
-eye sparkled and his hand trembled
-as he pushed the glasses farther
-away, and leaned on the table, surveying
-the company with a glance
-that had something of triumph and
-something of defiance in it.</p>
-
-<p>“Well done, Bourbonais!” cried
-Sir Simon. “You’ve not left Plover
-an inch of ground to stand on!”</p>
-
-<p>“Closely reasoned,” said Mr.
-Langrove, with a dubious movement
-of the head; “but.…”</p>
-
-<p>“Sophistry! a very specious bit
-of sophistry!” said Mr. Plover in a
-loud voice, drowning everybody
-else’s. “Comte and Rousseau and
-the rest of them in a nutshell.”</p>
-
-<p>“Crack it, then, and let’s have the
-kernel!” said Lord Roxham. He
-was growing out of patience with
-the dictatorial tone of this vulgar
-man.</p>
-
-<p>“Just so!” chimed in Mr. Charlton,
-airing a snowy hand and signet
-gem, and falling back in his
-chair with the air of a man wearied
-with hard thinking.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s too preposterous to answer,”
-was Plover’s evasive taunt; “it’s
-mere casuistry.”</p>
-
-<p>“A very compact bit of casuistry,
-at any rate,” said Sir Simon, with
-friendly pride in Raymond’s manifest
-superiority over his assembled
-guests; “it strikes me it would take
-more than our combined wits to answer
-it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Egad! I’d eat my head before
-<em>I’d</em> answer it!” confessed Ponsonby
-Anwyll, who shared the baronet’s
-personal complacency in the count’s
-superior brain. But Raymond had
-lapsed into his previous silent mood,
-and sat absently toying with a plate
-of bonbons before him, and apparently
-deaf to the clashing of tongues
-that he had provoked. There was
-something very touching in his look,
-in the air of gentle dejection that
-pervaded him, and which contrasted
-strikingly with the transient
-warmth he had displayed while
-speaking. Sir Simon noticed it,
-and it smote him to the heart. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>
-the first time this evening he bethought
-him how his own cheerfulness
-must strike Raymond, and
-how he must be puzzled to account
-for it. He promised himself the
-pleasure of explaining it to his satisfaction
-before they parted to-night;
-but meanwhile it gave him
-a pang to think of the iron that
-was in his friend’s soul, though it
-was part of his pleasant expectation
-that he would be able to draw
-it out and pour some healing balm
-on the wound to-morrow. He would
-show him why he had borne so patiently
-with the vulgar pedagogue
-who had permitted himself to fail,
-at least by insinuation, in respect
-to M. de la Bourbonais. The pedagogue
-meanwhile seemed bent on
-making himself disagreeable to the
-inoffensive foreigner.</p>
-
-<p>“It is a pity X&mdash;&mdash; was not
-able to secure Count de la Bourbonais
-as counsel,” he began again.
-“In the hands of so skilful a casuist
-his backsliding might have
-come out quite in a heroic light.
-It would have been traced to his
-poverty, which engendered his gratitude,
-and so on until we had a verdict
-that would have been virtually
-a glorification of impecuniosity. It
-is a pity we have missed the treat.”</p>
-
-<p>“Poverty is no doubt responsible
-for many backslidings,” said Raymond,
-bridling imperceptibly. He
-felt the sting of the remark as addressed
-to him by the rich man, or
-he fancied he did. “The world
-would no doubt be better as well as
-happier if riches were more equally
-divided; but there are worse
-things in the world than poverty, for
-all that.”</p>
-
-<p>“There is the excess of riches,
-which is infinitely worse&mdash;a more
-unmitigated source of evil, taking it
-all in all,” said Mr. Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>“Well said for a professional, my
-dear sir,” laughed Mr. Plover; “but
-you won’t find many outsiders to
-agree with you, I suspect.”</p>
-
-<p>“If by outsiders you mean Turks,
-Jews, and Hottentots, I daresay you
-are right,” said the vicar good-temperedly.</p>
-
-<p>“I mean every sensible man who
-is not bound by his cloth to talk
-cant&mdash;no offence; I use the word
-technically&mdash;you won’t find one
-such out of a thousand to deny that
-riches are the best gift of heaven,
-the one that can buy every other
-worth having&mdash;love and devotion
-into the bargain.”</p>
-
-<p>“What rank heresy you are propounding,
-my dear sir!” exclaimed
-Sir Simon, taking a pinch from his
-enamelled snuff-box, and passing it
-on. “You will not find one sane
-man in a thousand to agree with
-you!”</p>
-
-<p>“Won’t I though? What do you
-say, count?”</p>
-
-<p>“I agree with you, monsieur,”
-said Raymond with a certain asperity;
-“money can purchase most
-things worth having, but I deny
-that it can always pay for them.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! there we have the sophist
-again. It can buy, and yet it can’t
-pay. Pray explain!”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you mean, Raymond?”
-said Sir Simon, darting a curious,
-puzzled look at his friend.</p>
-
-<p>“It is very simple. I mean that
-money may sometimes enable us
-to confer an obligation which no
-money can repay. We may, for instance,
-do a service or avert a sorrow
-by means of a sum of money,
-and thus purchase love and gratitude&mdash;things
-which Mr. Plover has
-included in those worth having,
-and which money cannot pay for,
-though it may be the means of buying
-them.” The look that accompanied
-the answer said more to Sir
-Simon than the words conveyed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>
-any one else. He averted his eyes
-quickly, and was all at once horrified
-to discover several empty
-glasses round the table. They were
-at dessert now.</p>
-
-<p>“Charlton, have you tried that
-Madeira? Help yourself again, and
-pass it on here, will you? I shall
-have to play Ganymede, and go
-round pouring out the nectar to
-you like so many gods, if you don’t
-bestir yourselves.”</p>
-
-<p>And then there was a clinking
-of glasses, as the amber and ruby
-liquid was poured from many a curious
-flagon into the glistening crystal
-cups.</p>
-
-<p>“Talking of gods, that’s a god’s
-eye that you see there on Plover’s
-finger,” observed Mr. Charlton,
-whose azure gem was quite eclipsed
-by the flashing jewel that had suggested
-M. de la Bourbonais’ illustration.
-“It was set in the forehead
-of an Indian idol. Just let Sir Simon
-look at it; he’s a judge of
-precious stones,” said the young
-man, who felt that his feeble personality
-gained something from the
-proximity of so big a personage,
-and was anxious to show him off.
-The latter complacently drew the
-ring from his finger and tossed it
-over to his host. It was a large
-white diamond of the purest water,
-without the shadow of a flaw.</p>
-
-<p>“It <em>is</em> a beauty!” exclaimed Sir
-Simon with the enthusiasm of a connoisseur;
-“only it’s too good to be
-worn by a man. It ought to have
-gone to a beautiful woman when it
-left the god. I suppose it will soon,
-eh, Plover?”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Plover laughed. He was
-not a marrying man, he said, but he
-would make no rash vows. Then
-he went on to tell about other precious
-stones in his possession. He
-had some amazingly sensational
-stories to relate concerning them
-and how he became possessed of
-them. We generally interest others
-when we get on a subject that thoroughly
-interests ourselves and that
-we thoroughly understand. Mr.
-Plover understood a great deal
-about these legendary gems, and
-the celebrated idols in which they
-had figured; he had, moreover, imbibed
-a certain tinge of Oriental
-superstition concerning the talismanic
-properties of precious gems,
-and invested them, perhaps half unconsciously,
-with that kind of prestige
-that is not very far off from
-worship. This flavor of superstition
-pierced unawares through his
-discourse on the qualities and adventures
-of various rubies and sapphires
-that had played stirring parts
-in the destinies of particular gods,
-and were universally believed to
-influence for good or evil the
-lives of mortals who became possessed
-of them.</p>
-
-<p>The company began to find him
-less disagreeable as he went on.
-They did not quite believe in him;
-but when a story-teller amuses us,
-we are not apt to quarrel with him
-for using a traveller’s privilege and
-drawing the long bow.</p>
-
-<p>By the time this vein was exhausted
-the party had quite forgiven
-the obnoxious guest, and admitted
-him within the sympathetic ring
-of good-fellowship and conviviality.
-M. de la Bourbonais had become
-unusually talkative, and contributed
-his full share to the ebb and
-flow of lively repartee. He was
-generally as abstemious as an anchorite;
-but to-night he broke
-through his ascetic habits, and filled
-and refilled his glass many times.
-It was deep drinking for him,
-though for any one else it would
-have been reckoned moderate.
-Before the dessert was long on the
-table the effect of the wine was visible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>
-in his excited manner and the
-shrill tone of his voice, that rose
-high and sharp above the others in
-a way that was quite foreign to his
-gentleness. Sir Simon saw this,
-and at once divined the cause. It
-gave him a new pang. Poor Raymond!
-Driven to this to keep his
-misery from bursting out and overwhelming
-him!</p>
-
-<p>“Shall we finish our cigars here
-or in the library?” asked the baronet
-when his own tired limbs suggested
-that a change of posture
-might be generally agreeable.</p>
-
-<p>As by tacit consent, the chairs
-were all pushed back and everybody
-rose. The clock in the hall
-was striking ten.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you know I think I must be
-going?” said Mr. Langrove. “Time
-slips quickly by in pleasant company;
-I had no idea it was so late!”</p>
-
-<p>“Nonsense! you are not going
-to leave us yet!” protested Sir Simon.
-“Don’t mind the clocks
-here; they’re on wheels.”</p>
-
-<p>“Are they?” said the vicar, and
-innocently pulled out his watch to
-compare it with the loud chime that
-was still trembling in the air.
-“Humph! I see your wheels are
-five minutes slower than mine!” he
-said, with a nod and a laugh at his
-prevaricating host.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, now, Langrove, never
-mind the time. ‘Hours were made
-for slaves,’ you know. Come in and
-have another cigar,” urged Sir Simon.</p>
-
-<p>But the vicar was firm.</p>
-
-<p>“Then I may as well go with
-you,” said M. de la Bourbonais;
-“it’s late already for me to be
-out.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon was beginning to protest,
-when his attention was called
-away by Lord Roxham.</p>
-
-<p>“Have you that diamond ring,
-Harness?”</p>
-
-<p>“What ring? Plover’s? No; I
-passed it to you to look at, and it
-didn’t come round to me again.
-Can it not be found?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! it’s sure to turn up in a
-minute!” said Mr. Plover. “It has
-slipped under the edge of a plate,
-very likely!” And he went to the
-table and began to look for it.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, let us be going, as we are
-going,” said M. de la Bourbonais
-to the vicar, and he went towards
-the door.</p>
-
-<p>“Wait a bit,” replied Mr. Langrove&mdash;“wait
-a moment, Bourbonais;
-we must see the end of this.”</p>
-
-<p>“What have we to see in it? It
-is no concern of ours,” was the
-slightly impatient rejoinder. Raymond
-was in that state of unnatural
-excitement when the least trifle
-that crosses us chafes and irritates.
-He had nothing for it, however, but
-to comply with the vicar’s fancy
-and wait.</p>
-
-<p>“Most extraordinary!” Sir Simon
-exclaimed, as crystal dishes
-and porcelain plates were lifted and
-moved, and silver filigree baskets
-overturned and their delicate fruits
-sent rolling in every direction. “It
-must have dropped; stand aside,
-everybody, while I look under the
-table.” Every one drew off. Sir
-Simon flung up the ends of the
-snowy cloth, and, taking a chandelier
-with several lights, set it on the
-floor and began carefully to examine
-the carpet; but the ring was
-nowhere to be seen.</p>
-
-<p>“If it is here, it is certain to be
-seen,” he said, still bent down.
-“Look out, all of you, as you stand;
-you may see it flash better in the
-distance.”</p>
-
-<p>But no flash was anywhere visible.
-The wax-lights discovered
-nothing brighter than the subdued
-colors of the rich Persian carpet.
-Sir Simon went round to the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>
-side of the table, and searched with
-the same care and the same result.</p>
-
-<p>“You are not an absent man, are
-you?” he said, lifting the chandelier
-from the ground, and addressing
-the owner of the missing ring.
-“You are not capable of slipping it
-into your pocket unawares?”</p>
-
-<p>“I never did such a thing in my
-life; but that is no reason why I
-may not have done it now. Old
-wine sometimes plays the deuce
-with one,” said Mr. Plover, and he
-began to rummage his pockets and
-turn their contents on to the table-cloth.
-Its whiteness threw every
-article into vivid relief; but there
-was no ring.</p>
-
-<p>“This is very singular, very extraordinary
-indeed!” said Sir Simon
-in a sharp tone of annoyance.
-“Is any one hoaxing? Charlton,
-you’re not playing a trick on us, are
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>“What should I play such a stupid
-trick as that for?” demanded
-the young man. “I’m not such an
-idiot; but here goes! Let us have
-my pockets on the table too!”</p>
-
-<p>And following his friend’s example,
-he turned them inside out, coat,
-waistcoat, and trousers pockets in
-succession; but no ring appeared.</p>
-
-<p>“It is time we all followed suit,”
-said Sir Simon, and he cleared a
-larger space by sweeping away
-plates and glasses. “I am given to
-absence of mind myself, and, as you
-say, I may have taken a glass more
-than was good for me.”</p>
-
-<p>As he spoke he turned out one
-pocket after another, with no other
-result than to show the solidity and
-unblemished freshness of the linings;
-there was not a slit or the
-sign of one anywhere where a diamond
-ring, or a diamond without a
-ring, could have slipped through.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, gentlemen, I invite you
-all to follow my example!” said the
-host, stepping back from the table,
-and motioning for any one that liked
-to advance. His voice had a ring
-of command in it that would have
-compelled obedience if that had
-been necessary; but it did not
-seem to be so. One after another
-the guests came up and repeated
-the operation, while the owner of
-the ring watched them with a face
-that grew darker with every disappointment.
-Mr. Langrove and M.
-de la Bourbonais were standing
-somewhat apart from the rest near
-the door, and were now the only
-two that remained. The vicar
-came first. He submitted his pockets
-to the same rigorous scrutiny,
-and with the same result. A
-strange gleam passed over Mr. Plover’s
-features, as he turned his sallow
-face in the direction of M. de
-la Bourbonais. Suspicion and hope
-had now narrowed to this last trial.
-Raymond did not move. “Come
-on, Bourbonais; I have done!” said
-Mr. Langrove, consigning his spectacles
-and his handkerchief to his
-last pocket.</p>
-
-<p>But Raymond remained immovable,
-as if he were glued to the carpet.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, my dear friend, come!”
-Sir Simon called out, in a voice
-that was meant only to be kind and
-encouraging, but in which those
-who knew its tones detected a nervous
-note.</p>
-
-<p>“I will not!” said the count in
-a sharp, high key. “I will not
-submit to such an indignity; it has
-been got up for the purpose of insulting
-me. I refuse to submit to
-it!”</p>
-
-<p>He turned to leave the room.</p>
-
-<p>“Raymond, you are mad! You
-<em>must</em> do it!” cried Sir Simon imperatively.</p>
-
-<p>“I am not mad! I am poor!”
-retorted the count, facing round
-and darting eyes of defiance at Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>
-Simon. “This person, who calls
-himself a gentleman, has insulted me
-from the moment I sat down to table
-with him, and you allowed him
-to do it. He taunted me with my
-poverty; he would make out now
-that because I am poor I am a
-thief! I have borne with him so
-far because I was at your table;
-but there is a limit to what I will
-bear. I will not submit to the outrage
-he wants to put upon me.”</p>
-
-<p>Again he turned towards the
-door.</p>
-
-<p>“You shall hand out my ring before
-you stir from here, my fine sir!”
-cried Mr. Plover, taking a stride after
-him, and stretching out an arm
-as if to clutch him; but Sir Simon
-quick as thought intercepted him
-by laying a hand on the outstretched
-arm, while Ponsonby Anwyll
-stepped forward and placed his tall,
-broad figure like a bulwark between
-Raymond and his assailant.</p>
-
-<p>“Let me go!” said the latter,
-shaking himself to get free from the
-baronet’s clasp; but the long, firm
-fingers closed on him like grim
-death.</p>
-
-<p>“You shall not touch M. de la
-Bourbonais in my presence,” he
-said; “you have insulted him, as he
-says, already. If I had seen that he
-detected what was offensive in your
-tone and manner, I would not have
-suffered it to pass. Stand back, and
-leave me to deal with him!”</p>
-
-<p>“Confound the beggar! Let
-him give me my ring! I don’t
-want to touch him; but as I live
-he doesn’t stir from this room till
-I’ve seen his breeches pocket turned
-wrong-side out!”</p>
-
-<p>The man had been drinking
-heavily, and, though he was still to
-all intents and purposes sober, this
-excitement, added to that caused
-by the wine, heated his blood to
-boiling-point. He looked as if he
-would have flown at Raymond;
-but cowed by Sir Simon’s cool self-command
-and determined will, he
-fell back a step, fastening his eyes
-on Raymond with a savage glare.</p>
-
-<p>Raymond meantime continued
-obstinate and impracticable. Mr.
-Langrove took his hand in both
-his, and in the gentlest way entreated
-him to desist from his suicidal
-folly; assuring him that he was the
-last man present whom any one in
-his senses would dream of suspecting
-of a theft, of the faintest approach
-to anything dishonorable,
-but that it was sheer madness to
-refuse to clear himself in the eyes
-of this stranger. It was a mere
-form, and meant no more for him
-than for the rest of them. But
-Raymond turned a deaf ear to his
-pleading.</p>
-
-<p>“Let me go! I will not do it!
-He has been insulting me from the
-beginning. I will not submit to
-this,” he repeated, and shook himself
-free from Mr. Langrove’s friendly
-grasp.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon came close up to him.
-He was pale and agitated in spite
-of his affected coolness, and his
-hand shook as he laid it on Raymond’s
-shoulder.</p>
-
-<p>“Raymond, for my sake, for
-God’s sake!” he muttered.</p>
-
-<p>But Raymond thrust away his
-hand, and said with bitter scorn:
-“Ha! I am a beggar, and so I
-must be a thief! No, I will not
-clear myself! Let this rich man
-go and proclaim me a thief!” And
-breaking away from them all, he
-dashed out of the room.</p>
-
-<p>“Hold! Stop him, or by &mdash;&mdash;
-I’ll make hot work of it for you!”
-shouted Mr. Plover, making for the
-door; but Ponsonby Anwyll set his
-back to it, and defied him to pass.
-If the other had been brave enough
-to try, it would have been a hopeless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>
-attempt; his attenuated body
-was no match for the stalwart limbs
-of the young squire. He involuntarily
-recoiled as if Ponsonby’s
-arms, stoutly crossed on his breast,
-had dealt him a blow. Lord Roxham
-and Mr. Charlton pressed
-round him, expostulating and trying
-to calm him. This was no easy
-task, and they knew it. They
-were terribly shaken themselves,
-and they felt that it was absurd to
-expect this stranger, fuming for his
-diamond, to believe that M. de la
-Bourbonais had not taken it.</p>
-
-<p>“No one but a madman would
-have done such a thing, when it’s as
-certain as death to be found out,”
-said Sir Ponsonby, whose faith in
-Raymond was sustained by another
-faith. “Besides, we all know he’s
-no more capable of it than we are
-ourselves!”</p>
-
-<p>“Very fine talk, but where is the
-ring? Who has taken it, if not this
-Frenchman? I tell you what, he
-will be making out that it was his
-right and his duty to steal from a
-rich man to help a poor one. Perhaps
-he’s hard up just now, and he
-blesses Providence for the opportunity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Remember, sir, that you are
-speaking of a gentleman who is my
-friend, and whom I know to be incapable
-of an unworthy action,”
-said Sir Simon in a stern and
-haughty tone.</p>
-
-<p>“I compliment you on your
-friends; it sha’n’t be my fault if
-you don’t see this one at the hulks
-before long. But curse me! now I
-think of it, I’m at your mercy, all
-of you. I have to depend on you
-as witnesses, and it seems the fashion
-in these parts for gentlemen
-to perjure themselves to screen a
-friend; you will most likely refuse
-to swear to facts&mdash;if you don’t
-swear against them, eh?”</p>
-
-<p>“You must be drunk; you don’t
-know what you’re talking about,”
-said Mr. Charlton, forgetting to
-drawl, and speaking quickly like a
-sensible man. “It is as premature
-as it is absurd to imagine the ring
-is stolen; it must be in the room,
-and it must be found.”</p>
-
-<p>“In the room or out of it, it
-must and it shall be found!” echoed
-Mr. Plover, “or if not.…”</p>
-
-<p>“If not, it shall be paid for,”
-added Mr. Charlton; “it shall be
-replaced.”</p>
-
-<p>“Replaced! All you’re worth
-could not buy a stone like that
-one!”</p>
-
-<p>“Not its duplicate as a god’s
-eye invested with magical virtue,”
-said Mr. Charlton ironically; “but
-its value in the market can be paid,
-I suppose. What price do you
-put on it?”</p>
-
-<p>“As a mere stone it is worth
-five hundred pounds to any jeweller
-in London.”</p>
-
-<p>“Five hundred pounds!” repeated
-several in chorus with Mr.
-Charlton.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon said nothing. A mist
-came before his eyes. He saw
-Raymond in the grip of this cruel
-man, and he was powerless to release
-him. If the dread was an
-act of disloyalty to Raymond, Sir
-Simon was scarcely to blame. He
-would have signed away five years
-of his life that moment to see M.
-de la Bourbonais cleared of the
-suspicion that he had so insanely
-fastened on himself; but how could
-he help doubting? He knew as no
-one else knew what the power of
-the temptation was which had&mdash;had
-it?&mdash;goaded him to the mad act.
-Its madness was the strongest argument
-against its possibility. To
-pocket a ring worth five hundred
-pounds&mdash;worth five pounds&mdash;in
-the very teeth of the person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>
-it belonged to, and with the
-clear certainty of being immediately
-detected&mdash;no one in his right
-mind would have done such a
-thing. But was Raymond in his
-right mind when he did it? Had
-he been in his right mind since he
-entered the house to-night? There
-is such a thing as delirium of
-the heart from sorrow or despair.
-Then he had been drinking a great
-deal more than usual, and wine beguiles
-men to acts of frenzy unawares.
-If Sir Simon could even
-say to this man, “I will pay you the
-five hundred pounds”; but he had
-not as many pence to call his own.
-There had been a momentary silence
-after the exclamation of surprise
-that followed the announcement
-of the value of the diamond.
-Would Mr. Charlton not ratify his
-offer to pay for it? And if he did
-not, what could save Raymond?</p>
-
-<p>“Five hundred pounds! You
-are joking!” said the young man.</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll see whether I am or not!
-I had the diamond valued with several
-others at Vienna, where it was
-set,” said Mr. Plover.</p>
-
-<p>“Consider me your debtor for
-the amount,” said Sir Ponsonby
-Anwyll, stepping forward; “if the
-ring is not found to-night, I will
-sign you a check for five hundred
-pounds.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us begin and look for it in
-good earnest,” said Lord Roxham.
-“We will divide; two will go at
-each side of the table and hunt for
-it thoroughly. It must have rolled
-somewhere into a crevice or a corner.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t see how a ring was likely
-to roll on this,” said Mr. Plover,
-scratching the thick pile of the carpet
-with the tip of his patent-leather
-boot.</p>
-
-<p>“Some of us may have kicked it
-to a distance in pushing back our
-chairs,” suggested Mr. Langrove;
-“let us set the lights on the floor,
-and divide as Lord Roxham proposes.”</p>
-
-<p>Every one seized a chandelier
-or a lamp and set it on the floor,
-and began to prosecute the search.
-They had hardly been two minutes
-thus engaged when a loud ring was
-heard, and after a momentary delay
-the door opened and M. de la
-Bourbonais walked in.</p>
-
-<p>“Good heavens, Bourbonais! is
-it you?” cried Sir Simon, rising
-from his knees and hastening to
-meet him.</p>
-
-<p>But Raymond, with a haughty
-gesture, waved him off.</p>
-
-<p>They were all on their feet in a
-moment, full of wonder and expectation.</p>
-
-<p>“I made a mistake in refusing to
-submit to the examination you
-asked of me,” said the count, addressing
-himself to all collectively.
-“I was wrong to listen only to personal
-indignation in the matter; I
-saw only a poor man insulted by a
-rich one. I have come back to repair
-my mistake. See now for yourselves,
-and, if you like, examine every
-corner of my clothes.”</p>
-
-<p>He advanced to the table, intending
-to suit the action to the words,
-when a burst of derisive laughter
-was heard at the other end of the
-room. It was from Mr. Plover.
-The others were looking on silent
-and confounded.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you take us all for so many
-born fools?” cried Mr. Plover, and
-he laughed again a short, contemptuous
-laugh that went through
-Raymond’s veins.</p>
-
-<p>He stood there, his right hand
-plunged into his pocket in the act
-of drawing out its contents, but arrested
-by the sound of that mocking
-laugh, and by the chill silence that
-followed. He cast a quick, questioning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>
-glance at the surrounding
-faces; pity, surprise, regret, were
-variously depicted there, but neither
-confidence nor congratulation were
-visible anywhere. A gleam of light
-shot suddenly through his mind.
-He drew out his hand and passed
-it slowly over his forehead.</p>
-
-<p>“My God, have pity on me!”
-he murmured almost inaudibly, and
-turned away.</p>
-
-<p>“Raymond! listen to me.” Sir
-Simon hurried after him.</p>
-
-<p>But the door was closed. Raymond
-was gone. Sir Simon followed
-into the hall, but he did not
-overtake him; the great door closed
-with a bang, and the friend he
-loved best on earth was beyond his
-hearing, rushing wildly on in the
-darkness and under the rain, that
-was falling in torrents.</p>
-
-<p>The apparition had come and
-gone so quickly that the spectators
-might have doubted whether they
-had not dreamt it or seen a ghost.
-No one spoke, until Mr. Plover
-broke out with a hoarse laugh and
-an oath:</p>
-
-<p>“If the fellow has not half convinced
-me of his innocence! He’s
-too great a fool to be a thief!”</p>
-
-<p>“Until he has been proved a
-thief, you will be good enough not
-to apply the term to Monsieur de
-la Bourbonais under my roof,” said
-Sir Simon. “Now, gentlemen, we
-will resume our search.”</p>
-
-<p>They did, and prosecuted it with
-the utmost care and patience for
-more than an hour; but the only
-effect was to fasten suspicion more
-closely on the absent.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Plover was so triumphant
-one would have fancied the justification
-of his vindictive suspicion
-was a compensation for the loss of
-his gem.</p>
-
-<p>“Have you a pen and ink here,
-or shall I go into the library? I
-want to write the check,” said
-Ponsonby.</p>
-
-<p>“You will find everything you
-want in the library,” said Sir Simon,
-and Ponsonby went in. Some one
-rang, and the carriages and horses
-were ordered. In a few minutes
-Ponsonby returned with the check,
-which he handed to Mr. Plover.</p>
-
-<p>“If you require any one to attest
-my solvency, I dare say Charlton,
-whom you can trust, will have
-no objection to do it,” he remarked.</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly not!” said Mr. Charlton
-promptly.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! it’s not necessary; I’m
-quite satisfied with Sir Ponsonby
-Anwyll’s signature,” Mr. Plover replied.
-And as he pocketed the
-check he went to the window and
-raised the curtain to see if Mr.
-Charlton’s brougham had come
-round. The rest of the company
-were saying good-by, cordial but
-sad. Sir Simon and the young
-squire of Rydal stood apart, conversing
-in an earnest, subdued
-voice.</p>
-
-<p>“Have you a trap waiting, or
-shall I drop you at the vicarage?”
-inquired Lord Roxham of Mr.
-Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you! I shall be very
-glad,” said the vicar. “The night
-promised to be so fine I said I would
-walk home.”</p>
-
-<p>“You will have a wet ride of it,
-Anwyll; is not that your horse I
-see?” cried Mr. Charlton from the
-window, where he had followed his
-ill-omened friend. “Had you not
-better leave him here for the night,
-and let me give you a lift home?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! thank you, no; I don’t
-mind a drenching, and it would
-take you too far out of your way.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Plover and Mr. Charlton
-were leaving the room when Sir
-Simon’s voice arrested them.</p>
-
-<p>“One moment, Charlton! Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>
-Plover, pray wait a second. I need
-not assure any one present how
-deeply distressed I am by what has
-occurred to-night&mdash;distressed on behalf
-of every one concerned. I
-know you all share this feeling with
-me, and I trust you will not refuse
-me the only alleviation in your
-power.”</p>
-
-<p>He stopped for a moment, while
-his hearers turned eager, responsive
-faces towards him.</p>
-
-<p>“I ask you as a proof of friendship,
-of personal regard and kindness
-to myself, to be silent concerning
-what has happened under
-my roof to-night; to let it remain
-buried here amongst ourselves.
-Will you grant me this, probably
-the last favor I shall ever ask of
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>His voice trembled a little; and
-his friends were touched, though
-they did not see where the last
-words pointed.</p>
-
-<p>There was a murmur of assent
-from all, with one exception.</p>
-
-<p>“Plover, I hope I may include
-your promise with that of my older
-friends?” continued the baronet,
-his voice still betraying emotion.
-“I have no right, it is true, to claim
-such an act of self-denial at your
-hands; I know,” he added with
-a faint laugh that was not ironical,
-only sad&mdash;“I know that it is a comfort
-to us all to talk of our misfortunes
-and complain of them to
-sympathizing acquaintances; but I
-appeal to you as a gentleman to
-forego that satisfaction, in order to
-save me from a bitter mortification.”</p>
-
-<p>As he spoke, he held out his fine,
-high-bred hand to his guest.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon did not profess to be a
-very deep reader of human nature,
-but the most accomplished Macchiavellist
-could not have divined
-and touched the right chords in his
-listener’s spirit with a surer hand
-than he had just done. Mr. Plover
-laid his shrivelled fingers in the
-baronet’s extended hand, and said
-with awkward bluntness:</p>
-
-<p>“As a proof of personal regard
-for you, I promise to hold my
-tongue in private life; but you
-can’t expect me not to take steps
-for the recovery of the stone.”</p>
-
-<p>“How so?” Sir Simon started.</p>
-
-<p>“It is pretty certain to get into
-the diamond market before long,
-and, unless the police are put on the
-watch, it will slip out of the country
-most likely, and for ever beyond my
-reach, and I would give double the
-money to get it back again. But I
-pledge myself not to mention the
-affair except to the officers.”</p>
-
-<p>He bowed another good-night to
-the company, and was gone. The
-rest quickly followed, and soon the
-noise of wheels crushing the wet
-gravel died away, and Sir Simon
-Harness was left alone to meditate
-on the events of the evening and
-many other unpleasant things.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>RECOLLECTIONS OF WORDSWORTH.<a name="FNanchor_131" id="FNanchor_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a><br />
-<span class="smaller">BY AUBREY DE VERE, ESQ.</span></h3>
-
-<h4>PART I.</h4>
-
-<p>It was about eight years before
-his death that I had the happiness
-of making acquaintance with Wordsworth.
-During the next four years
-I saw a good deal of him, chiefly
-among his own mountains, and, besides
-many delightful walks with
-him, I had the great honor of passing
-some days under his roof. The
-strongest of my impressions respecting
-him was that made by the manly
-simplicity and lofty rectitude which
-characterized him. In one of his later
-sonnets he writes of himself thus:
-“As a <em>true</em> man who long had served
-the lyre”; it was because he
-was a true man that he was a true
-poet; and it was impossible to
-know him without being reminded
-of this. In any case he must have
-been recognized as a man of original
-and energetic genius; but it
-was his strong and truthful moral
-nature, his intellectual sincerity,
-the abiding conscientiousness of his
-imagination, so to speak, which enabled
-that genius to do its great
-work, and bequeath to the England
-of the future the most solid mass of
-deep-hearted and authentic poetry
-which has been the gift to her of
-any poet since the Elizabethan age.
-There was in his nature a veracity
-which, had it not been combined
-with an idealizing imagination not
-less remarkable, would to many
-have appeared prosaic; yet, had
-he not possessed that characteristic,
-the products of his imagination
-would have lacked reality. They
-might still have enunciated a deep
-and sound philosophy; but they
-would have been divested of that
-human interest which belongs to
-them in a yet higher degree. All
-the little incidents of the neighborhood
-were to him important.</p>
-
-<p>The veracity and the ideality
-which are so signally combined in
-Wordsworth’s poetic descriptions of
-nature made themselves, at least, as
-much felt whenever nature was the
-theme of his discourse. In his intense
-reverence for nature he regarded
-all poetical delineations of
-her with an exacting severity; and
-if the descriptions were not true,
-and true in a twofold sense, the more
-skilfully executed they were the more
-was his indignation roused by what
-he deemed a pretence and a deceit.
-An untrue description of nature
-was to him a profaneness, a heavenly
-message sophisticated and falsely
-delivered. He expatiated much to
-me one day, as we walked among
-the hills above Grasmere, on the
-mode in which nature had been described
-by one of the most justly
-popular of England’s modern poets&mdash;one
-for whom he preserved a
-high and affectionate respect. “He
-took pains,” Wordsworth said; “he
-went out with his pencil and note-book,
-and jotted down whatever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>
-struck him most&mdash;a river rippling
-over the sands, a ruined tower on a
-rock above it, a promontory, and a
-mountain ash waving its red berries.
-He went home, and wove
-the whole together into a poetical
-description.” After a pause
-Wordsworth resumed with a flashing
-eye and impassioned voice:
-“But nature does not permit an inventory
-to be made of her charms!
-He should have left his pencil and
-note-book at home; fixed his eye,
-as he walked, with a reverent attention
-on all that surrounded him,
-and taken all into a heart that could
-understand and enjoy. Then, after
-several days had passed by, he
-should have interrogated his memory
-as to the scene. He would have
-discovered that while much of what
-he had admired was preserved to
-him, much was also most wisely obliterated.
-That which remained&mdash;the
-picture surviving in his mind&mdash;would
-have presented the ideal and
-essential truth of the scene, and
-done so, in a large part, by discarding
-much which, though in itself
-striking, was not characteristic. In
-every scene many of the most brilliant
-details are but accidental. A
-true eye for nature does not note
-them, or at least does not dwell on
-them.” On the same occasion he
-remarked: “Scott misquoted in one
-of his novels my lines on Yarrow.
-He makes me write,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“‘The swans on sweet St. Mary’s lake</div>
-<div class="verse">Float double, swans and shadow.’</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">but I wrote,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“‘The <em>swan</em> on <em>still</em> St. Mary’s lake.’</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Never could I have written
-‘swans’ in the plural. The scene
-when I saw it, with its still and
-dim lake, under the dusky hills, was
-one of utter loneliness; there was
-<em>one</em> swan, and one only, stemming
-the water, and the pathetic loneliness
-of the region gave importance
-to the one companion of that swan&mdash;its
-own white image in the water.
-It was for that reason that I recorded
-the swan and the shadow. Had
-there been many swans and many
-shadows, they would have implied
-nothing as regards the character of
-the scene, and I should have said
-nothing about them.” He proceeded
-to remark that many who could
-descant with eloquence on nature
-cared little for her, and that many
-more who truly loved her had yet
-no eye to discern her&mdash;which he regarded
-as a sort of “spiritual discernment.”
-He continued: “Indeed,
-I have hardly ever known any
-one but myself who had a true eye
-for nature&mdash;one that thoroughly understood
-her meanings and her
-teachings&mdash;except” (here he interrupted
-himself) “one person.
-There was a young clergyman
-called Frederick Faber,<a name="FNanchor_132" id="FNanchor_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> who resided
-at Ambleside. He had not
-only as good an eye for nature as I
-have, but even a better one, and
-sometimes pointed out to me on
-the mountains effects which, with
-all my great experience, I had never
-detected.”</p>
-
-<p>Truth, he used to say&mdash;that is,
-truth in its largest sense, as a thing
-at once real and ideal, a truth
-including exact and accurate detail,
-and yet everywhere subordinating
-mere detail to the spirit of the
-whole,&mdash;this, he affirmed, was the
-soul and essence not only of descriptive
-poetry, but of all poetry.
-He had often, he told me, intended
-to write an essay on poetry, setting
-forth this principle, and illustrating
-it by references to the chief representatives
-of poetry in its various
-departments. It was this twofold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>
-truth which made Shakspere
-the greatest of all poets. “It was
-well for Shakspere,” he remarked,
-“that he gave himself to the
-drama. It was that which forced
-him to be sufficiently human. His
-poems would otherwise, from the
-extraordinarily metaphysical character
-of his genius, have been too
-recondite to be understood. His
-youthful poems, in spite of their unfortunate
-and unworthy subjects,
-and his sonnets also, reveal this tendency.
-Nothing can surpass the
-greatness of Shakspere where he is
-at his greatest; but it is wrong to
-speak of him as if even he were perfect.
-He had serious defects, and
-not those only proceeding from
-carelessness. For instance, in his
-delineations of character he does
-not assign as large a place to religious
-sentiment as enters into the
-constitution of human nature under
-normal circumstances. If his
-dramas had more religion in them,
-they would be truer representations
-of man, as well as more elevated
-and of a more searching interest.”
-Wordsworth used to warn young
-poets against writing poetry remote
-from human interest. Dante he
-admitted to be an exception; but
-he considered that Shelley, and almost
-all others who had endeavored
-to outsoar the humanities, had
-suffered deplorably from the attempt.
-I once heard him say: “I
-have often been asked for advice
-by young poets. All the advice I
-can give may be expressed in two
-counsels. First, let nature be your
-habitual and pleasurable study&mdash;human
-nature and material nature;
-secondly, study carefully those first-class
-poets whose fame is universal,
-not local, and learn from them;
-learn from them especially how to
-observe and how to interpret nature.”</p>
-
-<p>Those who knew Wordsworth
-only from his poetry might have
-supposed that he dwelt ever in a
-region too serene to admit of human
-agitations. This was not the
-fact. There was in his being a region
-of tumult as well a higher region
-of calm, though it was almost
-wholly in the latter that his poetry
-lived. It turned aside from mere
-<em>personal</em> excitements; and for that
-reason, doubtless, it developed more
-deeply those special ardors which
-belong at once to the higher imagination
-and to the moral being.
-The passion which was suppressed
-elsewhere burned in his “Sonnets
-to Liberty,” and added a deeper
-sadness to the “Yew-trees of Borrowdale.”
-But his heart, as well
-as his imagination, was ardent.
-When it spoke most powerfully in
-his poetry, it spoke with a stern
-brevity unusual in that poetry, as
-in the poem, “There is a change,
-and I am poor,” and the still more
-remarkable one, “A slumber did
-my spirit seal”&mdash;a poem impassioned
-beyond the comprehension of
-those who fancy that Wordsworth
-lacks passion, merely because in
-him passion is neither declamatory
-nor, latently, sensual. He was a
-man of strong affections&mdash;strong
-enough on one sorrowful occasion
-to withdraw him for a time from
-poetry.<a name="FNanchor_133" id="FNanchor_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> Referring once to two
-young children of his who had died
-about forty years previously, he
-described the details of their illnesses
-with an exactness and an
-impetuosity of troubled excitement
-such as might have been expected
-if the bereavement had taken place
-but a few weeks before. The lapse
-of time appeared to have left the
-sorrow submerged indeed, but still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>
-in all its first freshness. Yet I afterwards
-heard that at the time of the
-illness, at least in the case of one
-of the two children, it was impossible
-to rouse his attention to the
-danger. He chanced to be then
-under the immediate spell of one
-of those fits of poetic inspiration
-which descended on him like a
-cloud. Till the cloud had drifted
-he could see nothing beyond. Under
-the level of the calm there was,
-however, the precinct of the storm.
-It expressed itself rarely but vehemently,
-partaking sometimes of the
-character both of indignation and
-sorrow. All at once the trouble
-would pass away and his countenance
-bask in its habitual calm,
-like a cloudless summer sky. His
-indignation flamed out vehemently
-when he heard of a base action.
-“I could kick such a man across
-England with my naked foot,” I
-heard him exclaim on such an occasion.
-The more impassioned
-part of his nature connected itself
-especially with his political feelings.
-He regarded his own intellect as
-one which united some of the faculties
-which belong to the statesman
-with those which belong to
-the poet; and public affairs interested
-him not less deeply than poetry.
-It was as patriot, not poet,
-that he ventured to claim fellowship
-with Dante.<a name="FNanchor_134" id="FNanchor_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> He did not accept
-the term “reformer,” because
-it implied an organic change in our
-institutions, and this he deemed
-both needless and dangerous; but
-he used to say that, while he was a
-decided conservative, he remembered
-that to preserve our institutions
-we must be ever improving
-them. He was, indeed, from first
-to last, pre-eminently a patriot&mdash;an
-impassioned as well as a thoughtful
-one. Yet his political sympathies
-were not with his own country only,
-but with the progress of humanity.
-Till disenchanted by the excesses
-and follies of the first French Revolution,
-his hopes and sympathies
-associated themselves ardently with
-the new order of things created by
-it; and I have heard him say that
-he did not know how any generous-minded
-<em>young</em> man, entering on life
-at the time of that great uprising,
-could have escaped the illusion.
-To the end his sympathies were
-ever with the cottage hearth far
-more than with the palace. If he
-became a strong supporter of what
-has been called “the hierarchy of
-society,” it was chiefly because he
-believed the principle of “equality”
-to be fatal to the well-being and
-the true dignity of the poor. Moreover,
-in siding politically with the
-crown and the coronets, he considered
-himself to be siding with
-the weaker party in our democratic
-days.</p>
-
-<p>The absence of love-poetry in
-Wordsworth’s works has often been
-remarked upon, and indeed brought
-as a charge against them. He once
-told me that if he had avoided that
-form of composition, it was by no
-means because the theme did not
-interest him, but because, treated
-as it commonly has been, it tends
-rather to disturb and lower the
-reader’s moral and imaginative
-being than to elevate it. He
-feared to handle it amiss. He
-seemed to think that the subject
-had been so long vulgarized that
-few poets had a right to assume
-that they could treat it worthily,
-especially as the theme, when treated
-unworthily, was such an easy
-and cheap way of winning applause.
-It has been observed also
-that the religion of Wordsworth’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>
-poetry, at least of his earlier poetry,
-is not as distinctly “revealed
-religion” as might have been expected
-from this poet’s well-known
-adherence to what he has called
-emphatically “The lord, and mighty
-paramount of truths.” He once remarked
-to me himself on this circumstance,
-and explained it by
-stating that when in youth his imagination
-was shaping for itself the
-channel in which it was to flow, his
-religious convictions were less definite
-and less strong than they had
-become on more mature thought;
-and that, when his poetic mind and
-manner had once been formed, he
-feared that he might, in attempting
-to modify them, have become constrained.
-He added that on such
-matters he ever wrote with great
-diffidence, remembering that if
-there were many subjects too low
-for song, there were some too high.
-Wordsworth’s general confidence in
-his own powers, which was strong,
-though far from exaggerated, rendered
-more striking and more
-touching his humility in all that
-concerned religion. It used to remind
-me of what I once heard Mr.
-Rogers say, viz.: “There is a special
-character of <em>greatness</em> about humility;
-for it implies that a man can, in
-an unusual degree, estimate the
-<em>greatness</em> of what is above us.”
-Fortunately, his diffidence did not
-keep Wordsworth silent on sacred
-themes. His later poems include
-an unequivocal as well as beautiful
-confession of Christian faith; and
-one of them, “The Primrose of the
-Rock,” is as distinctly Wordsworthian
-in its inspiration as it is Christian
-in its doctrine. Wordsworth
-was a “High-Churchman,” and also,
-in his prose mind, strongly anti-Roman
-Catholic, partly on political
-grounds; but that it was otherwise
-as regards his mind poetic is obvious
-from many passages in his Christian
-poetry, especially those which
-refer to the monastic system and
-the Schoolmen, and his sonnet on
-the Blessed Virgin, whom he addresses
-as</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Our tainted nature’s solitary boast.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>He used to say that the idea of
-one who was both Virgin and
-Mother had sunk so deep into the
-heart of humanity that there it
-must ever remain.</p>
-
-<p>Wordsworth’s estimate of his
-contemporaries was not generally
-high. I remember his once saying
-to me: “I have known many that
-might be called very <em>clever</em> men,
-and a good many of real and vigorous
-<em>abilities</em>, but few of genius;
-and only one whom I should call
-‘wonderful.’ That one was Coleridge.
-At any hour of the day or
-night he would talk by the hour, if
-there chanced to be <em>any</em> sympathetic
-listener, and talk better than the
-best page of his writings; for a
-pen half paralyzed his genius. A
-child would sit quietly at his feet
-and wonder, till the torrent had
-passed by. The only man like
-Coleridge whom I have known is
-Sir William Hamilton, Astronomer
-Royal of Dublin.” I remember,
-however, that when I recited by
-his fireside Alfred Tennyson’s two
-political poems, “You ask me why,
-though ill at ease,” and “Of old sat
-Freedom on the heights,” the old
-bard listened with a deepening attention,
-and, when I had ended,
-said after a pause, “I must acknowledge
-that those two poems are
-very solid and noble in thought.
-Their diction also seems singularly
-stately.” He was a great admirer
-of Philip van Artevelde. In the
-case of a certain poet since dead,
-and little popular, he said to me:
-“I consider his sonnets to be certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>
-the best of modern times”;
-adding, “Of course I am not including
-my own in any comparison
-with those of others.” He was not
-sanguine as to the future of English
-poetry. He thought that there
-was much to be supplied in other
-departments of our literature, and
-especially he desired a really great
-history of England; but he was
-disposed to regard the roll of English
-poetry as made up, and as
-leaving place for little more except
-what was likely to be eccentric or
-imitational.</p>
-
-<p>In his younger days Wordsworth
-had had to fight a great battle in
-poetry; for both his subjects and
-his mode of treating them were
-antagonistic to the maxims then
-current. It was fortunate for posterity,
-no doubt, that his long “militant
-estate” was animated by some
-mingling of personal ambition with
-his love of poetry. Speaking in an
-early sonnet of</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“The poets, who on earth have made us heirs</div>
-<div class="verse">Of truth, and pure delight, by heavenly lays,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">he concludes:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Oh! might my name be numbered among theirs,</div>
-<div class="verse">Then gladly would I end my mortal days.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>He died at eighty, and general
-fame did not come to him till about
-fifteen years before his death. This
-might perhaps have been fifteen
-years too soon, if he had set any
-inordinate value on it. But it was
-not so. Shelley tells us that “Fame
-is love disguised”; and it was intellectual
-sympathy that Wordsworth
-had always valued far more than
-reputation. “Give me thy love; I
-claim no other fee,” had been his
-demand on his reader. When fame
-had laid her tardy garland at his
-feet, he found on it no fresher green
-than his “Rydalian laurels” had
-always worn. Once he said to me:
-“It is indeed a deep satisfaction to
-hope and believe that my poetry
-will be, while it lasts, a help to the
-cause of virtue and truth, especially
-among the young. As for myself,
-it seems now of little moment
-how long I may be remembered.
-When a man pushes off in his little
-boat into the great seas of Infinity
-and Eternity, it surely signifies
-little how long he is kept in sight
-by watchers from the shore.”</p>
-
-<p>Such are my chief recollections
-of the great poet, whom I knew but
-in his old age, but whose heart retained
-its youth till his daughter
-Dora’s death. He seemed to me
-one who from boyhood had been
-faithful to a high vocation; one
-who had esteemed it his office to
-minister, in an age of conventional
-civilization, at nature’s altar, and
-who had in his later life explained
-and vindicated such lifelong ministration,
-even while he seemed to
-apologize for it, in the memorable
-confession,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“But who is innocent? By grace divine,</div>
-<div class="verse">Not otherwise, O Nature! are we thine.”<a name="FNanchor_135" id="FNanchor_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>It was to nature as first created,
-not to nature as corrupted by “disnatured”
-passions, that his song
-had attributed such high and healing
-powers. In singing her praise
-he had chosen a theme loftier than
-most of his readers knew&mdash;loftier,
-as he perhaps eventually discovered,
-than he had at first supposed it
-to be. Utterly without Shakspere’s
-dramatic faculty, he was richer and
-wider in the humanities than any
-poet since Shakspere. Wholly unlike
-Milton in character and in
-opinions, he abounds in passages to
-be paralleled only by Milton in
-solemn and spiritual sublimity, and
-not even by Milton in pathos. It
-was plain to those who knew
-Wordsworth that he had kept his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>
-great gift pure, and used it honestly
-and thoroughly for that purpose
-for which it had been bestowed.
-He had ever written with a conscientious
-reverence for that gift;
-but he had also written spontaneously.
-He had composed with
-care&mdash;not the exaggerated solicitude
-which is prompted by vanity,
-and which frets itself to unite incompatible
-excellences, but the
-diligence which shrinks from no
-toil while eradicating blemishes
-that confuse a poem’s meaning and
-frustrate its purpose. He regarded
-poetry as an art; but he also regarded
-art, not as the compeer of
-nature, much less her superior, but
-as her servant and interpreter. He
-wrote poetry likewise, no doubt, in
-a large measure, because self-utterance
-was an essential law of his
-nature. If he had a companion,
-he discoursed like one whose
-thoughts must needs run on in audible
-current; if he walked alone
-among his mountains, he murmured
-old songs. He was like a pine-grove,
-vocal as well as visible. But
-to poetry he had dedicated himself
-as to the utterance of the highest
-truths brought within the range of
-his life’s experience; and if his
-poetry has been accused of egotism,
-the charge has come from those
-who did not perceive that it was
-with a human, not a mere personal,
-interest that he habitually watched
-the processes of his own mind. He
-drew from the fountain that was
-nearest at hand what he hoped
-might be a refreshment to those
-far off. He once said, speaking of
-a departed man of genius, who had
-lived an unhappy life and deplorably
-abused his powers, to the lasting
-calamity of his country: “A
-great poet must be a great man;
-and a great man must be a good
-man; and a good man ought to be
-a happy man.” To know Wordsworth
-was to feel sure that if he had
-been a great poet, it was not merely
-because he had been endowed with
-a great imagination, but because he
-had been a good man, a great man,
-and a man whose poetry had, in an
-especial sense, been the expression
-of a healthily happy moral being.</p>
-
-<p><i>P.S.</i>&mdash;Wordsworth was by no
-means without humor. When the
-Queen, on one occasion, gave a
-masked ball, some one said that a
-certain youthful poet, who has since
-reached a deservedly high place
-both in the literary and political
-world, but who was then known
-chiefly as an accomplished and
-amusing young man of society, was
-to attend it dressed in the character
-of the father of English poetry&mdash;grave
-old Chaucer. “What!” said
-Wordsworth, “M&mdash;&mdash; go as Chaucer!
-Then it only remains for me
-to go as M&mdash;&mdash;!”</p>
-
-<h4>PART II.</h4>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<p class="center">SONNET&mdash;RYDAL WITH WORDSWORTH.</p>
-<p class="center">BY THE LATE SIR AUBREY DE VERE.</p>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“What we beheld scarce can I now recall</div>
-<div class="verse">In one connected picture; images</div>
-<div class="verse">Hurrying so swiftly their fresh witcheries</div>
-<div class="verse">O’er the mind’s mirror, that the several</div>
-<div class="verse">Seems lost, or blended in the mighty all.</div>
-<div class="verse">Lone lakes; rills gushing through rock-rooted trees;</div>
-<div class="verse">Peaked mountains shadowing vales of peacefulness;</div>
-<div class="verse">Glens echoing to the flashing waterfall.</div>
-<div class="verse">Then that sweet twilight isle! with friends delayed</div>
-<div class="verse">Beside a ferny bank ’neath oaks and yews;</div>
-<div class="verse">The moon between two mountain peaks embayed;</div>
-<div class="verse">Heaven and the waters dyed with sunset hues:</div>
-<div class="verse">And he, the poet of the age and land,</div>
-<div class="verse">Discoursing as we wandered hand in hand.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The above-written sonnet is the
-record of a delightful day spent by
-my father in 1833 with Wordsworth
-at Rydal, to which he went from
-the still more beautiful shores of
-Ulswater, where he had been sojourning
-at Halsteads. He had
-been one of Wordsworth’s warmest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>
-admirers when their number was
-small, and in 1842 he dedicated a
-volume of poems to him.<a name="FNanchor_136" id="FNanchor_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> He
-taught me when a boy of eighteen
-years old to admire the great bard.
-I had been very enthusiastically
-praising Lord Byron’s poetry. My
-father calmly replied: “Wordsworth
-is the great poet of modern times.”
-Much surprised, I asked: “And
-what may his special merits be?”
-The answer was, “They are very various;
-as, for instance, depth, largeness,
-elevation, and, what is rare in
-modern poetry, an <em>entire</em> purity.
-In his noble ‘Laodamia’ they are
-chiefly majesty and pathos.” A few
-weeks afterwards I chanced to take
-from the library shelves a volume
-of Wordsworth, and it opened on
-“Laodamia.” Some strong, calm
-hand seemed to have been laid on
-my head, and bound me to the spot
-till I had come to the end. As I
-read, a new world, hitherto unimagined,
-opened itself out, stretching
-far away into serene infinitudes.
-The region was one to me unknown,
-but the harmony of the picture
-attested its reality. Above and
-around were indeed</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“An ampler ether, a diviner air,</div>
-<div class="verse">And fields invested with purpureal gleams”;</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and when I reached the line,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Calm pleasures there abide&mdash;majestic pains,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>I felt that no tenants less stately
-could walk in so lordly a precinct.
-I had been translated into another
-planet of song&mdash;one with larger
-movements and a longer year. A
-wider conception of poetry had become
-mine, and the Byronian enthusiasm
-fell from me like a bond
-that is broken by being outgrown.
-The incident illustrates poetry in
-one of its many characters&mdash;that of
-the “deliverer.” The ready sympathies
-and inexperienced imagination
-of youth make it surrender
-itself easily despite its better aspirations,
-or in consequence of them,
-to a false greatness; and the true
-greatness, once revealed, sets it
-free. As early as 1824 Walter Savage
-Landor, in his “Imaginary Conversation”
-between Southey and
-Porson, had pronounced Wordsworth’s
-“Laodamia” to be “a composition
-such as Sophocles might
-have exulted to own, and a part of
-which might have been heard with
-shouts of rapture in the regions he
-describes”&mdash;the Elysian Fields.</p>
-
-<p>Wordsworth frequently spoke of
-death, as if it were the taking of a
-new degree in the University of
-Life. “I should like,” he remarked
-to a young lady, “to visit Italy
-again before I move to another
-planet.” He sometimes made a
-mistake in assuming that others
-were equally philosophical. We
-were once breakfasting at the house
-of Mr. Rogers, when Wordsworth,
-after gazing attentively round the
-room with a benignant and complacent
-expression, turned to our
-host, and, wishing to compliment
-him, said: “Mr. Rogers, I never see
-this house, so perfect in its taste,
-so exquisite in all its arrangements,
-and decorated with such well-chosen
-pictures, without fancying it
-the very house imaged to himself
-by the Roman poet when, in illustration
-of man’s mortality, he says:
-‘Linquenda est domus.’” “What
-is that you’re saying?” replied Mr.
-Rogers, whose years between eighty
-and ninety, had not improved his
-hearing. “I was remarking that
-your house,” replied Wordsworth,
-“always reminds me of the ode
-(more properly called an elegy,
-though doubtless the lyrical measure
-not unnaturally causes it to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>
-included among Horace’s odes)
-in which the Roman poet writes:
-‘Linquenda est domus’; that is,
-since, ladies being present, a translation
-may be deemed desirable,
-<em>The house is</em>, or <em>has to be, left</em>; and
-again,’et placens uxor’&mdash;and the
-pleasing wife; though, as we must
-all regret, that part of the quotation
-is not applicable on the present
-occasion.” The Town Bard, on
-whom “no angle smiled” more than
-the end of St. James’ Place, did
-not enter into the views of the Bard
-of the Mountains. His answer was
-what children call “making a great
-face,” and the ejaculation, “Don’t
-talk Latin in the society of ladies.”
-When I was going away, he remarked,
-“What a stimulus the mountain
-air has on the appetite! I made a
-sign to Edmund to hand him the
-cutlets a second time. I was afraid
-he would stick his fork into that
-beautiful woman who sat next
-him.” Wordsworth never resented
-a jest at his own expense. Once
-when we had knocked three times
-in vain at the door of a London
-house, I exclaimed, quoting his sonnet
-written on Westminster Bridge,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Dear God, the very houses seem asleep.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>He laughed heartily, then smiled
-gravely, and lastly recounted
-the occasion and described the
-early morning on which that sonnet
-was written. He did not recite
-more than a part of it, to the accompaniment
-of distant cab and
-carriage; and I thought that the
-door was opened too soon.</p>
-
-<p>Wordsworth, despite his dislike
-to great cities, was attracted occasionally
-in his later years</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“To the proud margin of the Thames</div>
-<div class="verse">And Lambeth’s venerable towers,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">where his society was courted by
-persons of the most different character.
-But he complained bitterly
-of the great city. It was next to
-impossible, he remarked, to tell the
-truth in it. “Yesterday I was at
-S&mdash;&mdash; House; the Duchess of S&mdash;&mdash;,
-showing me the pictures, observed:
-‘This is the portrait of my brother’
-(naming him), ‘and it is considered
-very like.’ To this I assented,
-partly perhaps in absence of
-mind, but partly, I think, with an
-impression that her grace’s brother
-was probably a person whose face
-every one knew or was expected
-to know; so that, as I had never
-met him, my answer was in fact a
-lie! It is too bad that, when more
-than seventy years old, I should be
-drawn from the mountains to London
-in order to tell a lie!” He
-made his complaint wherever he
-went, laying the blame, however, not
-so much on himself or on the
-duchess as on the corrupt city;
-and some of those who learned how
-the most truthful man in England
-had thus quickly been subverted
-by metropolitan snares came to the
-conclusion that within a few years
-more no virtue would be left extant
-in the land. He was likewise maltreated
-in lesser ways. “This
-morning I was compelled by my
-engagements to eat three breakfasts&mdash;one
-with an aged and excellent
-gentleman, who may justly be esteemed
-an accomplished man of
-letters, although I cannot honestly
-concede to him the title of a poet;
-one at a fashionable party; and
-one with an old friend whom no
-pressure would induce me to
-neglect, although for this, my first
-breakfast to-day, I was obliged
-to name the early hour of seven
-o’clock, as he lives in a remote part
-of London.”</p>
-
-<p>But it was only among his own
-mountains that Wordsworth could
-be understood. He walked among
-them not so much to admire them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>
-as to converse with them. They
-exchanged thoughts with him, in
-sunshine or flying shadow, giving
-him their own and accepting his.
-Day and night, at all hours, and
-in all weathers, he would face them.
-If it rained, he might fling his
-plaid over him, but would take no
-admonition. He must have his
-way. On such occasions, dutiful
-as he was in higher matters, he
-remained incurably wayward. In
-vain one reminded him that a letter
-needed an answer or that the
-storm would soon be over. It was
-very necessary for him to do what
-he liked; and one of his dearest
-friends said to me, with a smile of
-the most affectionate humor: “He
-wrote his ‘Ode to Duty,’ and then
-he had done with that matter.”
-This very innocent form of lawlessness,
-corresponding with the classic
-expression, “Indulge genio,”
-seemed to belong to his genius, not
-less than the sympathetic reverence
-with which he looked up to the higher
-and universal laws. Sometimes
-there was a battle between his reverence
-for nature and his reverence
-for other things. The friend already
-alluded to was once remarking
-on his varying expressions of
-countenance: “That rough old
-face is capable of high and real
-beauty; I have seen in it an expression
-quite of heavenly peace
-and contemplative delight, as the
-May breeze came over him from
-the woods while he was slowly
-walking out of church on a Sunday
-morning, and when he had half
-emerged from the shadow.” A
-flippant person present inquired:
-“Did you ever chance, Miss F&mdash;&mdash;,
-to observe that heavenly expression
-on his countenance as he was walking
-into church on a fine May
-morning?” A laugh was the reply.
-The ways of nature harmonized
-with his feelings in age as well as
-in youth. He could understand no
-estrangement. Gathering a wreath
-of white thorn on one occasion,
-he murmured, as he slipped it
-into the ribbon which bound the
-golden tresses of his youthful companion,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“And what if I enwreathed my own?</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">’Twere no offence to reason;</div>
-<div class="verse">The sober hills thus deck their brows</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To meet the wintry season.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SIR THOMAS MORE.<br />
-<i>A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.</i></h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.</p>
-
-<h4>III.</h4>
-
-<p>“Ah! well, and so you are going
-to carry the French birds back!”
-exclaimed the old keeper Jack, with
-a loud, coarse laugh, as he leaned
-against one of the century-old trees
-in Windsor forest. “Well, well,
-so be it, my friends; but give us a
-little drop to drink,” he added in
-a jocular but self-important tone.
-As he said these words, he familiarly
-slapped the shoulder of one of
-the falconers, who was engaged in
-fastening the chains again to the
-feet of the tiercelets, whilst his comrades
-cut off the heads of the game
-taken, and threw them as a reward
-to the cruel birds, who devoured
-them with avidity.</p>
-
-<p>“After a while,” replied the falconer
-a little impatiently. “Wait
-till our work is done, father Jack;
-you are always in a hurry&mdash;to drink.
-We will take our glass together
-now directly. See that troop of
-birds! They must first be chained
-and put with the others.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, well!” replied Jack, “provided
-we lose nothing by waiting.
-These are beautiful birds, if
-they do come from France.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no, you shall lose nothing
-by waiting,” cried the second falconer.
-“Come here; I will let you
-taste a liquid that these birds have
-brought over under their wings, and
-we will see then if you have ever
-drunk anything equal to it since
-you drew on your boots in the service
-of his majesty.”</p>
-
-<p>And he poured out of a canteen
-that hung from his shoulder-belt a
-very acid gin, filling, until it foamed
-over, a large pewter cup, which
-he handed to father Jack.</p>
-
-<p>It was swallowed at one draught.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! superb, superb!” cried the
-old keeper, returning the cup and
-smacking his lips. “During the five-and-forty
-years past that I have had
-the honor of keeping Windsor, I
-have drunk nothing better. Let’s
-go! That strengthens a man’s courage
-and warms up his old blood! I
-believe the deer will give us a hard
-drive to-day; I have seen the tracks
-of fourteen or fifteen at least.” And
-saying this, he remounted his old
-wind-broken mare.</p>
-
-<p>“Wait, father Jack, wait for us!
-We will all go together,” exclaimed
-the <i lang="fr">gens de l’equipage</i>; for Jack contributed
-much to their amusement.
-When they had mounted their
-horses, they followed the keeper,
-getting off a hundred jokes on the
-old mare, to which he was much attached.</p>
-
-<p>They very soon passed by two
-young lords who had halted near
-the verge of the forest, and were
-engaged in conversation.</p>
-
-<p>One of them held in leash four
-beautiful greyhounds, especial favorites
-of the king because of their
-great sagacity and swiftness in the
-chase. Their keeper, however, was
-obliged to use the lash, in order to
-stop their clamorous baying.</p>
-
-<p>“You have seen her, then?” he
-remarked to his companion.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I have seen her down yonder.
-She crossed the road with all
-of her ladies,” replied the latter, who
-belonged to Wolsey’s household
-and wore his livery. “She was
-dressed in a black velvet cap and
-green riding-habit and she is really
-charming!”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my poor friend,” replied
-the other, “but do you know I have
-serious fears that your cardinal will
-soon fall into disfavor? But a moment
-ago, as they passed by here, I
-heard the Duke of Norfolk remark
-to a lady that the red cloak was
-decidedly out of style, and altogether
-it was at this time so completely
-used up that he did not think it
-could ever again be mended. The
-lady smiled maliciously, and said
-he was right&mdash;she believed the
-green mantle would eventually end
-by tearing the red to pieces! And
-pointing to the young Anne Boleyn,
-who was not far off, she made a
-sign that left no doubt on my mind
-it was that lady she meant to designate
-as the destroyer.”</p>
-
-<p>“Truly,” replied the young domestic,<a name="FNanchor_137" id="FNanchor_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a>
-“what you tell me is anything
-but encouraging. And so our
-dear duke must have <em>his</em> finger in
-the pie! I shall be very sorry for
-all this if it happens, because my
-own clothes, are made of scarlet,
-you see; and when one has succeeded,
-in the course of time, in getting
-a suit well made up, he doesn’t like
-the trouble of having to commence
-again and make it over.”</p>
-
-<p>As he said this a cloud of dust
-arose, and a troop of horsemen
-passed at full gallop and with a terrible
-hue and cry.</p>
-
-<p>“My dogs! my dogs!” cried
-the king in the midst of the crowd.
-“Let loose my dogs! The deer
-makes for the ponds. Let them hasten
-to tell the ladies, that they may
-be in at the death.”</p>
-
-<p>He disappeared like a flash of
-lightning, of which we obtain but a
-glimpse ere it is gone. The shrill
-notes of the hunter’s horn resounded
-from afar, awaking countless
-echoes through the forest.</p>
-
-<p>“Let us go,” exclaimed the two
-young men simultaneously. “We
-will then get rid of these accursed
-hounds.”</p>
-
-<p>“To the ponds! To the ponds!”
-they cried. “The ladies, to the
-ponds! The ladies, to the ponds!”
-And they started on, laughing and
-shouting.</p>
-
-<p>“What is that you are shouting
-down there?” cried a huntsman
-from a distance, whose horse had
-just made him roll in the dust.</p>
-
-<p>“To the ponds! My lord, to
-the ponds!” they cried.</p>
-
-<p>The retinue surrounding the Duke
-of Suffolk put whip to their horses
-and followed in a sweeping gallop.
-From every side of the hills surrounding
-these ponds there appeared,
-at the same moment, troops
-of eager hunters, panting and covered
-with dust. The different roads
-traversing the forest in every direction
-converged and met on the
-banks of the ponds that slept in
-the basin thus formed.</p>
-
-<p>The ladies had already assembled,
-and nothing could have been
-more entertaining than the rapid
-and eager movements of the remainder
-of the hunters as they
-came galloping up. The king arrived
-before any of the others.
-He excelled in exercises of this
-kind, and took great delight in
-ending the chase in a brilliant
-manner by shooting the deer himself.
-On this occasion he had decided
-that, contrary to the usual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>
-custom, it should be taken alive;
-consequently, they hastened to
-spread in every direction the nets
-and fillets.</p>
-
-<p>In this case the skill of the hunters
-consisted in driving the game
-into the snare.</p>
-
-<p>Very soon the deer made his appearance,
-followed by a multitude
-of hounds, who pursued him so furiously,
-and crowded so closely one
-against the other, that, to use a
-familiar expression of the hunters,
-they could have been covered with
-a table-cloth.</p>
-
-<p>At sight of the nets the beautiful
-animal paused for an instant. He
-shook his horns menacingly, and
-stamped the ground with his feet;
-then suddenly, feeling already the
-scorching breath of the infuriated
-pack of hounds about to seize him,
-he made a desperate effort, and,
-leaping at a single bound the entire
-height of the fillets, threw himself
-into the lake. Instantly a loud and
-deafening shout arose, while the
-furious hounds, arrested in their
-course by the nets, uttered the most
-frightful howlings on seeing their
-prey escape.</p>
-
-<p>“My cross-bow!” cried the king.
-“Quick! my cross-bow!” and he
-drew it so skilfully that at the first
-shot he pierced the flank of the
-poor animal, who immediately ceased
-to swim.</p>
-
-<p>Satisfied with his brilliant success,
-the king, after having heard
-the plaudits of the ladies and received
-the congratulations of the
-hunters, proceeded to the pavilion,
-constructed of evergreens and foliage,
-as elegant as it was spacious,
-which he had had erected in the
-midst of the forest, in order to dine
-under cover.</p>
-
-<p>The Duchess of Suffolk did the
-honors of the festival, taking the
-place of Queen Catherine, who,
-under the pretext of bad health, declined
-appearing at these hunting
-parties, the noisy sports having become
-insupportable to her.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile the courtiers were
-greatly excited by observing a roll
-of paper the extremity of which
-projected from the right pocket of
-the king’s hunting-jacket; on one
-of the leaves, a corner of which was
-turned down, two words were visible&mdash;the
-name of “Wolsey” and
-that of “traitor.” Each one sought
-to approach the king or pass behind
-him in order to assure himself
-of the astonishing fact, of which
-they had the temerity to whisper
-mysteriously together.</p>
-
-<p>But in spite of all their efforts,
-they were unable to discover anything
-more; the day and the festival
-ended with numerous conjectures&mdash;the
-fears and hopes excited
-in the minds of that court where
-for so long the learned favorite had
-ruled with as much authority as
-the king himself.</p>
-
-<p class="break">At daybreak on the morning succeeding
-the festival the gates were
-thrown open, and a carriage, bearing
-the royal arms and colors, drove
-from the great courtyard of Windsor
-Palace.</p>
-
-<p>While the postilion trotted leisurely
-along, looking around from
-time to time as he wonderingly reflected
-why the horse on his right
-grew constantly lean in spite of the
-generous addition he had made to
-his rations, the two occupants of
-the carriage engaged in the following
-conversation:</p>
-
-<p>“It is cold this morning,” said
-one of them, wrapping his cloak
-more closely about him.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; and how this fog and the
-heavy dew covering the earth remind
-one of the bivouac!”</p>
-
-<p>“It does indeed,” responded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>
-Norfolk to his companion; “but
-such souvenirs are always agreeable,
-and carry us back to the happiest
-days of life&mdash;years spent amid the
-tumult and vicissitudes of the camp.
-Eighteen! that impulsive, impetuous
-age, when presumptuous courage
-rushes headlong into danger, comprehending
-nothing of death; when
-reckless intrepidity permits not a
-moment’s reflection or hesitation,
-transported by the ardent desire of
-acquiring glory; the intoxicating
-happiness of a first success&mdash;such
-are the thrilling emotions, the brilliant
-illusions of youth, which we
-shall experience no more!” And
-the old warrior sorrowfully bowed
-his head.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! well, others replace them,”
-replied Suffolk.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, to be displaced and disappear
-in their turn,” answered the
-duke, brushing back the white
-locks the wind had blown over his
-forehead, on which appeared a deep
-scar.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my lord,” exclaimed the
-Duke of Suffolk, “do not spoil, by
-your philosophic reflections, all the
-pleasure we ought to enjoy in the
-thought that, thanks to the influence
-and good management of
-your charming niece, we are now
-going to inform Monseigneur Wolsey
-that the time has at last arrived
-for him to abdicate his portion of
-the crown.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, perhaps so,” replied the
-duke. “And yet I don’t know.
-Yesterday, even, I detested this
-man, and desired most ardently his
-ruin; to-day&mdash;no, no; an enemy
-vanquished and prostrate at my
-feet inspires only compassion.
-Now I almost regret the injury my
-niece has done him and the blow
-she has struck.”</p>
-
-<p>“Come, come, my lord, do you
-not know that an excess of generosity
-becomes a fault? We have
-nothing to regret,” continued Suffolk,
-with an exulting laugh. “I
-only hope he may not be acquitted
-(and thus be able to settle the
-scores with us afterwards); that
-Parliament will show him no mercy.
-Death alone can effectually remove
-him. The little memorandum you
-have there contains enough to
-hang all the chancellors in the
-world.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is very certain,” replied the
-Duke of Norfolk, abstractedly turning
-the leaves of the book he held
-in his hand (the same that had excited
-such eager curiosity among
-the courtiers)&mdash;“it is certain this
-book contains grave accusations.
-Nevertheless, I do not think it has
-entirely accomplished the end proposed
-by the author.”</p>
-
-<p>“In truth, no,” answered Suffolk;
-“for Wiltshire counted very
-certainly on replacing Wolsey. He
-will be astounded when he learns
-of the choice of the king.”</p>
-
-<p>“Although Wiltshire is a relative
-of mine,” replied the duke, “I am
-compelled to acknowledge that it
-would have been impossible for
-the king to have made a better selection
-or avoided a worse one.
-Wiltshire is both ignorant and
-ambitious, while Thomas More has
-no superior in learning and merit.
-I knew him when quite a child, living
-with the distinguished Cardinal
-Morton, who was particularly attached
-to him. I remember very
-often at table Morton speaking
-of him to us, and always saying:
-‘This young boy will make an extraordinary
-man. You will see it.
-I shall not be living, but you will
-then recall the prediction of an old
-man.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Extraordinary!” replied Suffolk
-in his habitual tone of raillery;
-“most extraordinary! We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>
-are promised, then, a chancellor of
-a peculiar species! I suppose he
-will not be the least astonished at
-receiving so high and singular a
-favor. But, the devil! he will
-need to be a wonderful man. If
-he sustains himself on the throne
-ministerial, he will find a superior
-degree of wisdom necessary. Between
-the king, the queen, the
-council, Wiltshire, the Parliament,
-the clergy, and the people, I would
-not risk my little finger, brother-in-law
-of his majesty although I
-have the honor to be.”</p>
-
-<p>And he began laughing as he
-looked at Norfolk, although, out of
-deference to him, he had not included
-in the list of difficulties the
-most formidable of all, and the one
-that carried all others in its train&mdash;his
-niece, Mlle. Anne.</p>
-
-<p>“In the sense you use the word,”
-the duke answered coldly, “I believe,
-on the contrary, he is by no
-means an astute man. The intrigues
-of court will be altogether foreign
-to his character; but otherwise, in
-science and learning, he has no
-equal. He is in possession of all
-that a man is capable of acquiring
-in that direction, and no man has
-made a more profound study of the
-common law and the statutes of
-the kingdom. Morton placed him
-at Oxford, then at the Chancellors’
-College at Lincoln, and he achieved
-the most brilliant success.”</p>
-
-<p>“Admirable!” exclaimed Suffolk,
-laughing.</p>
-
-<p>“Since that time,” pursued the
-Duke of Norfolk, “his reputation
-has continued to increase. When
-he lectured in S. Lawrence’s Church,
-the celebrated Dr. Grocyn and all
-of our London <i lang="fr">savants</i> crowded
-eagerly to hear him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well! well! I knew nothing
-of these most agreeable particulars,”
-said Suffolk; “I only knew
-that it was he who induced Parliament
-to refuse the subsidy demanded
-for the Queen of Scots. If he
-continues to repeat such exploits
-as that, I venture to predict he will
-not be chancellor very long.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! as to that,” replied the
-duke, “he is a man who will never
-compromise his conscience. Yes,
-yes, I recall distinctly the enraged
-expression of the present king’s
-father when Mr. Tyler came to
-inform him that the House of
-Commons had rejected his demand,
-and a beardless youth had
-been the cause of it. I have not
-forgotten, either, that Henry VII.,
-of happy memory, well knew how
-to avenge himself by having an
-enormous fine imposed on Sir
-Thomas’ father.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” replied Suffolk, “but it
-was not always expedient for the
-House of Commons to raise money
-in that way.”</p>
-
-<p>The conversation was continued
-in this manner, as the hours glided
-by, until at length the glittering
-spires of the London churches appeared
-in the distance, and very
-soon the carriage had entered the
-narrow, gloomy streets of that great
-city.</p>
-
-<p class="break">Just at this time the soul of Wolsey
-was replenished with an inexpressible
-quietude and contentment.
-“At last,” he said to himself, “my
-enemies have all been confounded.
-I can no longer entertain a doubt
-respecting my power, after the most
-gracious manner in which the king
-has treated me at Grafton. I trust
-the influence of Anne Boleyn has
-diminished in the same proportion
-that mine has increased. Now she
-wants Sir Thomas Cheney recalled;
-but I shall not consent to that.
-Campeggio goes loaded with honorable
-presents. The influence of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>
-the mistress will soon cease, and
-that ambitious fool Wiltshire will
-lose the fruit of his intrigues.…”
-As the Cardinal of York consoled
-himself with these agreeable reflections,
-the arrival of the Venetian
-ambassador was announced.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! so he presents himself at
-last,” Wolsey exclaimed. “He has
-been a long time demanding an
-audience!” And he ordered him
-to be introduced.</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey received him in the most
-gracious manner. After the usual
-compliments were exchanged, he
-proposed showing him the honors
-of the palace. He had spent his
-life in embellishing and adorning
-it with wonderful treasures of industry
-and art, of which he was
-the enlightened and generous protector,
-bestowing on them from
-his own purse the most liberal encouragement.</p>
-
-<p>Numerous galleries, in which an
-exquisite taste had evidently directed
-even the most trivial ornamentation,
-were filled with paintings,
-statues, and precious antique
-vases. Superb Flanders tapestries
-gleamed on all sides, covered the
-panels, were disposed around the
-windows, and fell in heavy drapery
-before the openings of the doors to
-conceal the entrance. These precious
-cloths, then of inestimable
-value, were only found in the palaces
-of kings. They usually represented
-some historical or poetical
-subject; and sometimes landscapes
-and the rarest flowers were wrought
-and tinted with reflections of gold.
-Finally, Wolsey took occasion to
-point out, among all these treasures,
-the presents he had received at
-different times from the various
-princes of Europe who had sought
-to secure his influence.</p>
-
-<p>Charmed with the order, taste,
-and beauty that reigned throughout
-the palace, the Italian admired
-everything, surprised to find in this
-foreign clime a condition of luxury
-that recalled the memory, always
-pleasing, yet sometimes sad, of his
-own country.</p>
-
-<p>“Alas!” he exclaimed at length,
-“we also were rich and happy, and
-reposed in peace and security in
-our palaces, before this war in which
-we have been so unfortunate as to
-rely on the King of France for assistance.
-He has abandoned us;
-and now, compelled to pay an enormous
-tribute, the republic finds itself
-humiliated in the dust beneath
-the sceptre of the haughty emperor!”</p>
-
-<p>“Such is the right of the conqueror,”
-replied Wolsey. “You
-are fortunate, inasmuch as he is
-forced to use that right with moderation.”</p>
-
-<p>“It seems a heavy burden to
-us, this moderation!” replied the
-ambassador. “He not only exacts
-immense sums of money, but compels
-us to surrender territory we
-have conquered with our blood.
-Florence is placed under the dominion
-of the Medici, and all of our
-Italian princes are reduced to a
-condition of entire dependence.”</p>
-
-<p>“Which, of course, they will
-shake off at the first opportunity,”
-interrupted Wolsey. “Charles V. is
-too shrewd not to foresee that. Be
-assured he will endeavor to secure
-your good-will, because your support
-is indispensable to enable him
-to resist the formidable power of
-the Sultan Soliman, and the invasions
-of the barbarians subject to
-his authority.”</p>
-
-<p>“In that we have placed our last
-hope. If our services can be made
-available, then from vanquished
-enemies we may become united
-allies. Already the emperor foresees
-it; for he overwhelms Andrew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>
-Doria and the republic of Genoa
-with favors. He seems to have forgotten
-the injuries he suffered from
-Sforza; he received him most affably
-at court, and promised him the
-Princess of Denmark, his niece, in
-marriage.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am informed,” said Wolsey,
-“that he is deeply afflicted by the
-death of the Prince of Orange.”</p>
-
-<p>“Very much,” replied the ambassador.
-“The prince was a valiant
-captain. He leaves no children;
-his titles and landed property
-will descend to the children of his
-sister Rénée, the Countess of Nassau.”</p>
-
-<p>“And they are all German
-princes who have thrown themselves
-headlong into the Lutheran
-heresy. They will endeavor to cast
-off the yoke of the emperor, and become
-altogether independent.”</p>
-
-<p>“They have no other intention,”
-replied the ambassador; “and by
-separating from the Church of
-Rome they hope more surely to
-effect their purpose. However, the
-decree laid before the diet against
-the religious innovations has passed
-by a large majority.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” replied Wolsey; “but you
-see the Elector of Saxony, the Marquis
-of Brandenburg, the Landgrave
-of Hesse, the Dukes of
-Luneburg, and the Prince d’Anhalt
-are all leagued against the
-church, with the deputies of fourteen
-imperial cities, and are designated
-by no other name than that
-of Protestant.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am aware of that,” replied
-the ambassador. “It will greatly
-increase the difficulties in carrying
-out the emperor’s secret project,”
-he continued after a moment’s silence.
-“Perhaps, however, he may
-succeed in making the crown hereditary
-in his family.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is what we shall have to
-prevent!” cried Wolsey vehemently,
-who, at the words of the ambassador,
-felt all his old hatred toward
-Charles V. revive. “We will never
-suffer it, neither will France. No,
-no; I am very certain France will
-never permit it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” replied the ambassador,
-shaking his head with a doubtful
-air, either because he was not convinced,
-but more probably because
-he was well pleased to arouse
-against the conqueror of Venice the
-animosity of England (still, as he
-considered, entirely governed by
-the will of the minister who stood
-before him).</p>
-
-<p>“I assure you of it most positively,”
-answered Wolsey; “and I wish
-you to bear it in mind.” And he regarded
-him with an expression of
-perfect confidence and authority.</p>
-
-<p>“I hope it may be so,” said the
-ambassador in an abstracted manner.
-“We certainly desire nothing
-more.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! if he had only you to oppose
-him,” answered Wolsey, resuming
-his usual haughtiness, “I should
-doubt of success. See where you
-stand,” he continued, with the secret
-satisfaction of national pride.
-“Invaded on all sides, Italy can
-oppose but a feeble barrier to the
-power of two such bold and daring
-pirates. Is it not a shame, then, to
-see these obscure and cruel robbers,
-sons of a Lesbian potter&mdash;two barbarians,
-in fact&mdash;reigning sovereigns
-of the kingdom of Algiers, which
-they have seized, and from whence
-they fearlessly go forth to destroy
-the Christian fleets on every sea?
-When would you be able to conquer
-these ocean pirates&mdash;you, who
-have but a gibbet for your couch
-and a halter for your vestment?
-Justice would be kept a long time
-waiting!”</p>
-
-<p>The Italian reddened and bit his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>
-lip. He vainly sought words in
-which to reply, and was relieved
-of his embarrassment when the door
-opened and admitted the Dukes of
-Norfolk and Suffolk.</p>
-
-<p>They entered without the usual
-ceremonies or salutations, and
-Wolsey, surprised at seeing Suffolk,
-whom he had not met since the
-altercation at Blackfriars, regarded
-them with astonishment. He arose,
-however, and advanced toward
-them. Suffolk, with a disdainful
-gesture, referred him to the Duke
-of Norfolk.</p>
-
-<p>Astonished at the coldness of the
-one, the brusque impoliteness of
-the other, and embarrassed by the
-presence of the ambassador, the
-cardinal stood motionless, undecided
-what to think or say.</p>
-
-<p>“My lords,” he at length exclaimed,
-“what do you desire of
-me?”</p>
-
-<p>“We want you to deliver up the
-seal of state,” replied Norfolk, without
-changing countenance.</p>
-
-<p>“What do you say, my lord?”
-cried Wolsey, stupefied with astonishment.</p>
-
-<p>“The king has ordered it,” continued
-the duke with the same imperturbable
-manner.</p>
-
-<p>“The king! Can it be possible?”
-said Wolsey, dismayed, and
-in a voice almost inaudible. “The
-seal of state! And what have I
-done? What? Can this be true?
-No, my lord, no,” he suddenly exclaimed
-with an expression of indescribable
-terror; “it cannot be
-true! You have mistaken the
-king; I do not deserve any such
-treatment. I pray you let me see
-him; let me speak to him for a
-moment&mdash;one single moment. Alas!
-alas!”</p>
-
-<p>And he glanced at the ambassador,
-who, astounded himself at first,
-and feeling himself out of place in
-the presence of this mighty downfall,
-had involuntarily withdrawn towards
-the door.</p>
-
-<p>“It is no longer a question to be
-submitted to the king,” cried Suffolk
-in a threatening and defiant
-manner; “it is only necessary now
-to obey him, and he orders you instantly
-to deliver up the seal.”</p>
-
-<p>“The order is imperative,” added
-Norfolk in a cold and serious
-manner. “I regret being charged
-with a commission which to you,
-my lord, must be so painful.”</p>
-
-<p>He said no more. But Suffolk,
-base and jealous in his nature, was
-not ashamed to add to the humiliation
-of the unfortunate cardinal.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, my good friend,” he said
-in an ironical voice, “why do you
-beg so imploringly? One would suppose
-we had demanded the apple
-of your eye. You have been putting
-the seal so long now on our
-purses and tongues, you ought not
-to be surprised nor annoyed that
-we feel like using it awhile ourselves.”</p>
-
-<p>This cowardly insult exasperated
-Wolsey, but his courage was roused
-with his indignation.</p>
-
-<p>“My Lord Suffolk,” he answered
-with dignity, “I am sorry for
-you and for the prompt manner in
-which you seem to forget in their
-misfortune those who in days of
-prosperity were always found ready
-to come to your assistance. I hope
-you may never experience how
-painful it is to endure a similar
-cruel ingratitude.”</p>
-
-<p>He immediately withdrew, and
-returned with the richly-adorned
-casket containing the great seal of
-state.</p>
-
-<p>Holding it in his trembling hand,
-he avoided Suffolk, and, advancing
-rapidly toward the Duke of Norfolk,
-handed it to him.</p>
-
-<p>“My lord,” he said, “here are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>
-the seals of the kingdom of England.
-Let the king’s will be done.
-Since I received them from his
-hand, fifteen years ago, I am conscious
-of having done nothing to
-merit his displeasure. I trust he
-will one day deign to render me
-full justice, for I have never proved
-myself unworthy of his favor.”</p>
-
-<p>As he uttered the last words, he
-was unable to restrain the tears
-which involuntarily arose to his
-eyes.</p>
-
-<p>Although the cardinal was by no
-means a favorite with the Duke of
-Norfolk, he was moved with compassion,
-and sadly reflected that he
-had still more painful intelligence
-to communicate.</p>
-
-<p>He glanced at his companion,
-but, fearing the bitter and poignant
-irony in which Suffolk never failed
-to indulge, he hastened to prevent
-it in order to spare Wolsey.</p>
-
-<p>“My lord cardinal,” he said,
-“you ought to reflect that the king
-is too just and impartial to withdraw
-the favor he has so long bestowed
-on you without having
-weighed well the reasons and necessities
-requiring such a course.
-Nevertheless, his goodness has not
-abandoned you; he permits you to
-select such counsel as you may desire
-to defend you against the accusations
-presented against you to
-Parliament.”</p>
-
-<p>“To Parliament!” murmured
-Wolsey, terror-stricken; for the
-duke’s last words suddenly disclosed
-the depth of the abyss into which
-he had fallen. “To Parliament!”
-he repeated. The shock he had
-experienced was so violent that his
-pride of character, the sense of personal
-dignity, the presence of his
-enemies, were all forgotten in a
-moment, and he abandoned himself
-to despair. Unable longer to sustain
-himself, he sank on his knees.
-“I am lost!” he cried, weeping and
-extending his hands toward his persecutors.
-“Have pity on me, my
-Lord Norfolk! I give up all to the
-king! Let him do with me what he
-will! Since he says I am culpable,
-although I have never had the intention,
-yet I will acknowledge that I
-am. But, alas! of what do they
-accuse me?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of having violated the statutes
-of præmunire,” replied Norfolk.</p>
-
-<p>“And betraying your country,”
-continued Suffolk, “by carrying on
-a secret correspondence with the
-King of France. You well remember
-that it was you who had me
-recalled at the moment when, having
-become master of Artois and
-Picardy, I had the Parisians trembling
-within their walls? Will you
-dare deny that you were the cause
-of it, and that it was the <i lang="fr">prière d’argent</i>
-of Mme. Louise<a name="FNanchor_138" id="FNanchor_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> induced you
-to give the order for me to retire?
-The king has been already long
-enough your dupe, and our duty
-was to enlighten him. As to the
-rest, my lord cardinal, you understand
-the proceedings; your advocate
-ought to be here, and you
-should immediately confer with him
-with regard to the other charges
-herein contained.”</p>
-
-<p>As he said this, he threw on the
-cardinal’s table the bill of presentment,
-which contained no less than
-forty-four chief accusations.</p>
-
-<p>They then took possession of all
-the papers they could find, carrying
-away the seal of state, and left
-Wolsey in a condition deserving
-pity.</p>
-
-<p>As they retired, they proposed
-sending in the advocate, who was
-waiting in an adjoining apartment
-conversing with Cromwell.</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! ha! you are here, then, Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>
-Cromwell,” said the Duke of Suffolk,
-laughing. “Go in, go in there at
-once,” he cried, pointing to the
-door of Wolsey’s cabinet. “The
-cardinal needs you; I fear he will
-be hard to console.”</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell watched with great
-anxiety the course of events, and,
-not knowing to which side to turn,
-determined at least to secure for
-himself the appearance and merit
-of fidelity to his benefactor. Without
-reflecting on the consequences,
-he hastily replied that he would
-not leave Wolsey, would never abandon
-him, but follow him to the end.</p>
-
-<p>“You will follow him to the end,
-eh?” replied Suffolk. “When you
-know his intended destination, I
-doubt very much if you will then
-ask to follow him.”</p>
-
-<p>As he said this, he made a gesture
-giving Cromwell to understand
-that his master, besides losing
-place and power, was also in danger
-of losing his head.</p>
-
-<p>“High treason, my dear sir, high
-treason!” cried Suffolk. “Do you
-hear me?”</p>
-
-<p>“High treason?” repeated Cromwell
-slowly. “Ah! my lord duke,
-how could he be guilty?”</p>
-
-<p>He hastened to rejoin Wolsey,
-whom he found bathed in tears
-and endeavoring to decipher the
-act of presentment.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! Cromwell,” exclaimed the
-unhappy cardinal on seeing him,
-“my dear friend, you have not then
-forsaken me! But, alas! I am lost.
-Read here for yourself&mdash;read it
-aloud to me; for my sight is failing.”</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell seized the paper and
-commenced reading the accusation.
-On hearing that it was based principally
-on the violation of the statutes
-of præmunire,<a name="FNanchor_139" id="FNanchor_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> Wolsey was unable
-to control his indignation.</p>
-
-<p>“How,” he cried, “can the king
-be induced to sanction such unparalleled
-injustice? It is true that in
-receiving from the pope the title of
-legate, and exercising throughout
-the kingdom the authority conferred
-by that title, I have been
-brought in opposition to the precautionary
-statutes of King Richard;
-but still I have not violated
-them, since the king himself has
-sanctioned that power and recognized
-it by appearing in his own
-person before the court. Is he not
-more to blame, then, who desired and
-ordered it, than I, who have simply
-been made a party to it? I can
-prove this,” he cried&mdash;“yes, I can
-prove it; for I have still the letters-patent,
-signed by his own hand, and
-which he furnished me to that effect.
-Cromwell, look in my secretary;
-you will find them there.”</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell opened the secretary,
-but found nothing.</p>
-
-<p>“There is not a single paper
-here,” he said. “Where could
-you have placed them?”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed!” exclaimed the cardinal.
-“Then they have all been
-carried away! All!” he repeated.
-“I have no longer any means of
-defence; I am lost! They are all
-arrayed against me; they have resolved
-upon my death. O Henry!
-O my king! is it thus you
-forget in one moment the services
-I have rendered you? Cromwell,”
-he continued in a low voice and
-gloomy, abstracted manner&mdash;“Cromwell,
-I am lost!”</p>
-
-<p>The same evening another messenger
-came to inform the unhappy
-cardinal the king wished to occupy,
-during the session of Parliament
-he was about to convene, his palace
-of York (the object of his care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>
-and pride), and that in leaving it he
-could retire to, and have at his disposal,
-a house about eight leagues
-from London, entirely abandoned,
-and belonging to the bishopric of
-Winchester.</p>
-
-<p class="break">The night, already far advanced,
-found Sir Thomas More still seated
-in his cabinet, conversing with the
-Bishop of Rochester, who had arrived
-at Chelsea very late that
-morning.</p>
-
-<p>A light was burning on a long
-table encumbered with books and
-papers; several high-backed chairs,
-covered with black morocco, cast
-their shadows on the walls; a capacious
-rug of white sheep-skin
-was spread before the hearth, where
-the remains of a fire still burned
-in the grate.</p>
-
-<p>Such was the simplicity of the
-home of Sir Thomas More.</p>
-
-<p>“And why, my dear friend,” asked
-the Bishop of Rochester, “will
-you consent to take upon your
-shoulders so terrible a responsibility?
-Once become chancellor,
-have you fully considered that you
-will be surrounded by enemies, who
-will watch your every movement
-and pursue you even to your death?
-Have you reflected well that you
-acknowledge no other laws than
-those of your own conscience, and
-feel no remorse unless for not having
-spoken your views with sufficient
-candor? Is it thus you hope
-to resist&mdash;thus you hope to escape
-the snares that will continually surround
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>“I fear nothing,” replied More;
-“for I believe in God! And you
-yourself&mdash;would you not blame such
-weakness? In refusing the king I
-refuse the queen. Would not Catherine
-then declare that the trusted
-servant, even he who had been
-called her friend, had sacrificed
-her interests to his love of ease?
-He had declared his life should be
-devoted to her cause, and now had
-abandoned and deprived her of
-the only hope of relief Providence
-seemed to have left her! No,
-Fisher, friendship has rights too
-sacred for me not to respect them.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then,” cried the bishop, “if
-you respect the rights of friendship,
-listen to my appeal! I ask
-you to decline a dignity that will
-prove destructive to you. In the
-name of all that you hold most
-dear, in the name of all that is
-good and beautiful in nature, in
-the entire universe, I conjure you
-to refuse this fatal honor! It is
-more than probable the very seal
-they wish now to place in your
-hands will be very soon affixed to
-your death-warrant! Believe me,
-my friend, all will unite against
-you. A deep conviction has taken
-possession of my soul, and I see, I
-feel, the wrath of this prince, as violent
-as he is cruel, ready to fall upon
-your devoted head. You will
-be crushed in this struggle, too unequal
-to admit for an instant the
-hope of escape.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! well,” replied More laughingly,
-“instead, then, of simply inscribing
-on my tombstone ‘Here
-lies Thomas More,’ there will appear
-in pompous style the inscription,
-‘Here lies the Lord High
-Chancellor of England.’ Assuredly,
-I think that would sound much
-better, and I shall take care to bequeath
-my first quarter’s salary to
-defray the expense of so elegant
-an inscription.”</p>
-
-<p>“More!” cried the Bishop of
-Rochester with impatience, “I cannot
-suffer you to jest on a subject
-of such grave importance. Do
-you, then, desire to die? Would
-you ruin yourself? Trust to my
-experience. I know the heart of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>
-Henry thoroughly; your attempt
-to save the queen will be vain, and
-you will inevitably be involved in
-her ruin. I conjure you, then, accept
-not this office. I will myself
-carry your refusal to the king.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no!” exclaimed More. “I
-have decided&mdash;decided irrevocably.”</p>
-
-<p>“Irrevocably?” repeated Rochester,
-whom the thought reduced almost
-to despair. “More, I see it.
-You have become ambitious; the
-vainglory of the world, the fatal
-infatuation of its honors, have taken
-possession even of the soul of
-Thomas More! Your heart no
-longer responds to mine; your ear
-remains deaf to all my solicitations!
-Ah! well, since the desire
-of being honored among men, and
-to have them grovel at your feet,
-has made even you despise my
-counsel and advice, then listen, listen
-well, and God grant that I may
-be able to destroy in your heart
-the poison that pride has poured
-into it! You are willing to sacrifice
-to your vanity all the happiness,
-all the quiet and peace, of
-your future; know, then, what recompense
-will be meted out to you.
-Yesterday Wolsey was in a manner
-driven from his palace, and descended
-the Thames in a common boat,
-Cromwell alone accompanying him;
-for all have deserted him except
-his enemies, who, in order to enjoy
-his calamities, crowded the river
-in boats and followed after him.
-They hoped to see him arrested
-and carried to the Tower, the report
-having been circulated that he
-would be taken there. Wolsey&mdash;he
-whom you have so often seen make
-his appearance in Parliament, surrounded
-by an almost royal pomp
-and splendor&mdash;is now a fugitive,
-alone, abandoned, without defence,
-of the clamorous insults and bitter
-scorn of a populace always eager
-to feast their eyes on the ruins of
-fallen greatness. The air around
-him resounded with their maledictions.
-‘Here is the man who fattened
-on the blood of the poor,’
-they cried. ‘The taxes will be reduced
-now,’ exclaimed others,
-‘since he will have no farther use
-for palaces and gardens’; and all,
-in their ignorance, abused him as
-the cause of the wrongs and oppressions
-which it was probably
-not in his power to have averted.
-At length, overwhelmed with insults
-and outrages, he was landed
-at Pultney, and, in order to escape
-the mob, was hurriedly conducted
-to his house at Asher, where he has
-been banished. Such is the reward
-you will receive in the service of
-an avaricious prince and a blind
-infatuated multitude!”</p>
-
-<p>He paused, overcome by anxiety
-and excitement.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear Fisher,” responded
-More, deeply moved, “our hearts
-and thoughts are always in unison;
-you have only represented to me a
-second time the picture I had already
-painted myself.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed!” cried Rochester; “and
-do you still hesitate?”</p>
-
-<p>“What!” replied More, resolutely,
-“and does it require so much
-hesitation to sacrifice one’s self?
-I would not wish to live dishonored;
-and I should consider myself
-guilty if I forgot my duty toward
-my sovereign and the honor of
-England!”</p>
-
-<p>“So you are resolved! Ah! well,
-let your sacrifice be accomplished,”
-said the saintly bishop; “but then
-may God, whose goodness is infinite,
-hear my vows and grant my
-prayer: may the same dangers unite
-us; side by side with you may my
-last sigh be breathed out with yours;
-and if the life of the aged man is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>
-not extinguished before that of the
-man in his prime, then may the
-stroke of death cut us down at the
-same moment!”</p>
-
-<p>“My dear friend,” cried More,
-“the many years that have passed
-over your head and blanched your
-locks have not yet ripened your
-judgment, since you can believe it
-possible that the king’s anger, although
-it may one day fall on me,
-could ever be permitted to overtake
-you, the counsellor of his
-youth, whom he has so often called
-his father! No, I can conceive of
-no such fearful possibility; the wise,
-the virtuous Bishop of Rochester
-can never be involved in the misfortune
-that would crush Thomas
-More.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” replied Fisher, “but I
-shall understand how to call down
-on my head the vengeance with
-which he may hesitate to strike me.
-Believe me, More, a man scarcely
-reaches the prime of life before he
-feels himself, as it were, daily beginning
-to fail. Just as in the autumn
-days the sun’s light rapidly
-diminishes, so the passing years
-despoil his body of physical strength
-and beauty; but it has no effect
-upon his soul. The heart&mdash;no, the
-heart never grows old! It loves,
-it suffers, as in the early morning of
-life; and when at last it has reached
-the age when wisdom and experience
-have destroyed the illusions
-of the passions, friendship, strengthened
-by so many blessed memories,
-reigns there alone and entire, like a
-magnificent flower that has been
-sheltered and preserved from the
-destroying worm.</p>
-
-<p>“Having almost arrived at the
-end of his career, he often takes a
-survey of the road he has passed
-over. He loves to recall his joys
-and his sorrows, and to weep again
-for the friends he has lost. I know
-that presumptuous youth imagines
-that the prudence he refuses to
-obey is the only good that remains
-after the labors of life have been
-terminated by time.</p>
-
-<p>“Your feelings are not in unison
-with those of an old man. It is because
-you do not understand them.
-He lives in memory, and you in
-hope. You pursue a phantom, a
-chimera, the nothingness of which
-he has already experienced; you
-accuse him, he complains of you,
-and often you do not deign to regard
-the last bitter tear that is
-drawn from him at the sight of the
-tomb into which he must soon descend.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh!” exclaimed More, “you
-whom I venerate as a father and
-love as a friend&mdash;can you doubt for
-one moment the truth of a heart
-entirely devoted to you? Confirmed
-by your example, guided and
-sustained by your counsels, what
-have I to fear? Banish from your
-mind these sad presentiments. Why
-should this dread of the future, that
-perhaps after all is only chimerical,
-destroy the extreme happiness I
-enjoy in seeing you?”</p>
-
-<p>For a long time they continued
-to converse, until the light of early
-morning at length succeeded the
-uncertain glimmer of the candle,
-now flickering in its socket.</p>
-
-<p>“My friend, I must leave you,”
-said Rochester. “The day already
-dawns. God grant the sun may
-not this morning arise on the beginning
-of your misfortunes!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! no,” replied More, “this
-is my <i lang="fr">fête</i> to-day. S. Thomas will
-pray for and protect us.”</p>
-
-<p>The good bishop then descended
-to the courtyard and mounted his
-mule; but More, unwilling to give
-him up, walked on by his side as
-far as the road followed the course
-of the river. When they reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>
-the cross-road where the bishop
-turned off, More shook his hand
-and bade him farewell.</p>
-
-<p>A great wooden cross stood near
-the roadside, on which was suspended
-a wreath of withered
-leaves; and More, seating himself
-on one of the stone steps upon
-which the cross was elevated, followed
-the good bishop with his
-eyes until he had disappeared in
-the distance.</p>
-
-<p>He then rested his head sadly on
-his hands, and recalled to mind all
-this venerable friend had said to
-him.</p>
-
-<p>“He is right!” he mentally exclaimed.
-“How clear-sighted his
-friendship renders him! Into what
-a sea of agitation, malignity, and
-hatred I shall be plunged! And
-all for what? In order that I may
-be lord chancellor of the kingdom
-through which this road passes.
-Behold, then, beside the highway,”
-he added, looking around him, “my
-lord the great high chancellor,
-shivering in the cold morning air
-just as any other man would do
-who had gone out at this hour without
-putting on his cloak!… Yes,
-I can understand how social distinctions
-might cause us to scorn
-other men, if they exempted us
-from the inconveniences of life.
-We might then perhaps believe that
-we had different natures. But let
-us change our garments, and we
-fall at once, and are immediately
-confounded with the common
-herd.”</p>
-
-<p>While making these sad reflections
-upon the follies of human nature,
-More arose and returned to
-the house, where his wife and children
-and his aged father&mdash;simple
-and peaceable old man, happy in
-the favor of the king and the virtues
-of his son&mdash;were all wrapped
-in profound slumber.</p>
-
-<p>In a spacious apartment, of which
-the dark and worm-eaten ceiling,
-ragged tapestry, and dilapidated
-windows presented the appearance
-of a desolate and abandoned edifice,
-a fragment of broken furniture still
-remained, upon which was placed
-a small piece of bread. Numberless
-crumbs strewed the dusty floor
-and were eagerly devoured by a little
-mouse, but recently the only
-inhabitant of the place. To-day,
-however, he had the company of a
-man whose extraordinary mind had
-conceived vast projects and executed
-great and useful enterprises&mdash;the
-Archbishop of York, Cardinal
-Wolsey. Seated upon the edge of
-a wooden stool which he had placed
-in the embrasure of a window, he
-held his hands crossed one upon
-the other, and bitterly reflected upon
-his unhappy destiny. Regrets,
-of which he felt all the impotency,
-pressed upon his agitated soul. It
-seemed to him that he still heard
-the cries and menaces of the furious
-populace that exulted in his distress,
-and to which perhaps, alas! he
-would again be subjected. At one
-time filled with courage and resolution,
-at another humble and cast
-down, the anxieties of his mind
-seemed wholly without measure.
-His eyes, wearied with straying
-listlessly over the plain which extended
-before him, beheld only a
-single laborer ploughing the field.
-“Man is small,” said he, “in presence
-of immensity; the point which
-he forms in space is imperceptible.
-Entire generations have passed
-away, have gathered the fruits of
-the earth, and now sleep in their
-native dust. My name has been unknown
-to them. Millions of creatures
-suffer, where I exist free from pain.
-Coming up from the lowest ranks
-of society, I have endeavored to
-elevate myself above them. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>
-what has my existence signified to
-them? Has not each one considered
-himself the common centre
-around which all the others must
-revolve?”</p>
-
-<p>Here Wolsey, impelled by extreme
-hunger, approached the little worm-eaten
-table, and took up the morsel
-of dry bread left from his repast
-the evening before.</p>
-
-<p>Just as he was raising it to his
-mouth a man entered, dressed in
-the most scrupulous manner, and
-enveloped in an ample cloak of the
-finest material.</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey was startled, and gazed
-at him in astonishment.</p>
-
-<p>“What! Arundel,” he exclaimed
-at last, “what could have brought
-you to this place?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yourself,” replied Arundel, in
-a frank, abrupt manner. “You
-have lost everything, and have never
-informed me by a word! Do you
-think, then, I have forgotten all you
-have done for me?”</p>
-
-<p>“The favors I have conferred on
-you were so slight,” replied Wolsey,
-“that it would have been natural
-you should have no longer remembered
-them, especially since many
-who owe their wealth, and perhaps
-their lives, to me have so completely
-forgotten it.”</p>
-
-<p>“I have never learned how to
-flatter nor to wear velvet gloves,”
-replied Arundel; “but I am still
-more ignorant of the art of forgetting
-past favors. No, it has never
-been my custom to act thus; and
-you have offended me more than
-you imagine by proving you believed
-me capable of such baseness.”</p>
-
-<p>As he said this, Arundel took
-from his bosom an immense purse
-of red satin, filled with gold, and
-laid it on the dilapidated table beside
-a package of clothing which he
-had thoughtfully added to his gift.</p>
-
-<p>“There are no acknowledgments
-to be made,” he remarked; “it is
-essential first of all that you be
-made comfortable. You can return
-this when it suits your convenience.
-Now let us say no more about it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Alas!” cried Wolsey, “are you
-not aware, then, that I may never
-be able to return it? They will
-divide my ecclesiastical benefices
-among them. The Duke of Norfolk
-and the Earl of Wiltshire have
-already been put in possession of
-the revenue from my bishopric of
-Winchester. This is the only food
-I have had since I came here,” he
-added, showing him the bread he
-still held in his hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed! It is not very delicate,”
-replied Arundel; “but it is your
-own fault. When one has friends,
-he should not neglect them, and
-that is just what you have done.”</p>
-
-<p>“Misfortune often renders us
-unjust,” answered the cardinal,
-deeply moved by the generous
-frankness and brusque proceedings
-of Arundel, whom he had always,
-until now, regarded as being haughty
-and ungrateful, because he had
-never observed him among his
-crowd of fawning courtiers. “I
-must confess that I could not endure
-the thought of being repulsed
-by those for whom I have done
-everything. I do not believe that
-among the immense number of those
-who daily wearied me with protestations
-of their ostentatious regard
-there is to-day one who has condescended
-to think of me in my misfortunes.
-You only have thought
-to succor me in my distress&mdash;you,
-who, without my being aware of it,
-have doubtless been all the while
-the most sincere among them all.”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot believe,” replied Arundel,
-without appearing to notice
-the acknowledgments with which
-Wolsey continued to overwhelm
-him, “that they would all thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>
-have abandoned you had they
-known the extreme severity with
-which you have been treated; it
-would be too foul a blot upon the
-name of humanity. Notwithstanding
-they laugh at our misfortunes, I
-think it appears worse to us than it
-really is. No, be assured you will
-find some faithful friends who will
-defend you. For instance, Sir Thomas
-More, your successor, whose
-fortune you have made, cannot fail
-to use his influence in your favor.”</p>
-
-<p>“More owes me nothing,” replied
-the cardinal. “I have not made
-his fortune; when I proposed him
-to the king as Treasurer of the Exchequer,
-he had for a long time
-been acquainted with his rare
-merits. Knowing that the appointment
-would prove both useful and
-agreeable to the king, I recommended
-him to make it; but really it was
-more for the king’s benefit than
-More’s. Besides, I am aware that
-More is one of the most zealous
-partisans of Catherine. Thus, you
-see, there exists no reason why he
-should feel inclined to assist me. I
-am only surprised that a man of
-his exalted integrity should accept
-a position where he will necessarily
-be compelled to act in opposition
-to his convictions.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is with the eager desire of
-ultimately being able to convert all
-the world and to correct all consciences,”
-replied Arundel with a
-smile of derision; for he never lost
-an occasion of ridiculing the importance
-which many attach to political
-intrigues, and, as they say, to
-the public good, in whose management
-they pretend to take a hand,
-in order to win admiration at any
-cost for their talents. “And verily,
-he will find it difficult to sustain
-his position, unless he becomes the
-very humble servant of my Lady
-Anne, regent of the kingdom; for
-nothing is done but what she ordains,
-and her uncle, whom she has
-appointed chief of the council, executes
-the orders which the king
-claims the honor of communicating
-to him. Oh!” continued Arundel
-in the same ironical tone, and
-without perceiving the painful effect
-his words produced on the unhappy
-cardinal, “truly it is a very great
-advantage, and above all highly
-honorable for England, to see her
-king put in tutelage to the caprices
-of a woman as weak and vain as
-she is arrogant. If he was absolutely
-determined to go into leading-strings,
-why did he not beseech
-the good Queen Catherine to take
-charge of him? She, at least, would
-have been careful to hold the reins
-equally on both sides, so that the
-swaddling could have been made to
-walk straight.”</p>
-
-<p>“A swaddling,” repeated Wolsey, “… who
-devoured his nurse!”</p>
-
-<p>“Hold, my dear lord,” continued
-Arundel; “it cannot be denied that
-you have made a great mistake in
-encouraging the king in his divorce
-project&mdash;yes, a great mistake, which
-they now begin to discover. But I
-do wrong, perhaps, to reproach you,
-since you are the first to be punished
-for your manner of seeing things.
-But listen to me; as for myself, if,
-in order to avoid dying of starvation,
-or being compelled to subsist
-on just such bread as you have
-there, I had been obliged to accept
-the place of lord chancellor, on
-the day when I found myself relieved
-of so burdensome and exacting
-an office I should have cried aloud:
-‘Thank heaven that I am again
-seated by my own fireside, where in
-peace and quiet I can get up at
-my leisure and contemplate passing
-events.’ For myself, these are my
-principles: to have nothing to do
-is the first essential to happiness;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>
-nothing to lose, the second; nothing
-to disturb or annoy, the third; and
-upon these rest all the others.
-Such is my system&mdash;the best of all
-systems, the only.…”</p>
-
-<p>Arundel would have still continued
-explaining the numerous theories
-he had originated for securing
-happiness for an indefinite length
-of time, perhaps, but he suddenly
-perceived that Wolsey no longer
-heard him, but, with his head sunk
-on his breast, seemed absorbed in
-thought.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my lord,” said Arundel,
-“you are not listening to me, it
-seems? Really, it is not worth
-while to explain to you the true
-method of being happy.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! my dear Arundel,” replied
-Wolsey, aroused by the exclamation
-of his visitor, “how could
-you expect me to think of profiting
-by your lessons, or to make an application
-of your theories of happiness,
-when at this very moment,
-perhaps, I have been condemned to
-death by Parliament?”</p>
-
-<p>“There is no proof of that,”
-replied Arundel. “Sufficient unto
-the day is the evil&mdash;gloomy apprehensions
-profit us nothing; they
-do not delay the progress of
-events; on the contrary, they send
-them on us in advance, and only
-serve to aggravate the consequences.
-Moreover, I must not forget
-to suggest that if it would be more
-agreeable for you to be with your
-friends, there are many who will
-be happy to receive you, and offer
-you a mansion as commodious, although
-less sumptuously furnished,
-than your palace of York or that
-of Hampton Court, the latter of
-which I have never liked since you
-added the gallery.”</p>
-
-<p>“What is that gallery to me
-now? I surrender it up to you,”
-said the cardinal.</p>
-
-<p>The endless arguments of Arundel
-began to weary him exceedingly.
-In spite of the extreme gratitude
-he felt for his sincere and generous
-offers, Wolsey could not divest
-himself of the conviction that
-Arundel belonged to that class
-who, while in other respects full
-of good impulses and laudable intentions,
-are so entirely wanting in
-tact and delicacy, and contend so
-urgently for their own opinions,
-that the consolations they would
-force you to adopt, far from alleviating
-your sufferings, only augment
-them and render their sympathy
-irksome and oppressive. This feeling
-was experienced by Wolsey,
-uncertain as he was what fate was
-reserved for him, trembling even
-for his life, while Arundel endeavored
-to paint for him a minute picture
-of the happiness and tranquillity
-enjoyed by a man living in
-peace and quiet, with nothing to
-disturb him in the enjoyment of
-his possessions.</p>
-
-<p>“Alas!” he exclaimed at length
-impatiently, “why has not kind
-Providence blessed me with a nature
-like yours? I should be less
-unhappy, nor every instant see
-yawning before me the terrible
-depths of the precipice on which
-I now stand. I could catch, at
-least, at the branches of absurdity,
-until the moment when I should be
-dashed to pieces! But no, I cannot;
-I am too well acquainted with
-men and things to expect the
-slightest assistance. They are always
-ready to strike those who are
-falling, but never attempt to raise
-them up. Yesterday, only yesterday,
-the commissioners of Parliament
-demanded of me the letters-patent
-I had received from the king in order
-to exercise my authority as legate,
-although every one knew that,
-as he had given them to me, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span>
-his right alone to take them away
-again. Ah! well, they have persisted
-in their demand, and have
-refused to believe me on oath!
-No, I will indulge in no more illusions;
-my enemies have sworn
-my death, and they will obtain it!
-And the king, the king my master,
-after fifteen years of the most faithful
-service, he delivers me up, helpless
-and defenceless, to all the cruelties
-their hatred may inspire; and
-yet you, Arundel, think that I
-should still indulge in hope?”</p>
-
-<p>“But all this will be arranged, I
-tell you,” replied Arundel with an imperturbable
-coolness. “You should
-not trouble yourself in advance,
-because, if the worst <em>should</em> happen,
-it will change nothing; and if
-it does <em>not</em>, your present suffering
-will have been needless.”</p>
-
-<p>As Arundel finished this wise reasoning,
-Cromwell appeared.</p>
-
-<p>He came from London, where he
-had been, he said, to defend Wolsey
-before the Parliament.</p>
-
-<p>On seeing him enter the cardinal
-was seized with an uncontrollable
-alarm, thinking his fate had been
-decided.</p>
-
-<p>“Cromwell!” he cried, and could
-say no more.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” replied Cromwell, “you
-should not thus give way to your
-apprehensions, although.…” He
-paused on seeing the cardinal grow
-deadly pale. “You need have no
-uneasiness, because the king has
-sent Norris to bid me assure you
-he would take you under his protection.”</p>
-
-<p>“I have been condemned, then!”
-cried the unhappy Wolsey. “Speak,
-Cromwell, speak; conceal nothing
-from me. I am not a child,” he
-added with firmness.</p>
-
-<p>“You have been condemned by
-the Star Chamber, but the king
-says he will have the bill rejected
-in the House of Commons,” replied
-Cromwell.</p>
-
-<p>“He will not do it!” cried Wolsey,
-the tears coursing rapidly
-down his cheeks. “He will sacrifice
-me, Cromwell, I know it; he
-has no longer any use for me, and
-my past services have left no impression
-on his mind. But how
-far has their rage carried them?
-To what have they condemned
-me?”</p>
-
-<p>“You have been placed beyond
-the protection of the king, and all
-your property confiscated.”</p>
-
-<p>“The king’s protection is already
-recovered,” gently interrupted Arundel,
-who had listened until this time
-in silence. “As for the confiscation,
-that will be more difficult, inasmuch
-as they are generally more ready to
-take than to give. However, my
-dear cardinal, you should despair
-of nothing; then let us try and
-console you. They cannot confiscate
-me, who have never had anything
-to do with the gentlemen of
-the council. I have a good house,
-an excellent cook; you will come
-home with me, and, my word for it,
-you shall want for nothing.”</p>
-
-<p>“Arundel,” interrupted the cardinal,
-“I am deeply grateful for
-your kind offer; but believe me,
-they will not leave me the choice
-of profiting by it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why not? why not?” exclaimed
-Arundel. “The devil! Why,
-these gentlemen of the council are
-not wild beasts! A little avaricious,
-a little ambitious, a little envious,
-and slightly selfish, but they
-are at least as accommodating as
-the devil!”</p>
-
-<p>“No!” replied Wolsey.</p>
-
-<p>“I assure you, before receiving
-the king’s message,” said Cromwell,
-“I was in despair, for they spoke
-of having you arrested and immediately
-urging the accusation of high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>
-treason; but since the king has declared
-you under his protection, I
-do not believe that all is entirely
-lost. Norris has repeated to me
-twenty times: ‘Say positively to
-the cardinal that the king advises
-him not to be troubled, and to remember
-that he can give him,
-any moment he pleases, far more
-than they can take away.’”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope I may be mistaken, dear
-Cromwell,” replied the cardinal
-with a sombre air; “but I fear a
-momentary compassion only has
-excited the king to say what you
-tell me, and it will not be long
-before that wicked night-bird<a name="FNanchor_140" id="FNanchor_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a>
-will again have possession of his ear.
-She will not fail to use her influence
-in defaming me and blackening anew
-all my actions, until the king will
-cease to oppose the wicked designs
-they have conceived against me.”</p>
-
-<p>Saying this, he buried his face in
-his hands and sank into a state of
-despondency impossible to describe.</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell made no reply, and
-Arundel silently took his leave, inwardly
-congratulating himself, as he
-returned home, upon the tranquil and
-happy life he knew so well how to
-lead, and censuring those who
-would not imitate his example;
-without once reflecting that few
-were in a position so agreeable or
-independent as his, and consequently
-were not able to enjoy themselves
-equally nor after his own deliberate
-fashion.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>SINE LABE CONCEPTA</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Predestined second Eve. For this conceiv’d</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Immaculate&mdash;not lower than the first.</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Chosen beginner in the loss reversed,</div>
-<div class="verse">And mediatress in the gain achieved,</div>
-<div class="verse">When, the new angel, as the old, believed,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Thy hearkening should bless whom Eve’s had curst.</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And therefore we, whose bondage thou hast burst,</div>
-<div class="verse">Grateful for our inheritance retrieved,</div>
-<div class="verse">Must deem this jewel in thy diadem</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The brightest&mdash;hailing thee alone “all fair,”</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Nor ever soil’d with the original stain:</div>
-<div class="verse">Alone, save Him whose heart-blood bought the gem</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With peerless grace preventive none might share&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Redemption’s perfect end, all else tho’ vain.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>VILLAGE LIFE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.</h3>
-
-<p>“I think I shall start for New
-Hampshire to-morrow,” I said.
-“Do you know anything about
-L&mdash;&mdash;, in Cheshire County?”</p>
-
-<p>Jones, who had been meditatively
-examining the coloring of a
-richly-tinted meerschaum, sat up
-erect at this question, with a sudden
-access of vigor.</p>
-
-<p>“L&mdash;&mdash;?” he said. “By George!
-there’s where Agnes Cortland lives
-now in the summer.”</p>
-
-<p>It was the middle week of July.
-Aspirations for one whiff of the
-breeze among the hills had become
-irresistible. We were sitting together,
-Jones and I, in my room
-up-town after luncheon. Jones was
-a young New York artist in his first
-season after his return from Italy
-the previous autumn. He, too,
-was about to start on a sketching
-tour through Vermont, in which
-State his people lived. He was
-late leaving town, but money was
-not easy with him&mdash;a handsome
-young fellow of that golden age
-between twenty-three and twenty-four,
-when one is apt to think he
-needs only a very short-handled
-lever to move the world. He was
-of medium height, but squarely
-and powerfully built; with a face
-good-natured, but very resolute, in
-expression. A stranger would not
-be likely to take a liberty with him.
-I had a strong notion that Jones
-would make a better soldier than
-artist, if there were any question of
-blows being struck for the country,
-which happily there is not. But
-hitherto I had shrewdly kept that
-opinion to myself. Considerably
-older than he was, and engaged in
-another occupation, circumstances
-had thrown us a good deal together.
-Intimacy had brought confidence,
-and confidence, at his age, meant&mdash;nothing
-more nor less than it always
-does under such circumstances&mdash;the
-unbosoming of his love
-affairs. How few there are who
-have not found themselves in the
-same position, either as actors or
-sympathetic chorus, or in time as
-both! What countless dramas of
-passion are continually being put
-upon the private stage before this
-limited audience!</p>
-
-<p>Now, it is not the purpose of
-this paper to pursue the history of
-Jones’ captivity at the hands of
-the tender goddess through all the
-infinitesimal and transcendental
-chapters a first romance runs into.
-More placid emotions and observations,
-befitting the serenity of approaching
-middle age, are in store
-for the reader. And in fact the history
-of Jones’ passion is still incomplete.
-But so much of it may
-be given as fell within the purview
-of our New Hampshire observations.</p>
-
-<p>Jones was poor&mdash;prosaic fact,
-which robs life of so many compensations
-as we grow old. But at
-twenty-three we spurn the mastery
-of the glittering dross&mdash;that is, if
-Congress gives us any to spurn!
-Let us say rather of the flimsy paper.
-At that age of our flowing
-life we coin money at our own
-mint; or, more truly, draw limitless
-drafts on the Bank of the
-Future. Happy the man who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>
-meets them when they fall due!
-Jones, at least, had no doubts as to
-his future solvency. But his plans
-were vague&mdash;very!</p>
-
-<p>Agnes Cortland was the daughter
-of a railroad director&mdash;or two or
-three directors rolled into one&mdash;and
-had the world, or at least the
-New York world, to choose from.
-Poor Jones! his story might almost
-be predicted from the start. Yet
-this inheritor of the (latent) genius
-of any half-dozen masters, ancient
-or modern, you choose to name, believed,
-perhaps with some reason,
-that this daughter of Dives liked
-him; and as for himself, he vowed
-with hyperbole that he adored her.
-They had frequently met&mdash;their
-families then being neighbors in
-the country&mdash;before he went to
-Italy, where he had spent two years
-studying and wandering about.
-No avowal of affection had been
-made between them, but he had
-gone away with the consciousness
-many little signs and tokens give
-that he was not disliked. Since
-his return a year ago some meetings
-had taken place&mdash;at rarer intervals&mdash;in
-society. At an evening
-party some months before she had
-given him, he said, a slight but unmistakable
-opportunity of declaring
-himself, if he had wished to do so.</p>
-
-<p>“But I did not take it,” said
-Jones, who, spite of his being in
-love, was as manly a young fellow
-as one could meet. “She knows I
-am poor; and I don’t want to be
-thought a fortune-hunter.”</p>
-
-<p>I laughed at this quixotic declaration.</p>
-
-<p>“My dear fellow,” I said, “you
-fly at high game. But I should
-not let the <i lang="la">auri sacra fames</i> interfere,
-one way or the other, with my
-tender emotions. If I did so at
-all, Plutus would have his due
-weight in the scale, believe me!”</p>
-
-<p>“What would you do?” said
-Jones. This was in one of those
-“tobacco parliaments” in early
-spring&mdash;if so they might be called,
-where one, only, smoked, and the
-other looked on with sympathy; for
-I had abandoned the “weed” some
-years before&mdash;hardly of such profundity,
-nor yet so silent, as those
-Mr. Carlyle speaks of. Jones had
-recurred to his usual topic of hopes
-and perplexities.</p>
-
-<p>“Do?” I answered, looking at
-him retrospectively, as it were, as
-if contemplating my own departed
-youth, as he sat there in his favorite
-attitude after dinner, gracefully
-balancing one leg over the arm of
-my chintz-covered easy-chair, while
-I was stretched out on the sofa.
-“Ah! that is an easy question to
-propound, but not so easy to answer.
-At your age I should not
-think you would need much prompting.
-But if you ask me, I would
-say, leave it alone! Love is a
-luxury for the rich or the evenly-mated
-poor. But you are not likely
-to take that advice. A good
-deal would depend on the reinforcements
-she might bring to the
-struggle. A woman is not always
-a passive instrument in those affairs,
-but sometimes has a will of
-her own. I have never seen your
-fair one, and know nothing about
-her. But if she be a girl of some
-strength of character, and her love
-do not prove a mere school-girl’s
-fancy, she might possibly gain her
-father’s consent. But it is not a
-promising adventure, at the best;
-and I would not recommend you
-to embark your hopes in it. Keep
-clear of serious entanglements until
-you see your way before you.
-Above all, avoid anything like a
-clandestine engagement. It will
-not add to your happiness or hers.
-I don’t suppose you will think this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>
-a very encouraging opinion. But
-there may be circumstances in your
-favor I know nothing of. Marry
-her, if you can, and can get the
-father’s consent; and go into “railroading”
-with him in his office.
-You will make more money at that
-than you are ever likely to do sticking
-little dabs of color on a piece
-of canvas.”</p>
-
-<p>I saw Jones wince at this mercenary
-view of his art. But he
-bore it like a man, and continued
-silent. The suggestion of such a
-change of vocation did not appear
-to surprise him, though it was plain
-no active intention of throwing up
-his art had yet entered his mind.
-The fact is, Jones is one of those
-young men&mdash;not inconsiderable in
-numbers in the profession&mdash;who
-“have a studio,” but are not likely
-ever to send many master-pieces out
-of it. Developing some precocious
-talent for drawing when they are
-boys, and seizing with boyish eagerness
-upon the suggestion of being
-“an artist,” they are offered by
-fond but undiscerning parents
-upon the altar of art. But they
-never advance beyond a mechanical
-dexterity in putting conventional
-scenes upon canvas. They
-haven’t a spark of that genius that
-is often observed where other pursuits
-have prevented a devotion to
-the profession. Eventually they
-abandon altogether the study or
-practice of their art, or sink into
-drudges for the picture or chromo
-dealers, or grind out a living as
-drawing-masters, or&mdash;Heaven knows
-how. I will not say that Jones was
-altogether deficient in talent, but
-the talent that makes an agreeable
-accomplishment for the rich amateur
-is a different thing from that
-which will pay the piper or win eminence
-in the art. Jones painted
-his pictures for the autumn and
-spring exhibitions, and had one or
-two on view in one of the up-town
-windows. But at Du Vernet’s big
-sale I know that a clever little bit
-of coloring on which he had spent
-some time was knocked down to a
-chromo-dealer for sixteen dollars!
-How was he going to live on such
-prices? And as for marrying Agnes
-Cortland&mdash;it was simply preposterous
-to think of it. Nor is this redundancy
-of young native artists
-on whom neither genius nor fashion
-smiles confined to New York alone.
-In Boston, which is the only other
-city boasting of a native school of
-art, the same low prices prevail. It
-is disheartening; but a more disheartening
-thing still is that those
-prices often represented the actual
-value of the picture.</p>
-
-<p>Jones was imperfectly educated,
-though his continental travel had
-made him a fair linguist. He certainly
-drew very little inspiration
-from the antique, for he knew next
-to nothing about it; nor had he
-much of that sympathy with the
-undercurrent of life, and its relations
-with nature, which gives significance
-to common things. He
-had a fondness for pleasure which,
-of course, did not contribute to his
-success. Yet he was one of those
-young fellows whom it is impossible
-to meet without liking. He
-was frank, honorable, and spirited,
-and had a robust shrewdness about
-him in dealing with men and things
-that made him a pleasant companion.
-That he would eventually
-choose a more active kind of life&mdash;and
-probably succeed in it&mdash;I
-was half-convinced, and my advice
-about “railroading,” though spoken
-partly in jest, was inwardly meant
-in good faith.</p>
-
-<p>On this particular July evening
-on which our paper opens Jones
-followed up the announcement of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span>
-my proposed trip to L&mdash;&mdash; by expressing
-a wish that he were going
-there too, so that he might come to
-a definite understanding with Agnes
-Cortland; and the wish was
-soon followed by the determination
-to act on it.</p>
-
-<p>“How long do you intend to
-stay there?” he asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Till the first week in September,”
-I said.</p>
-
-<p>“Then I will come back that
-way, and join you for a few days
-about the first of September. The
-Cortlands don’t leave there till October.
-We can come back to New
-York together.”</p>
-
-<p>It would have been ungracious
-on my part to have objected to
-this proposal, though I had a good
-many doubts about its wisdom. So
-it happened that my little excursion
-to L&mdash;&mdash;, which I had innocently
-designed to be a season of simple
-lotus-eating such as Mr. Tennyson
-ascribes to his Olympian deities,
-“reclined upon the hills together,
-careless of mankind,” was complicated
-by a subordinate interest in a
-comedy from real life which had
-that quiet village for a stage.</p>
-
-<p>The next day I started, taking
-Boston <i lang="fr">en route</i>. That staid, quiet,
-cleanly city seems always to be,
-compared with New York, like a
-good school-boy by the side of a
-big, blustering brother fonder of a
-street row than his books. Then
-to Fitchburg, where I stopped over
-night, as some stage travelling was
-to be done from our “jumping-off”
-place, and riding over the country
-roads in the morning was more
-promising than on a dark and
-cloudy night. In the morning the
-Fitchburg Railroad again, and one
-of its branches to L&mdash;&mdash;. The unwonted
-coolness of the morning
-breeze, as the train entered the
-New Hampshire hills, already began
-to refresh mind and body alike.
-The pines and hemlocks extending
-back into deep, dim recesses carpeted
-with moss and ferns; the cattle
-moving slowly over the pastures in
-the distance; the pastures themselves
-stretching up the sides of
-the highest hills, still of the freshest
-green, without a hint of the yellow
-undertone that I watched gradually
-overspread them as the summer ripened
-into autumn; a lake in the foreground,
-silent, unvisited, its clear waters
-unpolluted by the dregs of commerce
-or the drainage of a vast metropolis;
-even the caw! caw! of the
-ravens flying off from the tops of
-the pine stumps, send a novel and
-delicious feeling of freedom through
-the breast of the city traveller who
-has put care and work behind him
-for a season. Nor is this feeling
-altogether evanescent. Even
-now, as winter approaches and the
-north winds from the same hills
-come sweeping down over the great
-city, sending us chattering and
-freezing to our cosey firesides, the
-glory of the July foliage moves our
-memory like a far-off dream of
-youth. Yet, after all, it may be
-doubted whether the charm of
-country scenes is not due in great
-part to their novelty and the feeling
-that we are not bound to them longer
-than we please. Of all that has
-been written in praise of country
-life, how much is the work of the
-city resident; how little, comparatively
-speaking, springs from the
-country itself! There drudgery
-too often takes the place of sentiment.
-It is the Epicurean poet,
-Horace, satiated with the noise of
-the Forum and the gossip of the
-baths, who sings sweetest of rural
-contentment, of the “lowing herds,”
-the “mellow fruits of autumn,” and
-the “brooks murmuring over stony
-beds.” But when he gives play to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>
-his satiric vein, none pictures more
-truthfully than the Venusian the
-grumbling of the husbandman, who
-“turns the heavy clay with the
-hard plough.” Embowered in
-some shady arbor on the windings
-of the Digentia through his Sabine
-farm, or doing a little amateur
-farming, to the amusement, as he
-confesses, of his blunt country neighbors,
-who laughed at the dandy
-poet with a hoe in his hand, it was
-easy for Horace to chant the
-smooth and sunny side of country
-life. But the eight laborers on his
-estate, chained literally to the soil,
-as many a New England farmer
-morally is by the burden of debt
-or family, no doubt saw things differently.
-And the bailiff of his
-woodlands we know to have despised
-those “desert and inhospitable
-wilds,” and to have longed for
-the streets and shows of Rome. It
-is amazing upon what inattentive
-ears the music of our wild birds falls
-in a secluded farm-house. Often it
-seems absolutely unheard; while
-the clatter of the long street of the
-country town that the farmer visits
-once a month is for ever in his
-mind.</p>
-
-<p>But we delay too long at the way
-station at L&mdash;&mdash;. Let us onwards.</p>
-
-<p>The carrier of the United States
-mail, who is at the same time the
-Jehu of the passenger stage, slings
-our <i lang="la">impedimenta</i> up behind with an
-energy to be envied by a veteran
-“baggage-smasher” at some of our
-big depots, straps it down, and
-jumps upon the box. We mount
-more slowly beside him, disdaining
-to be shut up in the close interior,
-and intent upon looking at the
-country we pass through this lovely
-morning. The two stout grays
-breast the hill leading to L&mdash;&mdash;
-Centre, eight miles distant.</p>
-
-<p>The surface of the country is
-hilly and broken; as we approach
-L&mdash;&mdash;, mountainous. Mounting
-the crest of the first steep hill, a
-beautiful natural panorama spreads
-out before us: long, narrow, intersecting
-lines of timber, like giant
-hedges, dividing the hill farms from
-each other. A rolling country
-spreads toward the east, bounded
-on the horizon by a low range of
-mountains wooded to the summit,
-and with a white steeple flashing
-out here and there among the trees
-at their base. The effects of light
-and shade, caused by the clouds on
-a brilliant day, on one of those
-white steeples, standing out solitarily
-against the side of a mountain
-eight or ten miles distant, are peculiar.
-Sometimes it becomes invisible,
-as the circle of the shadow is
-projected upon that area of the
-mountain which includes it. Then,
-as the dark veil moves slowly, with
-a sliding motion, up the side and
-over the crest of the mountain, the
-white spire flashes out from the obscure
-background of the forest with
-a sudden brilliancy. On this side
-patches of blue water among the
-trees in the hollows revealed the
-presence of numerous ponds, as the
-small lakes, and some of the large
-ones, are universally called in New
-England.</p>
-
-<p>To the northwest what seemed
-to be a level plain from the height
-over which we rode, but which was
-in reality broken and undulating
-ground, stretched beneath us for
-ten or twelve miles to the base of
-Mt. Monadnock. The mountain,
-grand, massive, and still veiled by
-a thin mist, rose boldly from the
-low country at its foot to a height
-of nearly four thousand feet.</p>
-
-<p>A ride of an hour and a half
-brought us to the top of the hill
-on the side of which stands L&mdash;&mdash;.
-A dozen scattered houses flank the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>
-broad village green, and a Congregational
-meeting-house, with white
-belfry tower and green blinds,
-stands half-way down the incline.</p>
-
-<p>The post-office and country store
-combined is at the cross-roads as
-you drive down the hill, and some
-ancient elms on the green seem to
-nod at the stranger with a friendly
-air as he enters the village.
-“Here,” said I to myself, “is rural
-quiet and simplicity. Farewell for
-many slumberous weeks the busy
-haunts of men.” L&mdash;&mdash; is quite
-out of the beaten track of summer
-travel, and had been recommended
-me by a friend who had spent some
-seasons there, on the ground of
-economy, charming scenery, good
-fishing, and repose. Nor did I find
-any reason to regret having listened
-to him. A country tavern offers
-entertainment to man and beast,
-and is resorted to by the drummers
-and sample men who invade L&mdash;&mdash;,
-as elsewhere, with their goods. But
-I was not forced to be dependent
-on it, as a letter from my friend
-opened to me the hospitable doors
-of the comfortable farm-house
-where he had boarded two years
-before.</p>
-
-<p>Here let it be said at the outset
-that whatever the other drawbacks
-of village life in New Hampshire,
-there is among the farming class a
-natural courtesy, and, among the
-women, even an inherited refinement
-of manner, especially in their
-treatment of strangers, which speaks
-well for the native stock. Prejudices
-there are among both men and
-women&mdash;deep-rooted, as we shall
-see&mdash;and narrow-minded opinions
-in plenty; but even these are concealed
-where to manifest them might
-give offence. The family in which
-I was domiciled consisted of Mr.
-Allen and his wife, their married
-daughter&mdash;who, together with her
-husband, resided with them&mdash;an unmarried
-daughter, and a pretty little
-girl, the grandchild. Mr. Allen
-kept a country store&mdash;for L&mdash;&mdash; boasted
-of two&mdash;and traded also in
-cattle with Canada, making a journey
-sometimes as far as Montreal in
-the spring to buy stock, which he
-fattened on his pastures through the
-summer and autumn, and sold in
-the early part of the winter. These
-various ventures, which were on
-the whole successful&mdash;as the command
-of a little ready money enabled
-him to take his time and
-buy and sell to advantage&mdash;had
-made him more “forehanded” than
-most of his neighbors. He was one
-of the selectmen of L&mdash;&mdash;. His
-dwelling-house, a large, white, well-kept
-two-story edifice, with a garden-plot
-facing the village street, a
-piazza on the sunny side, and two
-beautiful maples dividing the carriage
-yard from the road, was one
-of the handsomest in L&mdash;&mdash;. Mrs.
-Allen was one of those energetic
-housewives whose sound sense and
-domestic capacity had evidently
-contributed not a little to her husband’s
-present prosperity.</p>
-
-<p>They were a sturdy couple, intelligent,
-honest, and knowing what
-was due to themselves and others;
-now going down the hill together
-with mutual dependence and confidence
-in each other. I consider
-them a good example of the best
-type of the New Hampshire farming
-class.</p>
-
-<p>The married daughter did not
-compare favorably with the mother.
-One could not say of her in any
-sense:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“O matre pulchra filia pulchrior!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">for, as to the question of female
-beauty, I will not say, as far as my
-observations extend, that the New
-Hampshire, or indeed the New England<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>
-women generally, outside the
-radius of Boston and some of the
-large towns, are very generously
-endowed by nature with that gracious
-but dangerous gift. The
-lines of the face are too strongly
-marked; they are sallow, the form
-angular; or, where the figure is fuller,
-it is apt to be as redundant as
-the old Flemish painters make the
-women at a village fair.</p>
-
-<p>But this absence of feminine
-beauty is not universal. I have
-seen a young mother with her babe
-in her lap&mdash;a visitor sitting in Mrs.
-Allen’s parlor&mdash;who made a picture
-of beautiful maternity as dignified
-and simple as Murillo ever painted.
-As for that more lasting moral beauty
-which, where it is feminine, puts on
-its most delightful and engaging
-charm, Mrs. Harley, the married
-daughter, was too much engaged
-with her own little cares and gossip&mdash;poor
-woman!&mdash;to think much
-of so intangible a possession.
-Brought up, probably, in habits of
-more leisure and pleasure-seeking
-than her mother, who still took all
-the household work upon herself,
-she was a victim of <i lang="fr">ennui</i> and of
-that blight of too many American
-homes&mdash;only one child to care for.
-Her health was delicate and uncertain,
-and she bade fair to sink
-eventually into that class of invalid
-wives which forms such an unhappily
-large percentage of American
-women. How often have I
-heard her complain of the dreadful
-dulness of the day! “But,” I
-asked, “what will you do in the
-winter, if you find the summer so
-unbearable?” Her answer was
-that they generally enjoyed themselves
-enough in the summer-time
-to be able to get through the winter.
-I don’t know whether this
-was a covert thrust at my lack of
-entertaining power; but I laughed
-at the stroke of satire at my expense,
-innocent or intended. That long
-dreary, snow-shrouded New Hampshire
-winter&mdash;it demanded indeed a
-stout heart to face it in one of those
-isolated villages. Mrs. Harley had
-given up her music when she married;
-the piano stood idle in the
-best room. She read nothing&mdash;unless
-looking at the fashion-plates in
-a ladies’ magazine be considered
-reading. A Sunday-school picnic,
-a day’s shopping in the nearest
-country town, were white days in
-her calendar. Is such a picture of
-life cheerless? Yet too many women
-are forced to endure it elsewhere.
-Happy they if the abounding
-resources of the faith and its
-literature come to their aid! Mrs.
-Harley was a kind woman withal,
-if her attention were drawn for a
-moment from herself; and an affectionate
-and anxious wife. This
-and her love for her child&mdash;fretful
-and over-indulgent as the latter
-sentiment was apt to be&mdash;were
-her redeeming qualities. Placed
-in a large city, with means equal
-in proportion to those within her
-reach in L&mdash;&mdash;, she would have
-made a more agreeable woman, and
-would have been tenfold happier
-herself. The influence of semi-solitary
-life&mdash;where a religious vocation
-does not exalt and sanctify
-it&mdash;is more unfavorable in its effects
-upon women than upon men. The
-latter commonly have work to do
-which keeps their faculties from
-rusting. Woman’s nature is essentially
-social.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Harley assisted his father-in-law
-in the store&mdash;a tall, handsome
-young man with a city air,
-who, at that season, sat in the store
-the whole afternoon with perhaps
-one customer. Such a life for
-youth, with its superabundant energies
-ready to pour like a torrent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>
-into any channel, is stagnation.
-The highest of man’s natural powers
-rust and decay. But natural
-forces have their sway in the great
-majority of such cases, and force
-an outlet for themselves. The
-youth of these villages leave their
-homes for the great cities, or take
-Horace Greeley’s advice and “go
-West.” Life is hard, and it is monotonous,
-which adds a new slavery
-to hardship. The exodus is constant.
-L&mdash;&mdash; has less population
-and fewer inhabited houses now
-than it had forty years ago. The
-same is true of other villages&mdash;a
-striking fact in a comparatively
-new country. One rambles along
-some by-road overgrown with grass,
-and presently comes upon a deserted
-and ruined house and barn, the
-rafters only standing, or perhaps
-nothing more than a heap of bricks
-in the cellar. He asks about the
-people, and is told that they have
-“gone away.” The answer is vague
-and uncertain as their fate. I
-spoke to an old man of eighty-seven,
-seated in the shade on the
-long bench before the country store,
-where he could hear the news in
-the morning. He remembered with
-distinctness the events of the war
-of 1812. He spoke with regret
-of the flourishing times of his
-youth in L&mdash;&mdash; and its dulness to-day.
-This roving disposition of
-the American youth is the result
-of immense elbow-room, and has
-been providential in building up
-new States and subduing the virgin
-wilderness. The manufacturing
-cities of New Hampshire also gain
-yearly at the expense of the small
-villages. The township&mdash;or town,
-as it is most commonly called&mdash;embraces
-three or four of such villages,
-and is subject to the same reciprocal
-movement. Comparatively
-few new farms have been broken
-in during the last twenty or thirty
-years; and too rarely it happens
-on the old farms that fresh ground
-is taken in from the pasture for
-cultivation. The son tills what his
-father or grandfather cleared.</p>
-
-<p>The first few days in L&mdash;&mdash; I
-spent rambling about the pastures&mdash;some
-of them literally red with the
-raspberry, which, though it has not
-the delicacy or fragrance of the
-wild strawberry, is not to be disdained
-by the city palate&mdash;or
-climbing to the tops of the highest
-neighboring hills. What a sense
-of elastic joy and freedom to me,
-who had not spent a summer in
-the country for three years, to lie
-stretched at full length on the top
-of a new-mown hill, and let the eye
-wander over the valley beneath,
-with its intervening woods and
-ponds, till it rested upon the distant
-mountains, the cloud-shadows
-chasing each other over their sides
-and summits! If this were not in
-truth an Arcadia to those who
-lived and died there, and were
-buried in the white-stoned churchyard
-among the elms&mdash;if to them
-life brought its cares, its jealousies,
-and sorrows&mdash;to the stranger who
-sought nothing more than to enjoy
-its natural beauties it renewed all
-the associations of rural happiness
-and simplicity. Not that one might
-hope to see a Corydon and Phillis
-issue from the New Hampshire
-woods&mdash;for there is a sternness
-among those northern scenes, even
-in the brightest bloom of summer,
-foreign to the poetry of the South&mdash;but
-that in its dark pine groves and
-on its windy hills fancy might picture
-an eclogue or a romance not
-less sweet and tender because more
-real.</p>
-
-<p>L&mdash;&mdash; is on the height of land
-between the valleys of the Connecticut
-and Merrimac, between twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>
-and thirty miles distant from each.
-It is from one thousand to one
-thousand three hundred feet above
-the sea level. It is said of the rain
-that falls on the roof of the village
-church that part of it eventually
-runs into the Connecticut, part into
-the Merrimac, so evenly does its
-roof-tree divide the water-shed of
-those rivers. But as the same
-story is told of other churches in
-the central belt of Cheshire County,
-it may be regarded rather in the
-light of a rhetorical illustration
-than as a fact of physical geography.
-The scenery is not of the
-grand or sublime order to be seen
-further north among the White
-Mountains, except where Mt.
-Monadnock raises its dark and
-solemn front above the surrounding
-landscape; but it is beautiful
-and picturesque. Its greatest
-charm is its variety. In the morning,
-when the sun was well towards
-the zenith&mdash;for the fresh air of
-those hills made the day at all
-hours delightful&mdash;I would stroll
-out over the pastures to a hill a
-quarter of a mile distant from the
-farm-house. There would I seat
-myself, protected from the sun’s
-ardent rays, under a young maple
-bush, the elastic branches of which,
-with the sloping ground thick with
-ferns, made a natural easy-chair.
-The valley is below me, the farms
-stretch along the nearer hills, and
-in the further distance the blue-veiled
-mountains define the skyline.
-I bend down a branch of
-the maple, and before me is the
-upper half of Mt. Monadnock, a
-thin gray mist still enveloping it.
-The base of the mountain is hidden
-by an intervening hill. Leaving
-this pasture, and walking a few hundred
-rods further on, I enter a field
-where the hay has just been cut, and
-which is now as smooth as a croquet
-lawn, but not so level; for
-it is the crest of one of the highest
-hills. Here a new scene awaits me.
-To the north and west the hill has
-the shape almost of a perfect dome.
-Stretched on the top, I cannot see
-the declivities of the sides, but
-only the tops of the trees at some
-distance. One has the sensation
-of being on the roof of a high
-building with a deep drop between
-him and the surrounding country.
-The view is superb. The whole
-mass of Mt. Monadnock, from
-its base to the highest elevation,
-rises from the valley ten miles distant.
-At its foot is the village of
-West Jaffrey, a fashionable watering
-place. The white spire of the
-church is conspicuous among the
-trees. Further south is Gap Mountain
-and Attleborough Mountain;
-and sweeping round to the east,
-the view stretches along the New
-Ipswich Mountains to Watatick
-Hill. The circuit extends about
-twenty or thirty miles, making a
-picture of great natural beauty.
-The English hay, as the timothy
-and red clover are generally called,
-was still standing in many of the
-fields, but here and there the whirr
-of the mowing-machine could be
-heard, and the eye, following the
-direction of the sound, could discern
-the mower in his shirt-sleeves
-driving his pair of horses in the
-distant field. The meadow-grass
-of the lowlands was still in most
-places untouched. On the sides
-of the hills the scattered fields of
-wheat, barley, and oats, still green,
-made darker patches of verdure on
-the yellowish ground-color.</p>
-
-<p>But the view I most preferred
-was from a hill a little to the south
-of the village near some deserted
-buildings. Here the scene was
-wilder and more extensive. To
-the west Mt. Monadnock could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>
-seen through a gorge between two
-hills; to the east was a wild and
-broken country; while to the south
-the woods seemed to extend as far
-as the eye could reach, and over
-the furthest range of hills the great
-dome of Mt. Wachusett in Massachusetts,
-nearly thirty miles distant,
-was plainly seen, gray and massive,
-with the naked eye. It was only
-when one turned to Mt. Monadnock,
-ten miles distant, and observed
-how plainly he could distinguish
-the different colors of the mountain&mdash;the
-dark woods, the brown, bare
-surfaces, and the slate-colored
-rocks&mdash;that, looking at Mt. Wachusett,
-and noting its uniform pale
-gray outline, he was able to estimate
-the real distance of the latter,
-so comparatively close at hand did
-it appear.</p>
-
-<p>Seated at ease on the smooth
-turf on the summit of this “heaven-kissing”
-hill, and looking at this
-wide and beautiful prospect, one
-might repeat to himself Mr. Longfellow’s
-lines:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Pleasant it was, when woods were green</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">And winds were soft and low,</div>
-<div class="verse">To lie amid some sylvan scene,</div>
-<div class="verse">Where, the long, drooping boughs between,</div>
-<div class="verse">Shadows dark and sunlight sheen</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Alternate come and go;”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">substituting only for “drooping
-boughs” the irregular ranges of
-hills.</p>
-
-<p>But descriptions of natural scenery,
-if long continued, are wearisome.
-Even a Ruskin is read best
-in snatches. The mind otherwise
-becomes clogged with images. Let
-us return, therefore, to animated life.</p>
-
-<p>As Sunday approached, I made
-inquiries about the nearest Catholic
-church. I found it was at
-W&mdash;&mdash;, eight or nine miles distant.
-I had no means of getting there
-the first Sunday. I retired to my
-room and read some chapters of
-that sublime and affecting work,
-the <cite>Imitation of Christ</cite>, the gift of a
-good and beloved mother.</p>
-
-<p>A Catholic is still almost a being
-from another moral world in some
-of the isolated New Hampshire
-villages. Nowhere are the traditions
-of Puritanism more zealously
-or rigidly maintained. These good
-folk seem hardly yet to have emerged
-from a fog of wild amazement
-that “popish” priests and their followers
-should be tolerated by the
-selectmen. Not that any overt or
-offensive change of manner follows
-the announcement that one is a
-Catholic&mdash;as I have elsewhere said,
-there is a natural or inherited vein
-of good manners among the people
-that forbids it&mdash;but a momentary
-silence reveals to the speaker that
-he has stated something strange
-and unlooked for. There is an
-unmistakable tone of intolerance
-manifest, however, in any allusion
-to the poorer class of Irish and
-French that congregate in the larger
-towns, and are sometimes found
-in the villages in a wooden-ware
-factory, or cutting wood or hemlock-bark,
-or doing an odd job of
-haymaking. They are looked upon
-with dislike and distrust, mixed
-with a feeling of contempt. Curious
-it is that the native-born New
-Englander, with his mind saturated
-with hereditary theories of personal
-liberty, equality, and fraternity,
-should yet evince a more unconquerable
-aversion to the foreign
-element, which has contributed so
-largely to the greatness of the country,
-than is shown in European
-countries to men of a different race,
-unless war has temporarily embittered
-national feeling. Yet the explanation
-is not hard to find. This
-descendant of the Puritan, chained
-to the rocky and ungrateful soil his
-forefathers won from the Indians
-and the wilderness, sees with sullen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>
-indignation and jealousy the same
-rights and privileges which he enjoys
-under our free institutions extended
-so largely to those of a
-different nationality and religion.
-In revenge he draws himself more
-jealously into his shell. Nor is
-this feeling confined to the rich
-and refined; it penetrates the mass
-of the native-born New England
-population.</p>
-
-<p>To speak of lighter things. Society
-in L&mdash;&mdash; is eminently aristocratic.
-Better, perhaps, it would be
-to say that the lines of society are
-very strongly marked, and that the
-aristocratic element is essentially
-conservative.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Cortland, the wife of the
-New York capitalist, who resides
-there three months in the summer,
-a stout, refined, tight-gloved, graciously
-condescending lady, gives a
-metropolitan tone to L&mdash;&mdash; society.
-Mr. Cortland, an easy-going, easy-tempered
-man in private life, but
-reported to be hard as flint in business
-matters, seldom finds time to
-leave New York, and his visits to
-L&mdash;&mdash; are uncertain. His country
-house, a large, handsome mansion
-with well-kept grounds, croquet-lawn,
-coach-house, and stables, is
-on the highest ground in the village;
-and Mrs. Cortland occupies
-without dispute the highest ground
-socially. It is an imperial elevation,
-after the manner of the saying
-attributed to Cæsar. A call
-on Mrs. Cortland is the event of
-a week, and a return call from
-her is a matter not to be lightly
-treated. How have I seen this
-good Mrs. Allen, my landlady, prepare
-her best room for the grand
-occasion, and Mrs. Harley speculate
-about it with well-assumed indifference
-a whole afternoon. One
-or two other magnates from Boston,
-scattered through L&mdash;&mdash; and adjacent
-townships, save Mrs. Cortland
-from complete exhaustion by contact
-with the village people during
-the summer.</p>
-
-<p>Then there is the local aristocracy,
-consisting of the wife of the
-Congregational pastor <i lang="la">ex-officio</i>, and
-Mrs. Parsons, the wife of “Squire”
-Parsons, who owns a small bucket-factory
-near L&mdash;&mdash;. These two
-ladies maintain a strict alliance, offensive
-and defensive, with Mrs.
-Cortland during the summer. Then
-come the middle classes, comprising
-Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Harley, the
-young doctor’s wife&mdash;a stranger
-and somewhat snubbed by the autochthonous
-<i lang="fr">élite</i>&mdash;and the well-to-do
-farmers’ wives. Finally, we
-have the <i lang="la">profanum vulgus</i>, the tail
-of L&mdash;&mdash; society, or, to speak
-more correctly, those whom society
-does not recognize&mdash;some farmers’
-wives whose husbands were too
-much in debt to allow them to
-keep up appearances; one or two
-hapless women who sold milk in a
-wagon to the neighboring towns, and
-drove the wagon themselves; and
-the village washerwoman, who went
-around doing “chores.” I think I
-have exhausted the classification
-of the social strata of L&mdash;&mdash;. I
-observed that the men eschewed as
-much as possible the aristocratic
-distinctions made by their wives,
-and were apt to resent by silence
-or the assumption of an unwonted
-bluntness the empty airs and loud
-voice with which some vulgar rich
-man from a neighboring large town
-would sometimes stride through the
-village.</p>
-
-<p>Wanderers and waifs, destined apparently
-to be at some time drawn
-into the great caldron of city life&mdash;perhaps
-to their own destruction&mdash;were
-not wanting in L&mdash;&mdash;. I
-have said that the women were not
-remarkable for beauty. But there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>
-was one exception. A girl belonging
-to one of the most destitute
-families in the village, by one of
-those whims of nature which are
-not uncommon, was gifted with a
-face and figure to attract even an
-unobservant eye, and which seemed
-out of place in that quiet and
-homely neighborhood. The mother,
-a poor, struggling woman with
-a growing-up family of all ages,
-managed to live somehow by the
-days’ work and occasional assistance
-given her by the well-to-do
-families. The father was living,
-but spent most of his time in the
-county jail for drunkenness. The
-daughter of whom I speak was about
-nineteen or twenty years of age;
-tall, of fair complexion, with a naturally
-elegant carriage and a proud
-and almost defiant air, as if she resented
-the caprice of fortune which
-had placed her in that lowly station.
-She had the art of dressing
-well with limited means, which
-some women possess to the envy
-of others. On Sundays and at
-picnics she outshone the more expensively-dressed
-daughters of the
-farmers. She had been, and perhaps
-still is, the maid at the village
-inn. It may be imagined that gossip
-was not idle about this poor
-girl, thus singularly placed and dangerously
-gifted. Dreadful quarrels
-had taken place between the father
-and mother about the girl’s staying
-at the hotel; the drunken father,
-with a true sense of what was becoming,
-insisting that she should
-leave, the mother as strenuously
-maintaining that she should remain.
-The beauty of the girl herself was
-not of that domestic type I have
-elsewhere noticed in the mother
-and her babe I saw in Mrs. Allen’s
-parlor, but of that showy, restless,
-naturally haughty stamp which presaged
-storm, perhaps disaster. It
-is this class misfortune follows and
-the great cities sweep into their
-net. Poverty often makes vice of
-that which, under happier fortunes,
-might have been attractive virtue.
-<i lang="la">Absit omen</i>. May this rustic beauty
-find a happier, if more homely,
-destiny as the wife of some honest
-farmer in L&mdash;&mdash;!</p>
-
-<p>The summer passed, week after
-week. I fished, I walked, I rode, I
-read, I loitered. The barley ripened
-on the hill behind the farm-house,
-and a golden tint began to spread
-over the distant fields. The apples
-grew large and ruddy on one side
-where the sun struck the laden
-branch in the orchard. The tassels
-of the corn showed purple. August
-blazed. The doves flew thirstily to
-the large blue pump, and perched
-on the edges of the horse-trough
-after the farmer watered his horse
-at mid-day. The bees hummed
-three at a time in the big yellow
-cups of the squash-vines. Have
-you ever observed of that homely
-vegetable how ingeniously and dexterously
-it fastens its daring and
-aggressive vines to the ground as it
-shoots out over the close-cut grass?
-Stoop down among the after-math,
-or rowen, as it is called in New
-Hampshire, and you will see that
-at the inosculation of each successive
-joint of the vine, where it
-throws out its tendrils and blossoms,
-it also thrusts forth slender,
-white, curling ligaments that twist,
-each of them, tightly around a tiny
-tuft of the short grass. Thus it
-moors itself, as if by so many delicate
-living cables, to the bosom of
-the life-giving earth.</p>
-
-<p>I might, if space allowed, tell
-of my fishing ventures, and how
-one glorious morning we rode out
-of L&mdash;&mdash; in a big yellow wagon
-with three horses&mdash;a party of seven
-of us, ladies and gentlemen, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>
-the village&mdash;to make the ascent of
-Mt. Monadnock. This is the lion
-of all the country round. Parties
-are made up every week to climb
-its rugged summit. Over the hills
-and rolling ground we gaily rattled.
-Through the sandy country roads,
-where the branches of the trees met
-overhead and made dim aisles of
-verdure, we smoothly sped. And
-then what panting, laughing, climbing,
-shrill screaming, as we toiled
-up the winding path from the half-way
-house to the top of the mountain!
-What a magnificent, boundless
-view repaid us! The day was
-clear. To the north, Mt. Kearsarge
-and rolling ranges of mountains;
-to the southeast, a diversified
-surface of country spreading onwards
-far as the eye could reach
-towards the unseen ocean; to the
-south, Mt. Wachusett; below us
-woods, valleys, and lakes. A feeling
-of awe creeps over one in these
-mountain solitudes.</p>
-
-<p>As to the fishing, I will confess
-that to me, who had thrown a fly
-over more than one Canadian river,
-and had killed my twenty-pound
-salmon on the Nipisiquit, loafing
-with a pole in a boat over a lily-covered
-pond for a half-pound pickerel
-was not tremendously exciting
-sport. But what mattered it? The
-mornings were soft and wooing;
-the woods were full of mysterious
-shadows; the water was limpid as
-if Diana and her nymphs bathed
-there in the spectral moonlight.
-Life passed smoothly and agreeably.
-I sought no more.</p>
-
-<p>The blackberries began to ripen,
-first one by one and then in sable
-clusters, in the pastures. The days
-were growing shorter. The twilight
-sank more quickly into night.
-September approached, and I began
-to look for the appearance of
-my friend Jones. I had seen Miss
-Cortland two or three times coming
-from or going to the meeting-house
-on Sunday mornings, when all the
-beauty and fashion of L&mdash;&mdash; for
-miles around rode up in buggies,
-carryalls, or open wagons; but I
-had never met her to be introduced
-to her&mdash;a little imperial beauty,
-with a fresh and rosy color, and a
-mouth shaped like Cupid’s bow,
-that needed only to smile to conquer.</p>
-
-<p>On a bright September morning,
-when the surrounding atmosphere
-was clear as a bell, but a thin
-haze still clung about Mt. Monadnock
-and the far-off mountains,
-Jones rode over on the stage-coach
-from the railroad station and joined
-me at L&mdash;&mdash;. He asked eagerly
-about Miss Cortland.</p>
-
-<p>Was she in the village?</p>
-
-<p>Yes.</p>
-
-<p>Had I met her?</p>
-
-<p>No; but I had seen her two or
-three times.</p>
-
-<p>What did I think of her?</p>
-
-<p>Well, I thought her pretty
-enough to excuse a little wildness
-of imagination on his part. He
-would be a lucky fellow if he got
-her and some of her father’s money
-or a position in his business!</p>
-
-<p>Did I think he would give up
-his Art so easily?</p>
-
-<p>“My dear Jones,” I replied, “I
-don’t want to appear cold-blooded,
-or to dash your enthusiasm for
-your art in the least; but, to speak
-candidly, I should not be surprised
-if you did some day under sufficient
-temptation&mdash;the prospect of
-marrying Miss Cortland, for example.”</p>
-
-<p>Jones declared his intention of
-calling on Miss Cortland that very
-day. He had a sketch-book full
-of studies, spirited, but many of
-them mere hints. He came back
-before dinner, full of life, and proposing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>
-a score of schemes for to-morrow.
-He made a sort of small
-whirlwind in my quiet life. Mrs.
-Cortland had received him civilly,
-but he thought a little coolly. But
-he had seen Agnes, and had spoken
-a few words to her that might mean
-much or little as they were taken,
-and he was happy&mdash;rather boisterously
-happy, perhaps, as a young
-fellow will be at such times&mdash;full
-of jokes, and refusing to see a
-cloud on his horizon.</p>
-
-<p>Jones fell easily into our farm-house
-ways, though he was apt to
-steal off in the mornings to play
-croquet on the Cortlands’ lawn
-with Miss Cortland and Miss Parsons,
-and any other friend they
-could get to join them.</p>
-
-<p>One afternoon, when the sun was
-getting low and a southerly wind
-blowing, we started to try for some
-fish at a pond about half an hour’s
-walk from the house. As we turned
-off the highway into a by-road
-covered with grass that led to the
-pond, I saw Miss Cortland standing
-on the rising ground some distance
-before us. She was looking
-from us towards the sinking sun,
-now veiled in quick-drifting clouds.
-Her dog, a large, powerful animal,
-a cross between a Newfoundland
-and Mount St. Bernard, was
-crouched at her feet. Some vague
-thoughts about Una and her lion
-flitted through my mind. But I
-was more struck by the way the
-light touched her figure, standing
-out motionless against the gray sky.
-It reminded me very much of the
-general effect of a painting by a
-foreign artist&mdash;Kammerer, I think
-it was&mdash;that I saw at the exhibition
-of the Boston Art Club last
-year. It was the picture of a girl
-standing on a pier on the French
-coast, looking out to sea. Her
-golden hair was slightly stirred by
-the breeze, her lips a little parted,
-and there was a far-away look in
-her eyes, as if she may have expected
-a lover to be coming over the
-sea in one of the yachts that lined
-the horizon. The dress of the girl
-and the stone-work of the pier
-were both white. It was a good
-example of the striking effects produced
-by the free use of a great
-deal of almost staring white, which
-is a favorite device of the latest
-school of French art.</p>
-
-<p>As we advanced, the dog growled
-and rose, but, recognizing Jones,
-wagged his tail inoffensively as we
-drew nearer. Miss Cortland turned
-towards us.</p>
-
-<p>“Shall I introduce you?” said
-Jones.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” I said. “I’ll go on to
-the pond. I’ll see you to-night.”</p>
-
-<p>Jones advanced, hat in hand.
-“What happy fortune,” he said,
-addressing her, “has led me to
-meet the goddess of these woods?”
-Then, altering his tone, he added
-in a bantering way: “I see you
-have been poaching on our preserves,
-Miss Cortland. But I do
-wonder at your taste, fishing for
-eels!” pointing to a small basket
-on her arm from which hung some
-of the long stems of the pond-lily.
-This he said to vex her, knowing
-her horror of those creatures.
-“Eels?” she exclaimed indignantly,
-with a tone and gesture of aversion
-at the thought. “They are
-pond-lilies.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that is very well to say,”
-replied Jones, “when you have the
-lid of the basket down to hide
-them; but I insist upon their
-being eels unless you show them
-to me.”</p>
-
-<p>By this time I was out of hearing.
-I left them together, and kept
-on down the road to the pond.</p>
-
-<p>That night Jones came into my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>
-room with a quieter manner than
-usual. He was evidently very
-happy, but his happiness had a
-sobering effect upon him. He told
-me that he had made a plain avowal
-of his feelings to Agnes Cortland as
-they walked home together, and that
-he had won from her the confession
-that she loved him and had not
-been indifferent to him before he
-left for Europe. I wished him joy
-of his good-fortune, though I could
-foresee plainly enough that his difficulties
-had only begun. For a
-little time these two innocent young
-souls&mdash;for Jones I knew to be singularly
-unsullied by the world for
-a man of his age&mdash;would enjoy
-their paradise undisturbed together.
-Then would come maternal explanations,
-and the father’s authority
-would be invoked. A solemn promise
-would be exacted from her to
-see him no more. Miss Cortland
-was much attached to her parents,
-who would be sincerely anxious for
-her welfare. She would not make
-much resistance. Some day there
-would come a storm of tears, and
-poor Jones’s letters and the ring
-he gave her would be returned to
-him by a faithful messenger, and a
-little note, blotted with tears, asking
-him to forgive her and praying
-for his happiness. This must be
-the end. A year or two of separation
-and a summer and winter in
-Europe with her parents would
-leave nothing more than a little sad
-memory of her brief New Hampshire
-romance; and in five years
-she would be married to some
-foreigner of distinction or successful
-man of business, and would be
-a happy wife and mother. As for
-poor Jones, he would probably be
-heard of at rare intervals for a year
-or two as a trader on the Pacific
-coast or prospecting a claim in
-Nevada. But men like him, vigorous,
-powerful, well equipped in
-body and temper for the struggle
-with the world, are not kept down
-long by such disappointments.
-The storm is fierce, and leaves its
-scars after it; but the man rises
-above it, and is more closely knit
-thereafter. Jones will make his
-mark in the world of business, if
-not of art.</p>
-
-<p>No unwelcome prophecies of mine,
-however, disturbed his happiness for
-those few days. I let events take
-their course. Why should I interrupt
-his dream by Cassandra-like anticipations
-of woe, which would have
-been resented as a reflection upon
-the constancy of his idol? I know
-that they met frequently for the
-following three or four days. Then
-came the packing up for departure.
-My long holiday was over.</p>
-
-<p>On a foggy morning in September
-we steamed up the Sound on a
-Fall River boat. Through Hell
-Gate the stately boat sped on her
-way, past Blackwell’s Island, and
-across the bows of the Brooklyn
-ferry-boats, crowded with passengers
-for the city in the early morning.
-Around the Battery we swept,
-into the North River, and slowly
-swung alongside of Pier 28. Then
-the hackmen yelled at us; our
-coach stuck at the corner of the
-street; a jam followed; the drivers
-swore; the policemen shouted and
-threatened; the small boys grinned
-and dodged between the horses;
-and a ward politician, with a ruby
-nose, looked on complacently from
-the steps of a corner “sample”
-room. In one word, we were in
-New York, and our village life
-in Hampshire was a thing of the
-past.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE PALATINE PRELATES OF ROME.</h3>
-
-<p>Whatever is connected with our
-Holy Father must have an interest
-for Catholics; and at the present
-time especially it would seem desirable
-to know something about
-the origin and functions of those
-faithful prelates of whom this article
-treats, and with some of whom
-American visitors to Rome may be
-likely to have relations. They are
-called palatine prelates because
-lodged in the same palace as the
-sovereign, and in these days of
-trouble are the nearest to his most
-sacred Majesty in his solitude and
-sufferings. They are four in number,
-and belong to the pope’s intimate
-court and confidence, their
-names being registered in the Roman
-<cite>Notizie</cite> immediately after those
-of the palatine cardinals among the
-members of the pontifical family.</p>
-
-<h4>MAGGIORDOMO.</h4>
-
-<p>The majordomo, called in good
-Latin, the official language of the
-church, <i lang="la">Magister Domus Papæ</i>, is
-the first of these prelates and one of
-the highest dignitaries of the Holy
-See. The chief of the royal palace
-has had in all countries immense influence
-and power; and in France
-and Scotland, at least, the <i lang="fr">Maires
-du palais</i> and stewards succeeded
-in mounting the throne. This officer,
-who, like the other three, is
-always a clergyman, is the high
-steward of his Holiness and master
-of his household, remaining day
-and night conveniently near to the
-Pope’s person, of which he has the
-special care, and for the safety of
-which he is responsible to the
-Sacred College. Until the present
-reign he was supreme under the
-sovereign, in the civil, military, and
-ecclesiastical affairs of the court,
-having his own tribunal of civil and
-criminal jurisdiction.<a name="FNanchor_141" id="FNanchor_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> Some years
-ago, however, a part of the prerogatives
-of this office was transferred
-to the Cardinal Secretary of State;
-but even now the majordomo is at
-the head of the administration of
-the palace in which the Pope may
-reside for the time being, and on a
-vacancy of the see is <i lang="la">ex-officio</i>, by a
-decree of Clement XII. in 1732,
-governor of the conclave.<a name="FNanchor_142" id="FNanchor_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> In this
-latter capacity, by a natural order
-of things which cannot be long delayed
-(yet God grant it may!), he
-will have to act a part during one of
-the most critical periods in the history
-of Christian Rome. He has the
-privilege<a name="FNanchor_143" id="FNanchor_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> for life of using the pope’s
-arms with his own, and consequently
-retains this heraldic distinction
-even after he has been promoted to
-the cardinalate to which his office
-surely leads, sooner or later, according
-to a court custom that began in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>
-the middle of the XVIIth century.<a name="FNanchor_144" id="FNanchor_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a>
-The origin of this office is involved
-in some doubt, owing to its antiquity.
-It must have been that, in the
-palace given to Pope Melchiades
-by the Emperor Constantine, some
-person conspicuous for piety and
-prudence was appointed to keep
-the members of a large and constantly-increasing
-court in mutual
-harmony and subjection to authority,
-while relieving the pontiff of the
-immediate superintendence of his
-household, and leaving him free to
-give his precious time to public
-and more important matters. At
-all events, at a very early period
-after this there is mentioned among
-the officers attached to the <i lang="la">Patriarchium
-Lateranense</i>&mdash;as the old
-<i lang="la">Ædes Lateranæ</i> were then called&mdash;a
-<i lang="la">Vice-dominus</i>, who was chosen from
-the Roman clergy, and was often, as
-the more modern prelates have
-been, invested with the episcopal
-dignity. He was answerable for
-the good order and harmonious administration
-of the palace; and the
-extent of that portion of it in which
-he dwelt and had his offices, as well
-as held his court of jurisdiction
-over the papal domestics,<a name="FNanchor_145" id="FNanchor_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> must
-have been large, since it was called
-the <i lang="la">vicedominium</i>; and although
-his successor fifteen hundred years
-later has not the same ample powers
-that he enjoyed, he is still a
-personage so considerable that the
-part of the Vatican in which he resides
-is known officially as the
-<i lang="it">Maggiordomato</i>. The earliest name
-(not title) of such an officer which
-has come down to us is that of a
-certain priest Ampliatus, who is
-mentioned in the year 544 as having
-accompanied Pope Vigilius to
-Constantinople for the affair of
-the Three Chapters, and being detached
-from the pontiff’s suite at
-Sicily on their way back, with
-orders to hurry on to Rome, where
-the concerns of the Lateran seem
-to have suffered by his absence.
-Anatolius, a deacon, held the office
-under S. Gregory the Great, who
-was very particular to have only
-virtuous and learned men about
-him; and in 742 Benedict, a bishop,
-held it under S. Zachary, who sent
-him on a mission to Luitprand, King
-of the Lombards. This officer is
-mentioned for the last time in history
-as <i lang="la">Vice-dominus</i> in the year 1044,
-when an archdeacon Benedict served
-under Benedict IX. After this
-period, those who held the analogous
-position were styled chamberlains
-of the Holy Roman Church until
-1305, when, the court being at Avignon,
-a large share of their duties
-and privileges was given to a nobleman
-of high standing, who was called
-<i lang="it">Maestro del sacro Ospizio</i>.<a name="FNanchor_146" id="FNanchor_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a></p>
-
-<p>Under Alexander V., in 1409,
-the Holy Father having returned to
-Rome, mention is made for the
-first time, in a paper drawn up for
-the guidance of the court, of a prefect
-of the apostolic palace&mdash;<i lang="la">Magister
-domus pontificiæ</i>&mdash;who was the
-same as the later majordomo, the
-name only having been changed
-by Urban VIII. in 1626. The series
-of these high prelates, to the
-number of 99&mdash;belonging generally
-to the very first nobility of Italy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>
-and showing such illustrious names
-as Colonna, Gonzaga, Farnese,
-Frangipani, Visconti, Acquaviva,
-Cybo, Cenci, Caraffa, Pico della
-Mirandola, Piccolomini, Borghese,
-Borromeo, etc.&mdash;begins with Alexander
-Mirabelli, a Neapolitan, who
-was named to the office by Pius II.
-in the month of August, 1458.</p>
-
-<h4>MAESTRO DI CAMERA.</h4>
-
-<p>This officer, whose official title
-in Latin is <i lang="la">Prefectus cubiculi Sanctitatis
-suæ</i>, is the second palatine
-prelate. He is the grand chamberlain
-of his Holiness, carries out the
-entire court ceremonial, and has
-the supervision of all audiences, as
-well as admittances of whatever
-kind to the presence of the Pope.
-How important and confidential is
-this post which he holds at the
-door of the papal chambers may
-best be judged from the single fact
-that no one can approach the sovereign
-without his knowledge in
-all and his consent<a name="FNanchor_147" id="FNanchor_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> in most cases.
-He has sometimes the episcopal
-character&mdash;in truth, was usually in
-times past an archbishop <i lang="la">in partibus</i>;
-but it is now more customary
-for him to be simply in priest’s orders.
-If, however, he be not already
-a prelate of high rank, he is always,
-immediately after his nomination
-to the office, made an apostolic
-prothonotary, with precedence over
-all his brethren in that ancient and
-honorable college. Like his immediate
-superior, he has the privilege
-of quartering the Pope’s arms with
-his own. He is the keeper of the
-Fisherman’s ring, and at the Pope’s
-death delivers it up to the cardinal
-chamberlain of the Holy Roman
-College, who gives him a notarial
-receipt for it. This celebrated
-ring is the official one of the popes,
-and gets its name from having the
-figure of S. Peter in a bark and
-casting his net into the sea engraved
-upon it. Above this figure is
-cut the name of the reigning pontiff.
-It is the first among the rings,
-but the second in the class of seals,
-since it only serves as the privy
-seal or signet used on apostolic
-briefs and matters of subordinate
-consequence,<a name="FNanchor_148" id="FNanchor_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a> whereas the Great
-Seal is used to impress the heads
-of SS. Peter and Paul in lead (sometimes,
-but rarely, in gold) on papal
-bulls. At first this ring was a private
-and not an official one of the
-pope; for in a letter from Perugia
-of March 7, 1265, addressed by
-Clement IV. to his nephew Peter Le
-Gros, he says that he writes to him
-and to his other relatives, not <i lang="la">sub
-bulla, sed sub piscatoris sigillo, quo
-Romani Pontifices in suis secretis utuntur</i>;
-from which we gather that
-the ring was in use some time before,
-but by whom introduced is
-unknown, as is also the precise
-period when it became official,
-although this happened during one
-or other of the XVth century pontificates.
-Perhaps the first time
-that the now familiar expression,
-“Given under the Fisherman’s
-ring,” is met with in the manner
-of a formal statement or curial formula,
-such as it has been ever since
-retained, is in a document of Nicholas
-V. dated from Rome&mdash;<i lang="la">Datum
-Romæ</i>&mdash;on the 15th of April, 1448.</p>
-
-<p>The institution of this office is
-extremely ancient, but, like most
-others of the court, it has had different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span>
-names and increased or diminished
-attributions at various periods.
-The modern Romans take a legitimate
-pride in being able to deduce
-many of their great court offices from
-the corresponding ones of the Cæsars,
-to whom their sovereign has
-succeeded. Thus this officer is
-sometimes called in classical Latin
-<i lang="la">Magister admissionum</i>, such an one
-being mentioned by the historian
-Ammianus Marcellinus (xv. 5);
-and his office <i lang="la">Officium admissionis</i>,
-which is found in Suetonius’ <cite>Life of
-Vespasian</cite> (xiv.) Among the members
-of the household of S. Gregory
-the Great in the year 601 there
-was a certain (S.) Paterius, <i lang="la">Secundicerius</i>
-of the Holy See (corresponding
-to the modern sub-dean of the
-apostolic prothonotaries, the dean
-being <i lang="la">Primicerius</i>). He had to
-make known to the pope the names
-of those who solicited the favor of
-an interview; and it is probable
-that he also gave (as is now given)
-along with the name some account
-of the quality and business of the
-visitor, for fear that the pontiff
-should be unnecessarily intruded
-upon or brought in contact with
-unworthy and perhaps dangerous
-characters. Investigators into the
-origin of the offices of the Holy See
-have fixed upon this person as the
-remote predecessor of the present
-<i lang="it">Maestro di Camera</i>; but all the
-charges of the palace having been
-remodelled and placed nearly on
-their present footing about four
-hundred and fifty years ago, and
-many of the court records having
-been lost or stolen during the disturbed
-era between the pontificates
-of Clement V. (1305) and Martin
-V. (1417)&mdash;which includes the periods
-of Avignon and the schism&mdash;the
-authentic roll of the holders of
-these high offices of state rarely
-begins earlier than the XVth century.
-Thus the first grand chamberlain
-of the modern series is
-Bindaccio Ricasoli of Florence,
-who was <i lang="la">Magister aulæ palatii</i> to
-John XXIII. in 1410. The present
-one is Monsignor Ricci-Paracciani,
-a Roman, who, however,
-has become majordomo by Monsignor
-Pacca’s promotion. The
-<i lang="it">Maestro di Camera</i>, being constantly
-in company with exalted personages
-who seek an audience of
-the Holy Father and wait their
-turn in, or at all events pass through,
-the <i lang="it">Anticamera nobile</i>, which opens
-immediately into the Pope’s reception-room,
-must be distinguished
-for good breeding and courtliness,
-and serve as a model to his subordinates
-in that august apartment,
-lest it be said of him:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“His manners had not the repose</div>
-<div class="verse">That marks the caste of Vere de Vere.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Hence we are prepared to find the
-noblest families of Italy represented
-in the office, and notice such
-patrician names as Odescalchi, Altieri,
-Fieschi, Ruffo, Doria, Massimo,
-Pignatelli, Caracciolo, Barberini,
-Riario-Sforza, etc.</p>
-
-<h4>UDITORE.</h4>
-
-<p>The auditor of his Holiness&mdash;<i lang="la">Auditor
-Papæ</i>&mdash;is the agent-general,
-most intimate privy councillor,
-and canonist of the Pope. He is
-third in rank of the palatine prelates,
-and lived in the Quirinal,
-where his offices and the archives
-were situated, until the present iniquitous
-occupation, since which
-they have been removed to the
-Torlonia palace, near the Vatican.
-This office was instituted by Paul
-II. (1464-1471), and the first to
-hold it was the renowned J. B.
-Millini, a Roman, who was at the
-same time Bishop of Urbino (which
-was administered by some one else
-in his name); he later became a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>
-cardinal under Sixtus IV., in 1476.
-His successor at the present time
-is Monsignor Sagretti. Up to this
-century the power and general influence
-of the auditor were extraordinary,
-since he had a court of
-justice and ample jurisdiction,
-even exercising in the name of the
-Pope the supremacy of appeal in
-many matters. For this reason
-the great epigraphist Morcelli, who
-wrote before these judicial functions
-were abolished, called him
-<i lang="la">Judex sacrarum cognitionum</i>. Formerly
-he gave audience to all comers
-about matters of equity and
-appeal on Tuesdays, in his apartment
-at the Quirinal, standing in
-his prelatic robes behind a low-backed
-throne supposed by a sort
-of fiction to be then occupied by
-the Pope;<a name="FNanchor_149" id="FNanchor_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> hence he was called in
-choice Latin <i lang="la">Cognoscens vice sacrâ</i>&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>,
-in <i lang="fr">lieu</i> of his Holiness. The
-common Italian appellation <i lang="it">Uditore
-Santissimo</i> is only a corrupt rendering
-of the Latin <i lang="la">Auditor Sanctissimi</i>.
-This post has always been
-occupied by one of the ablest jurists
-in Italy; and even now the
-auditor must be both very learned
-and most incorruptible, from the
-part that he takes officially in filling
-vacant sees and making other
-important nominations.</p>
-
-<h4>MAESTRO DEL SACRO PALAZZO.</h4>
-
-<p>The Master of the Holy Apostolic
-Palace&mdash;<i lang="la">Magister Sacri Palatii
-Apostolici</i>&mdash;is one of the most distinguished
-members for piety and
-doctrine of the Dominican Order.
-He is the Pope’s official theologian,
-and usually a consultor of several
-Roman congregations, more nearly
-concerned with matters of faith and
-morals, as the Inquisition, Indulgences
-and Relics, Index, etc. He
-ranks fourth among the palatine
-prelates, and resided until the late
-invasion in the Quirinal Palace
-with his “companion” and two lay
-brothers of his order. He is considered
-an honorary auditor of the
-Rota, and as such has a place with
-the prelates of this class in the
-papal chapels and reunions. He
-retains the habit of his order, but
-wears on his hat a black prelatical
-band. He is <i lang="la">ex-officio</i> president of
-the Theological Faculty in the Roman
-University, and the person to
-whom was entrusted the censorship
-of the press. The origin of this
-office dates from the year 1218,
-when S. Dominic, who established
-the Order of Friars Preachers, suggested
-to Honorius III. that it
-would be proper if some one were
-charged to give religious instruction
-to the many servants of cardinals,
-prelates, and others, who used to
-spend their time idly in useless
-talk and slanderous gossip with
-their brethren of the papal palace
-while their masters were expecting
-an audience or engaged with his
-Holiness.<a name="FNanchor_150" id="FNanchor_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> The Pope was pleased,
-and at once appointed Dominic to
-the good work, who began by explaining
-the Epistles of S. Paul.<a name="FNanchor_151" id="FNanchor_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a>
-The fruit of these pious conferences
-was so apparent that the
-pope determined to perpetuate
-them under the direction of a
-Dominican. Besides the more familiar
-instructions, which were
-given at first extempore, it was
-arranged later that while the pope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>
-and court were listening to the
-preacher appointed to sermonize
-in the palace during Advent and
-Lent, the papal domestics and
-other servants should also have
-the benefit of formal discourses,
-but in another part of the building.
-It was always the father <em>master</em>&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>,
-doctor&mdash;who held forth to
-them until the XVIth century,
-when the duties of his office becoming
-more onerous, especially
-by reason of the many attempts
-to misuse the recently-discovered
-art of printing to corrupt faith and
-morals in Rome itself, the obligation
-devolved upon his companion&mdash;<i lang="la">Pro-Magister</i>
-or <i lang="la">Socius</i>&mdash;who
-also holds three days of catechism
-in preparation for each of the four
-general communions that are given
-yearly in the palace. This deputy
-is appointed by the master, and is
-a person of consequence, succeeding
-sometimes to the higher office.
-The present master is Vincenzo
-Maria Gatti. When the learned
-Alexander V. became pope (1409),
-the Master of the Palace was required
-to stand by at his meals,
-especially on Sundays and festival
-days, and be ready to propose
-difficult points of debate, or to
-enter into an argument on any
-matter and with any person present
-as the Holy Father should
-command.<a name="FNanchor_152" id="FNanchor_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> There have been
-seventy-nine occupants of this
-office since its institution (not to
-count several anti-masters created
-by anti-popes), of whom seventeen
-have been made cardinals, and
-among them the celebrated church
-historian Orsi. The great writer
-on Christian antiquities, Mamachi,
-held this office with distinction.
-It is one, of course, in which
-“brains” rather than “blood” find
-a place; and since there is no
-royal road to learning&mdash;for as an
-old monkish couplet says:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi, sed sæpe cadendo,</div>
-<div class="verse">Sic homo fit doctus, non vi, sed sæpe studendo”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">&mdash;we are not surprised that the series
-of Masters of the Apostolic Palace
-exhibits no such names as those
-that predominate among the chamberlains
-and majordomos&mdash;“Not
-many noble” (1 Cor. i. 26).</p>
-
-<p>In the mother-church of the
-Dominican Order at Rome, <i lang="it">Santa
-Maria sopra Minerva</i>, which is
-also the title of the first American
-cardinal,<a name="FNanchor_153" id="FNanchor_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a> there is a special vault
-beneath the chapel of S. Dominic
-for the entombment of the masters;
-but the brutal invaders who now
-hold possession of Rome having
-forbidden all intra-mural burials&mdash;evidently
-through malice, because,
-from the dry nature of the soil and
-the perfection of Roman masonry,
-there could not be the slightest
-danger from a moderate number
-of interments within the city&mdash;they
-will have to sleep after death in
-some less appropriate spot: “How
-long shall sinners, O Lord, how long
-shall sinners glory?… Thy
-people, O Lord, they have brought
-low: and they have afflicted thy inheritance”
-(Ps. xciii.)</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>POWER, ACTION, AND MOVEMENT.</h3>
-
-<p>The word “motion” is now
-commonly used for movement, but
-it properly means the action by
-which a thing is set into movement.
-This action, or motion, of course
-proceeds from an agent, and consists
-in the production of an act,
-or momentum, which must be terminated
-or received in a patient.
-The active power of the agent is its
-substantial act as virtually containing
-in itself all the acts which the
-agent is ready to produce, according
-to its nature. This active
-power may therefore be called the
-virtuality, or terminability, of the
-act by which the agent is. The momentum
-produced by such a power
-stands to the power in the same
-ontological relation as the <em>now</em> of
-time to the virtuality of God’s
-eternity, and as the ubication of a
-point in space to the virtuality of
-God’s immensity; for in all these
-cases there is question of nothing
-else than of an extrinsic terminability
-and an extrinsic term. We may,
-therefore, in treating of motive
-powers and momentums, follow the
-same order of questions which we
-have followed in our articles on
-space and duration.</p>
-
-<p>But the subject which we are
-about to investigate has a special
-feature of its own; because in the
-exertion of active power, and consequently
-in the momentums produced,
-there is something&mdash;<em>intensity</em>&mdash;which
-is not to be met with either
-in the <em>when</em> or in the <em>where</em>. For
-the <em>when</em> and the <em>where</em> are mere
-terms of intervals or distances, and
-do not partake in their continuity;
-from which it follows that they are
-not quantities, but merely terms of
-quantities, whereas the momentum
-of motion is the formal principle of
-the real changes produced by the
-agent in the patient. And these
-changes admit of different degrees,
-and thus by their greater or less
-magnitude reveal the greater or less
-intensity of the exertion. The reason
-of this difference is very plain;
-for the <em>when</em> and the <em>where</em> are not
-efficiently produced by God’s eternity
-and immensity, for these divine
-attributes do not connote
-action. Their origin is not to be
-traced to action, but to resultation,
-as we have explained in our preceding
-articles. The entity of
-every creature, on the contrary,
-proceeds from God as efficient
-cause&mdash;that is, it does not merely
-result from the existence of other
-things, but it is actively produced;
-and, since an act produced must
-have some degree of perfection,
-creatures are more or less perfect
-as to their entity, and therefore
-have in their own act a greater or
-less power of acting, according to
-the degree of their entitative perfection.
-This explains why it is
-that there is intensity in all action
-and in all act produced, whereas
-there is no intensity in the <em>when</em>
-and the <em>where</em>.</p>
-
-<p>But, apart from this special feature,
-the questions regarding active
-powers, actions, and the acts produced
-are entirely similar to those
-which we have answered in treating
-of space and of duration. Nay,
-more, the same questions may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>
-viewed under three distinct aspects&mdash;viz.,
-first, with reference to the
-divine power and its causality of
-contingent things; secondly, with
-reference to second causes, their
-actions, and the momentums produced
-by them; and, thirdly, with
-reference to these momentums
-themselves and the local movements
-resulting from them. This
-third view of the subject is the only
-one immediately connected with
-the notions of space and of time,
-and we might limit ourselves to its
-consideration. Nevertheless, to
-shed more light on the whole
-treatise, we propose to say something
-of the other two also; for,
-by tracing the actions and the phenomena
-of the material world to
-their original sources, we shall discover
-that all different grades of
-reality are linked with their immediate
-principles in such a manner
-as to exhibit a perpetual analogy
-of the lower with the higher, till we
-reach the highest&mdash;God.</p>
-
-<p>To ascertain the truth of this
-proposition, let us recall to mind
-the main conclusions established
-by us with respect to space. They
-were as follows:</p>
-
-<p>1st. There is void space&mdash;that is,
-a capacity which does not imply the
-presence of anything created.</p>
-
-<p>2d. Void space is an objective
-reality.</p>
-
-<p>3d. Void space was not created.</p>
-
-<p>4th. Absolute space is the virtuality,
-or extrinsic terminability,
-of God’s immensity.</p>
-
-<p>5th. Absolute space is not modified
-by the presence of matter in
-it&mdash;that is, by its extrinsic termination.</p>
-
-<p>6th. Ubications are extrinsic
-terms of absolute space, and their
-relations have in space itself an
-extrinsic foundation.</p>
-
-<p>A similar series of conclusions
-was established in regard to duration.
-They were:</p>
-
-<p>1st. There is a standing duration&mdash;that
-is, an actuality which does
-not imply succession.</p>
-
-<p>2d. Standing duration is an objective
-reality.</p>
-
-<p>3d. Standing duration is not created.</p>
-
-<p>4th. Standing duration is the
-virtuality, or extrinsic terminability,
-of God’s eternity.</p>
-
-<p>5th. Standing duration is not
-modified by the existence in it of
-created things&mdash;that is, by its extrinsic
-termination.</p>
-
-<p>6th. The <em>whens</em> of creatures are
-extrinsic terms of standing duration,
-and their relations have in
-standing duration their extrinsic
-foundation.</p>
-
-<p>Before we give the analogous
-conclusions concerning active
-powers and their causality, we
-have to premise that all power
-ready to act is said to be <i lang="la">in actu
-primo</i>, or in the “first act,” with
-respect to its termination and term,
-or act, which it is ready to produce.
-Its action is its termination,
-and it consists in the causation of
-a <em>second act</em>. This second act, inasmuch
-as it exists in its proper
-term, potency, or subject, is called
-<i lang="la">actio in facto esse</i>&mdash;that is, an action
-wholly complete, though the action
-proper is always <i lang="la">in fieri</i>; for it consists
-in the very production of such
-a second act, as we have just stated.
-The result of this production is the
-existence of a new reality, substantial
-or accidental, according to the
-nature of the act produced. This
-well-known terminology we shall
-use here for the parallel development
-of the three classes of questions
-which we have to answer.</p>
-
-<p><i>Origin of Power.</i>&mdash;First, then,
-with regard to the primary origin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>
-of active and moving powers, we lay
-down the following conclusions:</p>
-
-<p>1st. There is some absolute
-power&mdash;that is, a first act which has
-no need of producing any second
-act.</p>
-
-<p>2d. Absolute power is an objective
-reality.</p>
-
-<p>3d. Absolute power is uncreated.</p>
-
-<p>4th. Absolute power is the virtuality,
-or extrinsic terminability,
-of the act by which God is.</p>
-
-<p>5th. Absolute power is not modified
-by the production of effects&mdash;that
-is, by its extrinsic termination.</p>
-
-<p>6th. The beings thus produced
-are extrinsic terms of God’s power;
-and although, owing to their intrinsic
-perfection, which may be greater
-or less, they can be related to one
-another by an intrinsic foundation,
-yet their “entitative distances”
-have only an extrinsic foundation&mdash;to
-wit, God’s omnipotence.</p>
-
-<p>Some of these propositions are so
-obvious that they might have been
-omitted but for the object we have
-in view of pointing out the parallelism
-of absolute power with space
-and duration.</p>
-
-<p>The first of these conclusions is
-proved thus: All first act which
-naturally needs to produce some
-second act has an intrinsic and
-natural ordination to something distinct
-from itself; for all effect is
-really distinct from its efficient
-principle. But it cannot be admitted
-without absurdity that every
-first act has such an intrinsic and
-natural ordination; for, if everything
-were thus ordained to something
-else, all things would tend to
-some subordinate end, while there
-would be no supreme end at all;
-for nothing that is ordained to
-something else can rank as the supreme
-end. On the other hand,
-no subordinate ends can be admitted
-without a supreme end. And
-therefore there must be some first
-act which has no intrinsic necessity
-of producing any second act. Such
-a first act is altogether absolute.</p>
-
-<p>The second conclusion is evident.
-For what we call here “a first act”
-is not an imperfect and incomplete
-act, since it needs no termination;
-nor is it a result of mental abstraction
-and analysis, but a perfect
-principle of real operations; for the
-epithet “first,” by which we characterize
-it, does not imply that it
-lacks anything in its entity, but, on
-the contrary, it means that it already
-contains eminently the whole reality
-of the effects which it is competent
-to produce. Hence it is clear
-that, if such effects are objective
-realities, the first act on which their
-production depends is an objective
-reality, and a much better one
-too.</p>
-
-<p>The third conclusion needs no
-proof, it being evident that whatever
-is created must tend to the
-end of its creation, which is the
-manifestation of the perfections of
-its creator. This manifestation implies
-action&mdash;viz., a transition of the
-first act to its second act. Accordingly,
-a first act which has no
-necessary ordination to second acts
-cannot be created.</p>
-
-<p>The fourth conclusion follows
-from the third, since an uncreated
-act can be nothing else than the
-act by which God is. This act, inasmuch
-as it eminently contains the
-reality of all possible things, is extrinsically
-terminable, and as thus
-terminable it exhibits itself as a
-“first” act. But, since God has
-no need of creatures, such a first
-act has no need of extrinsic terminations,
-and, as first, it constitutes
-omnipotence, or God’s absolute
-power. This power in its infinite
-simplicity has an infinite range, as
-it extends to all conceivable reality.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>The fifth conclusion will be
-easily understood by reflecting that
-the extrinsic termination of active
-power consists in giving existence
-to contingent things by efficient action.
-Now, to act efficiently does
-not bring about any intrinsic change
-in the agent; for all intrinsic change
-follows from passion, which is the
-opposite of action. Nor does God,
-when giving existence and active
-powers to any number of creatures,
-weaken his own power. For the
-power imparted to creatures is not
-a portion of the divine power, but a
-product of creation, and nothing, in
-fact, but the created act itself. For,
-as all contingent things are created
-for the manifestation of God’s perfections,
-all creatures must be active;
-and as everything acts as it
-is in act, the act being the principle
-of the acting, it follows that all
-act produced by creation is an active
-power of greater or less perfection
-according to the part it is destined
-to fill in the plans of its
-Maker. This shows that the act
-by which a creature is, bears a resemblance
-to the act by which God
-is, inasmuch as it virtually contains
-in itself all those acts which it is
-fit to produce according to its nature.
-But, since all contingent act
-is extrinsic to God, divine omnipotence
-is not entitatively and intrinsically
-more actuated by creation
-than by non-creation; though, if
-God creates any being, from the
-term produced he will acquire the
-real denomination of Creator. Thus
-the existence of a contingent being
-is the existence of a real term, which
-extrinsically terminates the virtuality
-of God’s act, in which it is eminently
-contained. Its relation to
-its Creator is one of total dependence;
-whilst God’s relation to it is
-that of first causality. The foundation
-of this relation is the action
-which proceeds from God and terminates
-in the creature.</p>
-
-<p>The first part of the sixth conclusion,
-that beings produced by creation
-are extrinsic terms of God’s
-power, has just been explained.
-But we say, moreover, that the entitative
-distances between such beings
-have an extrinsic foundation
-in God’s omnipotence. By “entitative
-distance” we mean the difference
-in degree between distinct
-beings&mdash;<i>v.g.</i>, between a man and a
-tree&mdash;as we have explained in another
-place.<a name="FNanchor_154" id="FNanchor_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a> And we say that, as
-the distance between two material
-points in space has its extrinsic
-foundation in the virtuality of
-God’s immensity, so also the entitative
-distance of two beings has
-its extrinsic foundation in the virtuality
-of God’s infinite act&mdash;that is,
-in divine omnipotence. In fact,
-the different degrees of entity conceivable
-between the tree and the
-man are all virtually contained in
-God’s omnipotence, just as all the
-distinct ubications possible between
-two points are virtually in
-God’s immensity. Hence the foundation
-of such entitative distances
-is extrinsic to the beings compared
-in the same manner as the foundation
-of local distances.</p>
-
-<p>But the terms produced by creative
-action, inasmuch as they possess
-a greater or less perfection in
-their individual constitution, can
-be compared with one another according
-to the relative degree of
-their intrinsic reality; and thus,
-besides the extrinsic relation just
-mentioned, they have a mutual relativity
-arising from an intrinsic
-foundation. The relative degree
-of reality of a contingent being
-becomes known to us through the
-relative intensity of its active power;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>
-which implies that the beings
-compared have powers of the same
-species. If they are not of the
-same species, the comparison will
-give no result.</p>
-
-<p><i>Remarks.</i>&mdash;Before leaving this
-part of our subject, we have to
-notice that, as the ubication, so
-also the act produced by creation,
-can be considered both absolutely
-and respectively. A created act,
-considered absolutely, is an act intrinsically
-completed by its essential
-potency, and constitutes the
-being as it is <i lang="la">in actu secundo</i>. The
-same act, considered respectively,
-or as ordained to something else,
-is a power ready to act, and thus it
-is <i lang="la">in actu primo</i> with regard to all
-the acts which it is able to produce.</p>
-
-<p>The essential act of a contingent
-being, be it considered absolutely
-or respectively, bears no proportion
-to the perfection of its Creator,
-no more indeed than a point
-in space to immensity, or a <em>now</em> of
-time to eternity. Hence all contingent
-act or power, whatever be
-its perfection or intensity, as compared
-with God, is like nothing.
-It is only when a created act or
-power is compared with another of
-the same kind that we can establish
-a proportion between them as
-to degrees of perfection and of intensity.
-These degrees are measured
-by comparing the relative intensities
-of the effects produced by
-distinct causes of the same kind,
-acting under the same conditions.</p>
-
-<p>The quantity of efficient power
-may be conceived as a virtual sum
-of degrees of power. In this particular
-the quantity of power differs
-entirely from the quantity of distance;
-because this latter cannot
-be conceived as a virtual sum of
-ubications. The reason of this
-difference is that ubications, as
-being simple points, have no quantity,
-and therefore cannot by addition
-make up a continuous quantity;
-whereas the degrees of power
-always possess intensity, and
-are quantities; hence their sum is
-a quantity of the same kind.</p>
-
-<p>It may be useful to remark that
-all continuous quantity has a necessary
-connection with the quantity
-of power, and that all extension
-owes its being to the efficacy
-of some motive principle. In fact,
-all intervals, whether of space or
-of time, are reckoned among continuous
-quantities only on account
-of the quantity of continuous
-movement which can be made,
-or is actually made, in them, as we
-have explained in a preceding article;
-but the quantity of movement
-is itself to be traced to the intensity
-of the momentum produced
-by the agent, and the momentum
-to the intensity of the motive power.
-As soon as movement is communicated
-to a point, its ubication
-begins to shift and to extend a
-continuous line in space; and its
-<em>now</em>, too, for the same reason begins
-to flow and to extend continuous
-time.</p>
-
-<p>When the quantity of power is
-expressed by a number, its value is
-determined, as we have stated, by
-the intensity of its efficiency in a
-given time and fixed conditions.
-The unit of intensity by which the
-amount of the effect produced is
-measured is arbitrary; for there is
-no natural unit for the degrees of
-intensity, it being evident that such
-degrees can be divided and subdivided
-without end, just like the
-continuum. Hence the numbers
-by which we express degrees of intensity
-are only virtually discrete,
-just as those by which we express
-continuous quantities. The ordinary
-unit assumed for the measure
-of intensity is that degree of intensity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>
-which causes a unit of weight
-to measure a unit of distance in a
-unit of time. As all these units
-are arbitrary, it is evident that such
-is also the unit of intensity.</p>
-
-<p>Let us remark, also, that the power
-of natural causes has in its action
-a twofold continuity&mdash;that is,
-with regard both to space and to
-duration. As long as a natural
-cause exists, it acts without interruption,
-owing to its intrinsic determination,
-provided there be, as
-there is always in fact, some subject
-capable of being acted upon
-by it. This constitutes the continuity
-of action with regard to duration.
-On the other hand, the motive
-power of such natural causes
-is exerted, according to the Newtonian
-law, throughout an indefinite
-sphere, as we have shown in another
-place;<a name="FNanchor_155" id="FNanchor_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> and this constitutes
-the continuity of action through
-space. Moreover, if the point acted
-upon approaches the agent or
-recedes from it, the continuous
-change of distance will be accompanied
-by a continuous change of
-action; and thus the intensity of
-the act produced by the agent will
-increase or decrease in a continuous
-manner through infinitesimal
-degrees corresponding to the infinitesimal
-changes of local relations
-occurring in infinitesimal instants
-of time. This relation of changes
-is the base of dynamics. But
-enough on this point.</p>
-
-<p><i>Origin of movement.</i>&mdash;We may
-now pass to the conclusions concerning
-movement as dependent on
-its proximate cause. The power
-by which the natural causes produce
-momentums of movement is
-called “motive power.” This power
-is to be found both in material
-and in spiritual beings; but as in
-spiritual substances the exercise of
-the motive power is subject to their
-will, and consists in the application
-of a nobler power to the production
-of a lower effect, we do not and
-cannot consider the power of spiritual
-beings as merely “motive,” for
-it is, above all, intellective and volitive.
-Material things, on the contrary,
-because they possess no other
-power than that of moving, are
-characterized by it, and are naturally
-determined to exercise it according
-to a law which they cannot
-elude. It is of these beings in particular
-that the following conclusions
-are to be understood.</p>
-
-<p>1st. There is in all material
-creatures a motive power&mdash;that is, a
-first act of moving&mdash;which, considered
-in its absolute state, has no need
-of extrinsic termination, that is, of
-producing a momentum of movement.</p>
-
-<p>2d. This motive power is an objective
-reality.</p>
-
-<p>3d. The same power is nothing
-accidentally superadded to the being
-of which it is the power.</p>
-
-<p>4th. This power is the virtuality,
-or extrinsic terminability, of the
-act by which the agent is.</p>
-
-<p>5th. This power is not modified
-by the production of momentums in
-extrinsic terms.</p>
-
-<p>6th. The momentums thus produced
-are second acts of the motive
-power, extrinsic to it; and though,
-owing to their intensity, which may
-be greater or less, they can be related
-to one another through an intrinsic
-foundation, yet their entitative
-distances have only an extrinsic
-foundation&mdash;to wit, the agent’s
-power.</p>
-
-<p>Some of these propositions are
-quite evident; but our present object
-is not only to explain what
-may require a special discussion,
-but also, and principally, to dissect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span>
-our subject in such a manner as to
-make it manifest that a perpetual
-analogy exists between the conditions
-and the principles of all kinds
-of continuum, and that in all of
-them the transition from the absolute
-to the relative, from the cause
-to the effect, and from the formal
-reason to its formal result, is made
-through a like process and through
-similar degrees. For this reason
-we think that even those conclusions
-which seem too obvious to
-deserve mention become interesting
-and serve a good purpose; for
-in the parallel treatment of analogous
-subjects, those things which
-are clearer throw light on those
-which are more abstruse, and about
-which we often feel a certain hesitation.</p>
-
-<p>The first of our present conclusions
-needs only a short explanation.
-When we say that in every
-creature there is a motive power
-which, <em>considered in its absolute state</em>,
-has no need of producing a momentum,
-we mean that in every creature
-there is an act which is a principle
-of activity, but that the exercise
-of this activity is not required
-for the substantial perfection and
-essential constitution of the creature
-itself, though it may be required
-for some other reason, as we
-shall see presently. In fact, every
-substance has its own complete being
-independently of accidents; and
-since the exertion of motive power
-is an accident, every substance is
-entitatively independent of it. We
-conceive that if God had created
-nothing but an element of matter,
-such an element would indeed (on
-its own part) be ready to act and
-to produce a momentum of movement;
-but, as there would be no
-subject capable of receiving a momentum,
-the motive power would
-remain <i lang="la">in actu primo</i>&mdash;that is, without
-actual exertion. And yet it is
-evident that the non-existence of
-other elements can have no bearing
-on the intrinsic constitution and
-substantial perfection of the element
-in the question. Therefore
-the power of an element of matter
-is a first act, which, as far as the
-entity of the element itself is concerned,
-has no need of producing
-any second act.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, since all creatures
-must in some manner glorify God
-as long as they exist, because such
-is the true and highest end of
-their existence, hence to every created
-power some proportionate term
-or subject corresponds, in which
-its exertion is received without interruption.
-In the same manner
-as the understanding never lacks an
-intelligible object, and the sense
-never lacks a sensible term, about
-which to exercise itself by immanent
-operation, the motive power
-of inferior beings never fails to
-meet a proportionate&mdash;that is, movable&mdash;term
-and to impress upon it
-a momentum of a certain intensity.
-Hence, when we regard, not the
-substance of natural things as such,
-but the natural necessity they are
-under of tending constantly to the
-ultimate end of their creation, we
-see that their first act of moving
-must always entail some second
-act, or momentum, in all the terms
-which it can reach according to its
-natural determination.</p>
-
-<p>The second conclusion is self-evident;
-for, if the principle of real
-movement were not an objective
-reality, a real effect would proceed
-from an unreal cause&mdash;which is
-absurd. Nor does it matter that
-the power is only a “first” act.
-For, as we have explained above,
-it is first as compared with the acts
-which it can produce, but it is intrinsically
-complete in the entity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span>
-of the agent, as it is terminated to
-its substantial term.</p>
-
-<p>The third conclusion is nothing
-but a corollary of the well-known
-axiom that in all things the principle
-of operation is the substantial
-act: <i lang="la">Forma est id quo agens agit</i>,
-and <i lang="la">Principium essendi est principium
-operandi</i>. We have proved in another
-place<a name="FNanchor_156" id="FNanchor_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> that no natural accident
-possesses active power or is
-actually concerned in any of the effects
-produced by the agent. This
-truth should be well understood by
-the modern scientists who very commonly
-mistake the conditions of
-the action for the active principle.
-Of course no creature can act independently
-of accidental conditions;
-but these conditions have
-no bearing on the active power
-itself&mdash;they only determine (formally
-and not efficiently) the mode
-of its application according to a
-constant law. Thus the distance
-of two material points has no <em>active</em>
-influence on their motive power or
-on their mutual action, but only
-constitutes the two points in a certain
-relation to one another; and
-when such a relation is altered, the
-action is changed, not because the
-power is modified, but because its
-determination to act&mdash;that is, its
-very nature&mdash;demands that it should
-in its application follow the Newtonian
-law of the inverse ratio of
-the squared distances.</p>
-
-<p>The philosophers of the old
-school admitted, but never proved,
-that, although the substantial form
-is the main principle of activity in
-natural things, nevertheless this
-principle was in need of some
-accidental entity, that it might be
-proximately disposed to produce
-its act. This opinion, too, originated
-in the confusion of active
-power with the conditions on
-which the mode of its exertion depends.
-What they called “active
-qualities” is now acknowledged to
-be, not a new kind of active power
-superadded to the substantial
-forms, but merely a result of
-the concurrence of many simple
-powers acting under determinate
-conditions. The accidental
-change of the conditions entails
-the change of the result and
-action, but the active powers evidently
-remain the same. The
-ancients said also that the substantial
-forms were the active principles
-of substantial generations,
-whereas the “active qualities”
-were the active principles of mere
-alterations. As we have shown
-that the whole theory of substantial
-generations, as understood by
-the peripatetic school, is based on
-assumption and equivocation, and
-leads to impossibilities,<a name="FNanchor_157" id="FNanchor_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> we may be
-dispensed from giving a new refutation
-of the opinion last mentioned.</p>
-
-<p>Our fourth conclusion directly
-follows from the general principle
-that the act by which a thing has
-its first being is its principle of
-action: <i lang="la">Quo aliquid primo est, eo
-agit</i>. The substantial act, considered
-as to its absolute entity, does not
-connote action, but simply constitutes
-the being of which it is the
-act. In order to conceive it as an
-active power, we must refer to the
-effects which it virtually contains&mdash;that
-is, we must consider its virtuality.
-In this manner what is a
-second act with regard to the substance
-of the agent, will be conceived
-as a first act with reference to the
-effects it can produce, according to
-a received axiom: <i lang="la">Actus secundus
-essendi est actus primus operandi</i>.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>The fifth conclusion, notwithstanding
-the contrary opinion of
-many philosophers, is quite certain.
-For all intrinsic modification is the
-result of passive reception or passion.
-Now, to produce a momentum
-of movement is action,
-not passion. Therefore, when such
-a momentum is produced, no other
-subject is intrinsically modified by
-it except the one which passively
-receives it. It is therefore the
-being which is acted on, not that
-which acts, that acquires an intrinsic
-modification. The power
-of the agent is not entitatively
-and intrinsically more actuated by
-action than by non-action. Its
-action is an extrinsic termination,
-and gives it nothing but the real denomination
-of agent, by which it is
-really related to the term acted on.
-The patient, by its reception of
-the momentum, becomes similarly
-related to the agent, as is evident.
-And the relation consists in this:
-that the patient acquires formally
-an act which the agent virtually
-contains. This relation is of accidental
-causality on the one side
-and of accidental dependence on
-the other. The foundation of the
-relation is the accidental action as
-coming from the one and terminating
-in the other.</p>
-
-<p>As everything that is in movement
-must have received the motion
-from a distinct agent, according
-to the principle <i lang="la">Omne quod movetur,
-ab alio movetur</i>, it follows that whatever
-is in movement is accidentally
-dependent on an extrinsic mover;
-and, since all material elements are
-both movers and moved, they all
-have a mutual accidental causality
-and dependence.</p>
-
-<p>Our sixth conclusion is sufficiently
-clear from what has been
-said concerning the sixth conclusion
-of the preceding series. The
-momentum of movement is evidently
-the second act of the motive
-power&mdash;that is, the extrinsic term
-of its exertion. The entitative distance
-between two momentums produced
-by the same mover is an
-extrinsic relation; for its foundation
-is the virtuality of the act by
-which the agent is, as has been explained
-above. But the same momentums,
-as possessing greater or
-less intensity, can also be compared
-with one another according to their
-intrinsic entity or degree; and thus
-they will be found to have a mutual
-relation arising from an intrinsic
-foundation.</p>
-
-<p><i>Remarks.</i>&mdash;As the ubication, so
-also the momentum produced by
-accidental action, can be considered
-both absolutely and respectively.
-The momentum, considered
-absolutely, is an act received in a
-subject&mdash;an absolute momentum,
-an extrinsic term of the virtuality
-of the motive principle; and, as
-such a momentum is only one out
-of the innumerable acts which can
-proceed from the agent, it has an
-entity infinitely less than that of
-the agent. It is evident, in fact,
-that between a substantial and an
-accidental act there must be an infinite
-entitative disproportion, both
-because no substance can be substantially
-changed by its accidents,
-and because the substantial act
-can never be exhausted, and not
-even weakened, by the production
-of accidental acts, as we have established
-in another place.<a name="FNanchor_158" id="FNanchor_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> The
-momentum is considered respectively
-when it is compared with
-another momentum, in which case
-we can find the relation of the
-one to the other as to intensity. This
-intensity is measured by the
-quantity of the movement to which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span>
-they give rise when not counteracted.</p>
-
-<p>The unit of intensity is arbitrary
-in the momentums, as in their principles,
-for the same reason&mdash;that is,
-because in neither case a natural
-unit of intensity can be found. The
-number expressing the relative intensity
-of a momentum is only
-virtually discrete, because the
-momentum is only virtually compounded,
-since it is not a number
-of distinct acts, but one act equivalent
-to many.</p>
-
-<p><i>Movement and its affections.</i>&mdash;The
-production of a momentum entails
-movement. The general definition
-of movement, according to Aristotle
-and S. Thomas, is <i lang="la">Actus existentis
-in potentia ut in potentia</i>, or,
-as we would say, an actual passage
-from one potential state to
-another. Now, all created being is
-potential in two manners: first, on
-account of its passive receptivity;
-secondly, on account of its affectibility,
-which is a consequence of
-its passivity, as we have explained
-in the “Principles of Real Being.”<a name="FNanchor_159" id="FNanchor_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a>
-Hence the momentum of movement,
-inasmuch as it is received
-in the patient, actuates its passive
-potency; and inasmuch as its reception
-entails a certain mode of
-being, it affects its resultant potentiality.
-But besides this double
-potentiality, which is intrinsic to
-the subject, there is another potentiality
-which refers to an extrinsic
-term, and for this reason
-movement is considered both as it
-is a modification of its subject,
-<i lang="la">ratione subjecti</i>, and as it points at
-an extrinsic term, <i lang="la">ratione termini</i>.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to its subject, movement
-is usually divided into <em>immanent</em>
-and <em>transient</em>. It is called
-immanent when it results from immanent
-acts, as when the soul
-directs its attention to such or
-such an object of thought; and it
-is called transient when it brings
-about a change in a subject distinct
-from the agent, as when a man
-moves a stone, or when the sun
-moves the earth. But this is inaccurate
-language; for what is
-transient in these cases is the
-<em>action</em>, not the <em>movement</em>.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to its term, movement
-is divided into two kinds&mdash;that
-is, movement to a place, <i lang="la">motus
-ad ubi</i>, and movement towards a
-certain degree of perfection or intensity
-of power, <i lang="la">motus virtutis</i>.<a name="FNanchor_160" id="FNanchor_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a>
-The first is called <em>local</em> movement,
-of which we will speak presently.
-The second is subdivided into <em>intension</em>,
-<em>remission</em>, and <em>alteration</em>.
-Intension and remission are the acquisition
-or loss of some degree of
-perfection or of intensity with regard
-to power and qualities; alteration
-is the passage from one kind
-of quality or property to another.
-Thus, in water, heat is subject to
-intension and remission; but when
-the cohesive force of the molecules
-is superseded by the expansive
-force of vapor, there is alteration.</p>
-
-<p>It is important to notice that
-there is no <i lang="la">motus virtutis</i> in primitive
-elements of matter. The exertion
-of their power varies indeed
-according to the Newtonian law,
-but the power itself is always exactly
-the same, as its principle is the
-substantial act, which cannot be
-modified by accidental action. It
-is only in material compounds that
-the <i lang="la">motus virtutis</i> can be admitted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>
-for the reason that the active
-powers and qualities in them are a
-result of composition; hence a
-change in the mode of the composition
-brings about a change in the
-resultant. So also in spiritual substances
-there is no <i lang="la">motus virtutis</i>,
-because their active faculties are
-always substantially the same. True
-it is that the intellect has also its
-passivity with regard to intelligible
-species, and that it acts by so much
-the more easily and perfectly in
-proportion as it is better furnished
-with intelligible species distinctly
-expressed and arranged according
-to their logical and objective connection.
-But this cannot mean
-that the active power of the intellect
-can be increased, but only that
-it can be placed in more suitable
-conditions for its operations. And
-the like is to be said of all acquired
-habits; for they give a greater facility
-of acting, not by intensifying
-the intrinsic power, but by placing
-the active faculty in such conditions
-as are more favorable for its
-operation.</p>
-
-<p>But let us revert to local movement.
-This movement may be defined
-as <em>the act of gliding through
-successive ubications</em>. Such a gliding
-alters the relations of one body
-to another, as is evident, but it involves
-no new intrinsic modification
-of the subject. As long as the
-subject continues to move under
-the same momentum, its intrinsic
-mode of being remains uniformly
-the same, while its extrinsic relations
-to other bodies are in continual
-change. Hence the local
-movement of any point of matter
-merely consists in the act of extending
-from ubication to ubication,
-or, as we may say, in <em>the evolution
-of the intensity of the momentum
-into continuous extension</em>. The reason
-of this evolution is that the
-momentum impressed on a subject
-has not only a definite intensity,
-but also a definite direction in
-space; whence it follows that the
-subject which receives the momentum
-receives a determination to
-describe a line in a definite direction,
-which it must follow, owing to
-its inertia, with an impetus equal to
-the intensity of the momentum itself.
-And in this manner a material
-point, by the successive flowing
-of its ubication, describes a line in
-space, or evolves the intensity of
-its momentum into extension.</p>
-
-<p>Hence, of local movement we can
-predicate both <em>intensity</em> and <em>extension</em>.
-The intensity is the formal
-principle, which, by actuating the
-inertia or mobility of the subject,
-evolves itself into extension. The
-extension is the actual evolution of
-the momentum, and constitutes the
-essence of local movement, which
-is always <i lang="la">in fieri</i>. And this is what
-is especially pointed out in Aristotle’s
-words: <i lang="la">Motus est actus existentis
-in potentia, ut in potentia</i>.
-The <i lang="la">actus</i> refers to the intensity,
-which is not <i lang="la">in fieri</i>, but has a
-definite actuality; whilst the <i lang="la">in potentia
-ut in potentia</i> clearly refers to
-the evolution of extension, which
-is continually <i lang="la">in fieri</i> under the influx
-of said act. Accordingly, local
-movement is both intensive and
-extensive. But this last epithet is
-to be looked upon as equivalent to
-“extending,” not to “extended”;
-for it is the line drawn, or the track
-of the movement already made,
-that is properly “extended,” whereas
-the movement itself is the act of
-extending it.</p>
-
-<p>The formal intensity of local
-movement is called <em>velocity</em>. We
-say the <em>formal</em> intensity, because
-movement has also a <em>material</em> intensity.
-The formal intensity regards
-the rate of movement of each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>
-element of matter taken by itself,
-and it is greater or less according
-as it evolves a greater or a less extension
-in equal times. The material
-intensity regards the quantity
-of matter which is moving with a
-given velocity, and is measured by
-the product of the velocity into the
-mass of the moving body. This
-product is called the momentum
-of the body, or its quantity of movement.</p>
-
-<p>Local movement is subject to
-three affections&mdash;viz., <em>intension</em>, <em>remission</em>,
-and <em>inflexion</em>. In fact, since
-local movement consists in extending
-with a certain velocity in a certain
-direction, it is susceptible of being
-modified either by a change of velocity,
-which will intensify or weaken it,
-or by a change of direction&mdash;that is,
-by inflexion. So long, however, as
-no agent disturbs the actual movement
-already imparted to a body,
-the movement must necessarily continue
-in the same direction and
-with the same velocity; for matter,
-owing to its inertia, cannot modify
-its own state. This amounts to
-saying that the tendency uniformly
-to preserve its rate and its direction
-is not an accidental affection,
-but the very nature, of local movement.</p>
-
-<p>This being premised, we are going
-to establish a series of conclusions,
-concerning movement and
-its affections, parallel to that which
-we have developed in the preceding
-pages respecting power and its
-exertions. The reader will see
-that the chain of our analogies
-must here end; for, since movement
-is not action, it affects nothing
-new, and produces no extrinsic
-terms, but only entails changes of
-local relations. On the other hand,
-the affections of local movement
-are not of a transient, but of an
-immanent, character, and thus they
-give rise to no new entity, but are
-themselves identified with the movement
-of which they are the modes.
-Our conclusions are the following:</p>
-
-<p>1st. There is in all local movement
-something permanent&mdash;that is,
-a general determination of a lasting
-character, which has no need of
-being individuated in one manner
-more than in another.</p>
-
-<p>2d. This constant determination
-is an objective reality.</p>
-
-<p>3d. This same determination is
-nothing accidentally superadded
-to local movement.</p>
-
-<p>4th. This determination is the
-virtuality of the momentum of
-movement, or the act of evolving
-extension in a definite direction.</p>
-
-<p>5th. This determination is not intrinsically
-modified by any accidental
-modification of local movement.</p>
-
-<p>6th. The affections of local
-movement are intrinsic and intransitive
-modes, which identify themselves
-with the movement which
-they modify.</p>
-
-<p>The first of these conclusions is
-briefly proved thus: whatever is a
-subject of real modifications has
-something permanent. Local movement
-is a subject of real modifications.
-Therefore, local movement
-involves something permanent.</p>
-
-<p>The second conclusion is self-evident.</p>
-
-<p>The third conclusion, too, is evident.
-For whatever is accidentally
-superadded to a thing can be
-accidentally taken away, and therefore
-cannot belong to the thing
-permanently and invariably. Hence
-the constant and fixed determination
-in question cannot be an accident
-of local movement.</p>
-
-<p>The fourth conclusion is a corollary
-of the third. For nothing
-is necessarily permanent in local
-movement, except that which constitutes
-its essence. Now, its essence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span>
-lies in this: that it must
-evolve extension at the rate and
-in the direction determined by the
-momentum of which it is the exponent.
-Therefore the permanent
-determination of which we are
-speaking is nothing else than the
-virtuality of the momentum itself
-as developing into extension. And
-since the momentum by which the
-moving body is animated has a
-determinate intensity and direction,
-which virtually contains a determinate
-velocity and direction of
-movement, it follows that the permanent
-determination in question
-consists in the actual tendency of
-movement to evolve uniformly and
-in a straight line&mdash;<em>uniformly</em>, because
-velocity is the form of movement,
-and the velocity determined
-by the intensity of the actual momentum
-is actually one; <em>in a
-straight line</em>, because the actual
-momentum being one, it gives but
-one direction to the movement,
-which therefore will be straight in
-its tendency. Whence we conclude
-that it is of the essence of local
-movement to have <em>an actual tendency
-to evolve uniformly in a straight
-line</em>.</p>
-
-<p>Some will object that local
-movement may lack both uniformity
-and straightness. This is quite
-true, but it does not destroy our
-conclusion. For, as movement is
-always <i lang="la">in fieri</i>, and exists only by
-infinitesimal instants in which it is
-impossible to admit more than one
-velocity and one direction, it remains
-always true that within every
-instant of its existence the movement
-is straight and uniform, and
-that in every such instant it tends
-to continue in the same direction
-and at the same rate&mdash;that is, with
-the velocity and direction it actually
-possesses. This velocity and direction
-may, of course, be modified in
-the following instant; but in the following
-instant, too, the movement
-will tend to evolve uniformly and in
-a straight line suitably to its new
-velocity and direction. Whence
-it is manifest that, although in the
-continuation of the movement there
-may be a series of different velocities
-and directions, yet the tendency
-of the movement is, at every
-instant of its existence, to extend
-uniformly in a straight line. This
-truth is the foundation of dynamics.</p>
-
-<p>Our fifth conclusion is sufficiently
-evident from what we have just
-said. For, whatever be the intensity
-and direction of the movement,
-its determination to extend
-uniformly in a straight line is not
-interfered with.</p>
-
-<p>Our last conclusion has no need
-of explanation. For, since the affections
-of local movement are the
-result of new momentums impressed
-on the subject it is plain that they
-are intrinsic modes characterizing
-a movement individually different
-from the movement that preceded.
-The tendency to evolve uniformly
-in a straight line remains unimpaired,
-as we have shown; but the
-movement itself becomes entitatively&mdash;viz.,
-quantitatively&mdash;different.</p>
-
-<p><i>Remarks.</i>&mdash;Local movement is
-divided into <em>uniform</em> and <em>varied</em>.
-Uniform movement we call that
-which has a constant velocity.
-For, as velocity is the form of
-movement, to say that a movement
-is uniform is to say that it has but
-one velocity in the whole of its
-extension. We usually call “uniform”
-all movement whose apparent
-velocity is constant; but, to
-say the truth, no rigorously uniform
-movement exists in nature
-for any appreciable length of time.
-In fact, every element of matter
-lies within the sphere of action of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span>
-all other elements, and is continually
-acted on, and continually receives
-new momentums; the evident
-consequence of which is that its
-real movement must undergo a
-continuous change of velocity.
-Hence rigorously uniform movement
-is limited to infinitesimal
-time.</p>
-
-<p>Varied movement is that whose
-rate is continually changing. It is
-divided into <em>accelerated</em> and <em>retarded</em>;
-and, when the acceleration or
-the retardation arises from a constant
-action which in equal times
-imparts equal momentums, the movement
-is said to be <em>uniformly</em> accelerated
-or retarded.</p>
-
-<p><i>Epilogue.</i>&mdash;The explanation we
-have given of space, duration, and
-movement suffices, if we are not
-mistaken, to show what is the true
-nature of the only continuous quantities
-which can be found in the real
-order of things. The reader will
-have seen that the source of all continuity
-is motive power and its exertion.
-It is such an exertion that
-engenders local movement, and
-causes it to be continuous in its
-entity, in its local extension, and in
-its duration. In fact, why is the
-local movement continuous <em>in its
-entity</em>? Because the motive action
-strengthens or weakens it by continuous
-infinitesimal degrees in each
-successive infinitesimal instant, thus
-causing it to pass through all the
-degrees of intensity designable between
-its initial and its final velocity.
-And again: why is the local
-movement continuous <em>in its local
-extension</em>? Because it is the property
-of an action which proceeds
-from a point in space and is terminated
-to another point in space,
-to give a local direction to the subject
-in which the momentum is received;
-whence it follows that the
-subject under the influence of such
-a momentum must draw a continuous
-line in space. Finally, why is
-the local movement continuous <em>in
-its duration</em>? Because, owing to the
-continuous change of its ubication,
-the subject of the movement extends
-its absolute <em>when</em> from <em>before</em>
-to <em>after</em>, in a continuous succession,
-which is nothing but the duration
-of the movement.</p>
-
-<p>Hence absolute space and absolute
-duration, which are altogether
-independent of motive actions, are
-not <em>formally</em> continuous, but only
-supply the extrinsic reason of the
-possibility of formal continuums.
-It is matter in movement that by
-the flowing of its <i lang="la">ubi</i> from <em>here</em> to
-<em>there</em> actually marks out a continuous
-line in space, and by the flowing
-of its <i lang="la">quando</i> from <em>before</em> to
-<em>after</em> marks out a continuous line
-in duration. Thus it is not absolute
-space, but the line drawn in
-space, that is <em>formally</em> extended
-from <em>here</em> to <em>there</em>; and it is not absolute
-duration, but the line successively
-drawn in duration, that is
-<em>formally</em> extended from <em>before</em> to
-<em>after</em>.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to the difficulties
-which philosophers have raised at
-different times against local movement
-we have very little to say.
-An ancient philosopher, when called
-to answer some arguments against
-the possibility of movement, thought
-it sufficient to reply: <i lang="la">Solvitur ambulando</i>&mdash;“I
-walk; therefore movement
-is possible.” This answer
-was excellent; but, while showing
-the inanity of the objections, it
-took no notice of the fallacies by
-which they were supported. We
-might follow the same course; for
-the arguments advanced against
-movement are by no means formidable.
-Yet we will mention and
-solve three of them before dismissing
-the subject.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span></p>
-
-<p><i>First.</i> If a body moves, it
-moves where it is, not where it is
-not. But it cannot move where it
-is; for to move implies not to remain
-where it is, and therefore
-bodies cannot move. The answer
-is, that bodies neither move where
-they are nor where they are not,
-but <em>from</em> the place where they are
-<em>to</em> the place where they are not.</p>
-
-<p><i>Second.</i> A material element cannot
-describe a line in space between
-two points without gliding
-through all the intermediate ubications.
-But the intermediate ubications
-are infinite, as infinite points
-can be designated in any line; and
-the infinite cannot be passed over.
-The answer is that an infinite multitude
-cannot be measured by one
-of its units; and for this reason
-the infinite multitude of ubications
-which may be designated between
-the terms of a line cannot be
-measured by a unit of the same
-kind. Nevertheless, a line can be
-measured by movement&mdash;that is,
-not by the ubication itself, but <em>by
-the flowing</em> of an ubication; because
-the flowing of the ubication
-is continuous, and involves continuous
-quantity; and therefore it is
-to be considered as containing in
-itself its own measure, which is a
-measure of length, and which may
-serve to measure the whole line of
-movement. If the length of a line
-were an infinite sum of ubications&mdash;that
-is, of mathematical points&mdash;the
-objection would have some weight;
-but the length of the line is evidently
-not a sum of points. The
-line is a continuous quantity
-evolved by the flowing of a
-point. It can therefore be measured
-by the flowing of a point.
-For as the line described can be
-divided and subdivided without
-end, so also the time employed in
-describing it can be divided and
-subdivided without end. Hence
-the length of a line described in a
-finite length of time can be conceived
-as an infinite virtual multitude
-of infinitesimal lengths, just in
-the same manner as the time employed
-in describing it can be conceived
-as an infinite multitude of
-infinitesimal instants. Now, the
-infinite can measure the infinite;
-and therefore it is manifest that an
-infinite multitude of infinitesimal
-lengths can be measured by the
-flowing of a point through an infinite
-multitude of infinitesimal instants.<a name="FNanchor_161" id="FNanchor_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a></p>
-
-<p><i>Third.</i> The communication of
-movement, as we know by experience,
-requires time; and yet time
-arises from movement, and cannot
-begin before the movement is communicated.
-How, then, will movement
-be communicated? The
-answer is that time and movement
-begin together, and evolve
-simultaneously in the very act of
-the communication of movement.
-It is not true, then, that all communication
-of movement requires
-time. Our experience regards only
-the communication of <em>finite</em> movement,
-which, of course, cannot be
-made except the action of the agent
-continue for a finite time. But
-movement is always communicated
-by infinitesimal degrees in infinitesimal
-instants; and thus the beginning
-of the motive action coincides
-with the beginning of the
-movement, and this coincides with
-the beginning of its duration.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>And here we end. The considerations
-which we have developed
-in our articles on space,
-duration, and movement have, we
-think, a sufficient importance to
-be regarded with interest by those
-who have a philosophical turn of
-mind. The subjects which we
-have endeavored so far to investigate
-are scarcely ever examined as
-deeply as they deserve by the
-modern writers of philosophical
-treatises; but there is no doubt
-that a clearer knowledge of those
-subjects must enable us to extricate
-ourselves from many difficulties
-to be met in other parts
-of metaphysics. It is principally
-in order to solve the sophisms of
-the idealists and of the transcendental
-pantheists that we need an
-exact, intellectual notion of space
-and of time. We see how Kant,
-the father of German idealism and
-pantheism, was led into numerous
-errors by his misconception of
-these two points, and how his followers,
-owing to a like hallucination,
-succeeded in obscuring the
-light of their noble intellects, and
-were prompted to deny and revile
-the most certain and fundamental
-principles of human reasoning. In
-fact, a mistaken notion of space
-lies at the bottom of nearly all
-their philosophical blunders. If we
-desire to refute their false theories
-by direct and categorical arguments,
-we must know how far we
-can trust the popular language on
-space, and how we can correct
-its inaccuracies so as to give precision
-to our own phraseology, lest
-by conceding or denying more
-than truth demands we furnish
-them with the means of retorting
-against our argumentation. This
-is the main reason that induced
-us to treat of space, duration,
-and movement in a special series
-of articles, as we entertained the
-hope that we might thus help
-in cutting the ground from under
-the feet of the pantheist by uprooting
-the very germ of his manifold
-errors.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>NOT YET.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Methought the King of Terrors came my way:</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Whom all men flee, and none esteem it base.</div>
-<div class="verse">But lo! his smile forbidding me dismay,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I stood&mdash;and dared to look him in the face.</div>
-<div class="verse">“So soon!” the only murmur in my heart:</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">For I had shaped the deeds of many years&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Ambitioning atonement, and, in part,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To reap in joy what I had sown in tears.</div>
-<div class="verse">Then, turning to Our Lady: “O my Queen!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">’Twere very sweet already to have won</div>
-<div class="verse">My crown, and pass to see as I am seen,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And nevermore offend thy Blessed Son:</div>
-<div class="verse">Yet would I stay&mdash;and for myself, I own:&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">To stand, at last, the nearer to thy throne.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SONGS OF THE PEOPLE.</h3>
-
-<p>Without going back to abstruse
-speculations on the origin of music
-in England (there is a mania in
-our century for discovering the
-“origin” of everything, and theorizing
-on it, long before a sufficient
-number of facts has been collected
-even to make a pedestal for the
-most modest and limited theory),
-we gather from the mention of it
-in old English poems, and books
-on ballads and songs, glees and
-catches, that it existed in a very
-creditable form at least eight hundred
-years ago. Indeed, there was
-national and popular music before
-this, and the Welsh songs, the
-oldest of all, point far back to a
-legendary past as the source of
-their being. The first foreign song
-that mingled with the rude music
-of the early Britons was doubtless
-that of the Christian missionaries
-in the first century of our era, and
-after that there can have been little
-music among the converted Britons
-but what was more or less tinged
-with a foreign and Christian element.
-We know, too, that at
-various times foreign monks either
-came or were invited to the different
-kingdoms in England to
-teach the natives the ecclesiastical
-chant. Gardiner, in his <cite>Music of
-Nature</cite>, says that “as the invaders
-came from all parts of the Continent,
-our language and music became a
-motley collection of sounds and
-words unlike that of any other
-people; and though we have gained
-a language of great force and extent,
-yet we have lost our primitive
-music, as not a single song remains
-that has the character of being
-national.” He also says that before
-music was cultivated as an
-art, England, in common with
-other countries, had its national
-songs, but that these, with the
-people who sang them, were driven
-by the conquerors into Ireland,
-Scotland, and Wales. This assertion
-is rather a sweeping one, and
-the recognized formula about the
-ancient inhabitants of Britain
-being <em>all</em> crowded into certain
-particular districts is one that will
-bear modifying and correcting.
-The British Anthropological Society
-has, during the last ten
-years, made interesting researches
-in the field of race-characteristics
-in different parts of England,
-and an accumulation of facts has
-gone far to prove the permanence
-of some Gaelic, Cymric,
-and Celtic types in other parts,
-exclusive of Wales and Cornwall.
-Dr. Beddoe and Mr. Mackintosh
-have published the result
-of their observations, and the latter
-concludes that “a considerable
-portion of the west Midland and
-southwestern counties are scarcely
-distinguishable from three of the
-types found in Wales&mdash;namely, the
-British, Gaelic, and Cymrian. In
-Shropshire, and ramifying to the
-east and southeast, the Cymrian
-type may be found in great numbers,
-though not predominating.…
-In many parts of the southwest
-the prevailing type among the
-working classes is decidedly Gaelic.…
-North Devon and Dorset
-may be regarded as its headquarters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span>
-in South Britain.” Then,
-again, the district along the borders
-of Wales, especially between Taunton
-and Oswestry, and as far east
-as Bath, shows a population more
-naturally intellectual than that of
-any other part of England, and
-that without any superiority of
-primary education to account for
-it. The people are what might be
-called Anglicized Welsh, and there
-is among them a greater taste for
-solid knowledge than in the heart of
-England. Lancashire is to a great
-extent Scandinavian, and also somewhat
-Cymrian, as we have seen, and
-there the people are known as a
-shrewd, hardy race, thoughtful and
-fond of study, and great adepts in
-music.</p>
-
-<p>At a large school in Tiverton,
-Devonshire, nine-tenths of the boys
-presented the most exaggerated
-Gaelic physiognomy; while at another,
-near Chichester, the girls
-were all of the most unmistakable
-Saxon type. We need not go further
-in this classification, and only introduced
-it to show that massing
-together all British types in Wales
-and Cornwall is a fallacy, such as
-all hasty generalizations are. It is
-not so certain, therefore, that there
-exists no indigenous element in
-the old songs that have survived,
-though in many an altered form,
-in some of the rural districts of
-England. Then, again, how is the
-word “national” used&mdash;in the
-sense of indigenous, or of popular,
-or of exclusively belonging
-to one given country? English
-music was, before the Commonwealth,
-at least as indigenous as
-the English language, as that
-gradually grew up and welded
-itself together. As to popularity,
-there was a style of song&mdash;some
-specimens of which we shall give&mdash;which
-was known and used by
-the poorest and humblest, and a
-style, too, far removed from the
-plebeian, though it may have been
-rather sentimental. Then glees
-and catches are, though of no very
-great antiquity, essentially English,
-and are scarcely known in any
-other country. If “national”
-stands for “political,” as many
-people at this day seem to take
-for granted, then, indeed, England
-has not much to boast of. That
-music is born rather of oppression
-and defeat, and loves to commemorate
-a people’s undying devotion
-to their own race, laws, customs,
-and rulers. Irish and Welsh and
-Jacobite songs exhibit that style
-best, though only the first of
-the three have any present significance,
-the two other kinds having
-long ago become more valuable
-for their intrinsic or historical
-merit than for their political
-meaning. Certain modern
-English songs, such as “Ye Mariners
-of England,” “Rule Britannia,”
-“The Death of Nelson,”
-might be called national songs in
-the political sense; but “God Save
-the King,” though patriotic and
-loyal, is thoroughly German in
-style and composition, and therefore
-hardly deserves the title national.</p>
-
-<p>The Welsh have kept their musical
-taste pure. Mr. Mackintosh, in
-his paper on the <cite>Comparative Anthropology
-of England and Wales</cite>,
-says of the quiet and thoughtful
-villagers of Glan Ogwen, near the
-great Penrhyn slate quarries, that
-“their appreciation of the compositions
-of Handel and other great
-musicians is remarkable; and they
-perform the most difficult oratorios
-with a precision of time and intonation
-unknown in any part of
-England, except the West Riding
-of Yorkshire, Lancashire, Worcester,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span>
-Gloucester, and Hereford.”
-The three latter are towns where
-the musical festivals are so frequent
-that the taste of the people
-cannot help being educated up to
-a good standard. Hereford, too, is
-very near the Welsh border. “The
-musical ear of the Welsh is extremely
-accurate. I was once present
-in a village church belonging
-to the late Dean of Bangor, when
-the choir sang an anthem composed
-by their leader, and repeated
-an unaccompanied hymn-tune
-five or six times without the slightest
-lowering of pitch. The works
-of Handel, Haydn, Beethoven,
-and Mozart are republished with
-Welsh words at Ruthin and several
-other towns, and their circulation
-is almost incredible. At book and
-music shops of a rank where in
-England negro melodies would
-form the staple compositions,
-Handel is the great favorite; and
-such tunes as ‘Pop goes the Weasel’
-would not be tolerated. The
-native airs are in general very elegant
-and melodious. Some of
-them, composed long before Handel,
-are in the Handelian style;
-others are remarkably similar to
-some of Corelli’s compositions.
-The less classical Welsh airs, in 3-8
-time, such as ‘Jenny Jones’ are
-well known. Those in 2-4 time
-are often characterized by a sudden
-stop in the middle or at the
-close of a measure, and a repetition
-of pathetic slides or slurs.”</p>
-
-<p>Much of this eulogium might be
-equally applied to the people of
-Lancashire, especially the men,
-who know the great oratorios by
-heart, and sing the choruses faultlessly
-among themselves, not only
-at large gatherings, but in casual
-reunions, whenever three or four
-happen to meet. Their part-singing,
-too, in glees, both ancient and
-modern, is admirable, and they
-have scarcely any taste for the low
-songs which are only too popular
-in many parts of England.</p>
-
-<p>The songs of chivalry were another
-graft on the stock of English
-music, and the honor paid to the
-bards and minstrels was a mingling
-of the love of a national institution
-at least as old as the Druids&mdash;some
-say much older&mdash;and of
-the enthusiasm produced by the
-metrical relation of heroic feats of
-arms. The Crusades gave a great
-impulse to the troubadours’ songs,
-while the ancient British custom
-of commemorating the national
-history by the oral tradition and
-the music of the harpers, seemed
-to merge into and strengthen
-the new order of minstrels. Long
-before the bagpipe became the
-peculiar&mdash;almost national&mdash;instrument
-of Scotland, the harp held
-that position, as it has not yet
-ceased to do, in Ireland and Wales.
-The oldest harp now in Great Britain
-is an Irish one, which was already
-old in 1064. It is now in
-the museum of Trinity College,
-Dublin. These ancient instruments
-were very different from
-the modern ones on which our
-grandmothers used to display their
-skill before the pianoforte became,
-to its detriment, the fashionable instrument
-for young ladies; and even
-now the Irish and Welsh harps are
-made exactly on the old models,
-and have no pedals. But the use
-of the harp was not confined to
-the Welsh, and in the reign of
-King John, in the XIIth century,
-on the occasion of an attack made
-on the old town of Chester by the
-Welsh during the great yearly fair,
-it is recorded in the town annals
-that the commandant assembled
-all the minstrels who had come to
-the place upon that occasion, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span>
-marched them in the night, with
-their instruments playing, against
-the enemy, who, upon hearing so
-vast a sound, were filled with such
-terror and surprise that they instantly
-fled. In memory of this
-famous exploit, no doubt suggested
-by the Biblical narrative of Gideon’s
-successful stratagem, a meeting
-of minstrels is annually kept
-up to this day, with one of the
-Dutton family at their head, to
-whom certain privileges are granted.
-In the reign of Henry I. the minstrels
-were formed into corporate
-bodies, and enjoyed certain immunities
-in various parts of the kingdom.
-Gardiner<a name="FNanchor_162" id="FNanchor_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a> says that “the
-most accomplished became the
-companions and favorites of kings,
-and attended the court in all its expeditions.”
-Perhaps we may refer
-the still extant office of poet-laureate
-to this custom of retaining a
-court minstrel near the person of
-the sovereign. In the time of
-Elizabeth the profession of a harper
-had become a degraded one,
-only embraced by idle, low, and
-dissolute characters; and so it has
-remained ever since, through the
-various stages of ballad-monger,
-street-singer and fiddler, in which
-the memory of the once noble office
-has been merged or lost. In Scotland
-the piper, a personage of importance,
-has taken the place of
-the harper since the time of Mary,
-Queen of Scots, who introduced
-the pipes from France; but in
-Wales the minstrel, with his harp,
-upheld his respectability much longer,
-and even now most of the old
-families, jealous and proud of their
-national customs, retain their bard
-as an officer of the household.
-The writer has seen and heard one
-of these ancient minstrels, in the
-service of a family living near Llanarth,
-the mistress (a widow) making
-it her special business to promote
-the keeping up of all old national
-customs. She was an excellent
-farmer, too, and had a pet breed
-of small black Welsh sheep, whose
-wool she prepared for the loom herself,
-and with which she clothed
-her family and household. In the
-neighboring town she had got up
-an annual competition of harpers
-and choirs for the performance
-of Welsh music exclusively. The
-concert was always the occasion of a
-regular country festivity, ending with
-a ball, and medals and other prizes
-were given by her own hand to the
-best instrumental and vocal artists.</p>
-
-<p>In Percy’s <cite>Reliques</cite> a description
-is given of the dress and appearance
-of a mediæval bard, as personated
-at a pageant given at Kenilworth
-in honor of Queen Elizabeth.
-The glory of the brotherhood was
-already so much a thing of the past
-that it was thought worth while to
-introduce this figure into a mock
-procession. This very circumstance
-is enough to mark the decline of
-the art in those days, but already
-a new sort of popular song had
-sprung up to replace the romances
-of chivalry. “A person,” says
-Percy, “very meet for the purpose,
-… his cap off; his head seemly
-rounded tonsure-wise, fair-kembed
-[combed], that with a sponge daintily
-dipt in a little capon’s grease
-was finely smoothed, to make it
-shine like a mallard’s wing. His
-beard smugly shaven; and yet his
-shirt, after the new trink, with ruffs
-fair starched, sleeked and glittering
-like a pair of new shoes; marshalled
-in good order with a setting stick
-and strut, that every ruff stood up
-like a wafer.<a name="FNanchor_163" id="FNanchor_163"></a><a href="#Footnote_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a> A long gown of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span>
-Kendal-green gathered at the neck
-with a narrow gorget, fastened
-afore with a white clasp and a
-keeper close up to the chin, but
-easily, for heat, to undo when he
-list. Seemly begirt in a red caddis
-girdle; from that a pair of capped
-Sheffield knives hanging at two
-sides. Out of his bosom was drawn
-forth a lappet of his napkin [handkerchief]
-edged with a blue lace,
-and marked with a true-love, a
-heart, and <em>D</em> for Damain; for he
-was but a bachelor yet. His gown
-had long sleeves down to mid-leg,
-lined with white cotton. His doublet-sleeves
-of black worsted; upon
-them a pair of poynets [wristlets,
-from <i lang="fr">poignet</i>] of tawny chamlet,
-laced along the wrist with blue
-threaden points; a wealt towards
-the hand of fustian-a-napes. A pair
-of red neather stocks, a pair of
-pumps [shoes] on his feet, with a
-cross cut at the toes for corns; not
-new, indeed, yet cleanly blackt with
-soot, and shining as a shoeing-horn.
-About his neck a red riband suitable
-to his girdle. His harp in good
-grace dependent before him. His
-wrest [tuning-key] tyed to a green
-lace, and hanging by. Under the
-gorget of his gown, a fair chain of
-silver as a squire minstrel of Middlesex,
-that travelled the country
-this summer season, unto fairs and
-worshipful men’s houses. From
-his chain hung a scutcheon, with
-metal and color, resplendent upon
-his breast, of the ancient arms of
-Islington.” The peculiarities marking
-his shoes no doubt referred to
-the long pedestrian tours of the
-early minstrels.</p>
-
-<p>Chaucer, in the XIVth century,
-makes frequent mention of music,
-both vocal and instrumental. Of
-his twenty-nine Canterbury Pilgrims,
-six could either play or sing, and
-two, the Squire and the Mendicant
-Friar, could do both. Of the
-Prioress he quaintly says:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Ful wel she sangé the service devine,</div>
-<div class="verse">Entunéd in hire nose ful swetély.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Dr. Burney thinks that part-singing
-was already known and practised
-in Chaucer’s time, and draws
-this inference from the notice the
-poet takes in his “Dream” of the
-singing of birds:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“… for some of them songe lowe</div>
-<div class="verse">Some high, and all of one accorde”;</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and it is certain that this kind of
-music was a great favorite with the
-English people at a very early
-period, and was indebted to them
-for many improvements. The same
-writer says that the English, in
-their secular music and in part-singing,
-rather preceded than followed
-the European nations, and
-that, though he could find no music
-in parts, except church music, in
-foreign countries before the middle
-of the XVIth century, yet in England
-he found Masses in four, five,
-and six parts, as well as secular
-songs in the vulgar tongue in two
-or three parts, in the XVth and
-early part of the XVIth centuries.
-Ritson, it is true, in his <cite>Ancient
-Songs from the Time of King Henry
-III. to the Revolution</cite>, disputes
-this, but Hawkins is of the same
-opinion as Burney. Mr. Stafford
-Smith, at the end of the last century,
-made a collection of old English
-songs written in score for three
-or four voices; but though the oldest
-music to such songs is scarcely
-intelligible, the number collected
-proves how popular that sort of
-music was in early times. (Perhaps
-the illegibility of the music is
-due to the old notation, in use before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span>
-the perfected stave of four
-lines became general&mdash;the pneumatic
-notation, supposed by Coussemaker,
-Schubiger, Ambros, and other
-writers on music to have been developed
-out of the system of accents
-of speech represented by
-signs, such as are still used in
-French.)</p>
-
-<p>Landini, an Italian writer of the
-XVth century, in his <cite>Commentary on
-Dante</cite>, speaks of “many most excellent
-musicians” as coming from
-England to Italy to hear and study
-under Antonio <i lang="it">degli organi</i> (a name
-denoting his profession); while another
-writer, the choir-master of
-the royal chapel of Ferdinand, King
-of Naples, mentions the excellence
-of the English vocal music in parts,
-and even (incorrectly) calls John
-of Dunstable (a musician of the
-middle of the XVth century) the
-“inventor of counterpoint.”</p>
-
-<p>One of the oldest compositions
-of this kind is a manuscript score
-in the British Museum, a canon in
-unison for four voices, with the addition
-of two more voices for the
-<em>pes</em>, as it is called, which is a kind
-of ground, and is the basis of the
-harmony. The words, partially
-modernized, are as follows (they
-are much older than the music,
-which is only four hundred years
-old):</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Summer is a-coming in,</div>
-<div class="verse">Loud sing cuckoo;</div>
-<div class="verse">Groweth seed</div>
-<div class="verse">And bloweth mead,</div>
-<div class="verse">And springeth the weed new.</div>
-<div class="verse">Ewe bleateth after lamb;</div>
-<div class="verse">Loweth after calf, cow;</div>
-<div class="verse">Bullock sterteth [leaps],</div>
-<div class="verse">Buckè verteth [frequents green places],</div>
-<div class="verse">Merry sing cuckoo;</div>
-<div class="verse">Nor cease thou ever now.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Dr. Burney says of this song that
-the modulation is monotonous, but
-that the chief merit lies in “the
-airy, pastoral correspondence of the
-melody with the words”&mdash;a merit
-which many modern compositions
-of the “popular” type are very far
-from possessing. Under the Tudors
-music made rapid strides. Dr.
-Robert Fairfax was well known as
-a composer in those days, and a
-collection of old English songs with
-their music (often in parts), made
-by him, has been preserved to this
-day. Besides himself, such writers
-as Cornyshe, Syr Thomas Phelyppes,
-Davy, Brown, Banister, Tudor,
-Turges, Sheryngham, and William
-of Newark are represented. Of
-these, Cornyshe was the best, and
-Purcell, two hundred years later,
-imitated much of his rondeau style,
-most of these composers being entirely
-secular. Henry VIII. himself
-wrote music for two Masses,
-and had them sung in his chapel;
-and to be able to take a part in
-madrigals, and sing at sight in any
-piece of concerted music, was reckoned
-a part of a gentleman’s education
-in those days. The invention
-of printing gave a great impulse
-to song-writing and composing,
-though for some time after the
-words were printed the music was
-probably still copied by hand over
-the words; for the printing of notes
-was of course a further and subsequent
-development of the new art.
-A musician and poet of the name
-of Gray became a favorite of Henry
-VIII. and of the Protector Somerset
-“for making certain merry ballades,
-whereof one chiefly was ‘The
-hunt is up&mdash;the hunt is up.’”<a name="FNanchor_164" id="FNanchor_164"></a><a href="#Footnote_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a></p>
-
-<p>“A popular species of harmony,”
-says Ritson, “arose in this reign; it
-was called ‘King Henry’s Mirth,’
-or ‘Freemen’s Songs,’ that monarch
-being a great admirer of vocal music.
-‘Freemen’s Songs’ is a corruption
-of ‘Three-men’s Songs,’ from
-their being generally for three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span>
-voices.” Very few songs were
-written for one voice.</p>
-
-<p>Ballads were very popular, and
-formed one of the great attractions
-at fairs. An old pamphlet, published
-in the reign of Elizabeth, mentions
-with astonishment that “Out-roaring
-Dick and Wat Winbars”
-got twenty shillings a day by singing
-at Braintree Fair, in Essex. It
-does seem a good deal, considering
-that the sum was equal to five pounds
-of the present money, which again
-is equivalent to about thirty dollars
-currency. These wandering
-singers, the lowly successors of the
-proud minstrels, were in their way
-quite as successful; but, what is
-more wonderful, their songs were
-for the most part neither coarse
-nor vulgar. Good poets wrote for
-music in those days; <em>now</em>, as a
-general rule, it is only rhymers who
-avowedly write that their words
-may be set to music. As quack-doctors,
-fortune-tellers, pedlers,
-etc., mounted benches and barrel-heads
-to harangue the people, and
-thus gained the now ill-sounding
-name of mountebanks, so too did
-these singers call over their songs and
-sing those chosen by their audience;
-and they are frequently called by
-the writers of those times <i lang="it">cantabanchi</i>,
-an Italian compound of <i lang="it">cantare</i>
-(to sing) and <i lang="it">banchi</i> (benches).
-Among the headings given of these
-popular songs are the following:
-“The Three Ravens: a dirge”;
-“By a bank as I lay”; “So woe
-is me, begone”; “Three merry
-men we be”; “But now he is
-dead and gone”; “Now, Robin,
-lend me thy Bow”; “Bonny Lass
-upon a green”; “He is dead and
-gone, Lady,” etc. There is a quaint
-grace and sadness about the titles
-which speaks well for the manners
-of those who listened and applauded.
-Popular taste has certainly
-degenerated in many parts of England;
-for such titles <em>now</em> would
-only provoke a sneer among an
-average London or Midland county
-audience of the lower classes.
-Gardiner says: “The most ancient
-of our English songs are of a grave
-cast, and commonly written in the
-key of G minor.”</p>
-
-<p>Among the composers of the
-reigns of Elizabeth and James I.
-was Birde, who wrote a still popular
-canon on the Latin words
-“Non nobis, Domine,” and set to
-music the celebrated song ascribed
-to Sir Edward Dyer, a friend
-of Sir Philip Sidney, “My Mind
-to me a Kingdom is.”</p>
-
-<p>Birde’s scholar, Morley, produced
-a great number of canzonets,
-or short songs for three or more
-voices; and Ford, who was an
-original genius, published some
-pieces for four voices, with an accompaniment
-for lutes and viols,
-besides other pieces, especially
-catches of an humorous character.
-George Kirbye was another canzonet
-composer, and Thomas Weelkes
-has been immortalized by the good-fortune
-which threw him in Shakspere’s
-way, so that the latter often
-wrote words for his music. Yet
-doubtless the fame of the one, as
-that of the other, was chiefly posthumous;
-and poet and musician,
-on a par in those days, may have
-starved in company, unknowing
-that a MS. of theirs would fetch
-its weight in gold a hundred years
-after they were in their graves.</p>
-
-<p>“The musical reputation of
-England,” says a writer in an old
-review of 1834, “must mainly rest
-on the songs in parts of the period
-between 1560 and 1625.” And
-Gardiner says: “If we can set up
-any claim to originality, it is in
-our glees and anthems.” The
-gleemen, who were at first a class<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span>
-of the minstrels, are supposed to
-have been the first who performed
-vocal music in parts, according to
-set rules and by notes, though the
-custom must have existed long
-before it was thus technically
-sanctioned. The earliest pieces
-of the kind <em>upon record</em> are by the
-madrigal writers, and were, perhaps,
-founded upon the taste of
-the Italian school; but there soon
-grew up a distinction sufficient
-to mark English glee-music as a
-separate species of the art. It is
-said that glee-singing did not become
-generally popular till about
-the year 1770, when glees formed
-a prominent part of the private
-concerts of the nobility; but their
-being adopted into fashionable
-circles only at that date is scarcely
-a proof of their late origin. The
-canzonets for three or four voices
-must have been closely allied to
-glees, and a family likeness existed
-between these and the madrigals
-for four or five voices, the ballets,
-or fa-las, for five, and the songs
-for six and seven parts, which are
-so prodigally mentioned in a list
-of works by Morley within the short
-space of only four years&mdash;1593 to
-1597. The number of these songs
-proves their wonderful popularity,
-and we incline to think, with the
-writer we have quoted, that the
-English, in the catches and glees,
-the works of the composers of the
-days of Elizabeth and James I.,
-and those of Purcell, Tallis, Croft,
-Bull, Blow, Boyce, etc., at a later
-period, possess a music essentially
-national and original&mdash;not imitative,
-as is the modern English
-school, and not more indebted to
-foreign sources than any other
-progressive and liberal art is to
-the lessons given it by its practisers
-in other civilized communities.
-For if <em>national</em> is to mean
-isolated and petrified, by all means
-let us forswear nationalism.</p>
-
-<p>Shakspere’s songs are scattered
-throughout his works, and were
-evidently written for music. Both
-old and new composers have set
-them to music, and of the latter
-none so happily as Bishop Weelkes
-and John Dowland, his contemporaries
-and friends; the latter, the
-composer of Shakspere’s favorite
-song (not his own), “Awake, sweet
-Love,” often wrote music for his
-words. In his plays Shakspere
-has introduced many fragments of
-<em>old</em> songs and ballads; but Ritson
-says of him: “This admirable writer
-composed the most beautiful
-and excellent songs, which no one,
-so far as we know, can be said to
-have done before him, nor has any
-one excelled him since.” This
-statement is qualified by an exception
-in favor of Marlowe, a predecessor
-of Shakspere, and the author
-of the “Passionate Shepherd
-to his Love”; and besides, it means
-that he was the first great poet
-among the song-writers, who, in
-comparison with him, might be called
-mere ballad-mongers. Shakspere’s
-love for the old, simple,
-touching music of his native land,
-shown on many occasions throughout
-his works, is most exquisitely
-expressed in the following passage
-from <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,</div>
-<div class="verse">That old and antique song we had last night:</div>
-<div class="verse">Methought it did relieve my passion much,</div>
-<div class="verse">More than light airs and recollected terms</div>
-<div class="verse">Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.</div>
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-<div class="verse">O fellow, come, the song we had last night.</div>
-<div class="verse">Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;</div>
-<div class="verse">The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,</div>
-<div class="verse">And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,<a name="FNanchor_165" id="FNanchor_165"></a><a href="#Footnote_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a></div>
-<div class="verse">Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth,</div>
-<div class="verse">And dallies with the innocence of love,</div>
-<div class="verse">Like the old age.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Though Shakspere’s plays were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span>
-marked with the coarseness of
-speech common in his time, and
-therefore not, as some have thought,
-chargeable to him in particular, his
-songs, on the contrary, are of singular
-daintiness. They are too well
-known to be quoted here, but they
-breathe the very spirit of music,
-being evidently intended to be sung
-and popularly known. The chorus,
-or rather refrain, of one, beginning,
-“Blow, blow, thou winter wind,”
-runs thus:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly;</div>
-<div class="verse">Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Then heigh ho! the holly!</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">This life is most jolly!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The “Serenade to Sylvia” is lovely,
-chaste and delicate in speech
-as it is playful in form; and the
-fairy song “Over hill, over dale,”
-is like the song of a chorus of animated
-flowers. The description
-of the cowslips is very poetic:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“The cowslips tall her pensioners be,</div>
-<div class="verse">In their gold coats spots you see&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Those be rubies, fairy favors;</div>
-<div class="verse">In those freckles live their savors.</div>
-<div class="verse">I must go seek some dew-drops here,</div>
-<div class="verse">And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Bishop Hall, in 1597, published a
-satirical poem in which he complains
-that madrigals and ballads
-were “sung to the wheel, and sung
-unto the pail”&mdash;that is, by maids
-spinning and milking, or fetching
-water; and Lord Surrey, in one of
-his poems, says (not satirically, however):</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“My mother’s maids, when they do sit and spin,</div>
-<div class="verse">They sing a song.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Now, we gather what was the style
-of these songs of peasant girls and
-laborers from the writings of good
-old Izaak Walton, who mentions, as
-a common occurrence, that he often
-met, in the fields bordering the
-river Lee, a handsome milkmaid
-who sang like a nightingale, her
-voice being good and the ditties
-fitted for it. “She sang the smooth
-song which was made by Kit Marlowe,
-now at least fifty years ago,
-and the milkmaid’s mother sang
-the answer to it which was made
-by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger
-days.… They were old-fashioned
-poetry, but choicely good; I
-think much better than that now
-in fashion in this critical age.”<a name="FNanchor_166" id="FNanchor_166"></a><a href="#Footnote_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a>
-He wrote in the reign of Charles
-I., and already deplored the influx
-of more pretentious songs; but
-those he mentions with such commendation
-were the famous “Passionate
-Shepherd to his Love”
-and the song beginning “If all the
-world and love were young,” two
-exquisite lyrics of an elegance
-much above what is now termed
-the taste of the vulgar.</p>
-
-<p>Izaak Walton was as fond of
-music as of angling, and quotes
-many of the popular songs of his
-day. He was a quiet man, and
-only describes the pastimes of humble
-life. He used to rest from his
-labors in an “honest ale-house”
-and a “cleanly room,” where he
-and his fellow-fishermen, and sometimes
-the milkmaid, whiled away
-the evenings by singing ballads and
-duets. Any casual dropper-in was
-expected to take his part; and
-among the music mentioned as common
-in these gatherings are numbers
-of “ketches,” or, as we should
-say, catches. The music of one of
-his favorite duets, “Man’s life is but
-vain, for ’tis subject to pain,” is
-given in the old editions of his
-book. It is simple and pretty;
-the composer was Mr. H. Lawes.
-Other songs, favorites of his, were
-“Come, shepherds, deck your
-heads”; “As at noon Dulcina
-rested”; “Phillida flouts me”; and
-that touching elegy, “Sweet day,
-so cool, so calm, so bright,” by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span>
-George Herbert. This is as full of
-meaning as it is short:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,</div>
-<div class="verse">The bridal of the earth and sky,</div>
-<div class="verse">Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">For thou must die.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,</div>
-<div class="verse">Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,</div>
-<div class="verse">Thy root is ever in its grave,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">And thou must die.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,</div>
-<div class="verse">A box where sweets compacted lie,</div>
-<div class="verse">My music shows you have your closes</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">And all must die.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Only a sweet and virtuous soul,</div>
-<div class="verse">Like seasoned timber never gives,</div>
-<div class="verse">But, when the whole world turns to coal,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Then chiefly lives.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Sir Henry Wotton’s song for the
-poor countryman, beginning&mdash;</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Fly from our country pastimes, fly,</div>
-<div class="verse">Sad troops of human misery!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Come, serene looks,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Clear as the crystal brooks,</div>
-<div class="verse">Or the pure, azured heaven that smiles to see</div>
-<div class="verse">The rich attendance on our poverty!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and some verses of Dr. Donne (both
-these writers being contemporaries
-of James I.), are also mentioned by
-Walton as popular among the lower
-classes in his day. Here is another
-instance of the power of song over
-the peasantry in the early part of
-the XVIIth century. In the spring
-of 1613, on the occasion of Queen
-Anne of Denmark’s return from
-Bath, where she had gone for her
-health, she was met on Salisbury
-Plain by the Rev. George Fereby,
-vicar of some obscure country parish,
-who entreated that her majesty
-would be pleased to listen to a
-concert performed by his people.
-“When the queen signified her assent,
-there rose out of the ravine
-a handsome company, dressed as
-Druids and as British shepherds
-and shepherdesses, who sang a
-greeting, beginning with these words,
-to a melody which greatly pleased
-the musical taste of her majesty:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“‘Shine, oh! shine, thou sacred star,</div>
-<div class="verse">On seely<a name="FNanchor_167" id="FNanchor_167"></a><a href="#Footnote_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a> shepherd swains!’</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>We should suppose, from the commencing
-words, that this poem had
-originally been a Nativity hymn
-pertaining to the ancient church;
-and it is possible that the melody
-might be traced to the same source.…
-The music, the voices, and
-the romantic dresses, so well corresponding
-with the mysterious
-spot where this pastoral concert
-was stationed, greatly captivated
-the imagination of the queen.”<a name="FNanchor_168" id="FNanchor_168"></a><a href="#Footnote_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a>
-Anne of Denmark admired and
-patronized the genius of Ben Jonson,
-the writer of several musical
-masques often performed at court
-by the queen and her noble attendants.
-The really classical
-time of English poetry and music
-was before the Commonwealth,
-and popular music certainly received
-a blow during the Puritan
-rule. Songs and ballads were forbidden
-as profane; and in 1656
-Cromwell enacted that “if any of
-the persons commonly called fiddlers
-or minstrels shall at any
-time be taken playing, fiddling,
-and making music in any inn, ale-house,
-or tavern, or shall be taken
-proffering themselves, or designing
-or entreating any to hear them
-play or make music in any of the
-places aforesaid,” they should be
-“adjudged and declared to be
-rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy
-beggars.” Fines and imprisonments
-were often the penalties
-attached to a disregard of these
-ordinances; but this opposition
-only turned the course of popular
-song into political channels, and it
-became a point of honor among
-the Royalists to listen to, applaud,
-and protect the veriest scamp who
-called himself a minstrel. Songs
-were written with no poetical merit,
-but full of political allusions, bitter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span>
-taunts and sneers; and it was the
-delight of the Cavaliers to sing
-these doggerel rhymes and make
-the wandering fiddlers sing them.
-Many a brawl owed its origin to
-this. Even certain tunes, without
-any words, were considered as
-identified with political principle,
-and led to dangerous ebullitions
-of feeling, or kept alive party prejudices
-in those who heard them.
-Popular music has always been a
-powerful engine for good or bad,
-in a political sense. Half the
-loyalty of the Jacobites of Scotland
-in the XVIIIth century was
-due to inflammatory songs; Körner’s
-lyrics fired German patriotism
-against Napoleon; and
-there has never been a party of
-any kind that did not speedily
-adopt some representative melody
-to fan the ardor of its adherents.</p>
-
-<p>But if music and poetry were
-proscribed by the over-rigorous
-Puritans, a worse excess was fostered
-by the immoral reign of
-Charles II. The Restoration polluted
-the stream which the Commonwealth
-had attempted to dam
-up. Just as, in a spirit of bravado
-and contradiction, the Cavaliers
-had ostentatiously made cursing
-and swearing a badge of their
-party, to spite the sanctimoniousness
-of the Roundheads, so they
-affected to oppose to the latter’s
-psalm-singing roaring and immodest
-songs. Ritson says that
-Charles II. tried his hand at song-writing,
-and quotes a piece by
-him, beginning:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“I pass all my hours in a shady old grove.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Though by no means remarkable
-for poetical merit,” says the critic,
-“it has certainly enough for the
-composition of a king.” Molière
-was not more severe on the
-attempts of Louis XIV. But
-though the general spirit of the
-age was licentious, many good
-songs were still written. Sedley,
-Rochester, Dorset, Sheffield, and
-others wrote unexceptionable ones,
-and the great Dryden flourished
-in this reign. One of his odes,
-“On S. Cecilia’s Day,” is thoroughly
-musical in its rhythm, the refrains
-at the end of each stanza
-having the ring of some of the old
-German Minnesongs of the XIIth
-and XIIIth centuries. But his
-verses were scarcely simple or
-flowing enough to become popular
-in the widest sense, which honor
-rather belonged to the less celebrated
-poets of his day. Lord
-Dorset, for instance, was the
-author of a sea-song said to have
-been written the night before an
-engagement with the Dutch in
-1665, and which, from its admirable
-ease, flow, and tenderness, became
-at once popular with all classes.
-The circumstances under which
-it was supposed to be written had,
-no doubt, something to do with its
-popularity; but Dr. Johnson says:
-“Seldom any splendid story is
-wholly true. I have heard from
-the late Earl of Orrery, who was
-likely to have good hereditary intelligence,
-that Lord Dorset had been
-a week employed upon it, and only
-retouched or finished it on the
-memorable evening. But even
-this, whatever it may subtract from
-his facility, leaves him his courage.”
-The anonymous writer to whom we
-have referred<a name="FNanchor_169" id="FNanchor_169"></a><a href="#Footnote_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a> tells us that “the
-shorter pieces of most of the poets
-of the time of Charles II. had a
-rhythm and cadence particularly well
-suited to music. They were, in
-short, what the Italians call <i lang="it">cantabile</i>,
-or fit to be sung.… In the
-succeeding reigns, with the growth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span>
-of our literature, there was a considerable
-increase in song-writing;
-most of our poets of eminence, and
-some who had no eminence except
-what they obtained in that way, devoting
-themselves occasionally to
-the composition of lyrical pieces.
-Prior, Rowe, Steele, Philips, Parnell,
-Gay, and others contributed
-a stock which might advantageously
-be referred to by the composers
-of our own times.” Prior was a
-friend and <i lang="fr">protégé</i> of Lord Dorset,
-who sent him to Cambridge and
-paid for his education there. Parnell
-was an Irishman. His “Hymn
-to Contentment” is a sort of counterpart
-to the old song “My Mind
-to me a Kingdom is”:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Lovely, lasting peace, appear;</div>
-<div class="verse">This world itself, if thou art here,</div>
-<div class="verse">Is once again with Eden blest,</div>
-<div class="verse">And man contains it in his breast.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Gay, the elegant, the humorous,
-and the pathetic, shows to most advantage
-in this group. He it was
-who wrote the famous ballad “Black-eyed
-Susan,” and many others
-which, though less known at present,
-are equally admirable. One
-of them was afterwards set to music
-by Handel, and later on by Jackson
-of Exeter. But music did not keep
-pace with poetry; and though Purcell,
-Carey, and one or two other
-composers flourished in the latter
-part of the XVIIth and beginning
-of the XVIIIth centuries, they kept
-mostly to sacred music, and the
-new songs of the day were generally
-set to old tunes. Gay’s <cite>Beggar’s
-Opera</cite>, a collection of seventy-two
-songs, could not boast of a single
-air composed for the purpose. The
-music was all old, but the stage,
-says Dr. Burney, ruined the simplicity
-of the old airs, as it invariably
-does all music adapted to dramatic
-purposes. Indeed, we, in
-our own day, sometimes have the
-opportunity of verifying this fact,
-when old airs or ballads are introduced
-into operas to which they
-are unfitted. The “Last Rose of
-Summer” put into the opera of
-<cite>Martha</cite> is an instance in point;
-but, worse than that, the writer once
-heard “Home, Sweet Home” sung
-during the music-lesson scene in
-the <cite>Barbier de Seville</cite>. Adelina
-Patti was the <i lang="it">prima donna</i>, and any
-one who has seen and heard her
-can imagine the contrast between
-the simple, pathetic air and words,
-and the kittenish, coquettish, Dresden-china
-style of the singer! Add
-to this the costume of a Spanish
-<i lang="es">señorita</i> and the stage finery of
-Rosina’s boudoir, not to mention
-the absurd anachronism involved
-in a girl of the XVIIth century
-singing Paine’s touching song. Of
-course the audience applauded
-vigorously; for an English audience
-at the opera goes into action in the
-spirit of Nelson’s words, “England
-expects every man to do his duty,”
-and the incongruousness of the
-scene never troubles its mind.</p>
-
-<p>Carey tried to stem the downfall
-of really good popular music by
-writing both the words and music
-of the well-known ballad of “Sally
-in our Alley,” which attained a
-popularity (using the word in its
-proper sense) that it has never lost
-and never will lose. The song was
-soon known from one end of the
-country to the other, and, like the
-old songs, was “whistled o’er the
-furrowed land” and “sung to the
-wheel, and sung unto the pail.”
-Addison was no less fond of it
-than the common people; but the
-song was an exception in its time,
-and the poetry of the day never
-again made its way among the great
-body of the people, as it had done
-under the Tudors and the early
-Stuarts. Music and poetry both grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span>
-artificial under the Hanoverian dynasty,
-and the mannerisms and affectations
-of rhymers and would-be musical
-critics were sharply satirized by
-Pope and Swift. In the reign of
-Queen Anne the Italian opera was
-introduced into London, and the
-silly rage for foreign music, <em>because</em>
-it was foreign, soon worked its way
-among all classes. Handel brought
-about the first salutary return to
-natural and simple musical expression,
-and, setting many national and
-pastoral pieces to music, diffused
-the taste for good music through
-the intermediate orders of the people,
-especially the country gentry,
-but the masses still clung to interminable
-ballads, with monotonous
-tunes and no individuality either
-of sense or of form. Although England
-could boast of some good native
-composers and poets in the XVIIIth
-century&mdash;for instance, among the former,
-Boyce, Arne, Linley, Jackson,
-Shield, Arnold, etc.&mdash;still no good
-music penetrated into the lower
-strata of society; for these musicians
-mostly confined themselves to
-pieces of greater pretension than
-anything which was likely to become
-popular. Wales and the
-North of England still kept up a
-better standard, but the general
-taste of the nation was decidedly
-vitiated. Dibdin’s sea-songs broke
-the spell and reached the heart
-of the people; but this was rather
-a momentary flash than a permanent
-resurrection of good taste and
-discernment. The custom of writing
-the majority of songs for one
-voice, we think, had had much to
-do with destroying the genuine love
-of music among the people. It
-seemed to shift the burden of entertainment
-upon one member of a
-social gathering, instead of assuming
-that music was the welcome occupation
-and pastime of the greater
-number; and besides this, it no
-doubt fostered an undue rage for
-melody, or, as it is vulgarly called,
-<em>tune</em>. We have often had occasion
-to notice how bald and meagre&mdash;trivial,
-indeed&mdash;a mere thread of
-melody can sound when sung by
-one voice, which, if sung in parts,
-acquires a majestic and full tone.
-The fashion of solo-singing, which
-obtains so much in our day, has
-another disadvantage: it encourages
-affectation and self-complacency in
-the singer. The solo-singer is very
-apt to arrogate to him or herself
-the merit and effect of the piece;
-to think more of the individual performance
-than of the music performed;
-and to spoil a good piece
-by interpolating runs and shakes to
-show off his or her powers of vocal
-gymnastics. All this was impossible
-in the old part-songs, where
-attention and precision were indispensable.</p>
-
-<p>There are hopeful indications at
-present that England is not utterly
-sunk into musical indifference, but,
-strange to say, wherever the good
-leaven <em>does</em> work, it does so from
-below upwards. The lower classes
-in the North of England have mainly
-given the impulse; the higher
-are still, on the whole, superficial in
-their tastes and trivial and mediocre
-in their performances. Even
-as far back as 1834, the writer in
-the <cite>Penny Magazine</cite> already quoted
-gives an interesting account of a
-surprise he met with at a small village
-in Sussex. (This, be it remembered,
-is an almost exclusively
-Saxon district of the country.)
-Being tired of the solitude of the
-little inn and the dulness of a
-country newspaper, he walked down
-the street of the village, and, in so
-doing, was brought to a pause before
-a small cottage, nowise distinguished
-from the other humble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span>
-homesteads of the place, from which
-proceeded sounds of sweet music.
-The performance within consisted,
-not of voices, but of instruments;
-and the piece was one of great
-pathos and beauty, and not devoid
-of musical difficulty. When it was
-finished, and the performers had
-rested a few seconds, they executed
-a German quartet of some pretensions
-in very good style. This
-was followed by variations on a
-popular air by Stephen Storace,
-which they played in excellent
-time and with considerable elegance
-and expression. Several
-other pieces, chosen with equal
-good taste, succeeded this, and the
-stranger enjoyed a musical treat
-where he little expected one. On
-making inquiries at the inn, he
-found that the performers were all
-young men of the village, humble
-mechanics and agricultural laborers,
-who, for some considerable
-time, had been in the habit of
-meeting at each other’s houses in
-the evening, and playing and practising
-together. The taste had
-originated with a young man of
-the place who had acquired a little
-knowledge of music at Brighton.
-He had taught some of his comrades,
-and by degrees they had so
-increased in number and improved
-in the art that now, to use the
-words of the informant, “there
-were eight or ten that could play
-by book and in public.”</p>
-
-<p>At that time, and in that part of
-the country, this was an unusual
-and remarkable proof of refinement
-and good taste; but at present,
-though still the exception, it
-is no longer quite so rare to find
-uneducated people able to a certain
-degree to appreciate good music.
-Much has been written to vindicate
-English musical taste within the
-last thirty or forty years; but still
-the fact can scarcely be overlooked
-that, notwithstanding all efforts to
-the contrary, the standard of taste
-among the masses is lower than it
-was in Tudor days.</p>
-
-<p>Every one is familiar with the
-choral unions, the glee-clubs, the
-carol-singing, Leslie’s choir, and
-Hullah’s methods, which all go far to
-raise the taste of the people and enlist
-the vocal powers of many who
-otherwise would have been tempted
-to leave singing to the “mounseers”
-and other “furriners,” as the only
-thing those benighted individuals
-could be good for. There is, as
-there has been for many generations,
-the Chapel Royal, a sort of informal
-school of music; there is the
-Academy of Music; there are
-“Crystal Palace” and “Monday
-Popular Concerts”; musical festivals
-every year in the various
-cathedrals, oratorios in Exeter Hall;
-and there soon will be a “National
-School of Music,” which is to be a
-climax in musical education, the
-pride of the representative bodies
-of wealthy and noble England (for
-princes and corporations have vied
-with each other in founding scholarships);
-but with all this, the palmy
-days of the Tudors are dead and
-gone beyond the power of man to
-galvanize them into new activity.
-True, every young woman plays the
-pianoforte; you see that instrument
-in the grocer’s best parlor and the
-farmer’s keeping-room; but the sort
-of music played upon it is trivial
-and foreign, an exotic in the life of
-the performer, a boarding-school
-accomplishment, not a labor of
-love. You can hear “Beautiful
-Star,” and “Home, Sweet Home,”
-and Mozart’s “Agnus Dei” sung
-one after the other, with the same
-expression, the same “strumminess,”
-the same stolidity, or the same affected
-languor, and you will perceive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span>
-that, though the singer may <em>know</em>
-them, she neither feels nor understands
-them. Moore’s melodies,
-too, you hear <i lang="la">ad nauseam</i>, murdered
-and slurred over anyhow; but both
-the delicacy of the poetry and the
-pathos of the music are a dead-letter
-to the performer. But though
-a few songs by good writers are
-popular in the middle classes&mdash;for
-instance, Tennyson’s “Brook” and
-“Come into the garden, Maud,” the
-immortal and almost unspoilable
-“Home, Sweet Home”&mdash;yet there is
-also a dark side to the picture in
-the prevalence of comic songs, low,
-slangy ballads, sham negro melodies
-(utterly unlike the real old
-pathetic plantation-song), and other
-degrading entertainments classed
-under the title of “popular music.”
-The higher classes give little countenance
-or aid to the upward movement
-in music, and still look upon
-the art as an adjunct of fashion.
-With such disadvantages, it is a wonder
-that England has struggled back
-into the ranks of music-lovers at all,
-even though, as yet, she can take but
-a subordinate place among them.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>PIOUS PICTURES.</h3>
-
-<p>A great deterioration having
-been observable for some time past
-in the multitudinous little pictures
-published in Paris, ostensibly with
-a religious object, some of the more
-thoughtful writers in Catholic periodicals
-have on several recent occasions
-earnestly protested against
-the form these representations are
-taking. Their remonstrances are,
-however, as yet unsuccessful. The
-“article” continues to be produced
-on an increasing scale, and is daily
-transmitted in immense quantities,
-not only to the farthest extremities
-of the territory, but far beyond, especially
-to England and America,
-to ruin taste, sentimentalize piety,
-and “give occasion to the enemy
-to” <em>deride</em> if not to “blaspheme.”</p>
-
-<p>The bishops of France have already
-turned their attention to this
-unhealthy state of things in what
-may be called pictorial literature
-for the pious, and efforts are being
-made in the higher regions of
-ecclesiastical authority to arrest its
-deterioration. In the synod lately
-held at Lyons severe censure was
-passed on the objectionable treatment
-of sacred things so much in
-vogue in certain quarters; and, still
-more recently, Father Matignon, in
-his conference on “The Artist,” condemned
-these “grotesque interpretations
-of religious truths, which
-render them ridiculous in the eyes
-of unbelievers, and corrupt the
-taste of the faithful.” The eloquent
-preacher at the same time
-recommended the Catholic journalists
-to denounce a species of commerce
-as ignorant as it is mercenary,
-and counselled the members
-of the priesthood to “declare unrelenting
-war against this school of
-<em>pettiness</em>, which is daily gaining
-ground in France, and which gives
-a trivial and vulgar aspect to things
-the most sacred.”</p>
-
-<p>This appeal has not been without
-effect. There appears in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>
-<cite>Monde</cite>, from the pen of M. Léon
-Gautier, the author of several pious
-and learned works, a Letter
-“Against Certain Pictures,” addressed
-“to the president of the Conference
-of T&mdash;&mdash;,” in which the absurdity
-of these silly compositions
-is attacked with much spirit and
-good sense. The <cite>Semaine Religieuse
-de Paris</cite> reproduces this letter,
-with an entreaty to its readers
-to enroll themselves in the crusade
-therein preached by the eminent
-writer&mdash;a crusade the opportuneness
-of which must be only too evident
-to every thoughtful and religious
-mind. M. Léon Gautier writes
-as follows:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>You have requested me, dear
-friend, to purchase for you a
-“gross” of little pictures for distribution
-among your poor and
-their children.…</p>
-
-<p>As to the selection of these pictures
-I must own myself greatly
-perplexed, and must beg to submit
-to you very humbly my difficulties,
-and not only my difficulties, but
-also my distress, and, to say the
-truth, my indignation. I have before
-my eyes at this moment four
-or five hundred pictures which have
-been sold to me as “pious,” but
-which I consider as in reality among
-the most detestable and irreverent
-of any kind of merchandise. A
-great political journal the other
-day gave to one of its leaders the
-title of <cite>L’Ecœurement</cite>.<a name="FNanchor_170" id="FNanchor_170"></a><a href="#Footnote_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a> I cannot
-give a title to my letter, but, were
-it possible to do so, I should choose
-this one in preference to any other.
-I am in the unfortunate state of a
-man who has swallowed several
-kilograms of adulterated honey. I
-am suffering from an indigestion of
-sugar; and what sugar! Whilst in
-the act of buying these little horrors,
-I beheld numberless purchasers
-succeed each other with feverish
-eagerness in the shops, which I will
-not specify. Yes, I had the pain
-of meeting there with Christian
-Brothers and with Sisters of Charity,
-who made me sigh by their
-simple avidity and ingenuous delight
-at the sight of these frightful
-little black or rose-colored prints.
-They bought them by hundreds, by
-thousands, by ten thousands; for
-schools, for orphanages, for missions.
-Ah! my dear friend, how
-many souls are going to be well
-treacled in our hapless world! It
-is the triumph of confectionery.
-“Why are you choosing such machines
-as these?” I asked of the
-good Brother Theodore, whom, to
-my great astonishment, I found
-among the purchasers; “they are
-disagreeable.” “Agreed.” “They
-are stupid.” “I know it.” “They
-are dear.” “My purse is only too
-well aware of the fact.” “Then
-why do you buy them?” “Because
-I find that these only are acceptable.”
-And thereupon the
-worthy man told me that he had
-the other day distributed among
-his children pictures taken from the
-fine head of our Saviour attributed
-to Morales&mdash;a <i lang="fr">chef-d’œuvre</i>. The
-children, however, perceiving that
-there was no gilding upon them,
-had thrown them aside, gaping.
-Decidedly, the evil is greater than
-I had supposed, and it is time to
-consider what is to be done.</p>
-
-<p>In spite of all this, I have bought
-your provision of pictures; but do
-not be uneasy&mdash;I am keeping them
-myself, and will proceed to describe
-them to you. I do not wish that
-the taste of your beloved poor
-should be vitiated by the sight of
-these mawkish designs; but I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span>
-take upon myself to analyze them
-for your benefit, and then see if
-you are not very soon as indignant
-as myself.</p>
-
-<p>In the first place we have the
-“symbolical” pictures, and these
-are the most numerous of all. I
-do not want to say too much
-against them. You know in what
-high estimation I hold true symbolism,
-and we have many a time
-exchanged our thoughts on this
-admirable form of the activity
-of the human mind. A symbol
-is a comparison between things
-belonging to the physical and
-things belonging to the immaterial
-world. Now, these two worlds
-are in perfect harmony with
-each other. To each phenomenon
-of the moral order there corresponds
-exactly a phenomenon of
-the visible order. If we compare
-these two facts with each other, we
-have a symbol. There is a life, a
-breath, a whiteness, which are
-material. Figurative language is
-nothing else than a vast and
-wonderful symbolism, and you remember
-the marvellous things written
-on this subject by the lamented
-M. Landriot. In the supernatural
-order it is the same, and all Christian
-generations have made use of
-symbolism to express the most
-sacred objects of their adoration.
-There has been the symbolism of
-the Catacombs; there has been
-also that of the Middle Ages.
-The two, although not resembling,
-nevertheless complete, each other,
-and eloquently attest the fact that
-the Christian race has never been
-without the use of symbols.</p>
-
-<p>Thus it is not symbolism which I
-condemn, but this particular symbolism
-of which I am about to
-speak, and which is so odiously
-silly. I write to you with the
-proofs before me. I am not inventing,
-but, mirror-wise, merely reflecting.
-I am not an author, but
-a photographer.</p>
-
-<p>Firstly, here we have a ladder,
-which represents “the way of the
-soul towards God.” This is very
-well, although moderately ideal;
-but then who is mounting this
-ladder? You would never guess.
-It is a dove! Yes; the poor bird
-is painfully climbing up the rounds
-as if she were a hen getting back
-to roost, and apparently forgetting
-that she owns a pair of wings.
-But we shall find this dove elsewhere;
-for our pictures are full of
-the species, and are in fact a very
-plentifully-stocked dove-cote. I
-perceive down there another animal;
-it is a roe with her fawn,
-and with amazement I read this
-legend: “The fecundity of the
-breast of the roe is the image of
-the abundance and sweetness of
-grace.” Why was the roe selected,
-and why roe’s milk? Strange! But
-here again we have a singular collection.
-On a heart crowned with
-roses is placed a candlestick (a
-candlestick on a heart!), and this
-candelabrum, price twenty-nine
-sous, is surmounted by a lighted
-candle, around which angels are
-pressing. This, we are told underneath,
-is “good example.” Does it
-mean that we are to set one for the
-blessed angels to follow? Next,
-what do I see here? A guitar;
-and this at the foot of the cross.
-Let us see what can be the reason
-of this mysterious assemblage; the
-text furnishes it: <i lang="fr">Je me délasserai
-à l’abri de la Croix</i>&mdash;“I will refresh
-myself in the shelter of the cross”&mdash;from
-whence it follows that one
-can play the guitar upon Golgotha.
-Touching emblem! And what do
-you say of this other, in which our
-Saviour Jesus, the Word, and, as
-Bossuet says, the Reason and Interior<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span>
-Discourse of the Eternal
-Father, is represented as occupied
-in killing I know not what little
-insects on the leaves of a rose-bush?
-“The divine Gardener
-destroys the caterpillars which
-make havoc in his garden,” says
-the legend. I imagine nothing,
-but merely transcribe, and for my
-part would gladly turn insecticide
-to this collection of <i lang="fr">imagerie</i>.</p>
-
-<p>This hand issuing out of a cloud
-I recognize as the hand of my
-Lord God, the Creator and Father
-of all, who is at the same time their
-comforter, their stay, and their life.
-I admit this symbol, which is ancient
-and truly Christian; but this
-divine hand, which the Middle
-Ages would most carefully have
-guarded against charging with any
-kind of burden; this hand, which
-represents Eternal Justice and Eternal
-Goodness&mdash;can you imagine
-what it is here made to hold?
-[Not even the fiery bolt which the
-heathen of old times represented
-in the grasp of their Jupiter Tonans,
-but] a horrible and stupid
-little watering-pot, from the spout
-of which trickles a driblet of water
-upon the cup of a lily. Further on
-I see the said watering-pot is replaced
-by a sort of jug, which the
-Eternal is emptying upon souls in
-the shape of doves; and this, the
-legend kindly informs me, is “the
-heavenly dew.” Heavenly dew
-trickling out of a jug! And
-there are individuals who can imagine
-and depict a thing like this
-when the beneficent Creator daily
-causes to descend from his beautiful
-sky those milliards of little
-pearly drops which sparkle in the
-morning sunshine on the fair mantle
-of our earth! Water, it must
-be owned, is scarcely a successful
-subject under any form with our
-picture-factors. Here is a poor
-and miserably-painted thread lifting
-itself up above a basin, while I
-am informed underneath that “the
-jet of water is the image of the
-soul lifting itself towards God by
-meditation.”</p>
-
-<p>I also need to be enlightened as
-to how “a river turned aside from
-its course is an image of the good
-use and of the abuse of grace.”
-It is obscure, but still it does not
-vulgarize and debase a beautiful
-and Scriptural image, like the next
-I will mention, in which, over the
-motto, “Care of the lamp: image
-of the cultivation of grace in our
-hearts,” we have a servant-maid
-taking her great oily scissors and
-cutting the wick, of which she scatters
-the blackened fragments no matter
-where.</p>
-
-<p>The quantity of ribbon and
-string used up by these symbol-manufacturers
-is something incalculable.
-Here lines of string
-unite all the hearts of the faithful
-(doves again!) to the heart of Our
-Blessed Lady; there Mary herself,
-the Immaculate One and our own
-incomparable Mother, from the
-height of heaven holds in leash,
-by an interminable length of string,
-a certain little dove, around the
-neck of which there hangs a scapular.
-This, we are told, means that
-“Mary is the directress of the obedient
-soul.” Elsewhere the string
-is replaced by pretty rose-colored
-or pale-blue ribbons, which have
-doubtless a delicious effect to those
-who can appreciate it. Here is a
-young girl walking along cheerfully
-enough, notwithstanding that her
-heart is tied by one of these elegant
-ribbons to that of the Blessed
-Mother of God, apparently without
-causing her the slightest inconvenience.
-Her situation, however, is, I
-think, less painful than that of this
-other young person, who is occupied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span>
-in carving her own heart into
-a shape resembling that of Mary.
-Another young female has hoisted
-this much-tormented organ (her
-own) on an easel, and is painting
-it after the same pattern. But let
-us hasten out of this atelier to
-breathe the open air among these
-trees. Alas! we there find, under
-the form and features of an effeminate
-child of eight years old, “the
-divine Gardener putting a prop to
-a sapling tree,” or “grafting on the
-wild stock the germ of good fruits.”
-This is all pretty well; but what
-can be said of this ciborium which
-has been energetically stuck into a
-lily, with the legend, “I seek a
-pure heart”? These gentlemen, indeed,
-treat you to the Most Holy
-Eucharist with a free-and-easyness
-that is by no means fitting or
-reverent. It is forbidden to the
-hands of laics to touch the Sacred
-Vessels, and it is only just that the
-same prohibition should apply to
-picture-makers. They are entreated
-not to handle thus lightly and
-irreverently that which is the object
-of our faith, our hope, and our love.</p>
-
-<p>Hitherto I have refrained from
-touching upon that very delicate
-subject which it is nevertheless
-necessary that I should approach&mdash;namely,
-the representation of the
-Sacred Heart. And here I feel
-myself at ease, having beforehand
-submitted to all the decisions of
-the church, and having for long
-past made it my great aim to be
-penetrated with her spirit. Like
-yourself, I have a real devotion to
-the Sacred Heart, nor do I wish
-to conceal it. When any devotion
-takes so wide a development in the
-Holy Church, it is because it is willed
-by God, who watches unceasingly
-over her destinies and the
-forms of worship which she renders
-to him. All Catholics are agreed
-upon this point. It is true that
-certain among them regard the Sacred
-Heart as the symbol of Divine
-Love, and that others consider it
-under the aspect of a very adorable
-part of the Body of the God-Man,
-and, if I may so express it, as
-a kind of centralized Eucharist.
-Well, I hold that to be accurate
-one ought to admit and harmonize
-the two systems, and therefore I
-do so. You are aware that it is
-my belief that physiology does not
-yet sufficiently understand the mechanism
-of our material heart, and
-I await discoveries on that subject
-which shall establish the fact of its
-necessity to our life. The other
-day, at Baillère’s, I remained a long
-time carefully examining a fine engraving
-representing the circulation
-of the blood through the veins
-and arteries, and I especially contemplated
-the heart the source and
-receptacle of this double movement,
-and said to myself, “The worship
-of the Sacred Heart will be
-one day justified by physiology.”
-But why do I say this, when it is
-so already? Behold me, then, on
-my knees before the Sacred Heart
-of my God, in which I behold at
-the same time an admirable symbol
-and a yet more admirable reality.
-But is this a reason for representing
-the Sacred Heart in a manner alike
-ridiculous and odious? I will not
-here enter upon the question as to
-whether it is allowable to represent
-the Sacred Heart of Jesus otherwise
-than in his Sacred Breast, and
-I only seek to know in order to accept
-unhesitatingly whatever with
-regard to this may be the thought
-of the church. But that which to
-my mind is utterly revolting is the
-sight of the profanations of which
-these fortieth-rate picture-manufacturers
-are guilty. What right
-have they, and how do they dare,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span>
-to represent hundreds of consecrated
-Hosts issuing from the Sacred
-Heart, and a dove pecking at them
-as they are dropping down? What
-right have they to make the Heart
-of our Lord God a pigeon-house,
-a roosting-place for these everlasting
-doves, or into a vase out of
-which they are drinking? What
-right have they to insert a little
-heart (ours) into the Divine Heart
-of Jesus? What right have they
-to represent to us [a Pelion, Ossa,
-and Olympus on a small scale]
-three hearts, the one piled upon
-the other, and cascades of blood
-pouring from the topmost, which is
-that of Our Lord; upon the second,
-which is that of his Blessed Mother;
-and thence upon the third, which
-is our own? What right have they
-to make the Sacred Heart shed
-showers of roses, or to give its
-form to their “mystic garden”?
-Lastly, what right have they to
-lodge it in the middle of a full-blown
-flower, and make the latter
-address to it the scented question,
-“What would you desire me to do
-in order that I may be agreeable
-to you?” Ye well-meaning picture-makers!
-beware of asking me the
-same question; for both you and I
-very well know what would be the
-answer.</p>
-
-<p>The truth is that these clumsy
-persons manage to spoil everything
-they touch, and they have dishonored
-the symbolism of the dove, as
-they have compromised the representations
-of the Sacred Heart.
-The dove is undoubtedly one of the
-most ancient and evangelical of all
-the Christian symbols; but a certain
-discretion is nevertheless necessary
-in the employment of this
-emblem of the Holy Spirit of God.
-This discretion never failed our
-forefathers, who scarcely ever depicted
-the dove, except only in
-the scene of Our Lord’s baptism
-and in representations of the Blessed
-Trinity. In the latter the Eternal
-Father, vested in pontifical or
-imperial robes, holds between his
-arms the cross, whereon hangs his
-Son, while the Holy Dove passes
-from the Father to the Son as the
-eternal love which unites them.
-This is well, simple, and even fine.
-But there is a vast difference between
-this and the present abuse
-and vulgarization of the dove as an
-emblem, where it is made use of to
-represent the faithful soul. No,
-truly, one is weary of all this. Do
-you see this flight of young pigeons
-hovering about with hearts in their
-beaks? The beaks are very small
-and the hearts very large, but
-you are intended to understand by
-this that “fervent souls rise rapidly
-to great perfection.” These other
-doves, lower down, give themselves
-less trouble and fatigue; they are
-quietly pecking into a heart, and I
-read this legend: “The heart of
-Love is inexhaustible; let us go to
-it in all our wants.” The pigeon
-that I see a little farther off is not
-without his difficulties; he is carrying
-a stout stick in his delicate
-beak, and&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;the
-explanation of this remarkable
-symbol is, “Thy rod and thy staff
-have comforted me.” Here again
-are carrier-pigeons, bringing us in
-their beaks nicely-folded letters in
-charming envelopes. One of these
-birds [who possibly may belong to
-the variety knows as tumbler pigeons]
-has evidently fallen into the
-water; for he is shown to us standing
-to recover himself on what appears
-to be a heap of mud in the
-middle of the ocean, with the motto,
-“Saved! he is saved!” Next I
-come upon a party of doves again&mdash;always
-doves!&mdash;whose occupation
-is certainly no sinecure. Oars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span>
-have been fitted to their feeble
-claws, and these hapless creatures
-are rowing. Here is another unfortunate
-pigeon. She is in prison
-with a thick chain fastened to
-her left foot, and we are told
-that she is “reposing on the damp
-straw of the dungeon.” Further
-on appears another of this luckless
-species, on its back with its
-claws in the air. It is dead. So
-much the better. It is not I who
-will encourage it to be so unwise
-as to return to life. True,
-in default of doves, other symbols
-will not be found lacking. Here
-are some of the tender kind&mdash;little
-souvenirs to be exchanged between
-friend and friend, wherein one finds
-I know not what indescribable conglomerations
-of religious sentiment
-and natural friendship. Flowers,
-on all sides flowers: forget-me-nots,
-pansies, lilies, and underneath all
-the treasures of literature: “It
-is a friend who offers you these”;
-“Near or far away, yours ever”;
-“These will pass; friendship will
-remain.” “C’est la fleur de Marie
-Que je vous ai choisie.” (N.B.&mdash;This
-last is in verse.)</p>
-
-<p>I know not, my dear friend,
-whether you feel with me on this
-point. While persuading myself
-that all these playfulnesses are
-very innocent, I yet find in them a
-certain something which strikes me
-as interloping, and I do not like
-mixtures.</p>
-
-<p>We have also the politico-religious
-pictures. Heaven forbid
-that I should speak evil of the
-<i lang="fr">fleurs-de-lys</i> which embalmed with
-their perfume all the dear Middle
-Ages to which I have devoted so
-much of my life; but we have in
-these pictures of which I am speaking
-mixtures which are, to my
-mind, detestable, and I cannot endure
-this pretty little boat, of which
-the sails are covered with <i lang="fr">fleurs-de-lys</i>,
-its mast is the Pontifical Cross,
-and its pilot the Sacred Heart. Is
-another allusion to legitimacy intended
-in this cross surrounded
-with flowers and bearing the legend,
-“My Beloved delights himself
-among the lilies”? I cannot tell;
-but if we let each political party
-have free access to our religious
-picture-stores, we shall see strange
-things, and then <i lang="fr">Gare aux abeilles!</i>&mdash;“Beware
-of the bees.”</p>
-
-<p>One characteristic common to
-all these wretched picturelings is
-their insipidity and petty childishness.
-They are a literature of
-nurses and nursery-maids. The
-designers must surely belong to the
-female portion of humanity; for
-one is conscious everywhere of the
-invisible hand of woman. One is
-unwilling to conceive it possible
-that any one with a beard on the
-chin could bring himself to invent
-similar meagrenesses. These persons
-are afraid of man, and have
-wisely adopted the plan of never
-painting him, and of making everybody
-under the age of ten years.
-Never have they had any clear or
-serious idea of the Word, the
-God made man&mdash;of him, the
-mighty and terrible One, who
-pronounced anathema on the
-Pharisees and the sellers in the
-Temple. They can but represent
-a little Jesus in wax, or sugar,
-or treacle; and alarmed at the loftiness
-of Divinity, and being incapable
-of hewing his human form in
-marble, they have kneaded it in
-gingerbread.</p>
-
-<p>And yet our greatest present
-want is manliness. Truly, truly, in
-France we have well-nigh no more
-men! Let us, then, have no more
-of these childishnesses, but let us
-behold in the divine splendor and
-perfect manhood of the Word made
-flesh the eternal type of regenerated
-humanity.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SUMMER STORMS.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Summer storms are fleeting things,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Coming soon, and quickly o’er;</div>
-<div class="verse">Yet their wrath a shadow brings</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Where but sunshine dwelt before.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">On the grass the pearl-drops lie</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Fresh and lovely day appears;</div>
-<div class="verse">Yet the rainbow’s arch on high</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Is but seen through falling tears.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">For, though clouds have passed away,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Though the sky be bright again,</div>
-<div class="verse">Earth still feels the transient sway</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Of the heavy summer rain.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Broken flow’rs and scattered leaves</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Tell the short-lived tempest’s power;</div>
-<div class="verse">Something still in nature grieves</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">At the fierce and sudden shower.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">There are in the human breast</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Passions wild and deep and strong,</div>
-<div class="verse">Bearing in their course unblest</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Brightest hopes of life along.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">O’er the harp of many strings</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Often comes a wailing strain,</div>
-<div class="verse">When the hand of anger flings</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Discord ’mid its soft refrain.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Tears may pass, and smiles again</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Wreathe the lip and light the brow;</div>
-<div class="verse">But, like flowers ’neath summer’s rain,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Some bright hope lies crushed and low.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Some heart-idol shattered lies</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In the temple’s inner shrine:</div>
-<div class="verse">Ne’er unveiled to human eyes,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Sacred kept like things divine.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Speak not harshly to the loved</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In your holy household band;</div>
-<div class="verse">Days will come when where they moved</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Many a vacant chair will stand.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">To the erring&mdash;oh, be kind!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Balm give to the weary heart;</div>
-<div class="verse">Soft words heal the wounded mind,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Bid the tempter’s spell depart.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Let not passion’s storm arise,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Though it pass like summer showers;</div>
-<div class="verse">Clouds will dim the soul’s pure skies,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Hope will weep o’er broken flowers.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Speak, then, gently; tones of strife</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Lightly breathed have lasting power;</div>
-<div class="verse">Memories that embitter life</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Often rise from one rash hour.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE KING OF METALS<br />
-<span class="smaller">FROM THE FRENCH.</span></h3>
-
-<p>There once lived a widow named
-Mary Jane, who had a beautiful
-daughter called Flora. The widow
-was a sensible, humble woman;
-the daughter, on the contrary, was
-very haughty. Many young persons
-desired her in marriage, but
-she found none to please her; the
-greater the number of her suitors,
-the more disdainful she became.
-One night the mother awoke, and,
-being unable to compose herself
-again to sleep, she began to say her
-rosary for Flora, whose pride gave
-her a great deal of disquietude.
-Flora was asleep near her, and she
-smiled in her sleep.</p>
-
-<p>The next day Mary Jane inquired:</p>
-
-<p>“What beautiful dream had you
-that caused you to smile in your
-sleep?”</p>
-
-<p>“I dreamed that a great lord conducted
-me to church in a copper
-coach, and gave me a ring composed
-of precious stones that shone
-like stars; and when I entered the
-church, the people in the church
-looked only at the Mother of God
-and at me.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! what a proud dream,”
-cried the widow, humbly drooping
-her head.</p>
-
-<p>Flora began to sing. That same
-day a young peasant of good reputation
-asked her to marry him.
-This offer her mother approved,
-but Flora said to him:</p>
-
-<p>“Even were you to seek me in a
-coach of copper, and wed me with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span>
-a ring brilliant as the stars, I would
-not accept you.”</p>
-
-<p>The following night Mary Jane,
-being wakeful, began to pray, and,
-looking at Flora, saw her smile.</p>
-
-<p>“What dream did you have
-last night?” she asked Flora.</p>
-
-<p>“I dreamed that a great lord
-came for me in a coach of silver,
-gave me a coronet of gold, and
-when I entered the church those
-present were more occupied in
-looking at me than at the Mother
-of God.”</p>
-
-<p>“O poor child!” exclaimed the
-widow, “what an impious dream.
-Pray, pray earnestly that you may
-be preserved from temptation.”</p>
-
-<p>Flora abruptly left her mother,
-that she might not hear her remonstrances.</p>
-
-<p>That day a young gentleman
-came to ask her in marriage. Her
-mother regarded this proposal as
-a great honor, but Flora said to
-this new aspirant:</p>
-
-<p>“Were you to seek me in a
-coach of silver and offer me a coronet
-of gold, I would not wed you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Unfortunate girl!” cried Mary
-Jane, “renounce your pride.
-Pride leads to destruction.”</p>
-
-<p>Flora laughed.</p>
-
-<p>The third night the watchful mother
-saw an extraordinary expression
-on her child’s countenance,
-and she prayed fervently for her.</p>
-
-<p>In the morning Flora told her
-of her dream.</p>
-
-<p>“I dreamed,” she said, “that a
-great lord came to seek me in a
-coach of gold, gave me a robe of
-gold, and when I entered the church
-all there assembled looked only
-at me.”</p>
-
-<p>The poor widow wept bitterly.
-The girl left her to escape seeing
-her distress.</p>
-
-<p>That day in the court-yard of
-the house there stood three equipages,
-one of copper, the other of
-silver, and the third of gold. The
-first was drawn by two horses, the
-second by four, the third by eight.
-From the first two descended pages
-clothed in red, with green caps;
-from the third descended a nobleman
-whose garments were of gold.
-He asked to marry Flora. She
-immediately accepted him, and ran
-to her chamber to decorate herself
-with the golden robe which he presented
-to her.</p>
-
-<p>The good Mary Jane was sorrowful
-and anxious, but Flora’s
-countenance was radiant with delight.
-She left her home without
-asking the maternal benediction,
-and entered the church with a
-haughty air. Her mother remained
-on the threshold praying and weeping.</p>
-
-<p>After the ceremony, Flora entered
-the golden equipage with her husband,
-and they departed, followed
-by the two other equipages.</p>
-
-<p>They drove a long, a very long
-distance. At last they arrived at a
-rock where there was a large entrance
-like the gate of a city.
-They entered through this door,
-which soon closed with a terrible
-noise, and they were in midnight
-darkness. Flora was trembling
-with fear, but her husband said:</p>
-
-<p>“Reassure yourself; you will
-soon see the light.” In truth, from
-every side appeared little creatures
-in red clothes and green caps&mdash;the
-dwarfs who dwell in the cavities
-of the mountains. They carried
-flaming torches, and advanced
-to meet their master, the King of
-Metals.</p>
-
-<p>They ranged themselves around,
-and escorted him through long
-valleys and subterranean forests.
-But&mdash;a very singular thing&mdash;all the
-trees of these forests were of lead.</p>
-
-<p>At last the cortége reached a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span>
-magnificent prairie or meadow; in
-the midst of this meadow was a
-château of gold studded with diamonds.
-“This,” said the King of
-Metals, “is your domain.” Flora
-was much fatigued and very hungry.
-The dwarfs prepared dinner,
-and her husband led her to a table
-of gold. But all the meats and all
-the food presented to her were of
-this metal. Flora, not being able
-to partake of this food, was reduced
-to ask humbly for a piece of
-bread. The waiters brought her
-bread of copper, of silver, and of
-gold. She could not bite either of
-them. “I cannot give you,” her
-husband said, “the bread that you
-wish; here we have no other kind
-of bread.”</p>
-
-<p>The young woman wept, and the
-king said to her:</p>
-
-<p>“Your tears cannot change your
-fate. This is the destiny you have
-yourself chosen.”</p>
-
-<p>The miserable Flora was compelled
-to remain in this subterranean
-abode, suffering with hunger,
-through her passion for wealth.
-Only once a year, at Easter, she is
-allowed to ascend for three days to
-the upper earth, and then she goes
-from village to village, begging from
-door to door a morsel of bread.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">An Exposition of the Church in
-View of Recent Difficulties and
-Controversies, and the Present
-Needs of the Age.</span> London: Basil
-Montagu Pickering, 196 Piccadilly.
-1875. New York: <span class="smcap">The Catholic
-World</span>, April, 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">(From <cite>Le Contemporain</cite>.)</p>
-
-<p>I. <i>Renewed Working of the Holy Spirit
-in the World.</i>&mdash;We are, in a religious,
-social, and political point of view, in
-times of transition which we are not able
-to understand, for the same reason that
-no one can follow the movements of the
-battle-field who is in the midst of the engagement.</p>
-
-<p>To judge from appearances, especially
-those which are nearest at hand, we are on
-the brink of an abyss. The Catholic religion,
-openly persecuted in Germany,
-prostrated now for several years in Italy
-and Spain by the suppression of the religious
-congregations, attacked in all
-countries, abandoned by all sovereigns,
-appears, humanly speaking, to be on the
-brink of destruction. There are not
-wanting prophets who predict the collapse
-of Christianity and the end of the
-world. There are, however, manly souls
-who do not allow themselves to be discouraged,
-and who see grounds for hope
-in the very events which fill ordinary
-hearts with terror and consternation.</p>
-
-<p>Of this number is an American religious,
-Father Hecker, who has just issued
-a pamphlet in English, wherein, without
-concealing the difficulties of the present,
-he avows his expectation of the approaching
-triumph of religion.</p>
-
-<p>His motives are drawn from the deep
-faith he professes in the action of the
-Holy Spirit in the church, outside of
-which he does not see any real Christianity.
-It is the Holy Spirit whom we
-must first invoke; it is the Holy Spirit
-of whom we have need, and who will
-cure all our ills by sending us his gifts.</p>
-
-<p>“The age,” he says, “is superficial; it
-needs the gift of wisdom, which enables
-the soul to contemplate truth in its ultimate
-causes. The age is materialistic;
-it needs the gift of intelligence, by the
-light of which the intellect penetrates into
-the essence of things. The age is captured
-by a false and one-sided science; it
-needs the gift of science, by the light of
-which is seen each order of truth in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span>
-true relations to other orders and in a
-divine unity. The age is in disorder,
-and is ignorant of the ways to true progress;
-it needs the gift of counsel, which
-teaches how to choose the proper means
-to attain an object. The age is impious;
-it needs the gift of piety, which
-leads the soul to look up to God as the
-heavenly Father, and to adore him with
-feelings of filial affection and love. The
-age is sensual and effeminate; it needs
-the gift of force, which imparts to the will
-the strength to endure the greatest burdens,
-and to prosecute the greatest enterprises
-with ease and heroism. The age
-has lost and almost forgotten God; it
-needs the gift of fear to bring the soul
-again to God, and make it feel conscious
-of its great responsibility and of its destiny.”</p>
-
-<p>The men to whom these gifts have
-been accorded are those of whose services
-our age has need. A single man with
-these gifts could do more than ten thousand
-who possessed them not. It is to
-such men, if they correspond with the
-graces which have been heaped upon
-them, that our age will owe its universal
-restoration and its universal progress.
-This being admitted, since, on the other
-hand, it is of faith that the Holy Spirit
-does not allow the church to err, ought
-we not now to expect that he will direct
-her on to a new path?</p>
-
-<p>Since the XVIth century, the errors
-of Protestantism, and the attacks upon
-the Catholic religion of which it gave
-the signal, have compelled the church to
-change, to a certain extent, the normal
-orbit of her movement. Now that she
-has completed in this direction her line
-of defence,<a name="FNanchor_171" id="FNanchor_171"></a><a href="#Footnote_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a> it is to be expected that she
-will resume her primitive career, and enter
-on a new phase, by devoting herself
-to more vigorous action. It is impossible
-to dispute the fresh strength which the
-definition lately promulgated by the
-Council of the Vatican has bestowed
-upon the church. It is the axis on
-which now revolves the church’s career&mdash;the
-renewal of religion in souls, and the
-entire restoration of society.</p>
-
-<p>Do we not see an extraordinary divine
-working in those numerous pilgrimages
-to authorized sanctuaries, in those multiplied
-novenas, and those new associations
-of prayer? And do they not give
-evidence of the increasing influence of
-the Holy Spirit on souls?</p>
-
-<p>What matter persecutions? It is they
-which purify what remains of the too human
-in the church. It is by the cross
-we come to the light&mdash;<i lang="la">Per crucem ad
-lucem</i>.</p>
-
-<p>A little farther on the author explains
-in what the twofold action of the Holy
-Spirit consists.</p>
-
-<p>He acts at one and the same time in
-an intimate manner upon hearts, and in
-a manner quite external on the church
-herself.</p>
-
-<p>An indefinite field of action conceded
-to the sentiments of the heart, without a
-sufficient knowledge of the end and object
-of the church, would open the way
-for illusions, for heresies of every kind,
-and would invite an individual mysticism
-which would be merely one of the forms
-of Protestantism.</p>
-
-<p>On the other hand, the exclusive point
-of view of the external authority of the
-church, without a corresponding comprehension
-of the nature of the operations
-of the Holy Spirit within the heart of
-every one of the faithful, would make
-the practice of religion a pure formalism,
-and would render obedience servile, and
-the action of the church sterile.</p>
-
-<p>Moreover, the action of the Holy Spirit
-made visible in the authority of the
-church, and of the Holy Spirit dwelling
-invisibly in the heart, form an inseparable
-synthesis; and he who has not a clear
-conception of this double action of the
-Holy Spirit runs the risk of losing himself
-in one or other of the extremes
-which would involve the destruction and
-end of the church.</p>
-
-<p>In the external authority of the church
-the Holy Spirit acts as the infallible interpreter
-and the criterion of the divine
-revelation. He acts in the heart as giving
-divine life and sanctification.</p>
-
-<p>The Holy Spirit, who, by means of the
-teachings of the church, communicates
-divine truth, is the same Spirit which
-teaches the heart to receive rightly the
-divine truth which he deigns to teach.
-The measure of our love for the Holy
-Spirit is the measure of our obedience to
-the authority of the church; and the
-measure of our obedience to the authority
-of the church is the measure of our
-love for the Holy Spirit. Whence the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span>
-saying of S. Augustine: <i lang="la">Quantum quisque
-amat ecclesiam Dei, tantum habet Spiritum
-Sanctum</i>.</p>
-
-<p>It is remarkable that no pope has done
-so much for the despised rights of human
-reason as Pope Pius IX.; that no
-council has done better service to science
-than that of the Vatican, none has better
-regulated its relations to the faith; that
-none has better defined in their fundamental
-principles the relations of the
-natural and the supernatural; and the
-work of the pontiff and of the council is
-not yet finished.</p>
-
-<p>Every apology for Christianity must
-henceforth make great account of the intrinsic
-proofs of religion, without which
-people of the world would be more and
-more drawn to see the church only on her
-human side.</p>
-
-<p>The Holy Spirit, by means of the sacraments,
-consummates the union of the soul
-of the believer with God. It is this end
-which true religion should pursue. The
-placing in relief the internal life, and the
-constitution of the church, and the intelligible
-side of the mysteries of the
-church&mdash;in short, the intrinsic reasons
-of the truths of the divine revelation combined
-with the external motive of credibility&mdash;will
-complete the demonstration
-of Christianity. Such an exposition of
-Christianity, founded on the union of
-these two categories of proofs, will have
-the effect of producing a more enlightened
-and intense conviction of religion in
-the souls of the faithful, and of stimulating
-them to more energetic action; and
-it will have, as its last result, the opening
-of the door to their wandering brethren,
-and gathering them back into the bosom
-of the church. With the vigorous co-operation
-of the faithful, the ever-augmenting
-action of the Holy Spirit will
-raise the human personality to such an
-intensity of strength and greatness that
-there will result from it a new era for the
-church and for society&mdash;an admirable era,
-which it would be difficult to describe in
-human expressions, without having recourse
-to the prophetic language of the
-inspired Scriptures.</p>
-
-<p>II. <i>The Mission of Races.</i>&mdash;In pursuing
-his study upon the action of the Holy
-Spirit in the world, the author says that a
-wider and more explicit exposition of the
-dogmatic and moral verities of the church,
-with a view to the characteristic gifts of
-every race, is the means to employ in order
-to realize the hopes he has conceived.</p>
-
-<p>God is the author of the different races
-of men. For known reasons of his providence,
-he has impressed on them certain
-characteristic traits, and has assigned to
-them from the beginning the places
-which they should occupy in his church.</p>
-
-<p>In a matter in which delicate susceptibilities
-have to be carefully handled, it is
-important not to exaggerate the special
-gifts of every race, and, on the other
-hand, not to depreciate them or exaggerate
-their vices.</p>
-
-<p>It would, however, be a serious error,
-in speaking of the providential mission
-of the races, to suppose that they were
-destined to mark with their imprint religion,
-Christianity, or the church. It is,
-on the contrary, God who makes the
-gifts and qualities with which he has endowed
-them co-operate in the expression
-and development of the truths which he
-created for them.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, no one can deny the
-mission of the Latin and Celtic races
-throughout the greater part of the history
-of Christianity. The first fact which
-manifested their mission and established
-the influence they were to exercise was
-the establishment of the chair of S.
-Peter at Rome, the centre of the Latin
-race. To Rome appertained the idea of
-the administrative and governmental
-organization of the whole world. Rome
-was regarded as the geographical centre
-of the world.</p>
-
-<p>The Greeks having abandoned the
-church for schism, and the Saxons having
-revolted against her by heresy in
-the XVIth century, the predominance
-which the Latin race, united later on to
-the Celtic race, assumed in her bosom,
-became more and more marked.</p>
-
-<p>This absence of the Greeks and of a
-considerable part of the Saxons&mdash;nations
-whose prejudices and tendencies are in
-many respects similar&mdash;left the ground
-more free for the church to complete her
-action, whether by her ordinary or normal
-development, or by the way of councils,
-as that of Trent and that of the
-Vatican.</p>
-
-<p>That which characterizes the Latin and
-Celtic races, according to our author, is
-their hierarchical, traditional, and emotional
-tendencies.</p>
-
-<p>He means, doubtless, by this latter expression,
-that those races are very susceptible
-to sensible impressions&mdash;to those
-which come from without.</p>
-
-<p>As to the hierarchical sentiment of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span>
-Celtic and Latin races, it appears to us
-that for upwards of a century it has been
-much weakened, if it be not completely
-extinct.</p>
-
-<p>In the following passage the author is
-not afraid to say of the Saxon race:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“It is precisely the importance given to the
-external constitution and to the accessories of
-the church which excited the antipathies of
-the Saxons, which culminated in the so-called
-Reformation. For the Saxon races and the
-mixed Saxons, the English and their descendants,
-predominate in the rational element, in
-an energetic individuality, and in great practical
-activity in the material order.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>One might have feared, perhaps, a
-kind of hardihood arising from a certain
-national partiality in regard to which the
-author would find it difficult to defend
-himself against his <em>half-brethren</em> of Germany,
-if he had not added:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“One of the chief defects of the Saxon mind
-lay in not fully understanding the constitution
-of the church, or sufficiently appreciating the
-essential necessity of her external organization.
-Hence their misinterpretation of the providential
-action of the Latin-Celts, and their charges
-against the church of formalism, superstition,
-and popery. They wrongfully identified the
-excesses of those races with the church of
-God. They failed to take into sufficient consideration
-the great and constant efforts the
-church had made in her national and general
-councils to correct the abuses and extirpate the
-vices which formed the staple of their complaints.</p>
-
-<p>“Conscious, also, of a certain feeling of repression
-of their natural instincts, while this work of
-the Latin-Celts was being perfected, they at the
-same time felt a great aversion to the increase
-of externals in outward worship, and to the
-minute regulations in discipline, as well as to
-the growth of papal authority and the outward
-grandeur of the papal court. The Saxon
-leaders in heresy of the XVIth century, as well
-as those of our own day, cunningly taking advantage
-of those antipathies, united with selfish
-political considerations, succeeded in making
-a large number believe that the question
-in controversy was not what it really was&mdash;a
-question; namely, between Christianity and infidelity&mdash;but
-a question between Romanism
-and Germanism!</p>
-
-<p>“It is easy to foresee the result of such a
-false issue; for it is impossible, humanly
-speaking, that a religion can maintain itself
-among a people when once they are led to believe
-it wrongs their natural instincts, is hostile
-to their national development, or is unsympathetic
-with their genius.</p>
-
-<p>“With misunderstandings, weaknesses, and
-jealousies on both sides, these, with various
-other causes, led thousands and millions of
-Saxons and Anglo-Saxons to resistance, hatred,
-and, finally, open revolt against the authority
-of the church.</p>
-
-<p>“The same causes which mainly produced
-the religious rebellion of the XVIth century
-are still at work among the Saxons, and are
-the exciting motives of their present persecutions
-against the church.</p>
-
-<p>“Looking through the distorted medium of
-their Saxon prejudices, grown stronger with
-time, and freshly stimulated by the recent definition
-of Papal Infallibility, they have worked
-themselves into the belief&mdash;seeing the church
-only on the outside, as they do&mdash;that she is purely
-a human institution, grown slowly, by the
-controlling action of the Latin-Celtic instincts,
-through centuries, to the present formidable
-proportions. The doctrines, the sacraments, the
-devotions, the worship of the Catholic Church,
-are, for the most part, from their stand-point,
-corruptions of Christianity, having their source
-in the characteristics of the Latin-Celtic races.
-The papal authority, to their sight, is nothing
-else than the concentration of the sacerdotal
-tendencies of these races, carried to their culminating
-point by the recent Vatican definition,
-which was due, in the main, to the efforts
-and the influence exerted by the Jesuits. This
-despotic ecclesiastical authority, which commands
-a superstitious reverence and servile
-submission to all its decrees, teaches doctrines
-inimical to the autonomy of the German
-Empire, and has fourteen millions or more of
-its subjects under its sway, ready at any moment
-to obey, at all hazards, its decisions.
-What is to hinder this Ultramontane power
-from issuing a decree, in a critical moment,
-which will disturb the peace and involve, perhaps,
-the overthrow of that empire, the fruit of
-so great sacrifices, and the realization of the
-ardent aspirations of the Germanic races? Is
-it not a dictate of self-preservation and political
-prudence to remove so dangerous an element,
-and that at all costs, from the state? Is it not
-a duty to free so many millions of our German
-brethren from this superstitious yoke and
-slavish subjection? Has not divine Providence
-bestowed the empire of Europe upon the
-Saxons, and placed us Prussians at its head, in
-order to accomplish, with all the means at our
-disposal, this great work? Is not this a duty
-which we owe to ourselves, to our brother Germans,
-and, above all, to God? This supreme
-effort is our divine mission!”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It would be impossible to enter into
-the idea of the Bismarckian policy in a
-manner more ingenious, more exact, and
-more striking.</p>
-
-<p>It is by presenting to Germany this
-monstrous counterfeit of the church that
-they have succeeded in provoking its
-hatred of her, and the new empire proposes
-to be itself the resolution of a
-problem which can be only formulated
-thus: “Either adapt Latin Christianity,
-the Romish Church, to the Germanic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span>
-type of character and to the exigences
-of the empire, or we will employ all the
-forces and all the means at our disposal
-to stamp out Catholicity within our dominions,
-and to exterminate its existence
-as far as our authority and influence extend.”</p>
-
-<p>This war against the Catholic religion
-is formidable, and ought not to leave us
-without alarm and without terror.</p>
-
-<p>Truth is powerful, it is said, and it
-will prevail. But truth has no power of
-itself, in so far as it is an abstraction.
-It has none, except on the condition of
-coming forth and showing itself living
-in minds and hearts.</p>
-
-<p>What is to be done, then?</p>
-
-<p>No thought can be entertained for a
-moment of modifying Catholic dogmas,
-of altering the constitution of the church,
-or of entering, to ever so small an extent,
-on the path of concessions. What is
-needed is to present religious truth to
-minds in such a manner as that they
-shall be able to see that it is divine. It
-is to prove to them that our religion
-alone is in harmony with the profoundest
-instincts of their hearts, and can alone
-realize their secret aspirations, which
-Protestantism has no power to satisfy.
-For that, the Holy Spirit must be invoked
-in order that he may develop the interior
-life of the church, and that this development
-may be rendered visible to the persecutors
-themselves, who hitherto see
-nothing in her but what is terrestrial and
-human. Already a certain ideal conception
-of Christianity exists amongst non-Catholics
-of England and of the United
-States, and puts them in the way of a
-more complete conversion. As to the
-Saxons, who, in these days, precipitate
-themselves upon an opposite course, we
-should try to enlighten their blindness.
-Already we have seen the persecutors,
-whether Roman or German, become themselves
-Christian in their turn. We shall
-see the Germans of our days exhibiting
-the same spectacle. It is a great race,
-that German race. Now, “the church
-is a divine queen, and her aim has always
-been to win to her bosom the imperial
-races. She has never failed to do it, too.”</p>
-
-<p>Already we can perceive a very marked
-return movement amongst the demi-Saxons,
-or Anglo-Saxons. It is a great
-sign of the times.</p>
-
-<p>At different epochs there have been
-movements of this kind in England. But
-none exhibited features so serious as
-that of which we are witnesses in these
-days. Conversions to the church multiply
-without number, above all amongst
-the most intelligent and influential classes
-of the nation; and that in spite of the
-violent cry of alarm raised by Lord John
-Russell, and in spite of the attacks of
-the ex-minister Gladstone, who has the
-reputation of being the most eloquent
-man in England.</p>
-
-<p>The gravitation towards the Catholic
-Church exhibits itself in a manner still
-more general and more clear in the bosom
-of the United States.</p>
-
-<p>The Catholics in that country amounted
-to scarcely a few hundreds at the
-commencement of this century. They
-form now a sixth of the population of
-the United States. They number about
-7,000,000. And the Catholic is the only
-religion which makes any real progress.</p>
-
-<p>It is, then, true “that the Catholic religion
-flourishes and prospers wherever
-human nature has its due liberty. Let
-them but give to the church rights only
-equal to those of other confessions, and
-freedom of action, and we should see her
-regain Europe, and, with Europe, the
-world.”</p>
-
-<p>Now, might we not conclude that these
-two demi-Saxon nations, England and
-the United States, are predestined by
-Providence to lead the Saxons themselves
-in a vast movement of return towards
-the Catholic Church?</p>
-
-<p>Before concluding, the author returns
-to the Latin and Celtic nations, and directs
-towards them a sorrowful glance.</p>
-
-<p>As for France, he regrets that a violent
-reaction against the abuses of the
-ancient régime, of which he gives a
-somewhat exaggerated picture, has
-brought about an irreligious revolution
-and a political situation which oscillates
-ceaselessly between anarchy and despotism,
-and despotism and anarchy. He
-deplores still more that the progressive
-movement has been diverted from its
-course in Spain and in Italy by the evil
-principles imported from France.</p>
-
-<p>“At this moment,” says the author,
-“Christianity is in danger, on the one
-hand, of being exterminated by the persecution
-of the Saxon races; on the other,
-of being betrayed by the apostasy of
-the Celto-Latins. This is the great tribulation
-of the church at the present
-time. Between these two perils she labors
-painfully.”</p>
-
-<p>According to human probabilities, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span>
-divine bark should be on the point of perishing.
-But perish it cannot. God cannot
-abandon the earth to the spirit of
-evil. “Jesus Christ came to establish
-the kingdom of God on the earth, as a
-means of conducting men to the kingdom
-of God in heaven.”</p>
-
-<p>It is thus, in his last chapter, our author
-surveys the future:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“During the last three centuries, from the
-nature of the work the church had to do, the
-weight of her influence had to be mainly exerted
-on the side of restraining human activity.
-Her present and future influence, due to the
-completion of her external organization, will be
-exerted on the side of soliciting increased action.
-The first was necessarily repressive and unpopular;
-the second will be, on the contrary, expansive
-and popular. The one excited antagonism;
-the other will attract sympathy and cheerful
-co-operation. The former restraint was exercised,
-not against human activity, but against
-the exaggeration of that activity. The future
-will be the solicitation of the same activity
-towards its elevation and divine expansion,
-enhancing its fruitfulness and glory.</p>
-
-<p>“These different races of Europe and the
-United States, constituting the body of the
-most civilized nations of the world, united in
-an intelligent appreciation of the divine character
-of the church, with their varied capacities
-and the great agencies at their disposal, would
-be the providential means of rapidly spreading
-the light of faith over the whole world, and of
-constituting a more Christian state of society.</p>
-
-<p>“In this way would be reached a more perfect
-realization of the prediction of the prophets,
-of the promises and prayers of Christ,
-and of the true aspiration of all noble souls.</p>
-
-<p>“This is what the age is calling for, if
-rightly understood, in its countless theories
-and projects of reform.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The zealous religious who is the author
-of this important manifesto traversed
-the seas in order to submit it to the Holy
-Father. [A mistake. Father Hecker
-went to Europe for other reasons, and
-took advantage of the opportunity to
-submit his pamphlet to the examination
-of the Roman censors and other eminent
-theologians.] If we are well informed,
-the Roman Curia found in it neither error
-nor rashness.<a name="FNanchor_172" id="FNanchor_172"></a><a href="#Footnote_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a> It is a complete plan of
-action proposed to the apostolate of the
-church for the future. The old era
-would close, a new one would open.</p>
-
-<p>On this ground all ancient differences
-should disappear. Bitter and useless recriminations
-would be laid aside. All
-would be moving towards the same future,
-in accord not only as to the end, but
-as to the means.</p>
-
-<p class="center">(From <cite>Le Monde</cite>.)</p>
-
-<p>The <i lang="de">Culturkampf</i> advances daily. Its
-war-cry in precipitating itself upon
-the church, bent upon her destruction,
-is: “The doctrine of infallibility has
-made spiritual slaves of Catholics, who
-are thus a hindrance to civilization.” In
-presence of so furious an attack, every
-voice which suggests means of safety deserves
-our best attention.</p>
-
-<p>Of this kind is a pamphlet published
-lately in London, and which has been
-already translated into French, German,
-and Italian, and of which the journals of
-different countries, of the most opposite
-views, have given very favorable opinions.</p>
-
-<p>The lamented M. Ravelet would, had
-he been spared, have introduced it to the
-readers of the <cite>Monde</cite>; for he had met its
-author at Rome, and knew how to appreciate
-the breadth of his views. Father
-Hecker, its author, the founder of the
-Paulists of New York, is celebrated in
-his country for a style of polemics admirably
-adapted to the genius of his fellow-countrymen.
-Does he understand Europe,
-to which he has made prolonged
-visits, equally well? On that point our
-readers will soon be able to judge.</p>
-
-<p>How is it that the Catholic religion,
-which reckons more adherents than any
-other Christian religion, does not succeed
-in making itself respected? Evidently
-because many Catholics are not
-on a level with the faith which they profess.
-“We want heroes,” said J. de
-Maistre at the beginning of our century.
-At this moment is not the demand the
-same? There is no lack of religious
-practices; a number of exterior acts of
-exterior piety are performed; but the interior
-life of souls is not exalted; they
-seem to be afflicted with a kind of spiritual
-dyspepsia. The crises which threaten
-terrify them, instead of inflaming beforehand
-their courage and their confidence
-in God. It is in the sources of religion
-itself we shall find energy; it is to them
-we must betake ourselves to reinvigorate
-our strength, in the direct action of God
-upon our consciences, and in the operation
-of the Holy Spirit upon our souls.
-From this source issues the true religious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span>
-life, and our external practices are
-availing only so far as they are inspired
-by this internal principle, itself inspired by
-the Spirit of God. Herein are the primal
-verities of Christianity. At every epoch
-of decadence the voices of saints remind
-the world of them; the spirit of the
-church inclines us to them; but, distracted
-by external agitations, we forget
-to correspond with its suggestions. We
-do not possess enough of God! Here is
-our weakness. A little more of divinity
-within us! Lo, the remedy!</p>
-
-<p>Father Hecker has well written upon the
-gifts of the Holy Spirit, and upon the
-men our age wants. Intelligences illuminated
-from on high, wills divinely
-strengthened&mdash;is not that what is wanted
-to maintain the struggle? Is he not right
-when he asserts that one soul adorned
-with these gifts would do more to promote
-the kingdom of God than a thousand
-deprived of them?</p>
-
-<p>This urgent call to a more intensely
-spiritual life will touch Christian hearts.
-But the pamphlet foresees an objection.
-Does not this development of our
-faculties and of our initiative under the
-divine influence expose us to some of
-the dangers of Protestantism? Do we
-not run the risk of the appearance of
-strong individualities who, filled with
-their own ideas, will think themselves
-more enlightened than the church, and
-so be seduced into disobeying her authority?</p>
-
-<p>This eternal question of the relation of
-liberty to authority! Catholics say to
-Protestants: “Liberty without the control
-of the divine authority of the church
-leads insensibly to the destruction of
-Christianity.” Protestants reply: “Authority
-amongst you has stifled liberty.
-You have preserved the letter of the
-dogmas; but spiritual life perishes under
-your formalism.” We are not estimating
-the weight of these reproaches; we
-merely state the danger. The solution
-of the religious problem consists in
-avoiding either extreme.</p>
-
-<p>No Catholic is at liberty to doubt that
-the Holy Spirit acts directly in the soul
-of every Christian, and at the same time
-acts in another way, indirect, but no less
-precious, by means of the authority of
-the church. Cardinal Manning has
-written two treatises on this subject, one
-on the external, the other on the internal,
-working of the Holy Spirit. It is
-these two workings which Father Hecker
-endeavors to connect in a lofty synthesis,
-and this is the main object of his
-work.</p>
-
-<p>The first step of the synthesis is the
-statement that it is one and the same
-spirit which works, whether by external
-authority or by the interior impulse of
-the soul, and that these two workings,
-issuing from a common principle, must
-agree in their exercise and blend in
-their final result. The liberty of the soul
-should not dispute the authority of the
-church, because that authority is divine;
-the church, on the other hand, cannot
-oppress the liberty of the soul, because
-that liberty is also divine. The second
-step is to prove that the interior action
-of the Holy Spirit in the soul alone accomplishes
-our inward sanctification and
-our union with God. The authority of the
-church, and, generally, the external observances
-of religion, having only for
-their aim to second this interior action,
-authority and external practices occupy
-only a secondary and subordinate place
-in the Catholic system, contrary to the
-notion of Protestants, who accuse us of
-sacrificing Jesus Christ to the church,
-and of limiting Christianity to her external
-action. The completion of the synthesis
-is in the following: The individual
-has not received for his interior
-life the promise of infallibility; it is to
-Peter and his successors&mdash;that is to say,
-to the church&mdash;that Jesus Christ has conceded
-this privilege. The Christian thus
-cannot be sure of possessing the Holy
-Spirit, excepting in so far as he is in
-union with the infallible church, and that
-union is the certain sign that the union
-of the two workings of the Holy Spirit
-is realized in him.</p>
-
-<p>We have no doubt that this theory is
-one of the most remarkable theological
-and philosophical conceptions of our age.
-Father Hecker is no innovator, but he
-seizes scattered ideas and gathers them
-into a sheaf of luminous rays; and this
-operation, which seems so simple, is the
-result of thirty years’ laborious meditation.
-One must read the pamphlet itself to appreciate
-its worth. The more we are
-versed in the problems which agitate
-contemporary religious thought, the better
-we shall understand the importance
-of what it inculcates.</p>
-
-<p>We shall briefly dispose of the application
-the author makes of his synthesis.
-One most ingenious one is that Protestantism,
-by denying the authority of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span>
-church, obliges her to put forth all her
-strength in its defence.</p>
-
-<p>If Luther had attacked liberty, the
-church would have taken another attitude,
-and would have defended with no
-less energy the free and direct action of
-the Holy Spirit in souls. It is this necessary
-defence of divine authority which
-gave birth to the Jesuit order, and which
-explains the special spirit which animates
-that society. If, however, the defence
-of assailed authority has been, for
-three centuries, the principal preoccupation
-of the church, she has not on that
-account neglected the interior life of
-souls. It is sufficient to name the spirituality,
-so deep and so intense, of S. Philip
-Neri, S. Francis of Sales, S. John of
-the Cross, and S. Teresa. Moreover,
-does not the support of authority contribute
-to the free life of souls by maintaining
-the infallible criterion for testing,
-in cases of doubt, the true inspirations
-of the Holy Spirit?</p>
-
-<p>The church, in these days, resembles
-a nation which marches to its frontiers
-to repel the invasion of the foreigner and
-protect its national life; its victory secured,
-it recalls its forces to the centre,
-to continue with security and ardor the
-development of that same life.</p>
-
-<p>According to Father Hecker, the church
-was in the last extremity of peril. He
-sees in the proclamation of the infallibility
-of the Pope the completion of the
-development of authority provoked by
-the Reformation, and believes that nothing
-now remains but its application.</p>
-
-<p>If, since the XVIth century, external
-action has predominated in the church,
-without, however, ever becoming exclusive,
-so now the internal working will
-predominate, always leaving to the external
-its legitimate share. Only, this
-new phase will be, in a way, more normal
-than the preceding, because, in religion
-as in man, the internal infinitely
-surpasses the external, without, however,
-annihilating it, as does Protestantism.
-This internal is the essence of Christianity;
-it is the kingdom of heaven within
-us, and whose frontiers it is our duty to
-extend. It is the treasure, the hidden
-pearl, the grain of mustard-seed, of the
-Gospel. It is to this interior of the soul
-that our Lord addressed the beatitudes
-of the Sermon on the Mount. The external
-church&mdash;the priesthood, the worship,
-the sacraments&mdash;are only means divinely
-instituted to help the weakness of man
-to rise to the worship in spirit and in
-truth announced by our Saviour to the
-Samaritan woman. And the time has
-come for a fuller expansion of this internal
-life, for the more general development
-of the spirit of S. Francis of Sales
-and of the other saints of whom we spoke
-above.</p>
-
-<p>As to those outside the church, they
-will never believe in this evolution, because
-they suppose that the doctrine of
-infallibility has condemned us to a kind
-of petrifaction. But if they study the
-actual situation, events will undeceive
-them from this present moment.</p>
-
-<p>The persecutions which deprive the
-church of her temporalities, of her exterior
-worship, of her religious edifices,
-which go the length even of depriving
-the faithful of their priests and bishops,
-which suppress as far as they can the
-external part of Catholicity, do they not
-reveal the power of its interior?</p>
-
-<p>In the parts of Switzerland and Germany
-where the populations are robbed
-of their clergy and worship, do we not
-see faith developing in sacrifice, and piety
-becoming more serious and fervent in
-the privation of all external aid? This
-example is an additional proof of the opportuneness
-of Father Hecker’s pamphlet.
-If God wills that the persecution
-should increase, we must be prepared to
-do without the external means which he
-himself has instituted, and which he accords
-to us in ordinary times. For we
-must not forget that no human power can
-separate us from God, and that so long
-as this union exists religion remains entire
-as to its substance.</p>
-
-<p>The merit of the Christian is in the intention
-which inspires his acts. Religion
-exists only in the idea which clothes
-its rites; the sacraments, the channels
-of grace, are only effective in us as they
-are preceded by the dispositions of our
-soul. For a religion not to degenerate,
-it must perpetually renew the internal
-life, in order to resist the encroachments
-of routine.</p>
-
-<p>Here the author asks what is the polemic
-best suited to help the people of
-these times to escape from their unbelief,
-which often proceeds from regarding the
-church as having fallen into formalism
-and into a debasing authoritativism.
-He believes they might be undeceived
-by disclosing to them the inner life of religion
-and the internal proofs of her
-divinity&mdash;an idea he shares with the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span>
-illustrious writers of our age. Lacordaire
-wrote to Mme. Swetchine that he
-had reversed the point of view of the
-controversy in scrutinizing matters from
-within, which manifested truth under a
-new aspect.</p>
-
-<p>Father Hecker quotes in this sense the
-striking words of Schlegel: “We shall
-soon see, I think, an exposition of Christianity
-appear which will bring about
-union among all Christians, and convert
-the unbelieving themselves.” Ranke
-said with no less decision: “This reconciliation
-of faith and science will be more
-important, as regards its spiritual results,
-than was the discovery, three centuries
-ago, of a new hemisphere, than that of
-the true system of the universe, or than
-that of any other discovery of science, be
-it what it may.”</p>
-
-<p>The pamphlet ends with a philosophy
-of race. And here the author, whilst
-acknowledging his fear of wounding susceptibilities,
-expresses the hope that none
-of his views will be exaggerated. He
-inquires what natural elements the several
-races have offered to the church in
-the successive phases of her history;
-and, starting from the principle that God
-has endowed the races with different aptitudes,
-he examines in what way those
-aptitudes may co-operate in the terrestrial
-execution of the designs of Providence.
-The Latin-Celtic races, who almost alone
-remained faithful to the church in the
-XVIth century, have for authority and
-external observances tastes which coincide
-with the more special development
-of the church since that epoch.</p>
-
-<p>On the contrary, the Anglo-Saxon
-races have subjective and metaphysical
-instincts which, in a natural point of view,
-should attract them to the church in the
-new phase on which she is entering.
-Father Hecker has been accused with
-some asperity of predicting that the direction
-of the church and of the world
-will pass into the hands of the Saxon
-races, whose conversion, sooner or later,
-he anticipates. But he does not in any
-sense condemn the Latin races to inferiority.
-He merely gives it as his opinion
-that the Latin races can only issue from
-the present crisis by the development of
-that interior life of independent reason
-and deliberate volition which constitutes
-the force of the Saxon races. God has
-not given the church to the Latin races.
-He has not created for nothing the Saxon,
-Sclavonic, and other races which cover
-the surface of the globe. They have their
-predestined place in the assembly of all
-the children of God, and are called to
-serve the church according to their providential
-aptitudes.</p>
-
-<p>Father Hecker and Dr. Newman are not
-the only ones who think that the absence
-of the Saxon races has been, for some
-centuries, very prejudicial to the church.
-J. de Maistre, whose bias cannot be suspected,
-expressed himself even more explicitly
-to that effect. The Latin genius,
-under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit,
-has been and will continue to be of the
-utmost value to the church. Under the
-divine influence, the Saxon genius will, in
-its way, effect equally precious conquests.</p>
-
-<p>In conclusion, we summarize thus the
-ideas of Father Hecker:</p>
-
-<p>1. We have need of a spiritual awakening.</p>
-
-<p>2. The definition of infallibility has
-lent such strength to the church that
-henceforth personality may become as
-powerful as possible without the risk, as
-in the XVIth century, of injuring unity.</p>
-
-<p>3. This definition having completed
-the external system of Catholicity, the
-initiative of the church proceeds logically
-to concentrate itself on the aggrandizement
-of the interior life, which is the essence
-of religion.</p>
-
-<p>4. This is proved by the persecutions,
-which augment and strengthen the religious
-life of Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>5. The result of these persecutions
-will be to unveil to Protestants and unbelievers
-the interior view of Catholicity,
-and to prepare the way for religious
-unity.</p>
-
-<p>6. This unity will be effected when
-Protestants and unbelievers see that
-Catholicity, far from being opposed to
-the aspirations of their nature, understands
-them and satisfies them better
-than Protestantism and free-thinking.</p>
-
-<p>7. This expansion of Catholicity advances
-slowly, because it meets few souls
-great enough to admit of the full development
-of its working, and of showing
-what it is capable of producing in them.</p>
-
-<p>8. The way to multiply these souls is
-to place ourselves more and more under
-the influence of the Holy Spirit.</p>
-
-<p>Whatever opinion may be formed of
-certain details, on the whole, this work
-manifests a high grade of philosophical
-thought and theological insight. But to
-appreciate it fully it must be read and
-studied.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Exceptions have been taken to it, on
-the ground that one meets nothing in it
-but theories, without any practical conclusion.
-Yet what can be more practical
-than the exhortation which confronts us
-on every page, to seek in all our religious
-acts, in sacraments, worship, and discipline,
-the divine intention involved therein?
-What more practical than to urge
-us to develop all the forces of our nature
-under the divine influence, and to tell
-us that the more conscientious, reasonable,
-and manly we are, the more completely
-men we are, so much the more
-favorable ground will the church find
-within us for her working?</p>
-
-<p>Far from urging any abrupt change,
-Father Hecker recommends that everything
-should be done with prudence,
-consideration being had for the manners
-of every country. He is persuaded that,
-by placing more confidence in the divine
-work in souls, they will become insensibly
-stronger, and will increase thus indefinitely
-the force and energy of the
-whole body of the church. Such a future
-will present us with the spectacle
-of the conversion of peoples who at present
-are bitterly hostile to her&mdash;a future
-which we shall purchase at the cost of
-many sacrifices. But our trials will be
-full of consolations if we feel that they
-are preparing a more general and abundant
-effusion of divine illumination upon
-the earth. <i lang="la">Per crucem ad lucem.</i></p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Personal Recollections of Lamb, Hazlitt,
-and Others.</span> The Bric-à-Brac
-Series. Edited by R. H. Stoddard.
-New York: Scribner, Armstrong &amp;
-Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This volume is a compendium of one
-of those books of memoirs or personal
-recollections bequeathed to us by the
-survivors of the English Renaissance of
-the beginning of the century&mdash;<cite>My Friends
-and Acquaintances</cite>, by P. G. Patmore.
-This the editor has supplemented, in the
-case of Hazlitt, by some letters and reminiscences
-culled from the <cite>Memoirs</cite> published
-by his grandson, W. Carew Hazlitt.
-These works, it might be fairly
-supposed, would be of themselves light
-enough for the most jaded and flippant
-appetite. However, the aid of the “editor”
-is called in&mdash;heaven forgive the man
-who first applied that title, honored by a
-Scaliger and a Bentley, to the modern
-compiler of scandal!&mdash;the most entertaining
-and doubtfully moral tidbits are
-picked out; and the result is the class
-of books before us, which is doing for
-the national intellect what pastry has
-done for its stomach. The mutual courtesies&mdash;honorable
-enough when rightly
-understood&mdash;existing between publishers
-and the periodical press make honest
-criticism seem ungracious; and thus the
-public judgment is left uninstructed by
-silence, or its frivolous tastes are confirmed
-by careless approval.</p>
-
-<p>The motives impelling the awful scissors
-of the “editor” not only deprive
-the original works which fall under them
-of the modicum of value they may possess,
-but affirmatively they do worse.
-They give an absolutely false impression
-of the persons represented. Thus, in the
-case before us the character and genius
-of Lamb are as ridiculously overrated as
-his true merits are obscured; and the
-same may be said with even more justice
-of the portrait given of Hazlitt. Singularly
-enough, though the editor derives
-all he knows, or at least all he presents
-to the reader, from Mr. Patmore and Mr.
-Carew Hazlitt, he speaks in the most
-contemptuous terms of both. One he
-pronounces “not a man of note,” and
-the other he terms, with a delightful unconsciousness
-of self-irony, “a bumptious
-bookmaker, profusely addicted to
-scissors and paste”; and both he bids, at
-parting, to “make room for their betters.”
-If such be the character of Mr.
-Patmore and Mr. Hazlitt, what opinion,
-we may ask, is the reader called upon to
-entertain of the “editor” who is an accident
-of their existence? Nor is it in
-relation only to the authors after whom
-he gleans that the “editor” shows bad
-taste and self-sufficiency. The immortal
-author of the <cite>Dunciad</cite>, speaking of a
-kindred race of authors, tells us,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Glory and gain the industrious tribe provoke,</div>
-<div class="verse">And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“The ricketty little papist, Pope,” is
-the witticism the editor levels at the
-brightest and most graceful poet of his
-age&mdash;a master and maker of our English
-tongue, and a scourge of just such dunces
-as himself.</p>
-
-<p>Of the writers whose habits and personal
-characteristics are treated of in
-this volume we have little or no room to
-speak, nor does the work before us afford
-any sufficient basis to go upon. Lamb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span>
-occupies a niche in the popular pantheon,
-as an essayist, higher than posterity will
-adjudge him. His essays are pleasing
-and witty, and the style is marvellously
-pure; but they want solidity; they are
-idealistic, humorous, subjective; they
-fail to present that faithful transcript of
-manners, or to teach in sober tones those
-lessons of morality, which make the older
-essayists enduring. Lamb’s other works
-are already forgotten. He was an amiable
-man in the midst of unhappy surroundings,
-and his unassuming manners
-have enshrined his name with affection
-in the works of his contemporaries.</p>
-
-<p>Hazlitt’s was not a character to be admired,
-nor in many ways even to be respected.
-He was devoured with vanity
-and grosser passions. His work was
-task-work, and therefore not high. ’Tis
-true Horace tells us,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“… paupertas impulit audar</div>
-<div class="verse">Ut versus facerem.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">&mdash;poverty has often been the sting which
-urged genius to its grandest efforts. But
-Hazlitt, though undoubtedly a man of
-genius, was not gifted with that genius
-of the first order, which abstracts itself
-wholly from the miserable circumstances
-about it. The great body of his work is
-criticism, brilliant, entertaining, even instructive
-at the moment in which it was
-produced, but substantially only the fashion
-of a day.</p>
-
-<p>Of the poet Campbell and Lady Blessington
-it would be an impertinence to
-say anything on the slight foundation
-this volume gives us.</p>
-
-<p>The editor of the “Bric-à-Brac” Series
-has placed on the cover of each volume
-this motto:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Infinite riches in a little room.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>We will suggest one that will take up
-even less room:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Stultitiam patiuntur opes.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Civil Government of the States,
-and the Constitutional History of
-the United States.</span> By P. Cudmore,
-Esq., Counsellor-at-Law, Author of the
-<cite>Irish Republic</cite>, etc., etc. New York:
-P. Cudmore. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The author of this work informs us in
-the preface that his object has been to
-condense into one volume the colonial,
-general, and constitutional history of the
-United States. This volume professes to
-be a digest of the writings and speeches of
-the fathers of the Constitution of the United
-States, the statutes of the several States,
-the statutes of the United States, of the
-writings and speeches of eminent American
-and foreign jurists, the journals and
-annals of Congress, the <cite>Congressional
-Globe</cite>, the general history of the United
-States, the decisions of the Supreme
-Courts of the several States, the opinions
-of the attorneys-general of the United
-States, and the decisions of the Supreme
-Court of the United States; of extracts
-from De Tocqueville, the Madison Papers,
-the <cite>Federalist</cite>, Elliott’s <cite>Debates</cite>, the
-writings of Jefferson, Adams, Hamilton,
-and Vattel, and of extracts from Jefferson
-and other eminent authors on parliamentary
-law. The platforms of political parties
-are also given. This list is copied
-<i lang="la">verbatim</i> from the author. It will be seen,
-therefore, that Mr. Cudmore has set himself
-no contemptible task to accomplish,
-and, as he has executed it in a thin octavo
-of 254 pages, it may reasonably be
-conjectured that he possesses a talent for
-condensation that Montesquieu might have
-envied. Mr. Vallandigham finds a powerful
-advocate in this author, and his
-philippics against Mr. Stanton are proportionately
-severe. Mr. Cudmore has
-a fondness for notes of exclamation; and
-such is the ardor of constitutionalism
-with which he pursues this latter-day
-“tyrant of the blackest dye” (we quote Mr.
-Cudmore) that it often takes three notes
-of admiration to express his just abhorrence
-of his measures. The bulk of the
-work is taken up by a civil and military
-history of the late conflict, and the disputes
-that preceded it. If we might venture
-a hint to Mr. Cudmore, we would
-say that his tone is a little too warm for
-this miserably phlegmatic age, which
-affects a fondness for impartiality in great
-constitutional writers. The fact is, the
-questions which the author discusses with
-the greatest spirit are dead issues. They
-still preserve a faint vitality for the philosopher
-and speculative statesman, but
-they have sunk out of sight for the practical
-politician and man of to-day. The
-<i lang="la">vis major</i> has decided them. We might
-as usefully begin to agitate for a re-enactment
-of the Agrarian Laws. Mr. Cudmore’s
-Chapters IV. and V., containing a
-digest of State and Federal law, show
-much meritorious industry. The history
-of land-grants, the homestead law, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span>
-the laws pertaining to aliens and naturalization,
-will be found useful.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Young Catholic’s Illustrated
-Table-Book and First Lessons in
-Numbers.</span> New York: The Catholic
-Publication Society, 9 Warren St.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is a very simple and attractive
-little book, designed to make the beginning
-of arithmetic, which certainly is
-rather a dry study in itself, interesting
-and capable of fixing the attention of the
-very young children for whose use the
-work is intended. We do not remember
-having seen any prettier or more practical
-little text-book for beginners, and
-cannot recommend it too highly. It is
-also very nicely illustrated.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Sadlier’s Excelsior Geography</span>, Nos.
-1, 2, 3. New York: Wm. H. Sadlier.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>As a first attempt in this country to
-prepare a series of geographies adapted
-to Catholic schools this is deserving of
-great praise. The type is clear, the maps
-and illustrations, and the mechanical
-execution generally, are excellent. It is
-based, to some extent, on a geographical
-course originally known as Monteith’s,
-and adapted by the insertion of additional
-matter interesting to Catholics. What
-we should have preferred, and hope
-eventually to see, is a series of geographies
-and histories entirely original, and
-written from the Catholic point of view,
-and pervaded by the Catholic tone which
-we find in this.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Sevenoaks</span>: A Story of To-day. By J.
-G. Holland, author of <cite>Arthur Bonnicastle</cite>.
-New York: Scribner, Armstrong
-&amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It gives us great pleasure to express,
-with slight qualifications, our entire approval
-of this work, so far as its moral
-purport is concerned. Its plot and incidents
-are all within the range of ordinary
-life and experience, and therefore not
-calculated to foster in the youthful reader
-extravagant anticipations in regard to his
-own future. There are many good hits
-at the weaknesses and inconsistencies of
-human nature, and faithful pictures of
-the vices and miseries to which an unscrupulous
-ambition leads. Selfishness
-and injustice prosper for a time, but
-eventually reap their reward; while integrity
-and true manliness, even in the
-rude and uncultivated, are recognized
-and appreciated.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Illustrated Catholic Family
-Almanac for 1876.</span> New York: The
-Catholic Publication Society.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>“Almanac,” when applied to this publication,
-seems to us a misnomer. The
-popular notion of an almanac is a thin,
-badly-printed pamphlet, containing incomprehensible
-astrological tables, delusive
-prophecies as to the weather, tradesmen’s
-advertisements, and a padding of
-stale jokes or impracticable recipes gathered
-from country newspapers; whereas
-the <cite>Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac</cite>
-is an annual of 144 pages, containing
-each year enough solid, well-digested information
-to furnish forth an ordinary
-volume of three hundred pages, to say
-nothing of the many fine engravings&mdash;and
-this, too, at a price which should extend
-its circulation to equal that of the once-famous
-<cite>Moore’s Almanac</cite> (published in
-England about the beginning of the
-XVIIIth century), which is said at one
-time to have sold annually more than
-four hundred thousand copies.</p>
-
-<p>The several volumes of the <cite>Family Almanac</cite>
-form a valuable manual for Catholics,
-containing, as they do, articles of
-great interest to the literary student, the
-antiquarian, and the archæologist. Much
-of the information could be gathered only
-from exceedingly well-furnished libraries;
-some of it appears here for the first
-time in print.</p>
-
-<p>In the <cite>Almanac</cite> for 1876, among other
-good things, we find an extended and
-very interesting biographical sketch of
-His Eminence Cardinal McCloskey;
-also, biographical sketches of Cardinals
-Wiseman and Altieri, of Bishops Bruté
-and Baraga, of Rev. Father Nerinckx
-and the Cura Hidalgo&mdash;the Washington
-of the Mexican revolution&mdash;and of Eugene
-O’Curry, the eminent Irish scholar&mdash;all
-of these being illustrated with portraits.
-The approaching centenary has
-not been forgotten, for in “Centennial
-Memorials” is shown the part&mdash;a glorious
-one, which received the public endorsement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span>
-of the “Father of his Country,”
-as will be seen by perusal of the article&mdash;taken
-by Catholics of Irish origin in the
-Revolutionary struggle. In the same
-article are numerous statistics showing
-the temporal growth of our country during
-the century just closing; the article
-closes with an account of the wonderful
-growth of the Catholic Church during
-the same period&mdash;the whole being valuable
-for future reference. “About the
-Bible” and “The Bible in the Middle
-Ages” contain information of interest to
-every Christian, and which is to be got
-elsewhere only by much reading; the latter
-article also contains an ample refutation
-of the old slander that the Catholic
-Church of the middle ages kept the
-Scriptures from the laity. Besides the
-foregoing, there is much curious and entertaining
-prose and verse, and several
-pictures of churches and other edifices
-(among them one of old S. Augustine’s
-Church, Philadelphia, destroyed in the
-riots of 1844, and toward the building of
-which, in 1796, Washington contributed
-$150; Stephen Girard, $40; George
-Meade, father of Gen. Meade, $50; and
-Commodore Barry, $150), a complete
-and authentic list of the Roman pontiffs
-translated from the Italian, the American
-hierarchy, and the usual astronomical
-and church calendars, postal guide, etc.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Madame Récamier and her Friends.</span>
-From the French of Madame Lenormant.
-By the translator of Madame
-Récamier’s <cite>Memoirs</cite>. Boston: Roberts
-Brothers. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This volume will doubtless be welcome
-to those already familiar with the <cite>Memoirs</cite>
-previously published. The work is
-largely made up of letters which are of
-no particular interest, except so far as
-they throw light on the character of the
-writers. Endowed by nature with extraordinary
-beauty, and possessing that
-knowledge of public events and skill in
-their interpretation which seems a special
-gift of Frenchwomen, Mme. Récamier
-became the centre of an admiring group
-of statesmen and <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i> who sought
-the benefit of her intuitive wisdom.</p>
-
-<p>A very strong testimony to Mme. Récamier’s
-many virtues is found in the
-warm friendship which existed between
-herself and other ladies holding a similar
-position in French society; in the loving
-devotion of the child of her adoption,
-who subsequently became her biographer;
-and&mdash;in the fear and jealousy of the First
-Napoleon, who paid her the compliment
-of a temporary exile. The personal attention
-she gave to her adopted daughter’s
-education is worthy of imitation.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Wayside Pencillings, with Glimpses
-of Sacred Shrines.</span> By the Rev.
-James J. Moriarty, A.M. Albany:
-Van Benthuysen Printing House. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Father Moriarty’s work has one merit
-on which editors place a high value&mdash;brevity.
-A book of travels is not properly
-a history or topography of the
-countries visited, and a bird’s-eye view of
-the most salient features is all that we
-can reasonably ask at the traveller’s hand.
-The interlarded extracts with which
-some authors swell their volumes are
-often wearisome reading. In the above
-work the reverend traveller narrates all
-the important incidents of his journey,
-with descriptions of the various shrines
-on his route, in so picturesque a manner,
-and in so few words, that the reader will
-have no difficulty in laying up in his
-memory many pleasant subjects for reflection.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Eight Cousins; or, The Aunt-Hill.</span>
-By Louisa M. Alcott. Boston: Roberts
-Brothers. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>An entertaining volume for youthful
-readers, and one which conveys many
-useful lessons. The same charming
-freshness which won for <cite>Little Women</cite> its
-wide reputation will render this volume
-a favorite, notwithstanding its defects&mdash;one
-of which is a spirit of self-assertion
-in the heroine which is only too true to
-nature in the average American girl.
-However reluctant we may be to acknowledge
-the fact, we cannot fail to see
-that our so-called progress has had a
-tendency to weaken veneration for age
-and respect for authority. Miss Alcott
-shows her sympathy with this fault by
-sometimes placing age in a ludicrous
-light before her juvenile readers. The
-young people of this generation do not
-need any encouragement in the belief
-that age does not always bring wisdom,
-and we the more regret this mistake in a
-book otherwise commendable. Destroy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span>
-the confidence and veneration with which
-childhood looks up to those placed over
-it, and you rob parents of that which
-constitutes a great charm in their offspring,
-and go far to break down the
-chief bulwark of society&mdash;the family.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Manual of the Sisters of Charity.</span> A
-Collection of Prayers compiled for the
-use of the Society of Sisters of Charity
-in the Diocese of Louisville, Kentucky.
-Adapted to general use. Baltimore:
-J. Murphy &amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is a new volume added to the already
-large devotional literature of the
-church. As its title imports, it was prepared
-especially with a view to the wants
-of the daughters of St. Vincent, though
-adapted to those of other religious, and
-of persons in the world. As it bears the
-imprimatur of the Archbishop of Baltimore,
-and has the approval of the Bishop
-of Louisville, and, in addition, has had
-the benefit of Mr. Murphy’s careful <em>proofreading</em>&mdash;a
-matter the importance of
-which can scarcely be over-estimated in
-devotional works&mdash;we deem further comment
-unnecessary. We would, however,
-suggest whether the use of a somewhat
-thinner paper would not make a better
-proportioned volume.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Miscellanea</span>: Comprising Reviews, Lectures,
-and Essays on Historical, Theological,
-and Miscellaneous Subjects.
-By M. J. Spalding, D.D., Archbishop
-of Baltimore. Sixth Edition, revised
-and greatly enlarged. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The publishers have added to the value
-of this edition by incorporating in it a
-number of papers not contained in previous
-editions, and which had received the
-author’s last corrections. Few writers
-of the present century in the English language
-have done more to popularize
-Catholic themes and relieve Protestants
-from the misconceptions which they had
-previously entertained regarding the history
-and doctrines of the church, than the
-late Archbishop of Baltimore. Those
-who have not previously possessed themselves
-of his admirable works have a
-new motive in the improvements now
-made.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">A Full Course of Instruction in Explanation
-of the Catechism.</span> By
-Rev. J. Perry. St. Louis: P. Fox.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The present edition of Perry’s <cite>Instructions</cite>
-differs from the original one in the
-addition of questions, thus making it a
-text-book for advanced classes, whereas
-its use was heretofore limited in a great
-measure to teachers. The editor (Rev.
-E. M. Hennessey) has also incorporated
-an explanation of the doctrines of the
-Immaculate Conception and Papal Infallibility.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS RECEIVED.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p>From P. Donahoe, Boston: Theologia Moralis Novissimi
-Ecclesiæ Doctoris, S. Alphonsi, in Compendium
-Redacta et Usui Venerabilis Cleri Americani
-Accommodata, Auctore A. Konings, C.SS.R.
-Pars Tertia: Continens tractatus de Sacramentis,
-de Censuris, de Irregularitatibus, et de
-Indulgentiis. 8vo, paper, pp. x., 433.</p>
-
-<p>From P. O’Shea, New York: Lives of the Saints,
-with a practical Instruction on the Life of each
-Saint for every day in the year. By F. X. Weninger,
-D.D., S.J. Part iv., 8vo, pp. 127, flexible
-cloth.&mdash;Life and Letters of Paul Seigneret, Seminarist
-of S. Sulpice, translated from the French
-by N. R. 12mo, pp. 311.</p>
-
-<p>From the Author: The Sunday Laws: A Discussion
-of Church and State, etc. By S. B.
-McCracken. 8vo, pp. 8, paper.</p>
-
-<p>From P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia: Life of
-S. Benedict, surnamed “The Moor.” The Son of
-a Slave. From the French of M. Allebert. 18mo,
-pp. 213.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2 id="No130"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.<br />
-<span class="smaller">VOL. XXII., No. 130.&mdash;JANUARY, 1876.</span></h2>
-
-<p class="center smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. <span class="smcap">I. T. Hecker</span>, in the Office of the
-Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE PRESIDENT’S SPEECH AT DES MOINES.</h3>
-
-<p>The utterances of any person
-occupying so lofty a station as that
-of President of the United States
-demand attention and respect, by
-reason of the source from whence
-they emanate. The deliberate
-judgments of such a man as President
-Grant have in themselves a
-special claim to the consideration
-of his fellow-citizens. He has had
-opportunities to study the length
-and breadth of the land. His private
-convictions have matured
-amidst the most varied experience
-of all classes and sections of our
-people&mdash;first in a profession affording
-ample leisure and abundant
-means of observation from an independent
-stand-point, and afterwards
-in commercial life, which
-placed him in the midst of daily
-events, no longer as a theorist, but
-as one actively concerned in their
-course and development. His position
-in military affairs has been
-that of one of the most celebrated
-commanders of the age, and his
-political career has been that of
-an independent statesman, always
-wielding supreme influence, and
-quite beyond the need of vulgar
-trickery, in order to maintain its
-power. Having almost completed
-an illustrious public life, he is now
-able to express the results of his
-observations, and no one can lightly
-question the validity of his conclusions.
-The country is prepared
-to receive anything he may have
-to say to it, with solicitous, intelligent,
-and earnest consideration.</p>
-
-<p>Those who may differ from him
-in political convictions, or who may
-retain a partiality for some of his
-less successful competitors for the
-highest prize of military glory, and
-even those who go so far as to
-question his greatness&mdash;all must
-admit that he is a true American,
-formed and moulded by the events
-in which he has moved, and truly
-representing the country and the
-times.</p>
-
-<p>We are disposed, therefore, to
-attach the fullest importance to his
-words, whether spoken officially or
-from the convictions of his heart,
-and to ponder them respectfully and
-thoughtfully.</p>
-
-<p>On the 29th of September last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span>
-His Excellency attended, at Des
-Moines, the capital city of Iowa, a
-convention of the “Army of the
-Tennessee,” one of those military
-organizations composed of veterans
-of the late war. The nature of
-these and kindred associations is
-not political. Their aim is to keep
-up a brotherly spirit among those
-who formerly stood shoulder to
-shoulder on the battle-field. Nevertheless,
-the gallant men, who thus
-risked life and limb for the integrity
-of the national government, are
-supposed to retain their patriotism,
-and to look with pride and zeal
-upon the continuance and healthy
-growth of those institutions, which
-are vitally connected with the nation’s
-greatness.</p>
-
-<p>In the midst of such an assembly,
-composed of men of all creeds,
-our chief magistrate felt called upon
-to utter a prophetic warning, which
-has excited much comment at home,
-and has been extensively published
-abroad. We print his speech, delivered
-at the evening session of
-the “Army of the Tennessee,” as
-currently reported in the daily
-press. President Grant, being called
-for, came forward and said:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Comrades</span>: It always affords me
-much gratification to meet my comrades
-in arms of ten and fourteen years ago,
-and to tell over again from memory the
-trials and hardships of those days&mdash;of
-hardships imposed for the preservation
-and perpetuation of our free institutions.
-We believed then, and we believe now,
-that we have a government worth fighting
-for, and, if need be, dying for. How
-many of our comrades paid the latter
-price for our preserved Union! Let their
-heroism and sacrifice be ever green in
-our memory. Let not the result of their
-sacrifices be destroyed. The Union and
-the free institutions for which they died
-should be held more dear for their sacrifices.
-We will not deny to any of those
-who fought against us any privilege under
-the government which we claim for
-ourselves. On the contrary, we welcome
-all such who come forward in good faith
-to help build up the waste places, and
-to perpetuate our institutions against all
-enemies, as brothers in full interest with
-us in a common heritage; but we are not
-prepared to apologize for the part we took
-in the war.</p>
-
-<p>“It is to be hoped that like trials will
-never again befall our country. In this
-sentiment no class of people can more
-heartily join than the soldier who submitted
-to the dangers, trials, and hardships
-of the camp and the battle-field, on whichever
-side he fought. No class of people
-are more interested in guarding against a
-recurrence of those days. Let us, then,
-begin by guarding against every enemy
-threatening the prosperity of free republican
-institutions. I do not bring into
-this assemblage politics, certainly not
-partisan politics; but it is a fair subject
-for the soldiers, in their deliberations, to
-consider what maybe necessary to secure
-the prize for which they battled. In a
-republic like ours, where the citizen is
-the sovereign and the official the servant,
-where no power is exercised except by
-the will of the people, it is important that
-the sovereign, the people, should foster
-intelligence&mdash;that intelligence which is
-to preserve us as a free nation. If we are to
-have another contest in the near future of
-our national existence, I predict that the
-dividing line will not be Mason and
-Dixon’s, but between patriotism and intelligence
-on the one side, and superstition,
-ambition and ignorance on the
-other.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, the centennial year of our national
-existence, I believe, is a good time
-to begin the work of strengthening the
-foundations of the structure commenced
-by our patriotic forefathers one hundred
-years ago at Lexington. Let us all labor
-to add all needful guarantees for the security
-of free thought, free speech, a free
-press, pure morals, unfettered religious
-sentiments, and of equal rights and privileges
-to all men, irrespective of nationality,
-color, or religion. Encourage free
-schools, and resolve that not one dollar
-appropriated for their support shall be
-appropriated to the support of any sectarian
-schools. Resolve that neither the
-State nor nation, nor both combined, shall
-support institutions of learning other
-than those sufficient to afford every child
-growing up in the land the opportunity
-of a good common-school education, unmixed
-with sectarian, pagan, or atheistical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span>
-dogmas. Leave the matter of religion
-to the family altar, the church, and the
-private school, supported entirely by private
-contributions. Keep the church
-and the state for ever separate. With
-these safeguards, I believe the battles
-which created the Army of the Tennessee
-will not have been fought in vain.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Taking all things into consideration,
-the speech is fully equal to
-any written production of the President.
-It is direct. It is plain. It
-is manly and vigorous, and far superior
-to any other oration which
-we have heard of from the same
-distinguished quarter. Beyond all
-things it expresses, better than many
-imagine, the common sentiments
-of the American people.</p>
-
-<p>We have not been surprised at
-the general applause with which
-it has been greeted; and we think
-that all our readers will agree in
-the judgments which we are about
-to express with regard to it.</p>
-
-<p>An impression has been spread
-abroad that the views of President
-Grant are hostile to the Catholic
-Church, and that the speech was
-fulminated by his zeal against it.
-It has been averred that he was
-talked into making a public manifestation
-of his feelings by the
-mayor of the city of Des Moines,
-who called his attention to the political
-campaign in Ohio, where
-Catholics were vainly struggling for
-equal rights in the matter of the
-public schools. His Excellency is
-said to have been strongly moved,
-and hastened home from his ride,
-in order to prepare his speech for
-the evening. We have no means
-of definitely ascertaining the motives
-of the President’s speech. If
-he meant to hurl a thunderbolt at
-us, we honor him for using language,
-in the main, so just and courteous.
-But if his friends have sought to
-make use of him to stir up feeling
-against us, they must be sadly disappointed
-at his words; for, if they
-now repeat them too freely, for the
-purpose of injuring us, they will
-find themselves “hoist by” their
-“own petard.”</p>
-
-<p>Trying as hard as we can to lash
-ourselves into fury; trying to fancy
-ourselves insulted, by representing
-to ourselves that the head of this
-nation has gone out of his way and
-abased his dignity, in order to cast
-an aspersion at a large and respectable
-class of the community, we
-are forced to give it up, and to lay
-down our pen; for we find nothing
-in the oration with which we are in
-the least disposed to take issue.
-On the contrary, we are prepared
-to join our tribute to the burst of
-applause which echoes through the
-land. We are convinced that, if it
-meets with the attention which it
-merits, the country at large, and
-Catholics in particular, will treasure
-the “Des Moines speech”
-among the “Sayings of the Fathers.”
-Like Washington’s Farewell,
-and Webster’s mighty peroration,
-and Lincoln’s noble and pathetic
-Inaugural, it will pass from
-the vulgar atmosphere of party
-strife into the pure and serene empyrean
-of immortality.</p>
-
-<p>We have given the speech at
-length. We now propose to explain
-our decision with regard to it, and
-to examine at greater length those
-portions of it which seem to us most
-true, most wise, and most remarkable.</p>
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Encourage free schools</span>,”
-the President says, “<span class="smcapuc">AND RESOLVE
-THAT NOT ONE DOLLAR APPROPRIATED
-FOR THEIR SUPPORT SHALL
-BE APPROPRIATED FOR THE SUPPORT
-OF ANY SECTARIAN SCHOOLS</span>.”</p>
-
-<p>Do we hear aright? Does the
-President of the United States maintain
-the proposition which has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span>
-brought us so much contempt and
-derision?</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">What is a free school?</span> A
-free school is one in which every
-scholar can obtain an education
-without violating the honest convictions
-of conscience, or&mdash;to use
-the words of the President&mdash;a free
-school is one where education can
-be obtained “unmixed with sectarian,
-pagan, or atheistical dogmas.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Are our so-called common
-schools free?</span> Let us glance at
-the general history of the controversy
-concerning them. As soon
-as the public schools had ceased
-to be purely charitable institutions,
-a new policy was inaugurated by
-our people. The government assumed
-that it was bound to ensure
-an intelligent use of the franchise,
-by encouraging the mental activity
-of its citizens. To this all Catholics
-agreed, and still agree. But our
-Protestant fellow-citizens, rightly
-desiring that some religious instruction
-should be given their children,
-wrongly insisted upon having the
-Bible read in the schools. The
-government might have permitted
-such a custom to continue, when
-no protest was made against it.
-But it soon became evident that
-the schools were essentially Protestant
-institutions, and served as
-an instrument to prevent the growth
-of “Popery.” This was no secret.
-It was openly preached.</p>
-
-<p>About this time Catholics began
-to see what everybody else was rejoicing
-over, and were, naturally,
-alarmed. They had assisted to
-found and build up the republic,
-or they had immigrated under the
-assurance of equal rights. To find
-it proclaimed a Protestant country
-was news to them. They insisted
-that the Government was bound to
-deny this imputation, and they
-registered an universal protest
-against the design of the falsely so-called
-“common” schools.</p>
-
-<p>We have demanded either that
-we be relieved from taxation for
-these sectarian schools, or that
-such arrangement be devised as
-shall render them equally desirable
-for Catholics and non-Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>We were not called upon to explain
-why we so earnestly desired
-this. It was nobody’s business but
-our own. The public schools are
-not held to be eleemosynary institutions.
-They are ostensibly for
-the benefit of all. And even if they
-were places for the confinement of
-criminals, or almshouses, both criminals
-and paupers have consciences,
-however dull or uninformed.
-What, then, is the objection to
-our having a right to direct the policy
-on which public institutions are
-to be conducted? None. But if we
-were to have taken such a position
-as this, we should, at once, have
-been indicted, for an insidious and
-damnable conspiracy.</p>
-
-<p>Therefore we have openly stated
-the grounds of our convictions, relying
-on the inherent force of truth
-to secure our rights. We regard
-morality as inseparable from religion.
-In this we merely echo the
-sentiments of the greatest American
-statesmen, and notably, of the
-Father of our republic. We say
-that, if we are to pay for the education
-of our children, we should
-like to have the worth of our money.
-What fairer demand can a
-Yankee make? We ask nothing
-to which every citizen has not a
-right. We have never met a fair
-reply to our demands, or a fair discussion
-of their merits. First we
-were greeted with silent scorn.
-The practical operation of the laws
-was found to force our children
-into Protestant schools. We proclaimed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span>
-claimed them to be Protestant
-schools. It was unblushingly denied.
-We put the question to the
-test, by endeavoring to stop the
-Protestant Bible from being read in
-them. There was not enough power
-in our voice, nor enough fairness
-in our opponents, to enforce
-even an appearance of consistency.
-The schools were pronounced “un-sectarian,”
-a Protestant service was
-daily carried out, and we were bidden
-to hold our tongues, and to be
-thankful. And, now, that we are
-not willing, either to hold our peace,
-or to be grateful to those who deny
-us our equal rights, a loud outcry
-is raised, and every manner of evil
-is predicted, unless we are forcibly
-restrained. The party of malevolence
-seeks to create an issue where
-none exists, and to force us into a
-strife, in which it can avail itself
-of superior numbers to strike us a
-cruel and unjust blow. Now, neither
-this design nor the clamor with
-which it is urged, can be defended
-by any true or just plea. And we
-venture to predict that there is too
-much intelligence and love of fair
-play in the American people, to allow
-it to succeed in its sinister purpose.</p>
-
-<p>What is our position once more?
-Here we stand, on the same basis
-with all other American citizens.
-Is it not so? Where, then, is any
-legal disability proved against us?
-We ask for nothing which we are not
-willing to concede to all our fellow-citizens&mdash;viz.,
-the natural right to
-have their children brought up according
-to their parents’ conscientious
-convictions. We want, and
-we will have, our children brought up
-Catholics. It can be done in various
-ways. The state can pay the
-salaries of our teachers, and the
-cost of our buildings, and other expenses,
-securing proper guarantees
-that the money will be honestly
-laid out, and the children receive
-their due amount of secular instruction.
-Again, the state may
-pay a <i lang="la">pro rata</i>, and allow teachers
-to compete for scholars. This is
-done in Protestant England and
-Prussia, as well as in Catholic
-France and Austria, and is, obviously,
-most in harmony with democratic
-principles. Other ways may
-be devised which will secure justice
-to all parties. There is no practical
-difficulty, except in the smallest
-country school districts. These
-are always settled by the citizens
-themselves. Or, we can educate
-our children, without the state.
-The state may let us alone, and
-may do away entirely with public education,
-except for those who are utterly
-without means&mdash;in other words,
-change the common schools into
-charitable institutions, and let parents
-provide. But this, we are
-persuaded, is full of practical difficulties.</p>
-
-<p>But the plan actually adopted
-has been to tax all alike for the common
-good, and yet maintain a system,
-which perfectly suits Protestants,
-but to which Catholics cannot
-honestly or conscientiously agree.
-<span class="smcap">Our so-called common schools
-are not free.</span> Millions of the people
-rise up and proclaim it. Let
-those who like them send their children
-to them. Let those support
-them who like them by their
-“private contributions.” Then all
-honor to President Grant when he
-says “that not one dollar should
-be appropriated to the support of
-any sectarian schools.”</p>
-
-<p>The President further says:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Resolve that neither State
-nor Nation, nor both combined,
-shall support Institutions
-of Learning other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span>
-than those sufficient to afford
-every Child growing up
-in the Land the opportunity
-of a good Common-school
-Education, unmixed with Sectarian,
-Pagan, or Atheistical
-Dogmas.</span>”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Now, what is it that Catholics
-complain of, except that the state
-has supported, and does support,
-“institutions of learning” mixed
-“with sectarian, pagan, and atheistical
-dogmas”?</p>
-
-<p>There is no doubt about this
-fact. Protestants insist upon having
-the Bible read in the public
-schools, lest they become irreligious.
-Catholics maintain that the
-version used is garbled, and that,
-even if it were not, no one has a
-right to teach it, except those who
-have compiled it, and are to-day
-the only responsible witnesses to
-its true meaning. The Jews maintain
-that the New Testament part
-of it is not true. Infidels deny it
-altogether. What right has any
-school board, or any other purely
-human institution to decide this
-controversy; and what right has
-any man under the Constitution to
-enforce his religious views or his
-denial of religion upon others? It
-is an outrage. It is an inconsistency,
-which cannot be stated in
-any terms without transparently
-manifesting its absurdity. Under
-the Constitution, and according to
-the spirit of our government, all men
-are equal. Under the present system
-of common schools, and, according
-to the spirit of those who uphold
-them, men are not equal, and there
-is no such thing as regard for conscience;
-but every majority has a
-right to enforce upon any minority,
-no matter how large, its peculiar
-ideas of instruction, involving, as this
-always does, the question of religion
-itself. We have repeated our protest,
-until we are almost sick and
-tired of hearing the outrage mentioned;
-we have never seen our
-position manfully approached within
-beat of drum; and, yet, we have
-constantly been forced to ask ourselves,
-“Will the American people
-never see this? Can it be that
-our enemies are, as some of them
-hold themselves to be, totally depraved?”</p>
-
-<p>Some time ago, after considerable
-agitation, the Chicago School Board
-prohibited the reading of the Sacred
-Scriptures in the public
-schools of that city.</p>
-
-<p>Undoubtedly the protest of Catholics
-had something to do with
-this. But the action of the board
-was certainly based upon the idea,
-that the reading of the Protestant
-Bible made the schools Protestant,
-“sectarian” institutions, and therefore
-unjust towards all other religious
-bodies. Let it be thoroughly
-understood, that we fully appreciate
-the desire of our Protestant fellow-citizens,
-to hallow secular instruction.
-But the reading of the Scriptures
-as a public ceremony is as distinctive
-to them, as the celebration
-of Mass would be to Catholics. No
-one can evade the argument which
-forces this conclusion. “Such
-schemes are glass; the very sun
-shines through them.” And yet it
-is not a little remarkable, how
-slowly the light breaks in upon
-the seat of the delusion.</p>
-
-<p>It is a satisfaction, however, to
-note the few acknowledgments,
-tardy and incomplete as they are,
-of the principle which we have always
-maintained. Prof. Swing, alluding
-to the action of the Chicago
-School Board to which we have referred,
-gives voice to the following
-observations of common sense:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The government has no more right to
-teach the Bible than it has to teach the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span>
-Koran. My idea is that the government
-did, in its earlier life, run according to a
-sort of Christian common law; but now
-the number of Jews, Catholics, and infidels
-has become so greatly increased, the
-government has to base itself squarely
-upon its constitutional idea that all men
-are religiously equal. Even if the genius
-of the country permitted the teaching
-of the Bible, I should doubt the propriety
-of continuing the custom, because
-no valuable moral results can ever come
-from reading a few verses hurriedly in a
-school-house, and social strifes will be
-continually springing up out of the practice.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The government, then, according
-to the professor, has no rights in
-the spiritual domain&mdash;a proposition
-which we have been condemned to
-universal derision for maintaining,
-and yet one that is self-evident to
-any person who will pause for a
-moment to consider our institutions.</p>
-
-<p>An ardent advocate of what are
-called liberal principles, commenting
-upon the position of Prof.
-Swing, very properly styles it the
-only one defensible. The purpose
-of the Liberal League is, unquestionably,
-to procure the complete
-secularization of our public schools,
-which would, of course, be as unjust
-towards Catholic tax-payers
-as any other system. This class is
-no less hostile to justice and true
-liberty than any other set of meddlers.
-Nevertheless, it is not a little
-amusing to see the unmistakable
-fear with which it regards the issue
-of the present anti-Catholic policy.
-It waves, as its flag of hostility to
-the Catholics, the threadbare pretext,
-that we are secretly opposed
-to all education. It is not necessary
-for us to repeat the indignant
-denial and protest, with which we
-have ever met this gratuitous calumny.
-We quote from the Boston
-<cite>Index</cite> of Oct. 28:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The public-school system is to-day
-in the greatest danger, not so much from
-the fact that it is openly attacked from
-without by the Catholics, as from the fact
-that a great inherent injustice to all non-Protestants
-is made part and parcel of it
-by its distinctively Protestant character.
-What is built on wrong is built on the
-sand; and our school system will certainly
-fall in ruins by and by, unless it
-can be grounded on equal justice to all.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>When the avowed heathen, who
-reap the fullest harvest, fear for the
-destruction of our present unjust
-system of education, on the ground
-that it is too iniquitous to last, is it
-not time, for people who call themselves
-Christians, to give a moment’s
-heed to the petition, which
-we have for years addressed to
-them, as most advantageous to all
-of us, and as doing injustice to
-none?</p>
-
-<p>It appears, however, that this
-idea has infiltrated into other
-minds. <cite>Zion’s Herald</cite>, a Methodist
-journal, quoted by the liberal paper
-to which we have referred,
-says:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The state deals only with temporal
-affairs, and does not attempt to usurp
-spiritual functions. Therefore the objects
-and methods of public education
-are wholly secular, but by no means necessarily,
-or at all, immoral or irreligious.
-On the contrary, they are decidedly favorable
-to piety and morality. But composed
-denominationally as the American
-people is, the state ought not to impart
-religious education. The moment such
-an attempt should be made, the community
-would be in conflict as to what form
-it should take. It may be conceded,
-without danger perhaps, that the state
-should not teach ethics, except so far as
-the great fundamental principles of morals
-and politics, as to which all Americans
-are agreed, are concerned. <em>The religious
-education of children may and should
-be remitted to the family, the Sabbath-school,
-and the church</em>&mdash;the natural and divinely-appointed
-guardians of religion and
-ethics.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>In the face of this growing acknowledgment
-of the “sectarian”
-character of our public schools, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span>
-knowing that they must give religious
-instruction or else be “pagan
-and atheistical,” we are pleased to
-hear the demand that “neither the
-State nor nation, nor both combined,”
-shall support such schools.</p>
-
-<p>The fact is, that a people cannot
-wholly escape from its national traditions,
-without forgetting its language,
-or undergoing some violent
-revolution. If our fellow-citizens
-will study the meaning of the terms
-which they habitually use, they will
-not lose their traditions of freedom
-and equal rights, nor will they
-throw themselves into a violent,
-perilous departure from them. But
-we hasten to comment upon another
-sentence, which is frequently
-quoted from the President’s oration:</p>
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Leave the matter of religion
-to the family altar, the
-church, and the private school
-supported by private contributions.</span>”</p>
-
-<p>Precisely so. If it must come to
-this; if no arrangement can be
-made, by which religion and morality
-can be taught in the public
-schools, then, leave the matter to
-the family altar and the church,
-and allow it to be done by private
-contributions.</p>
-
-<p>In other words, either furnish
-the people with that which you
-pretend to tax them for&mdash;viz., a fair
-and equitable system of public
-schools&mdash;or allow them to provide
-for themselves. But, whatever you
-do, keep your hands off the sacredness
-of the “family altar.” Do not
-set foot into the hallowed precincts
-of the domestic sanctuary. The
-family, though subordinate, is not
-to be violated by the state. Parents
-have rights, which no government
-can usurp. You have no
-more right to force the education
-of their children out of their hands,
-than to define the number of offspring
-by law. You have no more
-right to establish a system, to which
-you will endeavor to secure their
-conformity by violent measures,
-than you have to establish public
-wet-nurseries, or, require that voters
-shall be brought up on government
-pap and be fed out of a government
-spoon.</p>
-
-<p>Keep from meddling with religion;
-you have no authority to
-teach it.</p>
-
-<p>What a bitter rebuke these words
-of the President contain for that
-party, small and contemptible in
-itself, but powerful by reason of the
-times, which has ever sought to
-widen the gulf between us and our
-true-hearted countrymen! It is not
-enough that we should be estranged
-by the traditions of three hundred
-years. It is not enough to whisper
-into the popular ear every stale and
-loathed calumny. It is not enough
-to bring our holiest rites and beliefs
-into the obscene literature now circulating
-amongst the depraved
-youth of our country. It is not
-enough to drown with a thousand
-noisy, insolent tongues, every attempt
-we make at explanation. It
-is not enough for this malignant,
-persecuting power to drop its poison
-into every crevice of our social
-and religious system, from the parlor
-to the sewer, from the temple
-to the lupanar; but the nation must
-be organized against us. Our religion
-must, in some way or other, be
-dragged into politics. For shame!
-we cry, with the President. In a
-country of such varied religious beliefs
-as ours, there is but one way
-to order and peace&mdash;“<span class="smcap">Keep the
-church and the state for ever
-separate.</span>”</p>
-
-<p>To sum up: We agree with the
-President:</p>
-
-<p>1st. No “sectarianism” in our
-common schools; and, therefore,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span>
-“not one dollar” to our present
-system of schools, because they are
-sectarian.</p>
-
-<p>2d. “Not one dollar” to “pagan”
-schools, in which God is ignored.</p>
-
-<p>3d. “Not one dollar” to “atheistical”
-schools, in which God is denied
-in the name of “science falsely
-so-called.”</p>
-
-<p>We now turn to consider the
-prophecy in which the President
-warns the American people of its
-future dangers:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">If we are to have another
-Contest in the near future
-of our national existence, I
-predict that the Dividing
-Line will not be Mason and
-Dixon’s, but between Patriotism
-and Intelligence on the
-one side, and Superstition,
-Ambition, and Ignorance On
-the other.</span>”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>What is meant by superstition?</p>
-
-<p>Formerly it meant seeking for
-power or knowledge, by dealing
-with the impure spirits.</p>
-
-<p>Does the President mean to warn
-us against the delusions and uncleanness
-of modern spiritism? If
-so, we are agreed.</p>
-
-<p>But we do not really suppose
-that the President means any such
-thing. What does he mean?</p>
-
-<p>We find in the dictionary four
-other meanings of the word which
-he has used. Superstition means
-“an excessive reverence or fear
-of that which is unknown or mysterious.”
-But, we observe no
-such phenomenon among our people;
-if anything, rather the reverse.
-Or it means “The worship
-of false gods.” We see no signs
-of this except in the “Joss
-Houses” of San Francisco. Nor
-do we behold any great belief “in
-the agency of superior powers in
-certain extraordinary or singular
-events, or in omens, or prognostics.”
-Nor, further, do we behold
-any “excessive nicety or scrupulous
-exactness,” as an alarming feature
-of our present moral condition.
-There remains but one meaning
-(and this, we are persuaded, is
-the sense which the President intended
-to convey): “Especially,
-an ignorant or irrational worship of
-the supreme Deity.”</p>
-
-<p>An ignorant worship of God is
-one which knows not what to believe
-concerning him, or one which
-is unable to state what it does believe;
-or, further, one which can give
-no conclusive reason for believing
-anything. But, outside the Catholic
-Church, there is no religious body
-which can tell precisely what it
-ought to believe, or precisely what
-it does believe, or precisely why it
-ought to believe anything. Again,
-an irrational belief in God is one
-which recognizes his existence, and,
-at the same time, denies his attributes.
-For instance, it is an irrational
-belief in God, which denies
-his wisdom; which asserts, that he
-has not chosen means adequate to
-accomplish his ends; which represents
-him, when he has made a revelation
-to man, as leaving his divine
-truth in scattered and mysterious
-writings in an obscure language,
-requiring men to find them, collect
-them, and believe their true meaning
-in order to be saved; or which
-fancies that reading daily a few
-pages from these writings, to little
-children, will be sufficient to prepare
-them for the duties of life. It
-is an irrational belief in God which
-represents him as immoral, as creating
-man simply to damn him, or,
-which denies his justice, by wickedly
-imagining that he will not
-punish oppression and calumny and
-those who sow discord in the midst
-of a free and happy people.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Here again we agree with the
-President in denouncing such impiety,
-and in predicting that, if the
-liberties and institutions of this republic
-are soon to be jeopardized,
-it will be by irreverence towards
-God and the contempt of charity
-and justice towards men, ever practised
-by this “ignorant and irrational
-worship of the supreme Deity.”</p>
-
-<p>Another item of danger which
-the President foresees in the near
-future is “ignorance.” Here, again
-we find him sounding the note of
-warning, to which we have always
-given voice. His Excellency says:
-“In a republic like ours, …
-where no power is exercised except
-by the will of the people, it is important
-that the sovereign, the
-people, should foster intelligence&mdash;that
-intelligence which is to preserve
-us as a free nation.” The
-liberties of this republic will not be
-maintained, we say, by an ignorant,
-debauched, and corrupted generation.
-Our common people must be
-educated. They must possess
-“that intelligence which is to preserve
-us as a free nation.” They
-must know something more than
-simply how to read and write and
-“cipher.” Nor will it be sufficient,
-to add to this a knowledge of music.
-They must have a sound and thorough
-moral training. Their conscientious
-convictions must be
-grounded on truth daily taught and
-daily enforced. They must be
-daily taught to control their passions;
-they must be taught honesty,
-and be required to give back that
-which is unjustly gotten. They
-must be taught the true purpose of
-life.</p>
-
-<p>But this training, as the President
-affirms, belongs not to the state,
-but to the “family altar and the
-church.” Either assist <em>all</em> families
-and <em>all</em> churches, or else encourage
-them to help themselves. These are
-our sentiments. But when sectarian
-bigotry has gotten hold of a system
-of the falsely so-called “common
-schools,” and with obstinate purpose,
-and clamorous intensity and
-ever-swelling declamation, manifests
-its resolve to maintain this
-system, even though it conflicts with
-the conscientious rights of millions
-of the people of our country; when,
-further, it is determined to force a
-large minority to accept this state
-of things, or to go without instruction,
-we, as American citizens, denounce
-the system as tyrannous; in
-the full sense of the word, as a reckless
-and immoral oppression. We
-assert that those who uphold it, do
-not desire intelligence, but prefer
-ignorance; that their aim is not to
-promote knowledge, but to destroy
-the religious convictions of our children,
-and to keep us from growing
-in the land. We affirm that such
-self-delusion originates in ignorance,
-is perpetuated by ignorance, tends
-to still deeper degradation of ignorance;
-and we predict that it will
-bring forth the fruits of ignorance,
-not only in morality, but in the
-lower sciences.</p>
-
-<p>We, for our part, will never relax
-our efforts to show up the dishonesty
-of this party; we will never
-withdraw our protest, until justice
-has been done; and knowing to
-what lengths men can go when
-they start without principle, we fully
-share in the alarm of our chief
-magistrate, as to the danger of “ignorance.”
-Have we not, therefore,
-reason to hope that, in the midst of
-the struggle, which his sagacious
-mind perceives to be at hand, we
-shall find him on the side of patriotism
-and intelligence, with all true
-Americans, against that “superstition”
-and “ignorance,” whose aim
-is to destroy the “security of unfettered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span>
-religious sentiments and equal
-rights” of his fellow-citizens?</p>
-
-<p>There is another item of the future
-contest, which, according to
-our President, is</p>
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Ambition</span>.” <span class="smcap">What is ambition?</span></p>
-
-<p>A man has been elected to the
-highest office in the gift of a free
-people, the limits of which have
-been fixed by a custom handed
-down by the fathers of the nation,
-and which, to the minds of true patriots,
-has the force of law. When
-such a trust does not satisfy the
-honored recipient, and he, yielding
-to personal motives, strains every
-nerve, and seeks by every means at
-his command, to break down all
-barriers to continuation of power,
-thereby abusing the dignity of his
-post and the confidence of the people&mdash;that
-is ambition.</p>
-
-<p>We do not fully share the apprehension
-with which the President
-foresees this threat to the “near
-future” of our national welfare.
-But if it be true, we fully agree with
-him when he says: “Now, the centennial
-year of our national existence,
-I believe, is a good time to
-begin the work of strengthening
-the foundations of the structure
-commenced by our patriotic forefathers
-one hundred years ago at
-Lexington.”</p>
-
-<p>“Language,” according to a great
-diplomatist, “was given to man, in
-order that he might conceal his
-ideas.” But this maxim has never
-been accepted by honorable men.
-In examining, thus briefly, the
-“Des Moines speech,” we have followed
-that other canon of criticism,
-which requires that words shall be
-interpreted in their literal sense, as
-far as possible. Submitted to this
-just criticism, the language appears
-to us immortal, and worthy of the
-high place which is even now being
-prepared for it. Some may marvel,
-and may wonder how the President
-came to be filled with so high a degree
-of the prophetic spirit. Like
-Balaam, the son of Beor, he was
-expected to curse us; unlike Balaam,
-he was not stayed, but rather
-urged on by the faithful servant
-with whom he previously conversed.
-But there is no mystery about it.
-He has grown up with the instincts
-of a true American, and he
-has spoken accordingly. Not only
-are the words on which we have
-commented true, but they are in accordance
-with sound Catholic principles.
-We are ready to take him at
-his word, and his words in their true
-meaning. To those who will join
-us we say, without disguise or reserve:
-“Gentlemen, you will never
-regret having trusted us, and dealt
-fairly with us, according to the laws
-and Constitution of this country.”
-We believe with the President, that,
-if the only honest meaning of his
-language be as honestly carried
-out, “the battles which created the
-Army of the Tennessee” (which, by
-the way, a Catholic general once
-commanded and in whose ranks
-hundreds of Catholic hearts bled)&mdash;we
-believe, we say, that these battles
-“will not have been fought in
-vain.” The children of the soldiers
-of the Union will at least be the
-peers of those whom their fathers
-overcame. The nations’ heroes
-will not look down, to see their
-heirs defrauded of equal rights in
-“the Union and the free institutions
-for which they died.” The President
-will yield to his comrades in
-arms, at least as much as he is so
-ready to accord to his late opponents.
-And as for our countrymen
-throughout the Union, we are prepared
-to wait, trusting that when
-fully enlightened, they will agree to
-our obtaining, independently of all
-political agitations or party organizations,
-our just and equal rights
-as American citizens.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SONNETS IN MEMORY OF THE LATE SIR AUBREY DE
-VERE, BART.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<p class="center">BY AUBREY DE VERE.</p>
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">I.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">To-night upon thy roof the snows are lying;</div>
-<div class="verse">The Christmas snows lie heavy on thy trees;</div>
-<div class="verse">A dying dirge that soothes the year in dying</div>
-<div class="verse">Swells from thy woodlands on the midnight breeze.</div>
-<div class="verse">Our loss is ancient; many a heart is sighing</div>
-<div class="verse">This hour a late one, or by slow degrees</div>
-<div class="verse">Heals some old wound, to God’s high grace replying&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">A time there was when thou wert like to these!</div>
-<div class="verse">Where art thou? In what unimagined sphere</div>
-<div class="verse">Liv’st thou, sojourner, or a transient guest?</div>
-<div class="verse">By whom companioned? Access hath she near,</div>
-<div class="verse">In life thy nearest, and beloved the best?</div>
-<div class="verse">What memory hast thou of thy loved ones here?</div>
-<div class="verse">Hangs the great Vision o’er thy place of rest?</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">II.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Sweet-sounding bells, blithe summoners to prayer!”<a name="FNanchor_173" id="FNanchor_173"></a><a href="#Footnote_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a></div>
-<div class="verse">The answer man can yield not ye bestow:</div>
-<div class="verse">Your answer is a little Infant, bare,</div>
-<div class="verse">Wafted to earth on night-winds whispering low.</div>
-<div class="verse">Blow him to Bethlehem, airs angelic, blow!</div>
-<div class="verse">There doth the Mother-Maid his couch prepare:</div>
-<div class="verse">His harbor is her bosom: drop him there</div>
-<div class="verse">Soft as a snow-flake on a bank of snow.</div>
-<div class="verse">Sole Hope of man! Sole Hope for us&mdash;for thee!</div>
-<div class="verse">“To us a Prince is given; a Child is born!”&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Thou sang’st of Bethlehem, and of Calvary,</div>
-<div class="verse">The Maid immaculate, and the twisted thorn</div>
-<div class="verse">Where’er thou art, not far, not far is He</div>
-<div class="verse">Whose banner whitens in yon Christmas morn!</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>A MESSAGE.</h3>
-
-<p>Is there anything more tantalizing
-than to be caught with a toothache
-and swelled face just at Christmas
-time, when one’s hands are
-full of work that must be finished,
-of plans that have been begun in
-time and carried on prosperously
-to within a few days of their fulfilment?
-This is just what befell Mr.
-Stephen Walpole on the 20th of
-December in the year of grace
-1870. You remember what a terrific
-winter that was? How the
-bleak north wind blew over ice and
-snow, and added tenfold horrors to
-the poor soldiers fighting in that
-terrible Franco-German war&mdash;how
-all our hearts shuddered in pity for
-them, as we sat stitching and knitting
-in their service by the glow of
-our Christmas fires! This 20th of
-December was, perhaps, the bitterest
-day of the whole season. The
-snow was deep on the ground, the
-ice hung in long spikes from rails
-and roofs, and the east wind blew
-cruelly over all. Stephen Walpole
-ought to have been out breasting
-it, but, instead of this, he sat at
-home moaning, in a voice that
-sounded like a fog-bell at sea,
-through poultices, wadding, and
-miles of flannel that swelled his
-head out of all human proportions.</p>
-
-<p>“To think of a man being knocked
-down by a thing no bigger than
-a pin’s point!” he grumbled. “A
-prick of that miserable atom one
-calls a nerve turns the seat of one’s
-intellect into a monster calf’s head,
-and makes one a spectacle to gods
-and men. I could whip myself for
-being such a milksop as to knock
-under to it. I’d rather have every
-tooth in my head pulled out than
-play the woman like this.… Och!
-Whew!”</p>
-
-<p>“Serves you right, sir, for your
-impertinence!” protested Nelly
-Walpole, bridling up and applying
-a fresh hot poultice to her brother’s
-cheek, which she bade him hold;
-but Stephen, in his manly inability
-to bear the toothache with composure,
-dropped the soft mess under
-a sudden sting that jerked it out of
-his hand.</p>
-
-<p>“What an unmanageable baby it
-is!” cried Nelly, catching the poultice
-in time to save her pretty violet
-cashmere dress. “I told you to
-hold your cheek while I fastened
-the bandage; make haste now before
-it cools.”</p>
-
-<p>“O my unfortunate brother!
-Ill-fated man! Is this how I find
-you, bound and poulticed in the
-hands of the Philistines?”</p>
-
-<p>This was from Marmaduke, Nelly’s
-younger brother, who entered
-while the operation was going on,
-and stood surveying the victim in
-serene compassion.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” cried Stephen, “and all
-the pity a poor devil gets is being
-bullied for not holding his jaw.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! come, you’re not so bad,
-since there’s vice enough in you for
-a pun!” said Marmaduke. “How
-did you catch the thing?”</p>
-
-<p>“What thing&mdash;the pun?”</p>
-
-<p>“The toothache.”</p>
-
-<p>“It caught me,” said Stephen resentfully.</p>
-
-<p>“Then it caught you in some of
-those villanous cut-throat places<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span>
-where you go pottering after beggars
-and blackguards and the Lord
-knows what!” said Marmaduke with
-airy contempt, drawing his slim, beringed
-fingers gracefully through a
-mass of remarkably fine curls that
-clustered over his high, white forehead,
-and gave a boyish look to his
-handsome young face, and added
-to its attractions. He was
-extremely prepossessing, this perfumed,
-patent-leather-booted young
-gentleman of two-and-twenty. You
-could not look at him without
-liking him. His eye was as clear
-as a child’s, his smile as frank,
-his laughter as joyous and catching.
-Yet, as it sometimes happens
-with the graces of childhood, these
-things were a deceptive promise.
-The frankness and the joy were
-genuine; but there was a cold
-gleam of contempt, a cold ring of
-selfishness, in the bright eyes and
-the merry voice that were very disappointing
-when you found them
-out. But people were slow to find
-them out. Even those who lived
-with Marmaduke, and thus had
-ample opportunities of judging,
-remained under the spell of his
-attractive manners and personal
-charms until some accident revealed
-their worthlessness. A false coin
-will go on passing current through
-many hands, until one day some
-one drops it to the ground, and the
-glittering sham is betrayed. He
-had not a bad heart; he was kind
-even, when he could be brought to
-forget himself for a moment and
-think of others. But it required a
-shock to do this; and shocks are,
-happily, rare in every-day life. So
-Marmaduke slept on undisturbed
-in his egotism, hardening unconsciously
-in self-absorbed enjoyment.
-He had never taken trouble
-about anything, made a genuine
-effort of any sort except for his
-amusement. He had just the kind
-of brains to enable him to get
-through college with a decent
-amount of success easily&mdash;tact,
-ready repartee, a quick, retentive
-memory that gave the maximum of
-result for the minimum of work.
-He would pass for clever and well
-informed where an awkward, ugly
-youth, who had ten times his intellect
-and studied ten times harder,
-would pass for knowing nothing.
-Stephen was eight years older than
-he, and had not yet discovered
-his brother’s real value. Perhaps
-this arose partly from Stephen’s
-not being of a particularly observant
-or analytical turn of mind.
-He took people pretty much at
-their own valuation, as the world is
-rather apt to do. Marmaduke set
-a very high price on his handsome
-face and limited attainments, and
-his brother had never dreamed of
-disputing it. He would sometimes
-naïvely express his surprise that
-people were so fond of Duke when
-he did so little to please them;
-and wonder how popular he was,
-considering that he never gave
-himself the smallest trouble to
-oblige or humor people.</p>
-
-<p>“I suppose it’s his handsome face
-that mankind, and womankind in
-particular, find so taking,” Stephen
-would remark to Nelly. “He certainly
-has a wonderful knack for
-getting on with people without caring
-twopence whether they like him
-or not. I wish I knew his secret.
-Perhaps it’s his high spirits.”</p>
-
-<p>Nelly would sometimes suggest
-that Marmaduke’s fine temper
-might count for something in the
-mystery. And Stephen never contradicted
-her. His temper was not
-his best point. He had a heart of
-gold; he had energy, patience, and
-endurance to any extent&mdash;except
-in case of toothache; he was unselfish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span>
-and generous; but he was
-sensitive and exacting. Like most
-persons who dispense liberally, he
-was impatient of the selfishness and
-ingratitude of men who take all
-they can get and return nothing.
-Marmaduke had no such accounts
-to square with human beings, so he
-never felt aggrieved, never quarrelled
-with them. Stephen was working
-hard at his profession&mdash;he was
-an engineer&mdash;and so far he had
-achieved but moderate success.
-Marmaduke had been called to the
-bar, but it was a mere formality so
-far; he spent his time dawdling
-about town, retailing gossip and
-reading poetry, waiting for briefs that
-never came&mdash;that never do come
-to handsome young gentlemen who
-take it so easy. His elder brother
-laid no blame on him for this
-want of success. He was busy all
-day himself, and took for granted
-that Marmaduke was busy on his
-side. The law was up-hill work,
-besides; the cleverest and most
-industrious men grew gray in its
-service before they made a name
-for themselves; and Duke was
-after all but a boy&mdash;he had time
-enough before him. So Stephen
-argued in his brotherly indulgence,
-in ignorance of the real state of
-things.</p>
-
-<p>Nelly was, as yet, the only person
-who had found out Marmaduke, who
-knew him thoroughly. She knew
-him egotistical to the core, averse
-to work, to effort of every sort, idle,
-self-indulgent, extravagant; and the
-knowledge of all this afforded
-much anxious thought to her little
-head of nineteen years. They
-lived alone, these three. Nelly was
-a mother to the two young men,
-watching and caring for them with
-that instinctive child-motherhood
-that is so touching in young girls
-sometimes. She was a spirited,
-elfin little creature, very pretty,
-blessed with the sweetest of tempers,
-the shrewdest of common
-sense, and an energy of character
-that nothing daunted and few
-things resisted. Marmaduke described
-this trait of Nelly’s in brother-like
-fashion as “a will of her
-own.” He knew his was no match
-for it, and, with a tact which made
-one of his best weapons of defence,
-he contrived to avoid clashing with
-it. This was not all policy. He
-loved his pretty sister, and admired
-her more than anything in the
-world except himself. And yet he
-knew that this admiration was not
-mutual; that Nelly knew him thoroughly,
-saw through him as if he
-were glass; but he was not afraid
-of her. His elder brother was
-duped by him; but he would have
-staked his life on it that Nelly
-would never undeceive him; that
-she would let Stephen go on believing
-in him so long as the deceiver
-himself did not tear off the
-mask. Yet it was a source of bitter
-anxiety to the wise little mother-maiden
-to watch Marmy drifting
-on in this life of indolence and
-vacuity. Where was it to end?
-Where do such lives always end?
-Nothing but some terrible shock
-could awake him from it. And
-where was the shock to come from?
-Nelly never preached&mdash;she was far
-too sensible for that&mdash;but when the
-opportunity presented itself she
-would say a few brief words to
-the culprit in an earnest way that
-never irritated him, if they worked
-no better result. He would admit
-with exasperating good-humor that
-he was a good-for-nothing dog; that
-he was unworthy of such a perfection
-of a sister and such an irreproachable
-elder brother; but that,
-as nature had so blessed him, he
-meant to take advantage of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span>
-privilege of leaving the care of his
-perfection to them.</p>
-
-<p>“If I were alone on my own
-hook, Nell, I would work like a
-galley-slave,” he protested once to
-her gentle upbraiding. “But as it
-is, why need I bother myself?
-You will save my soul, and pray
-me high and dry into heaven; and
-Stephen&mdash;Stephen the admirable,
-the unimpeachable, the pink of respectability&mdash;will
-keep me out of
-mischief in this.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t believe in vicarious salvation
-for this world or the next,
-and neither do you, Marmy. You
-are much too intelligent to believe
-in any such absurdity,” replied
-Nelly, handing him a glove she had
-been sewing a button into.</p>
-
-<p>Marmaduke did not contradict
-her, but, whistling an air from the
-<cite>Trovatore</cite>, arranged his hat becomingly,
-a little to one side, and,
-with a farewell look in the glass
-over the mantel-piece, sauntered
-out for his morning constitutional
-in the park. Nelly went to the
-window, and watched the lithe
-young figure, with its elastic step,
-until it disappeared. She was conscious
-of a stronger solicitude about
-Marmaduke this morning than she
-had ever felt before. It was like
-a presentiment. Yet there was nothing
-that she knew of to justify it.
-He had not taken to more irregular
-hours, nor more extravagant habits,
-nor done anything to cause her
-fresh anxiety; still, her heart beat
-as under some new and sudden
-fear. Perhaps it was the ring of
-false logic in his argument that
-sounded a louder note of alarm and
-warned her of worse danger than
-she had suspected. One might
-fear everything for a man starting
-in life with the deliberate purpose
-of shifting his responsibility on to
-another, setting his conscience to
-sleep because he had two brave,
-wakeful ones watching at his side.</p>
-
-<p>“If something would but come
-and wake him up to see the monstrous
-folly, the sinfulness, of it!”
-sighed Nelly. “But nothing short
-of a miracle could do that, I believe.
-He might, indeed, fall ill
-and be brought to death’s door; he
-might break his leg and be a cripple
-for life, and that might serve the
-purpose; but oh! dear, I’m not
-brave enough to wish for so severe
-a remedy.”</p>
-
-<p>Two months had passed since
-this little incident between the brother
-and sister, and nothing had occurred
-to vindicate Nelly’s gloomy
-forebodings. Marmaduke rose late,
-read the newspaper, then Tennyson,
-Lamartine, or the last novel, made
-an elaborate toilet, and sauntered
-down to the courts to keep a lookout
-for the coming briefs. But it
-was near Christmas now, and this
-serious and even tenor of life had
-been of late broken in upon by the
-getting up of private theatricals
-in company with some bachelor
-friends. What between learning
-his own part, and hearing his fellow-actors
-and actresses theirs, and
-overseeing stage arrangements, Marmaduke
-had a hard time of it. His
-hands were full; he was less at home
-than usual, seldom or never of an
-evening. He had come in very
-late some nights, and looked worn
-and out of spirits, Nelly thought,
-when he came down to his late
-breakfast.</p>
-
-<p>“I wish those theatricals were
-over, Marmy. They will kill you
-if they last much longer,” she said,
-with a tender, anxious look on her
-pretty little face. This was the
-day he came home and found Stephen
-in the hands of the Philistines.</p>
-
-<p>“’Tis hard work enough,” assented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span>
-the young man, stretching
-out his long limbs wearily; “but
-the 26th will soon be here. It will
-be too bad if you are laid up and
-can’t come and applaud me, Steevy,”
-he added, considering his elder
-brother’s huge head, that looked as
-if it would take a month to regain
-its natural shape.</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! That’s the least of
-my troubles!” boomed Stephen
-through his poultice.</p>
-
-<p>“Civil! Eh, Nell? I can tell
-you it’s as bad as any toothache,
-the labor I’ve had with the business&mdash;those
-lazy dogs, Travers and
-Milford, throwing all the weight of it
-on me, under pretext of never having
-done that sort of thing before.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s always the fate of the
-willing horse,” said Stephen, without
-the faintest idea of being sarcastic.
-“That’s just what I complain
-of with those idle fellows X&mdash;&mdash;
-and W&mdash;&mdash;; they throw the burden
-of all the business on me, because,
-forsooth, I understand things
-better! I do understand that people
-can’t get work done unless they
-bestir themselves and attend to
-it.”</p>
-
-<p>“I wouldn’t be such an ass as to
-let myself be put on in that way,”
-said Marmaduke resentfully. “I
-would not be fooled into doing the
-work of three people instead of
-one.”</p>
-
-<p>“And yet that’s what you are
-doing at present,” replied Stephen.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that’s different; it is only
-<i lang="fr">en passant</i>,” explained Marmaduke;
-“and then, you see, it.…”</p>
-
-<p>“Amuses you,” Nelly had it on
-the tip of her tongue to say; but
-she checked herself, and finished
-the sentence for him with, “It is
-not the same thing; people cannot
-make terms for a division of labor,
-except it be in the case of real business.”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course not,” assented Stephen.
-Marmaduke looked at his
-boots, and inwardly voted Nelly
-“no end of a trump.”</p>
-
-<p>Did she guess this mental vote,
-and did she take advantage of it to
-ask him a favor?</p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps Marmy would go and
-see that poor man for you, Stephen?”
-she said in the most natural
-way possible, without looking up
-from her work.</p>
-
-<p>“I wish he would; I should be
-ever so much obliged to him.
-Would you mind it, Duke?”</p>
-
-<p>“Mind what?”</p>
-
-<p>“Taking a message for me to a
-poor fellow that I wanted badly to
-go and see to-day.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who is he? Where does he
-hang out?”</p>
-
-<p>“His name is John Baines, and
-he hangs out in Red Pepper Lane,
-ten minutes from here, at the back
-of the square.”</p>
-
-<p>“Some abominable slum, no
-doubt.”</p>
-
-<p>“The locality is not Berkeley
-Square or Piccadilly, but it would
-not kill you to walk through it
-once,” rejoined Stephen.</p>
-
-<p>“Do go, there’s a dear boy!”
-coaxed Nelly, fixing her bright eyes
-on Marmaduke’s face, with a smile
-that would have fascinated a gorilla.</p>
-
-<p>Marmaduke rose, stretched his
-arms, as if to brace himself for an
-effort.</p>
-
-<p>“Who’s your friend John
-Baines?” he said. “A ticket-of-leave
-man?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing so interesting; he’s
-only a rag-and-bone man.”</p>
-
-<p>Marmaduke said nothing, but his
-nose uttered such an unmistakable
-<em>pshaw!</em> that Nelly, in spite of herself,
-burst out laughing.</p>
-
-<p>“What the deuce can make him
-cultivate such company?” he exclaimed,
-appealing to Nelly, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span>
-joining good-humoredly in her
-merriment.</p>
-
-<p>“To help them and do them
-good; what else?” she replied.</p>
-
-<p>“Every man to his taste; I confess
-I have none for evangelizing
-rag-and-bone men, or indeed men
-of any station, kind, or degree,”
-observed Marmaduke emphatically.</p>
-
-<p>“Then you won’t go?” said
-Stephen.</p>
-
-<p>“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I don’t
-mind devoting myself for once to
-oblige you. What’s your message
-for John Baines? Not a leg of
-mutton or a bottle of port? I
-won’t bargain for carrying that sort
-of article.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t want you to carry anything
-that will encumber you,” replied
-the elder brother. “Tell him
-I cannot get to see him to-day, and
-why, and that I am very sorry for
-it. Meantime, you can say I have
-done his commission. See if he
-wants anything, and, if so I will
-send it at once.”</p>
-
-<p>“What ails him?” enquired Marmaduke
-with a sudden look of
-alarm.</p>
-
-<p>“Poverty: hunger, and cold, and
-misery.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that’s all! I mean it’s not
-a case of typhus or small-pox. I
-should not care to imperil my valuable
-life by running in the way of
-that sort of thing,” observed Marmaduke.</p>
-
-<p>“Have no fear. The complaint
-is not catching,” replied his brother.
-“Whatever good he may do
-you, he’ll do you no harm.”</p>
-
-<p>“Dear Marmy! it’s very good
-of you!” whispered Nelly, as she
-tripped down-stairs after the reluctant
-messenger, and helped him on
-with his fur coat in the hall.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s not a bit good; it’s an infernal
-bore, and I’m only doing it
-to please you, Nell,” protested Marmaduke.
-“What a fool’s errand it
-is! I sha’n’t know from Adam what
-to say to the man when I get
-there. <em>What</em> am I to say to him?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! anything,” suggested Nelly.
-“Say you have come to see
-him because Stephen is ill, and ask
-him how he is. You’re never at a
-loss for something to say, you know
-that right well; and whatever you
-say is sure to be right.”</p>
-
-<p>“When I know who I’m talking
-to; but I don’t know this interesting
-party, or what topics of conversation
-he particularly affects. He
-won’t expect me to preach him a
-sermon, eh?” And Marmaduke
-faced round with a look of such
-comical terror at the thought that
-Nelly again burst out laughing.</p>
-
-<p>“Heaven forbid! That’s the
-last thing you need dream of,” she
-cried. “He is much more likely to
-preach to you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! indeed; but I didn’t bargain
-for that. I would very much
-rather be excused,” protested Marmaduke,
-anything but reassured.</p>
-
-<p>“You foolish boy! I mean that
-he will preach to you as the poor
-always do&mdash;by example; by their
-patience, and their gratitude for the
-least thing one does for them.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m not going to do anything
-for John Baines that I can see;
-only bothering him with a visit
-which he would very likely rather I
-spared him.”</p>
-
-<p>“You will give him Stephen’s
-message,” suggested Nelly, “and
-then let him talk. There is nothing
-poor people enjoy so much as a
-good listener. They are quite happy
-when they can pour out their
-grievances into a willing ear. The
-sympathy of the rich is often a
-greater comfort to the poor than
-their alms.”</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! That’s lucky, anyhow,”
-grunted Marmaduke. “Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span>
-I’ll let the old gentleman have his
-head; I’ll listen till he pulls up
-of his own accord.” He had his
-hand on the door-latch, when Stephen’s
-muffled tones were heard
-calling from the room above. Nelly
-bounded up the stairs, and was
-back in an instant.</p>
-
-<p>“He says you are to give Baines
-half a sovereign from him; he had
-nearly forgotten it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where is it?” said Marmaduke,
-holding out his hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Stephen has not his purse about
-him, so he begs you will give it for
-him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Neither have I mine,” said the
-young man.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, run up for it; or shall
-I? Where is it?” inquired willing
-Nelly.</p>
-
-<p>Marmaduke hesitated for a moment,
-and then said abruptly: “It
-doesn’t matter where it is; there’s
-nothing in it.”</p>
-
-<p>“What have you done with your
-money? You had plenty a few
-days ago!” exclaimed Nelly in
-childlike surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“I have lost it; I haven’t a brass
-farthing in the world!” He said
-this in a reckless, dogged sort of
-way, as if he did not care who
-knew it; and yet he spoke in an undertone.
-For one moment Nelly
-looked at him in blank astonishment.</p>
-
-<p>“Lost it?” she repeated, and
-then, the truth flashing on her suddenly,
-she cried in a frightened
-whisper: “O Marmaduke! you
-have not been gambling? Oh!
-tell me it’s not true.” She caught
-hold of his arm, and, clinging to it,
-looked into his face, scared and
-white.</p>
-
-<p>“Nonsense, Nell! I thought you
-were a girl of sense,” he exclaimed
-pettishly, disengaging himself and
-pushing back the bolt. “Let me be
-off; tell Stephen I had not change,
-so his friend must wait till he can
-go and tip him himself.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no; he may be hungry,
-poor man. Stay, I think I have ten
-shillings here,” said Nelly; and she
-pulled out her porte-monnaie, and
-picked four half-crowns from the
-promiscuous heap of smaller coins.
-“Take these; I will tell Stephen
-you will give the ten shillings.”</p>
-
-<p>Her hand trembled as she dropped
-the money into Marmaduke’s
-pocket. He was about to resist;
-but there was something peremptory,
-a touch of that will of her own,
-in her manner that deterred him.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m sorry I said anything about
-it; I should not if I thought you
-would have minded it so much,” he
-observed.</p>
-
-<p>“Minded it? O Marmaduke!
-Minded your taking to gambling?”</p>
-
-<p>“Tush! Don’t talk nonsense!
-A man isn’t a gambler because
-once in a way he loses a twenty-pound
-note.”</p>
-
-<p>And with this he brushed past
-her, and closed the hall-door with
-a loud bang.</p>
-
-<p>Nelly did not sit down on one of
-the hall chairs and cry. She felt
-mightily inclined to do so; but she
-struggled against the weakness and
-overcame it. Walking quietly up
-the stairs, she hummed a few bars
-of a favorite air as she passed the
-door of Stephen’s sitting-room, and
-went on to her own room on the
-story above. But even here, safe
-and alone, the tears were bravely
-held back. She would not cry;
-she would not be seen with red eyes
-that would betray her brother; she
-would do her very utmost to rescue
-him, to screen him even now.
-While she is wrestling and pleading
-in the silence of her own room, let
-us follow the gambler to Red Pepper
-Lane.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Marmaduke had described the
-place accurately when he called it
-an abominable slum. Red Pepper
-Lane was one of those dismal, frightful
-dens of darkness and dirt that
-cower at the back of so many of our
-wealthy squares and streets&mdash;poison-pits
-for breeding typhus and every
-social plague that desolates great
-cities. The houses were so high
-and the lane so narrow that you
-could at a stretch have shaken
-hands across from window to window.
-There was a rope slung half-way
-down the alley, with a lantern
-hanging from it which looked more
-like a decoration or a sign than a possible
-luminary; for the glass was
-too thickly crusted with dirt to admit
-of the strongest light piercing it.
-In the middle of the lane was a gutter,
-in which a few ragged, begrimed,
-and hungry-looking little mortals
-were playing in the dirty snow.
-The east wind whistled through the
-dreary tenements with a sharp, pitiless
-cry; the sky was bright outside,
-but here in Red Pepper Lane its
-brightness did not penetrate. Nothing
-but the wind could enter,
-and that came with all its might,
-through the crannies in the walls,
-through the rickety doors, through
-the window-frames glazed with
-brown paper or battered old hats&mdash;any
-rag that could be spared to
-stuff the empty panes. Not a head
-was seen anywhere protruding from
-windows or doors; the fierce blast
-kept every one within who had a
-roof to cover them. If it were not
-for the sooty little objects disporting
-themselves in the gutter, the
-lane might have been the precincts
-of the jail, so deserted and silent
-was it. Marmaduke might have
-wandered up and down for an hour
-without meeting any one whom he
-could ask to direct him to where
-John Baines lived, but luckily he
-recognized the house at once by
-Stephen’s signal of an old broom
-nailed over the door. He searched
-for a knocker or a bell; but seeing
-neither, he sounded a loud rat-ta-ta-tat
-with the gold knob of his
-walking-stick, and presently a voice
-called out from somewhere to “lift
-the latch!” He did so, and, again
-left to his own devices, he followed
-Stephen’s injunctions and went
-straight up to the second story,
-where he knocked, and in obedience
-to a sharp “Come in!” entered.</p>
-
-<p>The gloom of the lane had prepared
-him gradually for the deeper
-gloom of the room, and he at once
-distinguished a person, whom he
-rightly surmised to be the rag-and-bone
-man, sitting at the farther end,
-near the fire-place, wrapped up in
-a brown blanket, with his feet resting
-on the hearth-stone, as if he
-were toasting them. If he was, it
-was in imagination; for there was
-no fire&mdash;only the ghost of one as
-visible in a mass of gray ashes, and
-they did not look as if even a glow
-of the late warmth remained in
-them. He had his back to the
-door, and, when it opened, he turned
-his head in that direction, but
-not sufficiently to see who came in.
-Marmaduke, as he stood on the
-threshold, took in the surroundings
-at a glance. There was a bed on
-the floor in one corner, with no bed-clothes
-to speak of, the blanket being
-just now in requisition as a
-cloak; a miserable-looking table
-and two chairs&mdash;an unoccupied one
-and the one Baines sat in; a bag
-and a basket were flung under the
-window, and some dingy old utensils&mdash;a
-saucepan, kettle, etc.&mdash;lay
-about. There was nothing particularly
-dreadful in the scene; it was,
-compared with many such, rather a
-cheerful one on the whole; but
-Marmaduke, who had no experience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span>
-of the dwellings of the poor, thought
-it the most appalling picture of
-misery and desolation that could
-be conceived. He was roused
-from the stupor of horror into
-which the sudden spectacle had
-thrown him by hearing the figure
-in the blanket ask rather sharply a
-second time “Who’s there?”</p>
-
-<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Marmaduke,
-advancing within a step of
-the chair. “My name is Walpole; I
-have come to see if there is anything
-I can do for you&mdash;anything
-that you … that …” he stammered,
-not knowing how to put it.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! Mr. Walpole, I am obliged
-to you for calling, sir. I want
-nothing; but I am glad to see you.
-It is very kind of you. Pray take a
-chair. You must excuse me for not
-getting up; my leg is still very painful.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am only the brother of the
-Mr. Walpole whom you know,” said
-Marmaduke, surprised beyond measure
-at the good address of the
-man. “My brother is laid up with
-a violent face-ache. He was greatly
-put out at not being able to keep
-his appointment with you this afternoon,
-and sent me to see how you
-were getting on, and to tell you he
-had done something that you commissioned
-him to do.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your brother is extremely
-kind,” said the man. “I am sorry
-to hear he is ill. This weather is
-trying to everybody.”</p>
-
-<p>“You seem to be a severe sufferer
-from it,” remarked Marmaduke.
-He had opened his fur coat, and sat
-back in the rickety chair, in mortal
-fear all the while that it would
-go to smash under him. This was
-the most extraordinary specimen of
-the rag-and-bone tribe&mdash;he could
-not say that he had ever known,
-for he had never known one in his
-life, but&mdash;that he could have imagined.
-He spoke like an educated
-man, and, even in his blanket, he
-had the bearing of a gentleman. If
-it were not for his swollen nose and
-the glare of his red eye-balls, which
-were decidedly not refined, there
-was nothing in his appearance to
-indicate that he belonged to the
-very dregs of human society. It
-was impossible to say how old he
-was, but you saw at a glance that
-he was more broken than aged.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I am suffering rather
-severely just now,” he replied in a
-quiet, conversational way; “I always
-do when the cold sets in. But,
-added to my chronic complaint of
-sciatica, I slipped on the ice some
-time ago, and sprained my left foot
-badly. Your brother made my acquaintance
-at the hospital where I
-was taken to have it set right.”</p>
-
-<p>“And has it been set right?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; I can’t get about easily
-yet, but it will be all right by and
-by.” And then, dismissing the
-selfish subject, he said: “I am distressed,
-sir, that you should have
-had the trouble of coming to such
-a place as this; pray don’t let me
-detain you longer.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m in no hurry,” replied Marmaduke,
-whose interest and curiosity
-were more and more excited.
-“Is there nothing I can do for you?
-It’s dismal work sitting here all day
-with a sprained ankle, and having
-nothing to do; would you care to
-have some books?” It did not
-occur to him to ask if he knew how
-to read; he would as soon have inquired
-if he knew how to speak.</p>
-
-<p>Baines looked at him with a curious
-expression.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t look like a man to lend
-books to, do I?” he said. “There’s
-not much in common between
-books and a rag-and-bone man.”</p>
-
-<p>“Quite as much, I should say, as
-there is between some men and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span>
-rags and bones,” retorted Marmaduke,
-meeting the man’s eyes with a
-responsive question in his own.</p>
-
-<p>Baines turned away with a short
-laugh. Perhaps it was mere accident
-or the force of habit that
-made him look up at the space over
-the mantel-piece; but there was
-something in the deliberate glance
-that made Marmaduke follow it,
-and, doing so, he saw a faded but
-originally good engraving of Shakspere
-hung in a frame against the
-wall. Repressing the low whistle
-which rose involuntarily to his lips,
-he said, looking at the portrait:</p>
-
-<p>“You have a likeness of Shakspere,
-I see. Have you read his
-plays?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ay, and acted them!”</p>
-
-<p>“Acted them! You were originally
-on the stage, then? I saw at
-once that you were not what you
-seem to me,” said Marmaduke, with
-that frankness that seemed so full
-of sympathy and was so misleading,
-though never less so, perhaps,
-than at this moment. “Would it be
-disagreeable to you to tell me
-through what chapters of ill-luck
-or other vicissitudes you came to
-be in the position where I now see
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>The man was silent for a few
-minutes; whether he was too deeply
-offended to reply at once, or
-whether he was glancing over the
-past which the question evoked, it
-was impossible to say. Marmaduke
-fancied he was offended, and,
-vexed with himself for having questioned
-him, he stood up, and laying
-Nelly’s four half-crowns on the
-chimney-piece, “I beg your pardon
-if I seemed impertinent; I assure
-you I did not mean it,” he said. “I
-felt interested in you, and curious
-to know something more of you;
-but I had no right to put questions.
-Good-morning.” He made a step
-towards the door, but Baines, rousing
-himself, arrested him by a sign.</p>
-
-<p>“I am not offended,” he said.
-“I saw quite well what made you
-ask it. You would have every
-right to catechise me if I had
-come to you for help; as it is, your
-kindness and your brother’s makes
-a claim which I am in no mind to
-dispute. If you don’t mind shivering
-in this cold place for half an
-hour, pray sit down, and I will tell
-you my story. I have not a cigar
-to offer you,” he added with a
-laugh, “but perhaps you don’t affect
-that vice?”</p>
-
-<p>“I do indeed very considerably,”
-said Marmaduke, and, pulling
-out a handsome cigar-case, he
-handed it to Baines, and invited
-him to help himself; the rag-man
-hesitated just for a moment, and
-then, yielding to the instinct of his
-good-breeding, took one.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s not an amusing story,” he
-began, when they had sent up a
-few warm puffs from their fragrant
-weeds, “but it may not be uninteresting
-to you. You are very
-young; would it be rude to ask
-how young?”</p>
-
-<p>“Two-and-twenty next week, if
-I live so long,” replied Marmaduke.</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! I was just that age
-when I took the fatal turn in the
-road that led to the honorable career
-in which I am now embarked.
-My father was an officer in the line.
-He had no fortune to speak of; a
-couple of thousand pounds left
-him by an aunt was all the capital
-he possessed. When he was still
-young, he married, and got three
-thousand pounds with his wife. I
-was their only child. My father
-died when I was ten years old, and
-left me to the sole care of my
-mother, who made an idol of me
-and spoiled me to my heart’s content.
-I was not a bad boy, I had no evil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span>
-propensities, and I was not deficient
-in brains. I picked up things
-with little or no effort, and got on
-better at school than many who
-had twice the brains and four
-times the industry. I was passionately
-fond of poetry, learned pages
-of Byron and Shelley by heart, and
-declaimed with a good deal of
-power. There could not have
-been a greater curse than such a
-gift to a boy of my temperament
-and circumstances. When I left
-school, I went to Oxford. My poor
-mother strained every nerve to give
-me a university education, with a
-view to my becoming a barrister;
-but instead of repaying her sacrifices
-by working hard, I spent the
-greater part of my time acting. I
-became infatuated about Shakspere,
-and took to private theatricals with
-a frenzy of enthusiasm. As ill-luck
-would have it, I fell in with a
-set of fellows who were drama-mad
-like myself. I had one great chum
-named Hallam, who was stark mad
-about it, and encouraged me in the
-folly to the utmost. I soon became
-a leading star in this line. I was
-sought for and asked out by everybody
-in the place, until my head
-got completely turned, and I fancied
-I had only to walk on to the
-stage to take Macready’s place and
-achieve fame and fortune. The
-first thing that roused me from the
-absurd delusion was seeing Charles
-Kean in Macbeth. I felt utterly
-annihilated under the superiority
-of his acting; it showed me in an
-instant the difference there is between
-ordinary taste and talent
-and the divine afflatus of genius.
-And yet an old friend who happened
-to meet me in the theatre that
-night assured me that the younger
-Kean was not a patch upon his
-father, and that Macready outshone
-the elder Kean. I went
-back to Oxford a crestfallen man,
-and for a time took refuge from my
-disappointment in real work. I
-studied hard, and, when the term
-came for going up for my degree,
-I was confident of success. It was
-a vain confidence, of course. I
-had only given myself to study for
-a period of two months or so, and
-it would have been little short of
-a miracle if I had passed. My
-mother was terribly disappointed;
-the sight of her tears cut me up
-more than the failure on my own
-account, and I determined to succeed
-or die in the effort, if she consented
-to let me make one more.
-She did consent, and I succeeded.
-That was the happiest day of my
-life, I think.” He drew a long
-breath, and repeated in an undertone,
-as if he forgot Marmaduke’s
-presence, and were speaking aloud
-to himself: “Yes, the happiest day
-of my life!”</p>
-
-<p>“You worked very hard to pull
-up for lost time!” observed Marmaduke.</p>
-
-<p>“Lost time! Yes, that was it&mdash;lost
-time!” said Baines, musing;
-then he continued in his former tone:
-“My poor mother was very happy.
-She declared I had repaid her amply
-for all her sacrifices. She saw me
-already at the top of my profession,
-a Q.C., a judge, the chief of all the
-judges, seated in robes on the woolsack.
-I came home, and was in
-due time called to the bar. I was
-then just twenty-four. We lived
-in a pretty house on the road to
-Putney; but my mother thought it
-now desirable to move into London,
-that I might have an office in
-some central neighborhood, where
-my clients would flow in and out
-conveniently. I remember that I
-strongly opposed the plan, not from
-dislike, but from some feeling like
-a presentiment, a dread, that London<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span>
-would be a dangerous place
-for me, and that I was taking the
-road to ruin by leaving the shelter
-of our secluded home, with its garden
-and trees, away from a thousand
-temptations that beset a young
-man in the great city. But my
-mother’s heart was set on it. She
-was convinced my character had
-thoroughly changed, that I had
-broken off for ever from old habits
-and old propensities, and that I
-was strong enough to encounter
-any amount of temptation without
-risk. Poor mother! It was no
-fault of hers if she was blinded by
-love. The fault was all mine. I
-fed her with false hopes, and then
-I betrayed them. She gave in so
-far to my wishes as to consent only
-to let the house, instead of selling
-it, as she first intended; so that our
-removal to London took the appearance
-more of an essay than
-a permanent arrangement. I was
-thankful for this, and set about
-the change in high spirits. We
-were soon comfortably settled in a
-very small house in Wimpole Street.
-I found it rather like a bird-cage
-after our airy, roomy abode in the
-suburbs; but it was very snug, and
-my mother, who had wonderful
-taste, soon made it bright and pretty.
-She was the brightest and prettiest
-thing in it herself; people used
-to take her for my elder sister when
-she took me to parties of an evening.
-I was very proud of her, and
-with better reason than she was of
-me.”</p>
-
-<p>He paused again, looking up at
-the Shakspere print, as if he saw
-his mother’s likeness there. The
-sunken, red eyes moistened as he
-gazed on it.</p>
-
-<p>“It is a great blessing to have
-a good mother,” said Marmaduke.
-“I lost mine when I was little more
-than a child.”</p>
-
-<p>“So much the better for both of
-you,” retorted Baines bitterly; “she
-did not live for you to break her
-heart, and then eat out your own
-with remorse. But I am talking
-wildly. You would no doubt have
-been a blessing to her; you would
-have worked like a man, and she
-would have been proud of you to
-the end. It was not so with me. I
-was never fond of work. I was not
-fond of it then; indeed, what I did
-was not worthy of being called work
-at all. I moped over a law-book
-for an hour or so in the morning,
-and then read Shakspere or some
-other favorite poet, by way of refreshing
-myself after the unpalatable
-task, and getting it out of my
-head as quickly as possible. I went
-down regularly to the courts; but as
-I had no legal connection, and nothing
-in myself to make up for the
-want of patronage, or inspire confidence
-in my steadiness and abilities,
-the attorneys brought me no
-business; and as I was too lazy,
-and perhaps too proud, to stoop to
-court them, I began to feel thoroughly
-disgusted with the profession,
-and to wish I had never entered
-it. I ceased to go through
-the farce of my law-reading of a
-morning, and devoted myself entirely
-to my dilettante tastes, reading
-poetry, and occasionally amusing
-myself with writing it. My old
-longing for the stage came back,
-and only wanted an opportunity to
-break out actively. This opportunity
-was not far off. My mother
-suspected nothing of the way I was
-idling my time; she knew the bar
-was up-hill work, and was satisfied
-to see me kept waiting a few years
-before I became famous; but it was
-matter of surprise to her that I
-never got a brief of any description.
-She set it down to jealousy
-on the part of my rivals at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span>
-courts, and would now and then
-wax wroth against them, wondering
-what expedient could be devised
-for showing up the corrupt state of
-the profession, and forcing my enemies
-to recognize my superiority as
-it deserved. Don’t laugh at her
-and think her a fool; she was wise
-on every subject but this, and I
-fear I must have counted for something
-in leading her to such ridiculous
-conclusions. I held very
-much to preserving her good opinion,
-but, instead of striving to justify
-it by working on to the fulfilment
-of her motherly ambition, I took
-to cheating her, first tacitly, then
-deliberately and cruelly. Things
-were going on in this way, when
-one day, one ill-fated day, I went
-out as usual in the afternoon, ostensibly
-to the courts, but really to
-kill time where I could&mdash;at my club,
-in the Row, or lounging in Pall
-Mall. I was passing the Army and
-Navy Club, when I heard a voice
-call out:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Halloo, Hamlet!’ (This was
-the name I went by at Oxford, on
-account of my success in the part.)
-‘How glad I am to see you, old boy!
-You’re the very man I’ve been on
-the look-out for.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Hallam!’ I cried, returning
-his friendly grasp, and declaring
-how delighted I was to see him.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I’ve been beating about for
-you ever since I came to town, ten
-days ago,’ he said. ‘I wrote to your
-old address, but the letter was sent
-back to me. Where have you migrated
-to; and what are you doing?’</p>
-
-<p>“I told him the brief history of
-my existence since we had parted
-at Oxford, he to enter the army, I
-to begin my course of dinners-eating
-at the Temple. He was now on
-leave; he had just come from the
-north, where his regiment was quartered,
-and he was in high spirits at
-the prospect of his month’s holiday.
-I asked him what it was he had
-been wanting me so particularly
-for.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I wanted to see you, first of all,
-for your own sake, old boy,’ he answered
-heartily; ‘and in the next
-place I want you badly to help us
-to get up some private theatricals
-at the Duchess of B&mdash;&mdash;’s after
-Easter. I suppose you are a perfect
-actor&mdash;a Garrick and Charles
-Mathews combined&mdash;by this time.
-You have had plenty of practice, I’ll
-be bound.’</p>
-
-<p>“I assured him that I had not
-played since the last time he and I
-had brought down the house together.
-He was immensely surprised,
-and loudly deplored my mistake
-in burying such a talent in the
-earth. He called me a conceited
-idiot to have let myself be crushed
-by Kean, and vowed a year’s training
-from a professional would bring
-me out a better actor than ever
-Kean was. Amateur acting was all
-very well, but the finest untaught
-genius ever born could no more
-compete successfully with a man
-who had gone through the regular
-professional drill than a civilian
-could with a trained soldier in executing
-a military manœuvre.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I told you before, and I tell
-you again,’ he continued, as arm in
-arm we paced a shady alley of the
-park&mdash;‘I tell you that if you went
-on the stage you would cut out the
-best actor we have; though that is
-not saying much, for a more miserable,
-ignorant lot of drivelling idiots
-no stage ever saw caricaturing the
-drama than our English theatres
-can boast at this moment.’</p>
-
-<p>“My heart rose high, and my
-vanity swelled out like a peacock’s
-tail, pluming itself in this luxurious
-air of flattery. I knew Hallam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span>
-meant what he said; but I knew
-that he was a light-headed young
-fellow, not at all competent to judge
-dramatic power, and still less to
-counsel me. Yet such is the intoxicating
-effect of vanity that I
-swallowed his praise as if it had
-been the purest wisdom. I opened
-my whole heart to him, told him
-how insufferably bored I was at the
-bar, that I had no aptitude for it,
-that I was wasting my time waiting
-for briefs that never came&mdash;I did
-not explain what pains I took to
-prevent their coming&mdash;until, kindling
-with my own exaggerated statement
-as I went on, I ended by cursing
-the day I took to the bar, and
-declaring that if it were not for my
-mother I would abandon the whole
-thing and try my luck on the stage
-to-morrow.</p>
-
-<p>“‘And why should you let your
-mother stand in your way?’ said
-Hallam. ‘If she is too unreasonable
-to see the justice of the case,
-why, then … well, I can’t for the
-life of me see why your happiness
-and fortune should be sacrificed to
-it.’</p>
-
-<p>“He was not a bad fellow&mdash;far
-from it. He did not mean to play
-the devil’s advocate. I am certain
-he thought he was giving me excellent
-advice, using his superior
-knowledge of the world for my
-benefit. But he was a fool&mdash;an ignorant,
-silly, well-meaning fool.
-Such men, as friends, are often
-worse than knaves. If he had proposed
-anything obviously wicked,
-dishonest, or unprincipled, I should
-have scouted it indignantly, and
-walked off in contempt. But he
-argued with a show of reason, in a
-tone of considerate regard for my
-mother’s wishes and feelings that
-deceived and disarmed me. He
-represented to me the folly of sticking
-to a life that I hated and that I
-had next to no chance of ever succeeding
-in; he had a score of examples
-at his fingers’ ends of young
-fellows teeming with talent, patient
-as asses, and hard working as
-negroes, who had gone for the bar
-and given it up in despair. My
-mother, like all fond mothers, naturally
-expected me to prove an exception
-to the general rule, and to
-turn out a lord chancellor of the
-romantic sort, rising by sheer force
-of merit, without patronage, without
-money, without any of the essential
-helps, by the power of my
-unaided genius. ‘This is simply
-bosh, my dear fellow&mdash;innocent maternal
-bosh,’ persisted Hallam, ‘but
-as dangerous as any poison. Cut the
-bar, as your better genius prompts
-you to do, and take to your true
-calling&mdash;the drama.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘For aught I know, I may have
-lost any talent I had,’ I replied;
-‘it is two years, remember, since I
-acted at all.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘That is very easily ascertained,’
-said my friend. ‘You will take
-a part in these theatricals we are
-going to get up, and we will soon
-see whether your talent has evaporated
-or not. My own impression
-is that it will come out stronger
-than ever; you have studied, and
-you have seen something, if not
-very much, of life since your last
-attempts.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘My mother has a horror of the
-theatre,’ I said, unwilling to yield
-without a show of resistance; ‘it
-would break her heart to see me
-take to the stage.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Not if you succeed; hearts
-are never broken by success.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘And how if I fail?’</p>
-
-<p>“‘You are sure not to fail,’ he
-urged. ‘But look here: do nothing
-rashly. Don’t say anything about
-this business until you have tried
-your hand at it in private. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span>
-have not settled yet what the play
-is to be; they left it to me to select,
-and I will choose one that will
-bring out your powers best&mdash;not
-tragedy; that never was your line, in
-my opinion. At any rate, you must
-for the present confine yourself to
-light parts, such as.…’</p>
-
-<p>“I interrupted him in high dudgeon.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Why, if I’m not tragic, I’m
-nothing!’ I exclaimed. ‘Every
-one who ever saw me in Hamlet
-declared they had never seen the
-part so well rendered! And you
-said many a time that my Macbeth
-was.…’</p>
-
-<p>“‘First-rate&mdash;for an amateur;
-and I will say it again, if you like,’
-protested Hallam; ‘but since then,
-I have seen real acting.…’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Then mine was not real? I
-can’t for the life of me see, then
-…’ I broke in.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Don’t get so infernally huffy,’
-said Hallam, shaking my arm with
-good-humored impatience. ‘If
-you want to know what real, trained,
-professional acting is, you must go
-abroad, and see how the actors of
-the Théâtre Français, for instance,
-study and train and drill. If you
-will start with the English notion
-that a man can take to the stage as
-he does to the saddle, give up the
-plan at once; you will never rise
-above an amateur. But to come
-back to our present purpose; we
-will select a part to suit you, and
-if the rehearsals promise a genuine
-success&mdash;as I have not a doubt they
-will&mdash;we will invite your mother to
-come and see you, and she will be
-so proud of your triumph that the
-cause will be won.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘My dear Hallam, it was some
-good fairy sent you in my way
-assuredly this morning!’ I cried,
-grasping his arm in delight.</p>
-
-<p>“I was highly elated, and took to
-the scheme with enthusiasm. We
-spent the afternoon discussing it.
-It was settled that the play should
-be <cite>The Taming of the Shrew</cite>; the
-part of Benedict would suit me to
-perfection, Hallam declared, and I
-was so subdued by the amount of
-worldly wisdom and general knowledge
-of life which he had displayed
-in his arguments about my change
-of profession that I yielded without
-difficulty, and consented to forego
-tragedy for the present.</p>
-
-<p>“For the next week I was in a
-whirl of excitement. He took me
-to the Army and Navy Club, and
-introduced me to a number of
-swells, all military men, who were
-very agreeable and treated me with
-a soldier-like cordiality that charmed
-me. I fancied life must be a delightful
-thing in such pleasant,
-good-natured, well-bred company;
-that I was now in my proper sphere;
-and that I had been hitherto out
-of place amidst rusty lawyers and
-hard-working clerks, etc. In fact,
-I was a fool, and my head got turned.
-I spent all my time in the day
-lounging about with Hallam and
-his aristocratic captains and colonels,
-and the evenings I devoted to
-the business of rehearsal, which
-was carried on at Lady Arabella
-Daucer’s, the married daughter of
-the duchess at whose house the
-theatricals were to be performed.
-I had been very graciously received
-by her grace, and consequently all
-the lords and ladies who composed
-her court followed suit. I was
-made as much of as if I had been
-‘one of them,’ and my acting soon
-established me as the leading star
-of the select company. I suppose
-Hallam was right in saying that
-more mature reading and so on had
-improved my dramatic talent; for
-certainly it came out with a brilliancy
-that surprised myself. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span>
-artistic, high-bred atmosphere that
-surrounded me seemed to infuse
-fresh vigor into me. I borrowed or
-revealed a power that even my
-vanity had never suspected. Hallam
-was enchanted, and as proud
-of my success as if it had been his
-own.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I can fancy how your mother
-will enjoy this!’ he exclaimed one
-evening, as I walked home with him
-to his chambers in Piccadilly. ‘She
-will be beside herself with pride in
-you, old fellow. Fancy what it will
-be the night of your first public
-representation! I expect a seat in
-her box, mind!’</p>
-
-<p>“It was just two days before the
-grand night, and we were having
-our last rehearsal&mdash;the final one&mdash;in
-the theatre at B&mdash;&mdash; House, which
-was lighted up and filled with a select
-few, in order to judge of the
-general effect for the following
-night. I was in great spirits, and
-acted better than I had done yet.
-The audience applauded warmly,
-the ladies clapping their white-kid
-hands and shaking their handkerchiefs,
-that filled the air with the
-perfumes of Arabia, while the gentlemen,
-more audible in their demonstrations,
-cheered loudly.</p>
-
-<p>“When it was over, we sat down
-to supper, about a hundred, of us.
-I sat next the duchess, and my
-beautiful Katharina on the other
-side of me. She was a lovely girl
-of twenty, a cousin of the duchess.
-I had been struck by her beauty at
-the first, but the more I saw of her
-the less she pleased me; she was a
-vain, coquettish young lady, and
-only tolerated me because I was
-useful as a good set-off to her acting,
-which, to be just, was excellent.
-I never saw anything so good off
-the stage, and very seldom saw it
-equalled even there. Flushed with
-her recent triumph, which had borrowed
-additional lustre from mine
-she was more gracious and conversational
-than I had yet known her.
-I was flattered, though I knew perfectly
-how much the caprice was
-worth, and I exerted myself to the
-utmost to be agreeable. We were
-altogether a very merry party; the
-champagne flowed freely, and with
-it the spirits of the guests rose to
-sparkling point. As we rose from
-the table, some one called out for a
-dance before we broke up. The
-musicians had gone to have refreshments
-after the rehearsal, but they
-were still in the house. The duchess,
-a good-natured, easy-going person,
-who always agreed with everybody
-all round, at once ordered them in;
-people began to engage partners,
-and all was laughing confusion
-round the supper-table. I turned
-to my pretty neighbor, and asked
-if she was engaged; she replied,
-laughing, that being neither a sibyl
-nor a clairvoyant, she could not
-have known beforehand that there
-was to be dancing. ‘Then may I
-have the honor of claiming you for
-the first dance, whatever it may
-be?’ I said; and she replied that I
-might. I offered her my arm, and
-we took our way back into the
-theatre, which was still brilliantly
-illuminated. We were to dance on
-the stage. As we were pushing on
-with the crowd, I felt a strong
-hand laid on my arm, and, before I
-had time to prevent it, Lady Caroline’s
-hand was withdrawn, and the
-intruder stood between us. He
-was a square-built, distinguished-looking
-man, not very young, but
-handsome and with the <i lang="fr">beau</i> stamped
-all over him.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Excuse my want of ceremony,’
-he said in an easy, supercilious
-tone to me. ‘I claim the first
-dance with Lady Caroline.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘On what grounds?’ I demanded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span>
-stiffly. We were still moving on,
-carried with the crowd, so it was
-impossible to make him stand aside
-or to regain my post next Lady
-Caroline.</p>
-
-<p>“‘On the grounds of her promise,’
-he replied haughtily.</p>
-
-<p>“Lady Caroline uttered a laughing
-‘O Lord George!’ but did not
-draw away the hand which he
-had so unceremoniously transferred
-from my arm to his.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Lady Caroline made no engagement
-before she came here to-night,’
-I said, ‘and she promised
-this dance to me. I refer you to
-herself whether this be true or not.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Gentlemen are not in the habit
-of catechising ladies as to their
-behavior&mdash;not, at least, in our set;
-and while you happen to be in it
-you had better conform to its
-customs,’ observed Lord George,
-without looking towards me.</p>
-
-<p>“I felt my blood boil so that it
-was an effort not to strike him.
-Two ladies near me who had heard
-the passage between us cried,
-‘Shame! No gentleman would have
-said that!’ This gave me courage
-to maintain my self-command. We
-were now in the theatre; the orchestra
-was playing a brilliant prelude
-to a waltz, and Lord George,
-as if he had forgotten all about me,
-prepared to start. I laid my hand
-peremptorily on his arm.</p>
-
-<p>“‘In my set,’ I said, and my voice
-shook with agitation, ‘gentlemen
-don’t tolerate gratuitous impertinence;
-you either make me an apology,
-or I shall exact reparation of
-another kind.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Oh! indeed. I shall be happy
-to hear from you at your convenience,’
-sneered Lord George, with
-a low bow. He turned away, and
-said in a voice loud enough to be
-heard by me or any one else near,
-‘The puppy imagines, I suppose,
-that I would meet him in a duel.
-The next thing will be we shall
-have our footmen sending us challenges.
-Capital joke, by Jove!
-Come, we are losing time, Lady
-Caroline! The waltz is half over.’</p>
-
-<p>“They were starting this time,
-when a voice behind me called out
-imperiously: ‘A moment, Lord
-George Halberdyne! The gentleman
-whom you have insulted is a
-friend of mine and a guest of the
-Duchess of B&mdash;&mdash;; two conditions
-that qualify him, I think, to be an
-adversary of yours.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Oh! he’s a friend of yours,
-is he?’ repeated Lord George, facing
-around. ‘That’s a natural phenomenon
-that I shall not stop to
-investigate just now; but it certainly
-puts this gentleman in a new
-light. Good-evening, sir. I shall
-have the pleasure, probably, of seeing
-you to-morrow.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘You shall, my lord,’ I replied;
-and allowing Hallam to link my
-arm in his and draw me away, I
-turned my back on the brilliant
-scene, and hurried out of the house,
-feverish, humiliated, desperate.</p>
-
-<p>“‘The idiot! The snob! You
-shall give him a lesson that he’ll
-not forget in a hurry,’ said Hallam,
-who seemed nearly as indignant
-and excited as myself. ‘Are you a
-good shot? Have you ever stood
-fire?’</p>
-
-<p>“I answered both questions in
-the negative. He was evidently
-put out; but presently he said in a
-confident tone:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Well, it does not so much
-matter; you are the offended party,
-and consequently you have the
-choice of weapons. It shall be
-swords instead of pistols. I suppose
-you’re a pretty good swordsman?’</p>
-
-<p>“‘My dear Hallam,’ I said, ‘you
-forget that these things are not in
-my line at all. I never handled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span>
-a sword since we flourished them
-in the fencing hall at Oxford. In
-fact, if the choice be mine, as you
-say it is, I think I would do better
-to choose pistols. I have a chance
-with them; and if Lord George be
-a swordsman, I have none with the
-other.’</p>
-
-<p>“Hallam seemed seriously disconcerted.</p>
-
-<p>“‘It’s not quite such an affair of
-chance as you appear to imagine,’
-he said. ‘Halberdyne is one of the
-best shots in the service; he never
-misses his mark; and he is a first-rate
-swordsman. ’Pon my honor I
-don’t know what to advise you.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘I must stand advised by myself
-then, and here goes for pistols,’
-I said, trying to put a bold face on
-it, though I confess I felt anything
-but cheerful at the prospect. ‘You
-will stand by me, Hallam, will you
-not?’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Of course I will! I’ve committed
-myself to as much already,’
-he answered cordially; but I saw
-he was uncomfortable. ‘I shall
-take your card to the scoundrel
-to-morrow morning. I wonder who
-he’ll have for second&mdash;that bully
-Roper, very likely,’ he went on,
-talking more to himself than to me.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Is the meeting to take place to-morrow
-morning?’ I inquired; and
-a sudden rush of anguish came on
-me as I put the question. I
-thought of my mother, of all that
-might be in store for her so soon.</p>
-
-<p>“‘We must try and put it off for
-a day,’ said Hallam. ‘It is deucedly
-awkward, you see, if it comes off
-to-morrow, because of the play.
-You may get hit, and it would be
-a terrible business if you were <i lang="fr">hors
-de concours</i> for the evening.’ There
-was something so grimly comical
-in the earnestness with which he
-said this that, though I was in no
-merry mood, I burst out laughing.</p>
-
-<p>“‘A terrible business indeed!’ I
-said. ‘How exceedingly unpleasant
-for Lady Caroline particularly
-to be left in the lurch on such an
-occasion! However, if I go to the
-wall, and Lord George comes off
-safe, he might get up the part in a
-hurry and replace me, eh?’ I had
-hit the mark without knowing it.
-It was jealousy that had provoked
-Lord George to the gratuitous attack.
-I suppose there was something
-sardonic in my voice that
-struck Hallam with the inappropriateness
-of his previous remarks.
-He suddenly stopped, and grasping
-my arm warmly&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“‘I’m used to this sort of thing,
-my dear fellow,’ he said; ‘but
-don’t fancy from that that my feelings
-are turned to stone, or that I
-forget all that is, that may be, unpleasant
-in the matter. But there
-is no use talking of these things;
-they unman a fellow, and he wants
-all his nerves in working order at a
-moment like this. Take my advice
-and go home now, and cool
-yourself by a quiet night for to-morrow’s
-work, if it is to be to-morrow.
-You may have some letters
-to write or other things to attend
-to, and they had better be
-done at once.’</p>
-
-<p>“I replied that I had no letters
-to write and no business instructions
-to leave. The idea of facing
-my home, passing my mother’s door,
-and then going to bed as if the world
-had not turned right round; as if all
-life, the present and the future, were
-not revolutionized&mdash;this was what
-I did not, at this moment at least,
-feel equal to, and I said so.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I would rather go for an hour
-to the club,’ I said, ‘if you don’t
-mind, and we will have a game of
-billiards. I don’t feel inclined to
-go home, and I should not sleep if
-I went to bed.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“‘Just as you like,’ he said;
-‘but the night is so fine we may
-as well take a few more turns in the
-open air. It does one good after
-those heated rooms.’</p>
-
-<p>“It did me no good. I felt the
-most miserable man in this miserable
-world. I would have given
-any happiness the world could have
-offered me to undo this night’s
-work, to be as I was an hour ago,
-free, guiltless of projected murder
-or suicide. I repeated to myself
-that it was not my fault; that I had
-been gratuitously provoked beyond
-endurance; that as a gentleman I
-could not have done otherwise;
-but these sophistries neither calmed
-nor strengthened me. Truer
-voices rose up and answered them
-in clear and imperious tones that
-drowned the foolish comforters.
-Why had I ever entered the society
-where my position exposed
-me to such results? What business
-had I there? What good could
-it do myself or any one else to
-have been tolerated, even courted,
-as I fancied I was, by these fine
-people, who had nothing of any
-sort in common with me? I had
-forsaken my legitimate place, the
-profession that my mother had
-made such heavy sacrifices to open
-to me. I had deliberately frittered
-away my life, destroyed my prospects
-of honorable success; and
-this is what it had brought me to!
-I was going either to shoot a man
-who had done me no graver injury
-than offend my pride and punish
-my folly, or to be shot down by
-him&mdash;and then? I saw myself
-brought home to my mother dangerously
-wounded, dead perhaps.
-I heard her cry of agony, I saw
-her mortal despair. I could have
-cried out loud for pity of her. I
-could have cursed myself for my
-folly&mdash;for the mad, sinful folly that
-had rewarded her by such an awakening.</p>
-
-<p>“There is an electric current
-that runs from mind to mind, communicating
-almost like an articulate
-voice the thoughts that are
-passing within us at certain moments.
-I had not spoken for several
-minutes, as we paced up and
-down Pall Mall, puffing our cigars
-in the starlight; but this current I
-speak of had passed from my brain
-to Hallam’s, and informed him of
-what my thoughts were busy on.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Don’t let yourself down, old
-boy,’ he said good-naturedly. ‘No
-harm may come of it after all;
-I’ve known a score of duels where
-both sides came off with no more
-than a pin-scratch, sometimes with
-no scratch at all. Not that I suspect
-you of being faint-hearted&mdash;I
-remember what a dare-devil you
-were at Oxford&mdash;but the bravest
-of us may be a coward for others.’</p>
-
-<p>“I felt something rise in my
-throat as if it would choke me. I
-could not get a word out.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Who knows?’ continued Hallam
-in his cheeriest tone; ‘you
-may be bringing down the house
-to-morrow night, and your mother
-may be the proudest woman in
-London, seeing you the king of the
-company, cheered and complimented
-by “fair women and brave
-men!” I feel as sure of it, do you
-know, as if I saw it in a glass.’</p>
-
-<p>“He spoke in kindness, but the
-levity of his tone, the utter hollowness
-of his consolations, were intolerable.
-They mocked my misery;
-every word pierced me like a knife.
-What evil genius had led me across
-this man’s path? Only a few weeks
-ago I said it was the work of an
-angel, a good fairy, or some absurdity
-of the sort. It was more
-likely a demon that had done it. If
-I had never met him, I said to myself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span>
-I would never have known this
-hour; I should have been an innocent
-and a happy man. But this
-would not do either. I was neither
-innocent nor happy when I met
-him. I was false to my duty, wasting
-my life, and sick to death of
-both; only longing for the opportunity
-which Hallam had brought
-me. If I had not met him, I should
-have met or sought out some other
-tempter, and bitten greedily at the
-bait when it was offered. Still, I
-felt embittered toward Hallam. I
-accused him, as if he had been the
-sole author of my misfortune; as if
-I had been a baby or an idiot without
-free-will or responsibility.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Come into the club,’ I said,
-dropping his arm and throwing
-away the end of my cigar.</p>
-
-<p>“He did not notice the impatient
-movement, but readily crossed over,
-and we entered the club. The lofty,
-spacious rooms were blazing with
-light and filled with groups of men.
-Some were lounging on luxurious
-couches, reading the evening papers,
-some were chatting, some were
-playing cards. An air of easy
-grandeur, prosperity, and surface
-happiness pervaded the place. I
-felt horribly out of keeping with it
-all. I had no business amongst
-these wealthy, fashionable men; I
-was like a skeleton stalking into the
-feast. I believe it was nothing but
-sheer human respect, the fear of
-making myself ridiculous, that prevented
-me from turning on my heel
-and rushing straight out of the
-house. I mechanically took up the
-<cite>Globe</cite>, which a member tossed on to
-a table near me, and sat down as if I
-were going to read it.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Leave that alone, and come into
-the billiard-room,’ said Hallam.
-And he whipped the paper out of my
-hands with brotherly unceremoniousness.</p>
-
-<p>“I rose and followed him like a
-dog. I would have gone anywhere,
-done anything, he or anybody else
-suggested. Physically, I was indifferent
-to what I did; my brain
-on fire, I felt as if I were walking
-in a dream.</p>
-
-<p>“We were passing into the billiard-room
-when a gentleman who was
-seated at a card-table cried out to
-Hallam to come and join them.
-It was Col. Leveson, a brother officer
-and great friend of his. Hallam
-replied that he was going on
-to have a pull at the balls; but
-he strolled over to see how the
-game was going. I mechanically
-followed him. Some of the players
-knew me, and greeted me with a
-friendly nod. They were absorbed
-in the game; it was lansquenet. I
-knew very little about cards; but
-lansquenet was the one game that
-interested me. I had lost a few
-sovereigns a night or two before at
-it, and, as the luck seemed set in
-against the banker, it flashed over
-me I could not do better than to
-take a hand and win them back
-now. I did not, however, volunteer
-to join the game. In my present
-state of smarting pride I would
-not run the risk of being made to
-feel I was an intruder. Unluckily,
-Hallam’s friend, reading temptation
-on my countenance perhaps, said,
-holding up his cards to me: “I’m in
-splendid vein, but I must be off.
-I’ll sell you my hand for half a sovereign,
-if you like.”</p>
-
-<p>“‘Done!’ I said; and paying the
-half-sovereign, I sat down. I had
-scarcely taken his place when there
-was a noise in the adjoining room
-announcing fresh arrivals. I recognized
-one loud, domineering voice
-above the others, and presently
-Lord George Halberdyne came in.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Going, Leveson?’ he said.
-‘Luck against you, I suppose?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“‘On the contrary, never was in
-better vein in my life,’ replied the
-colonel. ‘I sold my hand for a
-song, because I have an appointment
-that I can’t forego.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Who’s the lucky dog you sold
-it to?’ asked Lord George.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Mr. Botfield,’ said Col. Leveson.
-(My real name is Botfield; I
-only took the name of Baines when
-I fell into disgrace and misery.)</p>
-
-<p>“Lord George muttered an exclamation
-of some sort&mdash;whether of
-surprise or vexation I could not
-tell&mdash;and advanced to the table.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Do you mind my joining you?’
-he said, appealing to nobody in
-particular. There was a general
-assent, and he sat down. Hallam
-would not take a hand. He hated
-cards; his passion was for billiards,
-and he played nothing else. He
-came and stood behind me to
-watch the game. I felt him lay
-his hand on my shoulder, as if to
-encourage me and remind me that
-he was there to stand by me and
-take my part against my late bully,
-if needs be. It did not seem as if
-he was likely to be called upon to
-do so. My late bully was as gracious
-as man could be&mdash;at least
-he intended to be so; but I took
-his familiar facetiousness for covert
-impertinence, and it made my blood
-boil quite as fiercely as his recent
-open insult had done. I was not
-man of the world enough to understand
-that Lord George was only
-doing his duty to society; that he
-was in fact behaving beautifully,
-with infinite tact, like an accomplished
-gentleman. I could not
-understand that the social canons
-of his ‘set’ made it incumbent on
-a man to joke and laugh and demean
-himself in this lively, careless
-fashion towards the man whom he
-was going to shoot in a few hours.
-I grew inwardly exasperated, and
-it was nothing but pride and an unprecedented
-effort of will that enabled
-me to keep my temper and
-remain outwardly cool. For a time,
-for about twenty minutes, the luck
-continued in the same vein; my
-half-sovereign had been paid back
-to me more than fifty times. Col.
-Leveson was right when he said he
-had sold his hand for a song. Hallam
-was all this time standing behind
-my chair, smoking his cigar,
-and throwing in a word between
-the puffs. The clock struck two.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Come off now, Botfield,’ he
-said, tapping me on the shoulder&mdash;‘come
-off while your star is shining;
-it is sure to go down if you
-stay too long.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Very likely, most sage and
-prudent mentor,’ retorted Lord
-George; ‘but that cuts both ways.
-Your friend has been pocketing
-our money up to this; it’s only fair
-he should give us a chance of winning
-it back and pocketing a little
-of his. That is a law <em>universally</em>
-recognized, I believe.’ As he said
-this, he turned to me good-humoredly
-enough; but I saw where the
-emphasis pointed, and, stung to the
-quick, I replied that I had not the
-least intention of going counter to
-the law; I would remain as long as
-the game lasted.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Halloo! That’s committing
-yourself somewhat rashly,’ interposed
-Hallam. ‘You don’t know
-what nefarious gamblers these fellows
-are; they’re capable of keeping
-it up till morning!’</p>
-
-<p>“‘If they do, I shall keep it up
-with them,’ I replied recklessly. I
-was desperate, and my luck was
-good.</p>
-
-<p>“Hallam said no more, but sauntered
-to the other side of the table,
-where I <em>felt</em> his eyes fixed on me
-warningly, entreatingly.</p>
-
-<p>“I looked up at last, and met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span>
-them fastened on me in a mute,
-impatient appeal. I answered it
-by a peremptory nod. He saw I
-would not brook farther interference,
-so he took himself off to the
-billiard-room, and did not reappear
-for an hour.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot recall clearly what
-passed during the interval. The
-luck had turned suddenly against
-me; but, nothing daunted, I went
-on playing desperately, losing as fast
-as I had been winning, only in
-much heavier sums; for the stakes
-had risen enormously on the change
-of luck. There was a large pool,
-immense it seemed to me&mdash;some
-two hundred pounds. I lost again
-and again. At last terror sobered
-me. I began to realize the madness
-of my conduct, and wanted to withdraw;
-but they cried out against
-it, reminded me that I had pledged
-myself to remain and see the game
-out. Lord George was loudest in
-protesting that I must remain.
-‘One can’t have luck always,’ he
-said, ‘A man must put up with it
-when the tide turns. It is of good
-omen for you, Mr. Botfield,’ he
-added pointedly; ‘you will be in
-splendid luck to-morrow.’</p>
-
-<p>“I shuddered. I can remember
-the horrible, sick sensation that
-ran through me as he said this,
-lightly, pleasantly, as if he alluded
-to a rowing-match I had in view.
-I saw my mother’s pale face beckoning
-me to come away&mdash;to stop
-before I ruined her utterly. I almost
-made a movement to rise, but
-something glued me to the chair.
-The game went on. I again held
-the bank, and again lost. I had
-no money about me except the
-forty pounds or so I had won at
-the outset; but several leaves out
-of my pocketbook were strewn
-about the table bearing I. O. U.’s for
-nine times that sum. I suppose
-by this time I had quite lost my
-senses. I know that I went on
-betting like a maniac, with the
-feverish, triumphant impulse of a
-man in delirium. I was losing tremendously.
-I remember nothing
-except the sound of my own voice
-and Lord George’s calling <em>banco!</em>
-again and again, and how the cry
-ran through me like a blade every
-time, and how I hastily tore out
-fresh leaves and wrote down the
-sums I lost, and tossed them to the
-winner, and went on. All this
-time we had been drinking deeply of
-brandy and water. I was naturally
-abstemious, but to-night I drank
-recklessly. The wonder was&mdash;and I
-was going to say the pity&mdash;that it
-had not stupefied me long ago, and
-so made me physically incapable
-of continuing my insane career.
-But excitement acted, I suppose, as
-an antidote, and prevented the
-alcohol from taking effect as it
-otherwise must have done. At
-last Hallam came back. I have a
-vague recollection of hearing him
-exchange some remarks in an undertone
-with one of the players,
-who had given up and was now
-watching the game with a number of
-others who had dropped in from adjoining
-rooms. I then heard him say,
-‘Good God! he is ruined twice
-over!’ I heard nothing more. I
-had fallen back insensible in my
-chair. Everybody started up; the
-cards were dropped, and all was
-confusion and terror. It appears
-that at the first moment they
-thought I was dead. A young
-guardsman present declared I was,
-and that it was disease of the
-heart; a young kinsman of his had
-dropped down on parade only a
-month ago just in the same way.
-There was a cry for a doctor, and
-two or three ran out to fetch one.
-Before he arrived, however, I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span>
-given signs of returning consciousness.
-Up to this moment Lord
-George had been anxiously looking
-on, silent and pale, they said. He
-had borne me with Hallam to a
-couch in the next room, where the
-air was free from cigar-fumes, and
-had opened the window to admit
-the fresh night-breeze. He had
-done, in fact, what any humane person
-would have done under the
-circumstances; but he had done it
-in a manner that betokened more
-than ordinary interest. He drew an
-audible breath of relief the moment
-he saw my eyelids quiver and
-heard me breathe like a man awaking
-to life. Hallam signed to him
-to leave the room; he did not
-wish his face to be the first I saw
-on opening my eyes. Lord George
-no doubt understood; for he at
-once withdrew into the card-room.
-He drew the door after him, but
-he did not quite close it, so that I
-heard dreamily, yet distinctly, all
-that was said. Lord George’s second
-for the morrow’s meeting, the
-Hon. Capt. Roper, inquired eagerly
-how I was going on. ‘Oh! he’ll
-be all right presently,’ was the reply,
-spoken in Lord George’s off-hand
-way. ‘There was nothing to make
-such a fuss about; the poor devil
-was scared to see how much money
-he had lost, and fainted like a girl&mdash;that’s
-all.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Hallam says he is quite cleared
-out by to-night’s ill-luck,’ observed
-some one.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Served him right,’ said Lord
-George; ‘it will teach puppies of
-his kind not to come amongst us
-and make fools of themselves.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘And do you mean to shoot
-him to-morrow?’ inquired the same
-voice.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I mean to give him a chance
-of shooting me; unless,’ he continued&mdash;and
-I saw in imagination, as
-vividly as if my bodily eyes had seen
-it, the cold sneer that accompanied
-the remark&mdash;‘unless he shows the
-white feather and declines fighting,
-which is just as likely.’</p>
-
-<p>“While this little dialogue had
-been going on in subdued tones
-close by the door which opened at
-the head of the sofa where I lay,
-Hallam was conversing in animated
-whispers with two gentlemen in the
-window. He was not more than a
-minute absent, when he returned to
-my side, and, seeing my eyes wide
-open, exclaimed heartily: ‘Thank
-God! he’s all right again!’</p>
-
-<p>“I grasped his hand and sat up.
-They gave me some sal-volatile and
-water to drink, and I was, as he
-said, all right again. But it was
-not the stimulant that restored me,
-that gave me such sudden energy,
-and nerved me to act at once, to
-face my fate and defy it. I took
-his arm, and led him, or let him lead
-me, to some quieter place near, and
-then I asked him how much he
-thought I had lost.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Don’t think of that yet, my
-dear fellow,’ he said; ‘you are too
-done up to discuss it. We will see
-what can be done to-morrow.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Five thousand pounds!’ I
-said. ‘Do you hear that? Five
-thousand pounds! That means
-that I am a beggar, which an’t of
-much consequence; and that I’ve
-made a beggar of my mother. She
-will have to sell the bed from under
-her to pay it, to save my honor.
-A curse upon me for bringing this
-blight upon her!’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Tut! tut! man, don’t take on
-like a woman about it!’ said Hallam.
-‘These things can be arranged;
-no need to make matters out
-worse than they are. I’ll speak to
-Lord George, and see what terms
-we can make with him.’</p>
-
-<p>“He made me light a cigar, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span>
-left me alone, while he went back to
-parley with the man who held my
-fortune, my life, my all in his hands.
-I never heard exactly all that passed
-between them. I only know that
-in answer to Lord George’s question,
-put in a tone of insulting
-haughtiness, ‘Has the fellow pledged
-himself for more than he’s
-worth? <em>Can’t</em> he pay?’ Hallam
-replied: ‘He can, but it will ruin
-him’; upon which the other retorted
-with a laugh, ‘What the devil is
-that to me?’ and turned his back
-on my second, who had nothing left
-but to take Capt. Roper aside and
-arrange for the morrow’s meeting.
-He came back, and told me all
-was settled; that Halberdyne was
-behaving like a brute, and would
-be tabooed in the clubs and every
-decent drawing-room before twenty-four
-hours. This thought seemed
-to afford him great satisfaction.
-It gave me none. Anguish
-had drowned resentment. I could
-think of nothing except that I was
-a ruined man, that I had beggared
-my mother, and that I was going to
-fight a duel in a few hours. Richmond
-Park&mdash;6 <span class="smcapuc">A.M.</span>&mdash;pistols at
-thirty paces! This was how the
-appointment was notified by our
-seconds to both of us. Suddenly
-a light burst on me&mdash;a ray of hope,
-of consolation: I might be killed
-in this duel, and, if so, surely my
-honor would be saved and my debt
-cancelled. Lord George would not
-pursue my mother for the money.
-She should know nothing of this
-night’s work until after the meeting.
-If I escaped with a wound, I
-would tell her; if I died, who would
-have the cruelty to do so? I told
-Hallam of this sudden thought as
-he walked home with me. He approved
-of it, and cheered me up by
-almost assuring me that I should be
-shot. Halberdyne was a dead-shot;
-it was most likely that I
-should not leave the field alive.</p>
-
-<p>“The night passed&mdash;the few
-hours of it that must elapse before
-the time named for the meeting.
-0 God! how did I live through
-them? And yet this was nothing,
-absolutely nothing, compared to
-what was yet in store for me.…</p>
-
-<p>“The duel took place. Lord
-George wounded me in the hip.
-He escaped unhurt; I fired in the
-air. I was carried home on a door,
-insensible. Hallam had gone before
-to prepare my mother. For some
-weeks it was feared I would not live.
-Then amputation was talked of. I escaped
-finally with being a cripple for
-life. Before I was out of danger, Hallam’s
-leave expired, and he went to
-rejoin his regiment. He had been
-very assiduous in calling to inquire
-for me, had seen my mother, and,
-judging by her passionate grief
-that I was in a fair way not to recover,
-he had forborne mentioning
-anything about the five thousand
-pounds. She promised to write
-and let him know when any change
-took place. Meantime, she had
-found out my secret. I had talked
-incessantly of it in my delirium, and
-with an accuracy of iteration that
-left no doubt on her mind but that
-there was a foundation of truth in
-the feverish ravings. The doctor
-was of the same mind, and urged
-her to give me an opportunity of
-relieving my mind of the burden,
-whatever it was, as soon as this was
-possible.</p>
-
-<p>“The first day that I was strong
-enough to bear conversation she
-accordingly broached the subject.
-I inferred at once that Hallam had
-told her everything, and repeated
-the miserable story, only to confirm
-what I supposed he had already
-said.</p>
-
-<p>“My mother was sitting by my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span>
-bedside. She busied herself with
-teaseling out linen into lint for my
-wound, and so, purposely no doubt,
-kept her face continually bent or
-averted from mine.</p>
-
-<p>“Seeing how quietly she took it,
-I began to think I had overrated the
-misfortune; that we had larger resources
-in some way than I had imagined.
-‘Then it is possible for us
-to pay this horrible debt and save
-my honor, and yet not be utterly
-beggared, mother?’ I said eagerly.
-She looked at me with a smile that
-must surely have been the reflex
-of some angel near her whom I
-could not see. ‘Yes, my boy; he
-shall be paid, and we shall not be
-beggars,’ she said gently, and pressed
-my hand in both her own. ‘You
-should have told me about it at
-once; it has been preying on your
-mind and retarding your cure all
-this time. I will see Mr. Kerwin
-to-day, and have it arranged at
-once. Promise me now, like a good
-boy, to forget it and think no more
-of it until you are quite well. Will
-you promise?’</p>
-
-<p>“I did not answer, but signed
-with my lips for her to kiss me. She
-rose and twined her arms around
-me, and let me sob out my sorrow
-and my love upon her breast.</p>
-
-<p>“It was about three days after
-this that she handed me a letter to
-read; it was from Lord George to
-Mr. Kerwin, and ran thus:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>: I beg to acknowledge the
-receipt of the sum of five thousand
-pounds which you have forwarded
-to my lawyers in the name of Mr.
-Botfield. I make this acknowledgment
-personally in order to express
-my sincere satisfaction at the happy
-progress of Mr. Botfield’s recovery,
-and beg you will convey this sentiment
-to him.&mdash;I remain, etc.,</p>
-
-<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Halberdyne</span>.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>“‘Mother! mother!’ I cried out,
-and opened my arms to her in a
-passion of tears. But she laid her
-finger smilingly on my lips, and
-made me be silent. In a month
-hence, when I was well, we should
-talk it all over, but not now.</p>
-
-<p>“Before the month was out, <em>she
-was dead</em>!”…</p>
-
-<p class="break">Marmaduke started to his feet
-with a cry of horror, and Botfield,
-unable to control the anguish that
-his own narrative evoked, dropped
-his head into his hands, and shook
-the room with his sobs.</p>
-
-<p>“O dear God! that I should have
-lived to tell it!&mdash;to talk over the
-mother that I murdered! Brave,
-tender, generous mother! I killed
-you, I broke your heart, and then&mdash;then
-I brought shame upon your
-memory! O God! O God! why
-have I outlived it?” He rocked
-to and fro, almost shouting
-in his paroxysm of despair. Marmaduke
-had never beheld such
-grief; he had never in his life been
-so deeply moved with pity. He
-did not know what to say, what to
-do. His heart prompted him to do
-the right thing: he fell on his knees,
-and, putting his arms around the
-wretched, woe-worn man, he burst
-into tears and sobbed with him.</p>
-
-<p>Botfield suffered his embrace for
-a moment, and then, pressing his
-horny palm on the young man’s
-blond head, he muttered: “God
-bless you! God bless you for your
-pity!”</p>
-
-<p>As soon as they were both
-calmed, Marmaduke asked him if
-he would not prefer finishing the
-story to-morrow. But he signed to
-him to sit down; that he would go
-on with it to the end.</p>
-
-<p>“What is there more to tell?” he
-said, sadly shaking his head.</p>
-
-<p>“I was lying a cripple on my bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span>
-when she was carried to her grave.
-I was seized with a violent brain
-fever, which turned to typhus, and
-they took me to the hospital. The
-servants were dismissed; they had
-received notice from my mother.
-She had foreseen everything, taken
-every necessary step as calmly as if
-the catastrophe I had brought upon
-her had been a mere change of residence
-for her own convenience.
-All we had was gone. That brave
-answer of hers to my question
-about our resources was a subterfuge
-of her love. If ever a sin was
-sinless, assuredly that half-uttered
-falsehood was. She had directed
-the lawyer to raise the money immediately,
-at every sacrifice. She
-meant to work for her bread, and
-trusted to me to make the task light
-and short to her. I would have
-done it had she been spared to me.
-So help me God, I would! But
-now that she was gone, I had
-nothing to work for. I left the
-hospital a cripple and a beggar. I
-did not even yet know to what an
-extent. I went straight to our old
-house, expecting to find it as I had
-left it&mdash;that is, before all consciousness
-had left me. I found it dismantled,
-empty; painters busy on
-scaffolding outside. I went to Mr.
-Kerwin, and there learned the
-whole truth. Nothing remained to
-me but suicide. Nothing kept me
-from it, I believe, but the prayers of
-my mother.”</p>
-
-<p>“You were a Christian, then?”
-interrupted Marmaduke in a tone
-of unfeigned surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“I ought to have been. My
-father was, and my mother was; I
-was brought up as one, until I went
-to the university and lost what little
-belief I had. For a moment it
-seemed to come back to me when I
-found myself alone in the world.
-I remember walking deliberately
-down to the river’s side when I left
-the lawyer’s office, fully determined
-to drown myself. But before I
-reached the water, I heard my
-mother’s voice calling so distinctly
-to me to stop that I felt myself arrested
-as by some visible presence.
-I heard the voice saying, ‘Do you
-wish never to see me again even in
-the next world?’ Of course it was
-the work of imagination, of my
-over-wrought feelings; but the effect
-was the same. I stopped, and
-retraced my steps to Mr. Kerwin’s.”</p>
-
-<p>“It was your guardian angel, perhaps
-your mother’s, that saved you,”
-said Marmaduke.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! I forgot,” said Botfield.
-“Your brother is a Catholic; I suppose
-you are too?”</p>
-
-<p>Marmaduke nodded assent; he
-felt that his Catholicity was not
-much to boast of. Like the poor
-outcast before him, he had lost his
-faith practically, though he adhered
-to it in name.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, it was an angel of some
-sort that rescued me,” said Botfield;
-“it was no doubt my own
-fault if the rescue was not complete.
-I went back to Mr. Kerwin,
-and asked him to give me, or get
-me, something to do. My chance
-on the stage was at an end, even if
-I could have turned to that: I was
-dead lame. He got me a situation
-as clerk in an office; but the weariness
-of the life and the pressure of
-remorse were more than I could
-bear. I took to drink. They forgave
-me once, twice; the third time
-I was dismissed. But of what use
-is it to go over that disgusting, pitiable
-story? Step by step I went
-down, lower and lower, sinking
-each time into fouler depths, drinking
-more loathsome draughts, wallowing
-in mire whose very existence
-such as you don’t dream of.
-I will spare you all those details.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span>
-Enough that I came at last to what
-you see me. One day when hunger
-was gnawing me, and even the
-satanic consolation of the public-house
-was shut against me for want
-of a sixpence to pay for a glass of
-its diabolical elixir, I fell in with
-a man of the trade; he offered me
-work and bread. Hunger is not a
-dainty counsellor. I closed with
-the offer, and so sank into the last
-slough that humanity can take refuge
-in.…</p>
-
-<p>“Now, Mr. Walpole, you have
-heard my history; it was a pain,
-and yet, somehow, a relief, to me
-to tell it. It has not been a very
-pleasant one for you to listen
-to; still, I don’t regret having inflicted
-it on you. You are very
-young; you are prosperous and
-happy, and, most likely, perfectly
-free from any of the temptations
-that have been the bane of my life;
-still, it never hurts a young man
-starting in life to hear an older
-man’s experience. If ever temptation
-should come near you, dash it
-from you with all your might;
-scorn and defy it from the first;
-hold no parley with it; to treat
-with perdition is to be lost.”</p>
-
-<p>“You have done me a greater
-service than you know of,” said
-Marmaduke, rising and preparing
-to take leave of his singular entertainer.
-“Perhaps one day I may
-tell you.…” He took a turn in
-the narrow room, and then, coming
-back to Botfield, resumed in an agitated
-manner: “Why should I not
-own it at once? You have trusted
-me with all; I will tell you the
-truth.”</p>
-
-<p>Botfield looked up in surprise,
-but said nothing.</p>
-
-<p>“I stand on the very brink of
-the abyss against which you warn
-me. Like you, I am a barrister;
-like you, I hate my profession, and
-spend my time reading poetry and
-playing at private theatricals. They
-are my passion. A few nights ago I
-tried my luck at cards, and won.
-This tempted me; I played last
-night and lost&mdash;precisely the sum
-of twenty pounds.”</p>
-
-<p>Botfield started and uttered a
-suppressed exclamation.</p>
-
-<p>“I am in debt&mdash;not much&mdash;a
-mere trifle, if it lead to no worse!
-You see now what a service you
-may have done me; who knows?
-Perhaps my mother’s guardian angel
-prompted you to tell me your
-story as a warning, to save me before
-it was too late! I know that
-I came here to-day at the bidding
-of an angel; and reluctant enough
-I was to take the message!”</p>
-
-<p>“I never thought to be of use to
-any one while I lived,” said Botfield
-with emotion. “I bless God,
-anyhow, if my wretched example
-proves a warning to you. Who
-sent you to me? I understood it
-was your brother?”</p>
-
-<p>“So it was; but it was to please
-my sister that I consented to come.
-She is one of those angels that
-people talk about, but don’t often
-see. You will let her come and
-see you, Mr. Botfield, will you
-not?”</p>
-
-<p>He held out his delicate lavender
-kid hand, and pressed Botfield’s
-grimy fingers cordially.</p>
-
-<p>When Marmaduke got home, he
-inquired at once where his sister
-was, and, hearing she was in her
-room, he crept up quietly to the
-door and knocked. He entered so
-quietly that Nelly had scarcely
-time to jump off her knees. Marmaduke
-saw at once that he had
-taken her by surprise; he saw also
-that her eyes were red.</p>
-
-<p>“What is the matter?” she asked,
-with a frightened look. “Has
-anything happened? You have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[472]</a></span>
-been away so long! What kept
-you, Marmaduke? Where have
-you been?”</p>
-
-<p>“Where you sent me.”</p>
-
-<p>“To Stephen’s poor man? Why,
-you have been out nearly two
-hours! It did not take all that
-time to give your message?” said incredulous
-Nelly, and her heart beat
-with recent apprehension.</p>
-
-<p>“No; but Stephen’s poor man
-had a message for me. Sit down
-here, and I will tell you what it
-was. But how cold you are, darling!
-You are positively perished!
-Where have you been?”</p>
-
-<p>“Here,” said Nelly.</p>
-
-<p>“Ever since I went out?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ever since you went out.”</p>
-
-<p>“What were you doing?” he persisted,
-fixing a strange look on her.</p>
-
-<p>She blushed, hesitated, and then
-said simply, “I was praying for you,
-Marmaduke.”</p>
-
-<p>He folded her in his arms, and
-whispered, “I was right to say it
-was an angel sent me.”</p>
-
-<p>Then, taking a warm shawl that
-he saw hanging up, he wrapped
-her in it, and sat down beside her,
-and told the story as it had been
-told to him. When it was over,
-Nelly’s head was on his breast, and
-the brother’s tears of penitence
-were mingling with the sister’s
-tears of joy.</p>
-
-<p>“Let us go down now and tell
-Stephen,” said Marmaduke, when
-he had finished.</p>
-
-<p>“Will you tell him everything?”
-asked Nelly.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, everything.”</p>
-
-<p>“Dear Marmy! I am so happy
-I could sing for joy,” she said,
-smiling through her tears. “Let us
-kneel down here and say one little
-prayer together; will you?”</p>
-
-<p>And he did.</p>
-
-<p>“How did you thaw the man
-and break up the ice he seemed to
-be buried under?” was Stephen’s
-amazed inquiry when other more
-precious and interesting questions
-were exhausted.</p>
-
-<p>“I merely did what Nelly told
-me,” said Marmaduke: “I listened
-to him.”</p>
-
-<p>On Christmas morning Marmaduke
-announced his intention of
-dining out. It was a sacrifice to
-all three, but no one opposed him.
-Nelly made up a store of provisions,
-including a hot plum-pudding,
-which was put with other
-steaming hot dishes into the ample
-basket that the gay young man
-carried off in a cab with him to
-Red Pepper Lane. There he found
-a clean hearth, a blazing fire, and
-a table spread with a snowy cloth,
-and all necessaries complete.
-Some fairy had surely been at work
-in that gloomy place. The host
-was clean and brushed, looking
-like an eccentric gentleman in his
-new clothes amidst those incongruous
-surroundings. He and
-Marmaduke unpacked the basket
-with many an exclamation at its
-inexhaustible depths. That was
-the happiest, if not the very merriest,
-Christmas dinner that ever
-Marmaduke partook of.</p>
-
-<p>When it was over, and they were
-puffing a quiet cigar over the fire,
-steps were heard on the rickety
-stairs, and then a knock at the
-door, and a silvery voice saying:
-“May we come in?” It was Stephen
-and Nelly.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t see why you should
-have all the pleasure to yourself,”
-said Nelly, with her bright laugh;
-“you would never have been here
-at all if I had not teased you into
-taking the message!”</p>
-
-<p class="break">If this were a romance instead
-of a true episode, the story should
-end by the some-time rag-and-bone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[473]</a></span>
-man becoming a Catholic, rising to
-wealth and distinction, and marrying
-Nelly. But the events of real
-life don’t adjust themselves so conveniently
-to the requirements of
-the story-teller. Stephen Walpole
-got Mr. Botfield a situation in the
-post-office, where, by good conduct
-and intelligent diligence, he rose
-gradually to a position of trust,
-which was highly paid. He never
-married. Who knows? Perhaps
-he had his little romance, and
-never dared to tell it.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH CONGRESS.</h3>
-
-<p>The second annual Congress of
-the Protestant Episcopal Church in
-the United States was held at Philadelphia
-during the early part of November.
-Church congresses are new
-things in this country, and the Episcopalians
-are not yet quite at home in
-them. Their first experiment, made
-at New York in 1874, was not wholly
-successful. Some of their leading
-bishops and presbyters treated it
-rather cavalierly, apparently in the
-fear that it was going to weaken the
-bonds of ecclesiastical discipline,
-and open vexatious questions which
-the church for years had been expending
-all its learning and ingenuity
-in trying <em>not</em> to answer. But church
-congresses seemed to be very proper
-and respectable things for every denomination
-which laid claim to antiquity:
-they are common in the
-mother-church of England; they
-are efficient and interesting organizations
-in what our Anglican friends
-are pleased to call the Roman
-branch of the church of Christ;
-Dr. Döllinger has them regularly in
-the Old-Catholic “branch”; and so
-the originators of the movement in
-the American “branch” have persevered
-in their attempt to establish
-them here. The meeting in Philadelphia
-appears to have been all that its
-promoters could have reasonably expected.
-The denominational papers
-of various shades of opinion
-concur in believing that the permanency
-of the Congress as an annual
-institution is now nearly secured;
-and we find one of these journals rejoicing
-that the meeting passed off
-with “entire cordiality,” and that
-nothing in the proceedings “elicited
-prejudice or excited hostile action.”
-This indeed was something to boast
-of. Perhaps it would have been
-still more gratifying had not the
-same paper explained that this unexpected
-peaceableness of the Congress
-arose “from the fact that no
-resolutions were adopted, no legislation
-proposed, no elections held.
-When any of these are distinctly in
-view, those who participate range
-themselves into parties, and it is
-almost impossible not to resort to
-measures to ensure victory which
-generate unkind feelings and provoke
-exaggerated statements.” All
-which gives us a queer idea of the
-manner in which the Holy Ghost is
-supposed to operate in the councils
-of the Protestant Episcopal Church.
-But no matter. Let us be glad, for
-the sake of propriety, that this was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[474]</a></span>
-merely a meeting for talk, and not
-for action. The strict rules applicable
-to conventions, synods, and
-other business meetings were not
-in force. The topics of discussion
-were not so much points of doctrine
-as minor questions of discipline and
-methods of applying the machinery
-of the church to the every-day work
-of religion. And with the knowledge
-that no vote was to be taken
-upon any subject whatever, the
-Congress unanimously agreed to let
-every man say what he pleased.
-The great variety of irreconcilable
-things which it accordingly pleased
-the gentlemen to say seems to have
-attracted remark, and denominational
-papers point to it with pride
-as a proof of the large toleration
-allowed within the bosom of the
-church. If they like it, far be it
-from us to interfere with their enjoyment.</p>
-
-<p>The Episcopal Church is one of
-the largest and richest of the Protestant
-sects. Its clergy are popularly
-supposed to boast of more
-general culture and enjoy fuller opportunities
-for study than those of
-the other religious bodies, and its
-people are found in large numbers
-among the educated and well-to-do
-classes. A congress of this church,
-gathered from all parts of the country,
-representing all shades of opinion,
-and possessing almost unbounded
-facilities for talk and deliberation,
-ought therefore to have
-elicited a great deal that was worth
-remembering. The programme of
-the sessions was stated in an alluring
-manner by Bishop Clarke, of
-Rhode Island, who made the introductory
-address. “We come,”
-said he, “to consider how the doctrine
-and organization of the church
-can be brought most effectually to
-sanctity”; and then he went on
-to speak briefly of the particular
-things, in our daily experience,
-which the church ought to purify
-and bless&mdash;our business affairs, our
-amusements, our care of the poor,
-our family relations, the marriage
-tie&mdash;practical points all of them,
-and points, too, in which the church
-and the state are more or less in
-contact.</p>
-
-<p>Well, having laid out this plan
-of work, how did the Congress address
-itself to it? The first session
-gave a rather curious illustration
-of the practical spirit of the
-assemblage; for the reverend gentlemen,
-by way of “bringing the
-doctrine and organization of the
-church most effectually to sanctity,”
-rushed straightway with hot haste
-into the subject of “ultramontanism
-and civil authority,” and
-pounded upon the doors of the
-Vatican the whole afternoon. The
-Rev. Francis Wharton, D.D., of
-Cambridge, Mass., was careful in
-the outset to distinguish between
-ultramontanism and the Roman
-Catholic Church in the United
-States. The mass of us, he believes,
-have always been loyal to the
-territory of whose population we
-form a part, but our loyalty has no
-connection with our religion. If
-we followed the teachings of our
-church, Dr. Wharton thinks we
-should be a dangerous set of
-people. “Ultramontanism teaches
-that the Pope, a foreign prince, deriving
-his support from a foreign
-civilization, is entitled to set aside
-governments which he considers
-disloyal, and to annul such institutions
-as he does not approve.” We
-confess that we do not know what
-Dr. Wharton means by the Pope
-deriving his support from a foreign
-civilization. If he means his physical
-support, then the doctor is
-both wrong and right; for that is
-derived from the faithful of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[475]</a></span>
-whole world. If he means that his
-authority is derived from a foreign
-civilization, then the doctor is apparently
-irreverent; for the papal
-authority is derived from the institution
-of Our Lord Jesus Christ,
-and surely a respectable Cambridge
-divine would not call that a foreign
-civilization.</p>
-
-<p>As for the distinction which is
-drawn between American and ultramontane
-Catholics, let us repudiate
-it with all possible warmth
-before we go any further. Ultramontanism
-is an objectionable word,
-because it was invented to localize
-a school of religious doctrine which
-is the only <em>catholic</em> school&mdash;the
-school acknowledged all over the
-world; but if it be understood as
-defining that spirit of faith and piety
-which yields all love and obedience
-to the Vicar of Christ, accepts
-all the Vatican decrees gladly and
-without reserve, is not afraid of
-paying too much respect to the
-Holy See, or showing too much
-humility before God, or believing
-one little particle more than we are
-commanded to believe under pain
-of anathema, then the Catholics of
-America are ultramontane Catholics
-to a man. Probably there are
-no Catholics in any country of the
-world less disposed to compromise
-in matters of religious duty, and
-more thoroughly imbued with filial
-reverence and love for the Head
-of God’s church on earth, than the
-Catholics of the United States.
-The spirit of the church in Rome
-is the spirit of the church in America;
-and when Dr. Wharton asserts
-that “the political tenets of ultramontanism
-are repudiated by the
-leading Catholic statesmen of our
-land,” he makes an utterly erroneous
-statement, against which American
-Catholics will be the first to
-protest. It is very true that with
-the fictitious ultramontanism conceived
-of his fears and prejudices
-neither Americans nor any other
-sensible people have the slightest
-sympathy. But show us what Rome
-teaches, and there you have precisely
-what the church in the United
-States accepts. If it is true, therefore
-that the Pope claims authority “to
-set aside governments which he
-considers disloyal, and to annul
-such institutions as he does not
-approve,” it must be true that
-America upholds his pretensions.
-Dr. Wharton may live in the fear
-that His Holiness will some day
-send the Noble Guard to set aside
-the government of Gen. Grant
-whenever it becomes “disloyal”;
-while he may well feel an absolute
-certainty that our common-school
-system, our constitutional prohibition
-of the establishment of a state
-church, our laws against sectarian
-appropriations, and various other
-wicked and heretical provisions
-found on our statute-books, will
-sooner or later be “annulled” by
-a decree from the Vatican. He
-need not flatter himself that any
-superior enlightenment among the
-Catholics of America will save the
-Protestant community from the
-miserable fate in store for it. We
-are not a bit wiser or better than
-the Pope.</p>
-
-<p>The possible interference of the
-Vatican with our Congresses and
-ballot-boxes Dr. Wharton evidently
-regards as a very remote danger.
-There are points, however, he
-thinks, where the Vatican clashes
-every day with the civil power, and
-where it ought to be resisted with
-all the energy at our command.
-And just at this part of the reverend
-doctor’s address we should like
-very much to have seen the face of
-Bishop Clarke. In his introductory
-remarks Bishop Clarke told the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[476]</a></span>
-Congress that one of the most important
-subjects for churchmen to
-consider was the influence or authority
-of the church over the family
-relations. “The Gospel obtained
-hold of the family before it
-touched the state. How does the
-condition of the marriage bond
-stand to-day? In some of our
-States it is as easy to solve it as it
-is to join it. Is this the religion
-of which we have made such
-boast?” But here, before the
-echoes of the bishop’s words
-have fairly died away, is the
-Rev. Dr. Wharton on his feet
-denouncing as a crime the very interference
-which Bishop Clarke inculcated
-as a duty. It is one of
-the usurpations of ultramontanism,
-says the Cambridge doctor, to annul
-civil marriages which the state
-holds binding, and to treat as invalid
-divorces which the state holds
-good. This is one of the most serious
-conflicts between the state
-and the Vatican, and it is one, if
-we understand aright the somewhat
-imperfect report of his remarks,
-in which Protestant Episcopalians
-must prepare themselves to take
-an earnest part, remembering that,
-while their church is free, it is “a
-free church within a free sovereign
-state, and that this state, in its own
-secular sovereignty, is supreme.”
-Here, then, we have a distinct declaration
-that the family relation is
-not a proper subject of religious
-regulation. If the state sees fit to
-make it as easy to loose the marriage
-bond as to tie it, the church
-has no right to object; it is a secular
-matter, and the free sovereign
-state is supreme in its own secular
-sovereignty. If the state sanctions
-an adulterous connection, the
-Protestant Episcopal Church must
-revise its Bible and bless the unholy
-tie; it is a secular matter, and
-the free sovereign state is supreme
-in its own secular sovereignty.
-The sanctity of the family relation
-is under the protection of the
-church, says Bishop Clarke. No
-such thing, replies Dr. Wharton&mdash;that
-is an insolent ultramontane
-pretension; the Protestant Episcopal
-Church knows its place, and
-does not presume to interfere with
-the legislature. “The Gospel obtained
-hold of the family before it
-touched the state,” says the bishop.
-“Oh! well, we have changed
-all that,” rejoins the doctor; the
-glory of the Protestant Episcopal
-gospel nowadays is that it lets
-the family alone. In point of fact,
-Episcopalianism is not quite so
-bad as this hasty advocate would
-have us believe; for it does censure,
-in a mild way, the laxity of some
-of the divorce laws, and does not
-always lend itself to the celebration
-of bigamous marriages. But Dr.
-Wharton is correct in his main position&mdash;that
-his church leaves to the
-state the control of the family relation;
-and if she shrinks from the
-logical consequences of her desertion
-of duty, that is only because a
-remnant of Catholic feeling remains
-to her in the midst of her
-heresies and contradictions. The
-time must come, however, when
-these illogical fragments of truth
-will be thrown away, and the Protestant
-Episcopal Church will take
-its place beside the other Protestant
-bodies in renouncing all right
-to be heard on one of the most important
-points of contact between
-the law of God and the concerns
-of every-day life. It is impossible
-to allow the civil power to bind
-and loose the family tie at pleasure,
-without admitting that the subject
-is entirely outside the domain of
-ecclesiastical supervision. The attempt
-of the Episcopal Church to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[477]</a></span>
-compromise on adultery is an absurdity,
-and in the steady course
-of Protestant development it will
-surely be abolished.</p>
-
-<p>Is there any particular in which
-the Protestant Episcopal Church
-fairly takes hold of the family? We
-have seen that she abandons to
-politicians the sacred tie between
-the parents; what has she to do
-with the next domestic concern&mdash;the
-education of the child? Dr.
-Wharton holds it to be one of her
-distinguishing claims to public
-favor that she abandons this duty
-also to the secular power. The
-right to control education, according
-to him, is, like the right to sanction
-the marriage tie, one of the insolent
-pretensions of the Vatican
-usurper. The state, he thinks, is
-bound not only to educate all its
-subjects, but to decide what points
-a secular education shall cover,
-while the church may only add to
-this irreligious training such pious
-instruction as the child may have
-time and strength to receive after
-the more serious lessons are over.
-“The church,” he says, “concedes
-to the state the right and duty to
-require a secular education from all,
-while for itself it undertakes, as a
-free church in a free state, the right
-and duty to give a religious education
-to all within its reach.” Expressed
-in somewhat plainer English,
-this means that thirty hours a
-week ought to be given to the dictionary
-and multiplication table,
-and one hour to the catechism and
-the ten commandments. Send your
-children to schools all the week
-where they will hear nothing whatever
-of religion, where that most
-vital of all concerns will be a forbidden
-subject, where the idea will
-be practically, if not in so many
-words, impressed upon their tender
-minds that it is of no consequence
-whether they are Christians, or
-Jews, or infidels, so long as they
-master the various branches of
-worldly knowledge which promote
-success in the secular affairs of
-life; and then get them into Sunday-school
-if you can, for a wild
-and ineffectual attempt to counteract
-the evil tendencies of the previous
-six days’ teachings. This is
-trying to give a Christian education
-without the corner-stone of Christian
-doctrine; building a house
-upon the sand, and then running
-around it once a week with a hatful
-of pebbles and a trowel of mud to
-put a foundation under the finished
-structure. Dr. Wharton seems to
-embody in his own person a surprising
-variety of the inconsistencies
-for which the Protestant Episcopal
-Church has such a peculiar
-celebrity. For here, after he has
-claimed credit for his church as the
-champion of a secular education,
-he tells the Congress that secularism
-is one of the great dangers of
-the age, against which the church
-must fight with all her strength.
-“The battle with secularism has to
-be fought out.” It must be fought
-“by the church, and eminently by
-our own church. Our duty therefore
-is to fit ourselves for the encounter,
-and we must do this with
-the cause of religion, undertaking
-in its breadth and embracing all
-branches of religious, spiritual, and
-ethical culture.” Well, but, dear
-sir, you have just said that during
-the most important period of man’s
-intellectual development, when the
-mind is receiving impressions which
-are likely to last through life, the
-church ought to stand aside and
-let the state <em>teach</em> secularism without
-hindrance. Are you going to
-cultivate secularism in the young
-until it becomes firmly rooted, and
-then fight against it with sermons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[478]</a></span>
-and essays which your secularized
-young men will not listen to? How
-do you expect to impart religious,
-spiritual, and ethical culture when
-you have formally renounced your
-inestimable privilege and your sacred
-duty as a guide and teacher
-of children? You propose to wait
-until your boys have come to man’s
-estate before you attempt to exercise
-any influence upon them; and
-then, when they have grown up
-with the idea that religious influence
-ought to be avoided as one
-avoids pestilence, you wonder and
-complain that they are indifferent
-to the church and will not hear
-you. “The battle with secularism
-has to be fought out.” Your way
-of fighting is to abandon the outposts,
-leave front and rear and
-flanks unprotected, and throw
-away your arms.</p>
-
-<p>It was one of the peculiarities of
-the Congress that whatever error
-was promulgated in the essays and
-debates, somewhere in the course
-of the sessions an antidote was sure
-to be furnished&mdash;this being an illustration,
-we suppose, of the extreme
-toleration of opinion to which Bishop
-Clarke referred as “somewhat
-singular” in a church “so
-fixed in its doctrines.” Hence we
-need not be surprised to find in the
-second day’s proceedings a refutation
-of the educational theories propounded
-during the first. Dr.
-Wharton made use of the principle
-of secular schooling as a weapon
-of offence against the Vatican. But
-when the delegates had relieved
-their minds and vindicated their
-Protestant orthodoxy by giving the
-poor Pope about as much as he
-could stagger away with, they turned
-their attention to their own condition,
-and one of their first subjects
-of inquiry was what secular education
-had done for them. The topic
-of consideration on the second
-morning was “The Best Methods
-of Procuring and Preparing Candidates
-for the Ministry.” Dr.
-Schenck of Brooklyn began by stating
-that the supply of candidates
-for holy orders was not only inadequate
-to the needs of the church,
-but it was falling off&mdash;a smaller
-number offering themselves to-day
-than six or seven years ago. This,
-said he, should excite the gravest
-concern of the church; and nobody
-seemed disposed to contradict him.
-Dr. Edward B. Boggs indeed presented
-some uncomfortable statistics
-which tell the whole story. In
-1871, the number of resident presbyters
-of the Episcopal Church in
-the United States was 2,566; in
-1874, it was only 2,530. Here, then
-while the population increases the
-clergy are diminishing. A great
-many reasons were suggested for
-the phenomenon. One thought the
-question of salary was at the bottom
-of the evil. Another blamed
-mothers for not giving their boys a
-taste for the ministry while they
-were young. A third believed
-the trouble was too little prayer
-and too much quarrelling over candles
-and ecclesiastical millinery.
-And more than one hinted in the
-broadest terms that the ministry
-was discredited by having too many
-fools in it.<a name="FNanchor_174" id="FNanchor_174"></a><a href="#Footnote_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a> The truth, however,
-which had been vaguely suggested
-by some of the earlier speakers,
-was plumply told by Dr. Edward
-Sullivan of Chicago. “The
-church,” said he, “must learn to
-supply the ranks of the ministry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[479]</a></span>
-from her own material”&mdash;that is to
-say, by giving the children of the
-church a Christian education. He
-lamented the exclusion of the Bible
-from some of the common schools
-as a national calamity&mdash;not, if we
-understand him, because he has any
-overweening faith in the efficacy of
-Bible-reading <i lang="la">per se</i>, but because
-he knows that when positive religious
-teaching is banished from the
-school, the children can hardly fail
-to grow up without any religious
-feeling whatever. “<em>Until we establish
-parochial church schools</em>,” he
-continued, “<em>we can never solve this
-problem.</em>” And he might have added
-that if the teaching of secularism
-is to be continued for a generation
-or two longer, the problem will
-solve itself: there will be no need
-of preachers when there cease to be
-congregations.</p>
-
-<p>If such an alarming phenomenon
-as an actual falling off in the numbers
-of the clergy were noticed in
-our own holy church, it would perhaps
-occur to good Catholics to inquire
-whether the bishops were doing
-all that they ought to do for the
-souls of their people. But the
-Episcopal Congress at Philadelphia
-seems to have been vexed with the
-idea that the bishops were doing
-entirely too much. Looking at the
-assemblage from the outside, we
-cannot pretend to see the under-currents
-of opinion, or to comprehend
-the denominational politics;
-but it was plain both from the tone
-of the addresses in the session set
-apart for considering the “Nature
-and Extent of Episcopal Authority”
-and from the manner in which some
-of the remarks of the speakers were
-received, that a jealousy of episcopal
-authority prevailed with considerable
-bitterness. Dr. Vinton of Boston
-drew a parallel between the government
-of the church and the government
-of the state; both were ruled
-by executives appointed by law and
-controlled by law, and in each case
-the chief officer acted by the assumed
-authority of those he governed.
-The bishops therefore, we
-infer, have just as much power as
-the people choose to give them, and
-we see no reason why the congregations
-should not enlarge and restrict
-that power at pleasure&mdash;make a new
-constitution, if they wish, every
-year, and treat their prelates as the
-savage treats his idol, which he sets
-upon an altar for worship in the
-morning, and if things go not well
-with him, kicks into the kennel at
-night. Indeed, since the foundation
-of the Anglican Church the
-episcopate has always been treated
-with scant ceremony. Dr. Vinton
-tells us that it is a reflex of the political
-organization, and as that has
-varied a great deal in England and
-America, and is not unlikely in the
-course of time to vary a great deal
-more, we must not be surprised to
-find the system undergoing many
-strange modifications and holding
-out the promise of further change
-indefinitely. In the primitive
-church, the episcopacy was a despotism.
-In the Anglican Church, it
-is “merely an ecclesiastical aristocracy.”
-In the Protestant Episcopal
-Church of America, where the exigencies
-of politics have to be considered,
-it is&mdash;well, that is just what the
-Congress tried in vain to determine.
-For one thing, Dr. Vinton and other
-speakers after him laid great stress
-upon the fact that its authority was
-carefully circumscribed by statute,
-and that the church was a corporation&mdash;though
-whence it derived its
-charter nobody was good enough
-to tell us. In truth, we did not
-find the day’s proceedings edifying.
-Dr. Vinton declared that an organic
-evil of the church constitution,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[480]</a></span>
-“boding more of mischief and sorrow
-to the body of Christ than any
-or all of the evils besides that our
-age makes possible,” was the liability
-of bishops to grow arrogant
-of power, to make their authority
-troublesome, to put on idle pomp,
-and set themselves “in conspicuous
-difference from the taste, the traditions,
-the educated and intelligent
-convictions which the providence
-of God has caused to rule in this
-land.” Dr. Fulton of Indianapolis
-inveighed with warmth against
-any bishop who ventured to intrude
-into another man’s diocese,
-and remarked that “some bishops
-were never at home unless they
-were abroad.” A bishop, continued
-the doctor, is subject to civil
-law. He should be tried for violation
-of the ninth commandment
-if he wilfully slander a clergyman
-either in or out of his own diocese.
-Bishops must not affect infallibility
-in doctrinal utterances. They
-must remember that in more than
-one respect they and their presbyters
-are equals. A bishop who
-would be respected must respect
-the rights of other bishops&mdash;not
-being an episcopal busybody in
-other men’s sees. Dr. Goodwin
-of Philadelphia thought that what
-our Lord meant to have was “a
-moderate episcopate.” Dr. Washburn
-of New York believed that
-even the powers granted to the
-apostles were not exclusive, and
-that ever since the apostolic age
-these powers had been gradually
-more and more distributed, until
-now, we should think, they must
-be so finely divided that no fragment
-of them is anywhere visible
-in the Episcopal Church.</p>
-
-<p>Dr. J. V. Lewis convulsed the
-house with laughter by a speech
-in which he declared that the bishops
-had been so “tied hand and
-foot by conventions and canons
-that it was wonderful they had time
-to do anything but find out what
-they must not do”; and he called
-upon the church to “cut those
-bands and let the bishops loose.”
-We quote from the report of his
-remarks in the <cite>Church Journal</cite>:
-“What will they do? He would
-tell them what they would do. He
-had at home in his yard six chickens
-about half-grown. He had
-placed among them a turkey big
-enough to eat any of them up.
-But they all flew at him. One little
-fellow pecked him and spurred
-him savagely. The turkey looked
-on in perfect astonishment, apparently;
-but at length he spread out
-his wings and literally <em>sat down</em>
-upon him. From that day to this,
-whenever that turkey stirs, these
-chickens cannot be kept from following
-him. And this is just what
-will happen in the church, if we
-will only let our bishops loose.”
-All this was the cause of much innocent
-hilarity among the brethren;
-but we fear that it was to Dr. Lewis
-that the <cite>Churchman</cite> referred the
-next week in the following solemn
-strain: “It is a sad circumstance
-that the ministry has in it, here
-and there, a professional joker and
-cheap story-teller and anecdote-monger,
-one of the most tedious
-and least estimable types of foolishness
-that try Christian endurance
-and vex religious families. It is
-to be hoped no such melancholy-moving
-buffoon will ever propose
-himself as clown to the Church
-Congress; and, short of that, will
-it be wise to confer the award of
-the heartiest and loudest applause
-on a sort of comic pleasantry and
-‘jesting not convenient’ which,
-at best, is outdone in its own line
-in whole columns of daily newspapers?
-We may smile, because it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[481]</a></span>
-cannot be helped, but we can surely
-reserve our plaudits&mdash;if they must
-be given at all&mdash;for that species of
-superiority which manifests a chaste
-refinement and suits tastes that are
-intellectual rather than jovial.”</p>
-
-<p>Clearly there was a great deal
-more in these essays on the limitations
-of episcopal authority than
-met the profane eye. Who are the
-trespassers upon other men’s sheepfolds,
-and the busybodies, and the
-slanderers, and the pompous bishops,
-and the infallible bishops,
-and the bishops who think themselves
-better than their presbyters,
-it is not for us to inquire. Neither
-perhaps would it be decorous to
-ask how the ten or twelve bishops
-in the Congress&mdash;none of whom
-opened their mouths during the
-debate&mdash;enjoyed the session. But
-there is excellent reason to believe
-that the presbyters had a very
-pleasant day, singing the opening
-hymn in the morning, “Come, gracious
-Spirit, heavenly dove,” with
-peculiar unction, and joyously dismissing
-their right reverend fathers
-in the afternoon with the verses,
-“Go forth, ye heralds, in my name.”</p>
-
-<p>If the bishops are in disrepute
-and the inferior clergy are falling
-away, it can hardly be necessary to
-tell us that the church has no real
-hold upon the people; that follows
-as a matter of course. Accordingly,
-the most interesting of the debates
-were on the best methods of
-giving vitality to the work of the
-church&mdash;on ministrations to the laboring
-classes, on free churches and
-free preaching, on the abuses of
-the new system, and on the need
-of something equivalent to the
-preaching Orders and Congregations
-of our own church. Of all the papers
-read at the Congress the only
-one which was received with what
-we may fairly call enthusiasm was
-an essay by Mr. Francis Wells, editor
-of the Philadelphia <cite>Evening
-Bulletin</cite>, on the “Parochial System
-and Free Preaching,” at the close
-of which one of the reverend delegates
-jumped upon a bench and
-led the assembly in three cheers.
-We have seen no report which gives
-a fair abstract of Mr. Wells’ paper,
-or even explains what practical
-suggestions he had to offer, so that
-it is impossible to understand what
-it was that moved the feelings of
-the Congress. But if he drew a
-faithful picture of the average
-Episcopal Church of our day he
-may well have startled his audience.
-“The chief trouble,” he
-said, “lies in the spirit of exclusiveness
-which eyes the fashion of
-the dress and warns off strangers
-with a cold stare.” He was quite
-right in holding that the renting of
-pews and the expenditure of large
-sums of money for the adornment
-of the house of God are not necessarily
-obstacles to the influence of
-the church over the masses. Our
-own experience proves that. What
-poor and ragged sinner was ever
-repelled from a Catholic Church
-by imposing architecture, or gorgeous
-windows, or the blazing magnificence
-of lighted altars, or the
-strains of costly music? The rich
-have their pews&mdash;at least in this
-country, where it is only by pew-rents
-that we can meet the necessary
-expenses of the parish&mdash;but
-the most wretched beggar feels that
-he is welcome at all times in the
-splendid temple, and he may kneel
-there, feasting the senses, if he
-pleases, as well as refreshing the
-soul, without fear that his more
-comfortable neighbor will stare at
-his humble garments. Whatever
-the character of our churches, it is
-always the poor who fill them. It
-never occurs to a Catholic that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[482]</a></span>
-people who pay pew-rents acquire
-any proprietorship in the house of
-God, or have any better right there
-than those who pay nothing. The
-sermons are never made for the
-rich, and the Holy Sacrifice is offered
-for all indiscriminately. But
-in the Episcopal Church how different
-it is!</p>
-
-<p>Imagine the feelings of a mechanic
-who approaches one of the luxurious
-Fifth-Avenue temples in his
-patched and stained working trowsers
-and threadbare coat. Carriages
-are setting down the <i lang="fr">haut ton</i> at the
-door, every lady dressed in the extreme
-of fashion, every gentleman
-carefully arrayed by an expensive
-tailor. A high-priced sexton, with
-rather more dignity than an average
-bishop, receives the distinguished
-arrivals just inside the lobby,
-and scrutinizes strangers with the
-air of an expert who has learned by
-long experience in the highest circles
-just what kind of company
-every casual visitor has probably
-been in the habit of keeping. The
-interior of the church somehow
-suggests a Madison-Avenue parlor,
-furnished in the latest style of imitation
-antique. The upholstery is
-a marvel of comfort. The pleasantly
-subdued light suits the eyes
-and softens the complexions of
-Christians who have been up late
-dancing. A decorous quiet pervades
-the waiting congregation,
-broken only by the rustle of five-dollar
-silks sweeping up the aisles.
-Such a handsome display of millinery
-can be seen nowhere else for
-so little money. What is a working-man
-to do in such a brilliant gathering
-as this? He looks timidly at
-the back seats, and he finds there
-perhaps two or three old women,
-parish pensioners, Sunday-school
-boys, or young men who keep near
-the door in order to slip out quietly
-when they are tired of the services,
-but nobody of his class. The prosperous
-people all around him listen
-to the choir, and the reader, and
-the preacher, with an indescribable
-air of proprietorship in all of them.
-The sermon is an elaborate essay
-addressed to cultivated intellects,
-not to his common understanding.
-He goes away with the uncomfortable
-consciousness that he has been
-intruding, and feels like a shabby
-and unkempt person who has strolled
-by mistake into the stockholders’
-row at the Italian Opera, and been
-turned out by a high-toned box-keeper.
-“It is indeed hard to imagine,”
-said <cite>The Nation</cite> the other
-day, “anything more likely to make
-religion seem repelling to a poor
-man than the sight of one of the
-gorgeous edifices in which rich
-Christians nowadays try to make
-their way to heaven. Working out
-one’s salvation clothed in the height
-of the fashion, as a member of a
-wealthy club, in a building in which
-the amplest provision is made for
-the gratification of all the finer
-senses, must seem to a thoughtful
-city mechanic, for instance, something
-in the nature of a burlesque.
-Not that the building is too good
-for the lofty purpose to which it is
-devoted, for nobody ever gets an
-impression of anything but solemn
-appropriateness from a great Catholic
-cathedral, but that it is the
-property of a close corporation,
-who, as it might be said, ‘make up
-a party’ to go to the Throne of
-Grace, and share the expenses
-equally, and fix the rate so high
-that only successful businessmen
-can join.”</p>
-
-<p>But we heed not enlarge upon
-the prevalence of this evil. The
-speakers at the Congress recognized
-it frankly, and they are undoubtedly
-aware, though they may not have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[483]</a></span>
-deemed it prudent to confess, that
-the case is growing more and more
-serious all the time. As wealth
-concentrates in the large cities and
-habits of luxury increase, the Protestant
-Episcopal Church is continually
-becoming colder and colder
-towards the poor. No remedy that
-has been proposed holds out the
-faintest promise of stopping this
-alarming decline. No remedy proposed
-even meets the approbation
-of any considerable number of the
-Episcopal clergy. One speaker proposes
-a greater number of free
-congregations, and is met by the
-obvious objection that the result
-would be a still more lamentable
-separation between rich and poor,
-with a different class of churches
-for each set. Another recommends
-the bishops to send missionary
-preachers into every parish where
-there seems to be need of their
-labor, but does not tell us where
-the missionaries are to be found,
-and forgets that almost every parish
-in the United States would have to
-be supplied in this way before the
-evil could be cured. A third advises
-the rich and poor to meet together,
-and fraternize and help each
-other; and a fourth calls for more
-zeal all around. All these proposals
-are merely various ways of
-stating the disease; they do not
-indicate remedies. Perhaps it may
-occur to some people that if the
-Catholic Church and the Episcopal
-Church correspond so closely in
-their outward operations, both striving
-to celebrate divine worship with
-all possible splendor, both building
-costly churches and supporting
-them by pew-rents, both employing
-highly paid choirs, both keeping up
-a system of parishes, and if all the
-while the one gathers people of
-every rank and condition into her
-fold, offering health and consolation
-to all alike, while the other is constantly
-losing the affections of the
-multitude and becoming a lifeless
-creature of forms and fashions, the
-explanation of the difference after
-all may be that the Holy Ghost
-lives and works in the one, while
-the other is only the device of man.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[484]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>YULE RAPS.<br />
-<i>A CHRISTMAS STORY.</i></h3>
-
-<p>We once saw a picture of a wide,
-undulating snow-landscape, overspread
-with a pale rosy tint from
-the west, and we thought it a fancy
-picture of an Arctic winter. It
-hung in a pretty room in a Silesian
-country-house. The weather was
-lovely, warm but temperate; it was
-mid-June, and the woods were full
-of wild strawberries, and the meadows
-of forget-me-nots. Yet that
-landscape was simply Silesia in
-the winter; the same place, six
-months later, becomes a wilderness
-of snow. What shall we say of
-Mecklenburg, then, so much farther
-to the north of Silesia? But even
-there winter brings merriment; and
-as in these snow-bound countries
-there is less work to be got through
-in the winter, their people associate
-the ideas of pleasure and holiday
-with the cold rather than the warm
-weather. In Mecklenburg spring,
-summer, and autumn mean work&mdash;ploughing,
-sowing, haying, harvesting;
-winter means fun and frolic,
-peasants’ dances, farmers’ parties,
-weddings, christenings, harvest-homes,
-Christmas, New Year’s, and
-Epiphany presents, gatherings of
-friends, fireside talk, innocent games,
-and general merriment.</p>
-
-<p>In a little village in this province
-the house of Emanuel Köhler was
-famous for its jollity. Here were
-old customs well kept up, yet always
-with decorum and a regard to
-higher matters. Emanuel was virtually
-master of the estate of Stelhagen,
-the absentee owner of which
-was a gay young officer who never
-wrote to his agent, except for a new
-supply of money. Clever and enlightened
-an agriculturist as old
-Köhler was, it was sometimes difficult
-for him to send the required
-sums, and yet have enough to farm
-the estate to his satisfaction. In
-the language of the country, he was
-called the inspector, and his house,
-also according to the local custom,
-was a kind of informal agricultural
-school. At the time of our story he
-had four young men under him&mdash;who
-were in all respects like the apprentices
-of the good old time&mdash;and two
-of his own relatives, his son and his
-nephew. His only daughter was
-busy helping her mother, and learning
-to be as efficient a housekeeper
-as the young men to be first-rate farmers;
-and this nucleus of young society,
-added to the good Köhler’s
-hearty joviality and the known
-good-cheer always provided by
-Frau Köhler, naturally made the
-large, cosey, rambling house a pleasant
-rendezvous for the neighborhood.
-The Köhler household was
-a host in itself, yet it always loved
-to be reinforced on festive occasions
-by the good people of the
-village and farms within ten miles
-round. So also the children, whether
-poor or pretty well off, were
-all welcome at old Emanuel’s, and
-knew the way to the Frau Inspectorin’s
-pantry as well as they knew
-the path to the church or the
-school. All the servant-girls in the
-neighborhood wanted to get a place
-in this house, but there was scarcely
-ever a vacancy, unless one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[485]</a></span>
-dairy-maids or the house-girls married.
-Frau Köhler and her daughter
-did all the kitchen work themselves,
-and the latter, a thoughtful
-girl, though she was only fifteen,
-studied books and maps between-whiles.
-But her studies never interfered
-with the more necessary
-knowledge that a girl should have
-when, as Rika,<a name="FNanchor_175" id="FNanchor_175"></a><a href="#Footnote_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a> she has to depend
-upon herself for everything. In
-the country, in the Mecklenburg of
-even a very few years ago, everything
-was home-made, and a supply
-of things from the large town
-twenty or thirty miles off was the
-event of a life-time. Such things
-came as wedding-gifts; and though
-fancy things came every Christmas,
-even they were carefully and sacredly
-kept as tokens of that miraculous,
-strange, bewildering world
-outside, in which people wore their
-silk dresses every day, and bought
-everything they wanted at large
-shops a few steps from their own
-houses. Frau Köhler often wondered
-what other women did who
-had no farm-house to manage, no
-spinning, or knitting, or cooking, or
-dairy-work to do; and when her
-daughter Rika suggested that they
-probably read and studied, she
-shrugged her shoulders and said:
-“Take care, child; women ought
-to attend to women’s work. Studying
-is a man’s business.”</p>
-
-<p>The honest soul was a type of
-many an old-fashioned German
-house-mother, of whose wisdom it
-were well that some of our contemporaries
-could avail themselves; and
-when Rika gently reminded her of
-the story of Martha and Mary, she
-would energetically reply:</p>
-
-<p>“Very well; but take my word
-for it, child, there was a woman
-more blessed than <em>that</em> Mary, and
-one who was nearer yet to her Lord;
-and we do not hear of <em>her</em> neglecting
-her house. I love to think of
-that house at Nazareth as just a
-model of household cleanliness and
-comfort. You know, otherwise, it
-could not have been a fitting place
-for <em>Him</em>; for though he chose poverty,
-he must needs have surrounded
-himself with spotless purity.”</p>
-
-<p>And Rika, as humble and docile
-as she was thoughtful, saw in this
-reverent and practical surmise a
-proof that it is not learning that
-comes nearest to the heart of truth,
-but that clearer and directer knowledge
-which God gives to “babes
-and sucklings.”</p>
-
-<p>This particular Christmas there
-was much preparation for the family
-festival. The kitchen was in a ferment
-for a week, and mighty bakings
-took place; gingerbread and
-cake were made, and various confectionery-work
-was done; for Frau
-Köhler expected a friend of her
-own early home to come and stay
-with her this last week of the year.
-This was the good old priest who
-had baptized her daughter; for
-neither mother nor daughter were
-natives of Mecklenburg, though
-the latter had grown up there, and
-had never, since she was six months
-old, gone beyond the limits of the
-large estate which her father administered.
-Frau Köhler was a Bavarian
-by birth, and had grieved very
-much when her Mecklenburg husband
-had taken her to this northern
-land, where his position and wages
-were so good as to make it his duty
-to abide and bring up his family.
-But the worthy old creature had done
-a wonderful deal of good since she
-had been there, and kept up her
-faith as steadfastly as ever she had at
-home. Frederika had been her treasure
-and her comfort; and between
-the mother’s intense, mediæval firmness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[486]</a></span>
-of belief, and the child’s naturally
-deep and thoughtful nature, the
-little farm-maiden had grown up a
-rare combination of qualities, and
-a model for the young Catholic
-womanhood of our stormy times.
-The old priest whom Frau Köhler
-had looked up to before her marriage
-as her best friend, and whom
-Rika had been taught to revere
-from her babyhood, had been very
-sick, and was obliged to leave his
-parish for a long holiday and rest.
-His former parishioner was anxious
-that he should see Christmas kept
-in the old-fashioned northern style,
-more characteristic than the Frenchified
-southern manners would now
-allow, even in her remote native
-village. Civilization carries with it
-the pick-axe and the rule; and when
-young girls begin to prefer Manchester
-prints and French bonnets to
-homespun and straw hats, most of
-the old customs slip away from their
-homes.</p>
-
-<p>In the sturdy Mecklenburg of
-twenty years ago, even after the
-temporary stir of 1848, things were
-pretty much as they had been for
-centuries, and it was Emanuel’s
-pride that his household should be,
-if needful, the last stronghold of
-the good old usages. He heartily
-acquiesced in his wife’s invitation
-to the southern guest, and resolved
-to have the best Christmas that had
-been known in the country since
-he had undertaken the care of the
-Stelhagen estate. In truth, he lived
-like a patriarch among his work-people;
-his laborers and their families
-were models of prosperity and
-content, and the children of all the
-neighborhood wished he were their
-grandfather. Indeed, he was godfather
-to half the village babies
-born during his stay there.</p>
-
-<p>The sleighs of the country were
-the people’s pride. Some were
-plain and strong, because their
-owners were not rich enough to
-adorn them, but others were quite
-a curiosity to the visitor from the
-south. They partook of the same
-quaintness as the old yellow family
-coaches that took the farmers to harvest-homes
-and weddings before the
-early snows came on. Lumbering,
-heavy-wheeled vehicles these were,
-swinging on high like a cradle tied
-to a couple of saplings in a storm;
-capacious as the house-mother’s
-apron-pockets on a baking day;
-seventy years old at least, barring
-the numerous patchings and mendings,
-new lining or new wheel,
-occasionally vouchsafed to the
-venerable representative of the
-family dignity. The sleighs were
-much gayer and a little less antiquated,
-because oftener used,
-and therefore oftener worn out; besides,
-there were fashions in sleighs
-even in this remote place&mdash;fashions
-indigenous to the population,
-each individual of which was capable
-of some invention when sleighs
-were in question. On Christmas
-Eve, long before it grew dark, many
-of these pretty or curious conveyances
-clattered up to the farm-house
-door. Some were laden with
-children two rows deep, all wrapped
-in knitted jackets, blankets,
-boas, etc., and here and there covered
-with a fur cap or furred hood;
-for knitting in this neighborhood
-supplied all with warm winter
-wraps, even better than woven or
-machine-made stuffs do nowadays.
-There were no single sleighs, no
-tiny, toy-like things made to display
-the rich toilet of the occupant
-and the skill of the fast driver
-by her side; here all were honest
-family vehicles, full of rosy
-faces like Christmas apples; hearty
-men and women who at three-score
-were almost as young as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[487]</a></span>
-their grandchildren on their bridal
-day; and young men and maidens
-who were not afraid to dance
-and move briskly in their plain,
-loose, home-spun and home-made
-clothes, nor to fall in love with
-German downrightness and honest,
-practical intentions. Most of
-these sleighs were red, picked
-out with black, or black liberally
-sprinkled with red; some
-were yellow and black, some yellow
-and blue, and in most the robe
-and cushions were of corresponding
-colors. Some of these robes
-had eagles embroidered in coarse
-patterns and thick wool, while others
-were of a pattern something
-like those used for bed-quilts; and
-some bore unmistakable witness to
-the thrift of the house-mother, and
-were skilfully pieced together out
-of carpet, curtain, blanket, and
-dress remnants, the whole bordered
-with some inexpensive fur. One
-or two sleighs bore a sort of figure-head&mdash;the
-head of a deer, or a fox,
-or a hawk&mdash;carved and let into
-the curling part of the front; while
-one party, who were gazed upon
-with mingled admiration and disapproval,
-went so far as to trail
-after them, for three or four feet
-behind the sleigh, and sweeping
-up the snow in their wake, a thick
-scarlet cloth of gorgeous appearance,
-but no very valuable texture.
-This was the doing of a young fellow
-who had lately been reading
-one or two romances of chivalry,
-and been much pleased with the
-“velvet housings of the horses,
-sweeping the ground as the knight
-rode to the king’s tournament.”
-His indulgent old mother and admiring
-sisters had but faintly remonstrated,
-and this was the consequence.
-The horses were not
-less bedecked than the vehicles.
-Silver bells hung from their harness
-and belted their bodies in various
-places; shining plates of metal
-and knobs driven into the leather
-made them as gay as circus-horses;
-while horse-cloths of variegated
-pattern were rolled up under
-the feet of their masters, ready for
-use whenever they stopped on the
-road.</p>
-
-<p>Emanuel himself had gone to
-the nearest town at which a stage-coach
-stopped, to welcome his wife’s
-friend and special guest, and entertained
-him with a flow of agricultural
-information and warm eulogy of
-the country through which they
-were speeding on their way home.
-He arrived at Stelhagen before the
-rush of country visitors, and was
-triumphantly taken through every
-part of the well-kept farm, while
-his meal was being prepared by
-Rika and the maids. But more
-than all, Frau Köhler, in her delight,
-actually made him “free” of
-the sacred, secret chamber where
-stood the <i lang="de">Christbaum</i>, already laden
-but unlighted, among its attendant
-tables and dishes. The old man
-was as innocently charmed as a
-seven-year-old child; it reminded
-him so of his own Christmas-tree in
-days when the simple customs of
-Germany were still unimpaired, and
-when it was the fashion to give
-only really useful things, with due
-regard to the condition and needs
-of the recipients.</p>
-
-<p>“But at the feasts to which my
-people ask me now,” said he, “I see
-children regaled with a multitude
-of unwholesome, colored <i lang="fr">bonbons</i>
-in boxes that cost quite as much as
-the contents, and servants given
-cheap silks or paste jewelry, and
-the friends or the master and mistress
-themselves loaded with pretty
-but useless knick-knacks, gilded
-toys that cost a great deal and
-make more show than their use warrants.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[488]</a></span>
-Times are sadly changed,
-Thekla, even since you were married.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, Herr Pfarrer, I have had
-little chance, and less wish, to see
-the change; and up here I think we
-still live as Noah’s sons after they
-came out of the ark,” said good
-Frau Köhler, with a broad smile at
-her own wit. As the day wore on,
-she and Rika left the <i lang="de">Pfarrer</i>
-(<i lang="fr">curé</i>) to Emanuel’s care, and again
-busied themselves about the serious
-coming festivity. She flew around,
-as active as a fat sparrow, with a
-dusting-cloth under her arm, whisking
-off with nervous hand every
-speck of dust on the mantel-piece
-or among the few books which lay
-conspicuously on the table in the
-best room; giving her orders to the
-nimble maids, welcoming the families
-of guests, and specially petting
-the children. Emanuel took
-the men under his protection, and
-gave them tobacco and pipes, and
-talked farming to them, while his
-own young home-squad whispered
-in corners of the coming tree and
-supper.</p>
-
-<p>At last Rika came out from the
-room where the mystery was going
-on, and, opening the door wide,
-let a flood of light into the dark
-apartment beyond. There was a
-regular blaze. The large tree stood
-on a low table, and reached nearly
-up to the ceiling. There were
-only lights, colored ribbons, and
-gilded walnuts hung upon it, but
-it quite satisfied the expectation of
-the good folk around it. Round
-the room were tables and stands
-of all kinds, crowded together, and
-barely holding all the dishes apportioned
-to each member of the party.
-The guests had secretly brought
-or sent their mutual presents; one
-family generally taking charge of its
-neighbor’s gifts, and <i lang="la">vice-versa</i>, that
-none might suspect the nature of
-their own. The tree, too, was a
-joint contribution of the several
-families; all had sent in tapers and
-nuts, and this it was that made it
-so full of bright things and necessitated
-its being so tall.</p>
-
-<p>On the middle table, under the
-tree itself, were dishes for the Köhler
-household, each one having a liberal
-allowance of apples, nuts, and
-gingerbread. Besides these, there
-were parcels, securely tied, laid by
-the dishes, and labelled with the
-names of their unconscious owners.
-Köhler was seized upon by his wife
-and daughter before anyone else was
-allowed to go forward&mdash;for in this
-old-fashioned neighborhood the
-head of the house is still considered
-in the light of an Abraham&mdash;and a
-compact parcel was put into his
-hands by Rika, while Thekla kissed
-him with hearty loudness. Next
-came the guest, whom Rika led to
-the prettiest china dish, and presented
-with a small, tempting-looking
-packet. Leaving him to open
-it at his leisure, she joined her
-young friends, and a good-natured
-scramble now began, each looking
-for his own name in some familiar
-handwriting, finding it, and opening
-the treasure with the eagerness
-of a child. It would be impossible
-to describe every present that thus
-came to view; but though many
-were pretty and elaborate, none
-were for mere show. Presently
-Frau Köhler was seen to take possession
-of her husband, and, pulling
-off his coat, made him try on the
-dressing-gown he had just drawn
-from his parcel. She turned him
-round like a doll, and clapped her
-hands in admiration at the perfect
-fit; then danced around to the
-other end of the room, and called
-out to the maids:</p>
-
-<p>“Lina! Bettchen! it is your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[489]</a></span>
-turn now; you have not been forgotten.
-Those are your dishes
-where the silver dollars are sticking
-in the apples.” The maids opened
-their parcels, and each found a
-bright, soft, warm dress, crimson
-and black. Then came George,
-the man who did most of the immediate
-work round the house, and
-found a bright red vest with steel
-buttons in his parcel. Frau Köhler
-was busy looking at other people’s
-things, when her husband
-slipped a neat, long packet on her
-dish, and, as she turned and saw
-the addition, she uttered an exclamation
-of joy. Rika helped her
-to unfold the stiff, rustling thing,
-when it turned out to be a black
-silk dress. Not every housewife in
-those days had one, and her last
-was nearly worn out. Then the
-old priest came forward to show
-the company his Christmas box;
-and what do you think it was?
-There was no doubt as to where it
-came from. It was a set of missal-markers,
-and in such taste as was
-scarcely to be expected in that
-time and neighborhood. Rika had
-designed it, and her mother had
-worked it; but many an anxious
-debate had there been over it, as
-the Frau Inspectorin had been at
-first quite vexed at what she called
-its plainness. It was composed of
-five thick <i lang="fr">gros-grain</i> ribbons, two
-inches wide and fifteen long.
-There was a red, a green, a white,
-a purple, and a black ribbon; and
-on each was embroidered a motto&mdash;on
-the red and green, in gold; on
-the white, in red; and on the black
-and purple, in silver. The letters
-were German, though the mottoes
-were in Latin, and each of the
-five referred to one of these events:
-our Lord’s birth, death, Resurrection,
-and Ascension, and the Coming
-of the Holy Ghost. At the end
-of each ribbon, instead of fringe or
-tassels, hung a cross of pure silver,
-into the ring of which the ribbon
-was loosely gathered. Every one
-crowded round this novel Christmas
-gift, and examined it with an admiration
-equally gratifying to the giver
-and the receiver. But Emanuel’s
-jolly voice soon broke the spell
-by saying:</p>
-
-<p>“These fine presents are very
-delightful to receive, no doubt, and
-the women-folk would not have
-been happy without some such
-thing; but we are all mortal, and I
-have not forgotten that my guest
-has feet and hands, and needs
-warmth and comfort as much as we
-of grosser clay.”</p>
-
-<p>And with this he thrust a large
-parcel into the <i lang="de">Pfarrer’s</i> arms.
-Every one laughed and helped him
-to open it; every one was curious
-to see its contents. They were, indeed,
-of a most substantial and
-useful kind: a foot-muff of scarlet
-cloth, lined and bordered with fur,
-and a pair of huge sealskin gloves.</p>
-
-<p>Scarcely had the parcel been
-opened when a hum of measured
-sound was heard outside, and presently
-a Christmas carol was distinctly
-audible. Everyone knew the words,
-and many joined in the song before
-the singers became visible. Then
-the door opened, and a troop of
-children came in, dressed in warm
-white furs and woollen wrappings,
-and carrying tapers and fir-branches
-in their hands. They
-sang a second carol, quaint and
-rustic in its words, but skilfully set
-to anything but archaic music, and
-then, in honor of their southern
-guest, they began <em>the</em> song of the
-evening, a few stanzas from the
-“Great Hymn” to the Blessed Virgin,
-by the Minnesinger, Gottfried of
-Strasburg, the translation of which,
-according to Kroeger, runs thus:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[490]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">XXV.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“God thee hath clothed with raiments seven;</div>
-<div class="verse">On thy pure body, drawn from heaven,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Hath put them even</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">When thou wast first created.</div>
-<div class="verse">The first one Chastity is named;</div>
-<div class="verse">The second is as Virtue famed;</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">The third is claimed</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">As Courtesy, well mated;</div>
-<div class="verse">The fourth dress is Humility;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The fifth is known as Pity;</div>
-<div class="verse">The sixth one, Faith, clings close to thee;</div>
-<div class="verse">The seventh, noble Modesty,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Leads gratefully</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Thee in the path of duty.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">XXVII.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Thou sun, thou moon, thou star so fair,</div>
-<div class="verse">God took thee from his own side there,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Here to prepare</div>
-<div class="verse">The birth of Christ within thee.</div>
-<div class="verse">For that his loved Child and thine,</div>
-<div class="verse">Which is our life and life’s sunshine,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Our bread and wine,</div>
-<div class="verse">To stay chaste, he did win thee;</div>
-<div class="verse">So that sin’s thorns could never touch</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Thy fruitful virtue’s branches.</div>
-<div class="verse">His burning love for thee did vouch,</div>
-<div class="verse">He kept thee from all sins that crouch:</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">A golden couch,</div>
-<div class="verse">Secured by his love’s trenches.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">XLVII.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-<div class="verse">“Rejoice now, thou salvation’s throne,</div>
-<div class="verse">That thou gavest birth to Him who won</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Our cause, thy Son,</div>
-<div class="verse">Our Saviour and our blessing.</div>
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">XLVIII.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Rejoice now, O thou sunshine mild,</div>
-<div class="verse">That on thy blessed breasts there smiled</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">God’s little Child&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Its earthly destination.</div>
-<div class="verse">Rejoice that then drew near to thee</div>
-<div class="verse">From foreign lands the wise kings three,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Noble and free,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To bring their adoration</div>
-<div class="verse">To thee and to that blessed Child,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With many a graceful off’ring.</div>
-<div class="verse">Rejoice now, that the star beguiled</div>
-<div class="verse">And to that place their pathway smiled</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Where, with thy Child,</div>
-<div class="verse">They worshipped thy sweet suff’ring.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“You are not so utterly unknowing
-of all gentle and learned pursuits
-as you would have had me
-believe,” said the <i lang="de">Pfarrer</i> to Frau
-Köhler. “It is not every child in
-Bavaria that could sing so well this
-Old-World poem, so graceful in its
-rhyming and so devout in its allusions.
-Our old XIIth-century poetry,
-the most national&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>, peculiar
-to our country&mdash;is too much superseded
-by noisy modern rhymes
-or sentimental ballads copied from
-foreign models. Have you any unknown
-scholar among your farmers
-and agents, who, you told me, made
-up a hearty but not a learned society
-here?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Frau Köhler, “there
-is the school-master, Heldmann,
-who is always poring over old useless
-books, but never can have a
-good dinner unless his friends send
-it to him, poor man! He is a bachelor,
-and cannot afford to have a
-housekeeper. And then there is
-one of our young gentlemen, who
-Köhler says is always in the clouds,
-and who spends all his spare time
-with Heldmann, while the other
-boys spend theirs with their pretty,
-rosy neighbors. By the way, Heldmann
-is coming to-night; but he
-said he could not come till late, as
-he had some important business
-which would detain him for an hour
-or two.”</p>
-
-<p>“You forget our Rika, mother,”
-said Emanuel, not heeding the last
-part of his wife’s sentence; “she is as
-wise as any of them, though she says
-so little. She knows all the old
-legends and poetry, and more besides,
-I warrant.”</p>
-
-<p>“Rika designed that missal-marker,”
-said the Frau Inspectorin
-proudly (she had found out, since
-it had been so admired, that her
-daughter’s instinct had guided her
-aright in the design).</p>
-
-<p>But Rika, hearing her name mentioned,
-had slipped away among
-the white-wrapped children, and
-was laying their tapers and fir-branches
-away, preparatory to giving
-them cakes and fruit. This was
-quite a ceremony, and when they
-were ready Frau Köhler, handing
-the large dish of nuts to the <i lang="de">Pfarrer</i>,
-begged him to distribute them, while
-she took charge of the gingerbread
-and Rika of the apples.</p>
-
-<p>It was funny to see the solemn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[491]</a></span>
-expectancy with which the children
-brought out dishes, mugs, pitchers,
-etc., in which to receive these
-Christmas gifts. Some of the girls
-held out their aprons, as more convenient
-and capacious receptacles
-than anything else they could lay
-hands on. One boy brought a
-large birthday cup, and another a
-wooden milk-bowl; another a small
-churn, while a fourth had carried
-off his father’s peck-measure, and a
-fifth calmly handed up a corn-sack,
-which he evidently expected to get
-filled to the brim. As Frau Köhler
-came to one of the children, she
-said:</p>
-
-<p>“Fritz, I saw you in the orchard
-last autumn stealing our apples.
-Now, naughty boys must not expect
-to get apples at Christmas if they
-take them at other times; so, Rika,
-don’t give him any. He shall have
-one piece of gingerbread, though.”
-A piteous disclaimer met this sentence;
-but the <i lang="de">Pfarrer</i> thrust a
-double quantity of nuts into the
-culprit’s basket, and passed on.
-Then once again Frau Köhler stopped
-and said; “Johann, didn’t I
-see you fighting with another boy
-in the churchyard two weeks ago,
-and told you that Santa Claus
-would forget you when he came
-to fill the stockings on Christmas
-night? I shall not give you any
-gingerbread.”</p>
-
-<p>“Franz knows we made it up
-again,” whined the boy, and Franz,
-with a roguish look, peeped out
-from his place in the row and said:
-“Yes, we did, Frau Inspectorin”;
-so both got their gingerbread. At
-last, this distribution being over,
-the children, laden with their gifts,
-went home to their own various
-firesides, not without many thanks
-to the “stranger within the gates”
-and his parting reminder, as he
-showed them the stars:</p>
-
-<p>“Look up at God’s own Christmas-tree,
-lighted up with thousands
-of tapers, children, and at
-the smooth, white snow spread over
-the fields. That is the white table-cloth
-which he has spread for the
-beautiful gifts which spring, and
-summer, and autumn are going to
-bring you, all in his own good
-time.”<a name="FNanchor_176" id="FNanchor_176"></a><a href="#Footnote_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a></p>
-
-<p>Then came another batch of visitors&mdash;the
-old, sick, and infirm people
-of the village; the spinning-women,
-the broom-tyers, the wooden
-bowl and spoon carvers, and
-the makers of wooden shoes; and
-some who could no longer work,
-but had been faithful and industrious
-in their time. They had something
-of the old costume on: the
-men wore blue yarn stockings and
-stout gray knee-breeches (they had
-left their top-boots outside; for the
-snow was deep and soft, and they
-needed them all the winter and
-through most of the spring); and
-the women had large nodding caps
-and black silk handkerchiefs folded
-across their bosoms. Each of
-these old people got a large loaf of
-plain cake and some good stout
-flannel; and these things, according
-to the local etiquette, the inspector
-himself delivered to them as the
-representative of his young master.
-This distribution was an old custom
-on the Stelhagen estate, and,
-though the present owner was careless
-enough in many things, he
-wished this usage to be always
-kept up. Even if he had not, it is
-not likely that as long as Köhler
-was inspector the old people would
-not have been able to rely on the
-customary Christmas gift. After
-this some bustle occurred, and
-two or three people went and stationed
-themselves outside the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[492]</a></span>
-Presently the expectant company
-within were startled by a loud rap,
-and the door flew open, a parcel
-was flung in, and a voice cried out:</p>
-
-<p>“Yule rap!”</p>
-
-<p>This was a pair of slippers for
-the inspector. No one knew where
-they came from; no one had sent
-them. Yule raps are supposed to
-be magical, impersonal causes of
-tangible effects; so every one looked
-innocent and astonished, as became
-good Mecklenburgers under
-Christmas circumstances.</p>
-
-<p>“Yule rap!” again, and the door
-opened a second time; a smoking-cap,
-embroidered with his initials,
-was evolved out of a cumbrous
-packet by one of the young apprentices,
-and scarcely had he put it
-on than another thundering knock
-sounded on the door.</p>
-
-<p>“Yule rap!” was shouted again,
-and in flew a heavy package. It
-was a book, with illustrations of
-travel scenes in the East, and was
-directed to Rika.</p>
-
-<p>“Yule rap!”</p>
-
-<p>This time it was only a little
-square envelope, with a ticket referring
-Frau Köhler to another
-ticket up in the bureau drawer in
-her bedroom; but when one of the
-boys found it, that referred again
-to another ticket in the cellar; and
-when another boy brought this to
-light, it mysteriously referred her
-to her husband’s pocket. Here, at
-last, the hidden thing was revealed&mdash;an
-embroidered collar, and a pair
-of larger cuffs to match. Köhler
-had no idea what sprite had put it
-there, so he said.</p>
-
-<p>“Yule rap!” and this time it
-was for the guest&mdash;a black velvet
-skull-cap, warm and clinging. Then
-came various things, all heralded
-by the same warning cry of “Yule
-rap!” and a knock at the door, generally
-in George’s strong voice.
-The two maids got the packages
-ready, and peeped in at the keyhole
-to see when it was time to
-vary the sensation by throwing in
-another present. Again, a breakfast-bell
-came rolling in, ringing as it
-bounded on, with just a few bands
-of soft stuff and silver paper muffling
-its sound. Once a large meerschaum
-pipe was laid gently at the
-threshold of the door, and one of
-the apprentices fetched it as carefully.
-Then a violin was pushed
-through the half-open door, and
-the eager face of the one for whom
-it was intended peeped anxiously
-over his neighbor’s shoulder, wondering
-if any one else were the happy
-destined one, and as much surprised
-as delighted when he found
-it was himself. That violin has
-since been heard in many a large
-and populous town, and, though its
-owner did not become as world-known
-as Paganini or Sivori, he did
-not love his art less faithfully and
-exclusively. We cannot enumerate
-all the gifts which Yule brought
-round this year; but before the
-evening was over, a different voice
-cried out the magic words, “Yule
-rap!” and the door being slightly
-opened and quickly closed again,
-a tiny, white, silky dog stood trembling
-on the carpet. Rika jumped
-up and ran to take it in her arms;
-then pulling open the door, “Herr
-Heldmann! Herr Heldmann!” she
-cried. “I know it is you!”</p>
-
-<p>The schoolmaster came forward,
-his rough face glowing with the cold
-through which he had just come.</p>
-
-<p>“I promised you a dog, Rika,”
-he said rather awkwardly, “but
-they would not let me have it till
-this very day, and I had no time to
-go for it but this evening. I kept
-it under my coat all the time; so it
-is quite warm. It is only two
-months old.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[493]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Rika was in ecstasies. She declared
-this was worth all her Christmas
-presents, and then rewarded
-Herr Heldmann by telling him how
-well the children had done their
-part, and how delightfully surprised
-the <i lang="de">Pfarrer</i> had been. The two
-men were soon in a deep conversation
-on subjects dear and familiar
-to both, and the company gradually
-dissolved again into little knots and
-groups. Many took their leave, as
-their homes were distant and they
-did not wish to be too late; but for
-all an informal supper was laid in
-the vast kitchen, and by degrees
-most of the good things on the
-table were sensibly diminished.
-The host’s wife and daughter, and
-the Herr Pfarrer, with half a dozen
-others and a few children, did not
-leave the Christmas-tree, whose
-tapers were constantly attended
-to and replaced when necessary.
-Other “Christmas candles” were
-also lighted&mdash;tall columns of yellow
-wax, made on purpose for this occasion.
-As the household and its
-inmates were left to themselves, the
-children began asking for their accustomed
-treat&mdash;the stories that all
-children have been fond of since
-the world began. No land is so
-rich in the romance of childhood
-as Germany, both north and south.
-There everything is personified, and
-as an English writer lately said, wonderful
-histories are connected with
-the fir-trees in the forests, the beloved
-and venerated <i lang="de">Christbaum</i>.
-“Though it be yet summer, the
-child sees in fancy the beautiful
-<i lang="de">Weihnachtsbaum</i>, adorned with
-sparkling things as the Gospel, is
-adorned with promises and hopes;
-rich in gifts as the three kings were
-rich; pointing to heaven as the
-angel pointed; bright as those very
-heavens were bright with silver-winged
-messengers; crowned with
-gold as the Word was crowned;
-odorous like the frankincense:
-sparkling like the star; spreading
-forth its arms, full of peace and
-good-will on every side, holding out
-gifts and promises for all.”</p>
-
-<p><i lang="de">Weihnacht</i>, the blessed, the hallowed,
-the consecrated night, is the
-child-paradise of Germany. That
-land of beautiful family festivals has
-given Christmas a double significance,
-and merged into its memories
-all the graceful, shadowy legends
-of the dead mythology of the
-Fatherland. The German child is
-reared in the midst of fairy-tales,
-which are only truths translated into
-child-language. Besides the old
-standard ones, every neighborhood
-has its own local tales, every family
-its own new-born additions or inventions.
-Every young mother,
-herself but a step removed from
-childhood, with all her tender imaginations
-still stirring, and her
-child-days lifted into greater beauty
-because they are but just left behind,
-makes new stories for her little
-ones, and finds in every flower a new
-fairy, in every brook a new voice.</p>
-
-<p>And yet the old tales still charm
-the little ones, and the yearly coming
-of King Winter brings the old,
-worn stories round again. So
-Emanuel Köhler told the fairy-tale
-which the children had listened to
-every Christmas with ever-new delight,
-about the journey of King
-Winter from his kingdom at the
-North Pole, and how he put on his
-crown with tall spikes of icicles, and
-wrapped himself in his wide snow-mantle,
-which to him is as precious
-and as warm as ermine.</p>
-
-<p>“And now,” said the host, “there
-is some one here who can tell you
-a far more beautiful story than mine.
-Some One, greater than the Winter-King,
-comes too every year&mdash;a snow-Child,
-the white Christ whom our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[494]</a></span>
-ancestors, the old Norse and Teutonic
-warriors, learned to see and
-adore, where they had only seen
-and worshipped the God of War and
-the God of Thunder before. Ask
-him to tell you a story.”</p>
-
-<p>And the old, white-haired <i lang="de">Pfarrer</i>
-stroked the head of the child nearest
-to him, as the little one looked
-shyly up into his face, mutely endorsing
-Emanuel’s appeal. He told
-them that they must already know
-the story of the first Christmas
-night, and so he would only tell them
-how the news that the angels told
-the shepherds on the hills came
-long centuries after to others as
-pure-minded as the shepherds, and
-by means almost as wonderful. He
-repeated to them from memory the
-words of an English prose-poet,
-which he said he had loved ever
-since he came across them, and
-which made the picture he best
-loved to talk on at Christmas-time:
-“That little infant frame, white as
-a snow-drop on the lap of winter,
-light almost as a snow-flake on the
-chill night air, smooth as the cushioned
-drift of snow which the wind
-has lightly strewn outside the walls
-of Bethlehem, is at this moment
-holding within itself, as if it were of
-adamantine rock, the fires of the
-beatific light.… The little
-white lily is blooming below the
-greater one; an offshoot of its stem,
-and a faithful copy, leaf for leaf,
-petal for petal, white for white,
-powdered with the same golden
-dust, meeting the morning with the
-same fragrance, which is like no
-other than their own!”<a name="FNanchor_177" id="FNanchor_177"></a><a href="#Footnote_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a></p>
-
-<p>There was a more marvellous tale
-than any they had heard about
-talking-flowers. The <i lang="de">Christkind</i>
-was a flower, and his blessed
-Mother was a flower&mdash;holy lilies
-in the garden of God, blossoming
-rods like Aaron’s, fruitful roots,
-stately cedars, and fruit-giving palm-trees.
-It was a very happy thing
-to know and feel all this, as we do;
-but many millions of men know
-nothing of it, and centuries ago
-even our forefathers in these forests
-knew nothing of it. “But,” he
-continued, “there was a distant island,
-where men of our race lived,
-which did not receive the faith till
-long after Germany and France
-and Britain were Christian, and
-even had cathedrals and cloisters
-and schools in abundance. It was
-two hundred years after Charlemagne,
-who was a Frankish, and
-therefore a German, sovereign,
-founded the Palatine schools and
-conferred with the learned English
-monk, Alcuin. This distant, pagan
-island was Iceland. The Norsemen
-there were a wild, fierce, warlike
-people, free from any foreign government,
-and just the kind of heroes
-that their old mythology represented
-them as becoming in their
-future, disembodied life. They
-had their scalds, or saga-men, their
-bards, who were both poets and
-historians, who kept up their spirit
-by singing wild songs about their
-ancestors and the battles they had
-won. They were all pagans, and
-thought the forgiveness of injuries
-very mean. Well, one day, the eve
-of Yule-tide, when it was terribly
-cold and cheerless, an old scald
-sat in his rough hut, with a flickering
-light before him, chanting one
-of his wild, heathen songs, and his
-daughter, a beautiful girl, sat at the
-plank table near him, busy with
-some woman’s work. During an
-interval of his song she raised her
-eyes and said to him:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Father, there must be something
-beyond all that&mdash;something
-greater and nobler.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[495]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“‘Why, child,’ said the old man,
-with a kind of impatient wonder,
-‘why should you think so? Many
-things different there may be, just
-as there are different kinds of men,
-and different kinds of beasts, and
-different kinds of plants; some for
-mastery and some for thraldom;
-some for the chase, and some for
-the kitchen or the plough; some
-for incantations and sacrifices, and
-some for common food. But anything
-nobler than our history there
-could not be; and as for our religion,
-if there were anything different,
-or even better, it would not
-suit our people, and so would be no
-concern of ours.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘But if it were true, father, and
-ours not true, what then?’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Why ask the question, child?
-What was good enough for the wise
-and brave Northmen who fled here
-that they might be free to fight and
-worship according to their fancy,
-is good enough for their descendants.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘But you know yourself, father,’
-persisted the maiden, ‘that those
-whom our poetical traditions call
-gods were men, heroes and patriots
-who taught our forefathers various
-arts, and guided them safely
-across deserts and through forests
-in their long, long migration&mdash;but
-still only men. Our chieftains of
-to-day might as well become gods
-to our great-grandchildren, if the
-old leaders have become so to us.
-Wise as they were, they could not
-command the frozen seas to open
-a way for their ships, nor make the
-sun rise earlier in the long winter,
-nor compel the cutting ice-wind to
-cease. If they could not do such
-things, they must have been very
-far from gods.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘It is true,’ said the old man,
-‘that those great chieftains were,
-in the dim ages we can scarcely
-count back to, men like us; but
-the gods who taught them those
-very arts took them up to live with
-them as long as their own heaven
-might last, and made them equal to
-themselves. You know even Paradise
-itself is to come to an end
-some day.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘So our legends say, father;
-but that, too, makes it seem as if
-these gods were only another order
-of mortal beings, stronger but not
-better than we are, and hiding from
-us the true, changeless heaven far
-above them. For surely that which
-changes cannot be divine. And
-then our legends say that evil is to
-triumph when heaven and earth
-come to an end. True, they say
-there will be a renewal of all things
-after that, and that, no doubt,
-means that good will be uppermost;
-very likely all the things
-spoken of in our Eddas are only
-signs of other things which we
-could not understand.’</p>
-
-<p>“The daughter continued these
-questionings and speculations, the
-scald answering them as best he
-could.</p>
-
-<p>“He had listened with evident
-admiration and approval to her impassioned
-speech, but he was willing
-to test her faith in her own womanhood
-to the utmost. She now
-seemed wrapt in her own thoughts,
-but after a short pause said:</p>
-
-<p>“‘It would not be another’s inspiration
-in which I should believe;
-it would be a message from Him
-who has put this belief already into
-my heart. Some One greater than
-all has spoken to my inmost heart,
-and I am ready to believe; but the
-messenger that is to put it into
-words and tell me what to do has
-not come.’</p>
-
-<p>“There was a silence, and the
-wind and the sea roared without.
-The old man shaded the flickering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[496]</a></span>
-light with his hand, and gazed
-at his daughter, who was sitting
-with her hands clasped in her lap.
-He thought that she herself must
-have received some divine illumination;
-for the Norsemen believed in
-the prophetic gifts of some of their
-women. His own mind, more cultivated
-than that of the warrior’s,
-saw through the symbolic character
-of many of the very myths he sang,
-and tended vaguely to belief in a
-higher and hidden circle of things
-infinite, true, and eternal. But
-then the northern mind was naturally
-simple, not prone to metaphysical
-distinctions, not analytical
-and subtle, dividing as with the
-sword that pierceth between soul
-and spirit; and the old man saw no
-use in raising theological problems
-for which he could offer no rational
-solution, save through the dreams
-of a young girl. Presently the old
-man rose, shaking off his meditations,
-and said:</p>
-
-<p>“‘It is time for me to go to the
-Yule-night festival, and I shall
-have a stormy trudge of it to the
-castle. I must leave you alone
-here till to-morrow night. But, my
-child, I know that there is safety
-for the scald’s daughter wherever
-she may be; the very sea would
-not hurt her, and the wildest men
-would kneel before her; so farewell,
-and a father’s blessing be upon
-you.’</p>
-
-<p>“His daughter rose and fetched
-his cloak and staff, wrapped the
-former around him, and fastened it
-over the rude musical instrument
-that answered the purpose of lyre
-and harp; but I am not very learned
-in such things, and cannot tell
-you exactly what it was. The
-young girl stood long on the threshold
-of the hut, shading the light,
-and looking out after her father into
-the darkness. The wind was
-sharp and icy, and blew from the
-frozen sea. As she held the light,
-she thought she heard a cry come
-from the direction of the sea. She
-lingered before closing the door,
-although the wind was very chill;
-for the cry seemed repeated, and
-she thought it was a human voice
-calling. A moment’s reflection told
-her it could not be so; for the whole
-sea was frozen for miles outward,
-and no boat or wreck could come
-so near land. She sat down again
-to her work, and mused on the conversation
-she had held with her
-father. He had studied their national
-books all his life, and she was
-not yet twenty. He must know
-best. Was she likely to be right?
-She had little experience of the way
-in which the old system worked;
-only her own dreams and fancies
-showed her any other possibility;
-and yet&mdash;she could not shake off
-the thought: she thirsted for another
-revelation. The far-off, unknown
-Godhead must have some means
-of communicating with men; why
-should he not speak to her, who
-so passionately and blindly longed
-for a message, a command, from
-him?</p>
-
-<p>“The cry from the sea sounded
-again. Surely, this time there
-could be no mistake; the voice was
-human, and it had come nearer
-since she had left the door. She
-took up the light again, and went
-outside, shouting as loud as she
-could in return. She was answered,
-and a strange awe came upon her
-as she heard this cry. Was it that
-of a man or a spirit? The latter
-supposition seemed to her unsophisticated
-mind quite as likely as the
-former, but it did not frighten her,
-as it would most of her countrywomen.
-She went in again, wrapped
-a thick fur cloak around her,
-and, taking another on her arm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[497]</a></span>
-sallied out once more with another
-stronger light. It was barely
-possible to keep the resinous torch
-alight, and she looked anxiously
-out towards the sea, to try and
-catch some glimpse of a human
-figure. The cries came again at intervals;
-but she knew that in the clear
-air a seemingly near sound might
-yet be far distant. She had to walk
-briskly up and down the shore, in
-the beaten path between walls of
-snow, to keep herself warm, and occasionally
-she lifted the flaring
-torch and waved it as a signal. She
-could do no more, but she longed
-to see her unknown visitor, and to
-go out to meet him on the frozen
-waters. Was it some wrecked sailor,
-who had clambered from ice-floe
-to ice-floe, in the desperate
-hope of reaching land before he
-died of cold and hunger, or some
-unearthly messenger from an invisible
-world? If he were a mere man,
-from what coast could he have
-drifted. No Icelander would be out
-at this time and place; it was Yule-tide,
-and there were no wandering
-boats out among the ice-cliffs and
-floes. At last she thought she
-could discern a shadowy form,
-blacker than the surrounding darkness,
-but surely no human form; it
-was like a moving cross, one upright
-shape, and one laid across near the
-top, and both dark and compact.
-But the cry was repeated, though in
-a more assured and joyful tone, and
-the maiden waited with bated breath,
-wondering what this marvel could
-mean. A field of unbroken ice
-stretched between her and the advancing
-figure, which now hastened
-its steps, and came on like a swift-sailing
-bird, cleaving the darkness.
-She thought she could distinguish
-a human face above the junction of
-the two arms of the cross, and she
-held up the light, still uncertain
-what kind of visitant this approaching
-form might be. At last it
-flashed upon her that it was a man
-bearing a child. But why so rigid?
-Why did he not hug him close to
-his bosom to keep him warm, to
-keep him alive? Was the child
-dead? And a shuddering awe
-came upon her, as she thought of
-its dead white face upturned to
-heaven, and of the faithful man who
-had not forsaken it, or left it to the
-seals and wolves on the ice, or
-buried it in the chill waters beneath
-the ice-floes. What a cold it
-must have struck to the heart of the
-man carrying it; how his hands
-must be well-nigh frozen in supporting
-this strange burden!</p>
-
-<p>“She hardly knew whether she
-was still imagining what might be,
-or witnessing real movements, when
-the figure came straight up to her,
-and, stooping, laid the child at her
-feet. She lowered the torch, and,
-as the glare fell on the little face,
-she saw that it was no breathing
-one; the man had sunk down beside
-it, hardly able to stir, now the supreme
-effort was over and his end
-was accomplished. She dropped
-the cloak she held over the little
-body, and caught up a handful of
-snow, wherewith she energetically
-rubbed the face and hands of the
-stranger, then half dragged, half
-supported him to the door of the
-hut. He had only spoken once,
-just as he dropped at her feet, but
-she did not understand him: he
-spoke in a foreign tongue. Once
-more she went out and brought in
-the stiffened, frozen body of the
-child, which she laid on a fur robe
-just outside the hut; for it was
-warm within the small, confined
-dwelling. It was an hour before
-the stranger’s eye told her that her
-simple, quick remedies had succeeded.
-He was not very tall, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[498]</a></span>
-immensely strong and powerful,
-and there was a fire in his dark
-gray eye that gave the clew to his
-strange, weird pilgrimage over the
-ice-floes. His hair was dark brown,
-with a reddish tinge, but already
-mixed with a few gray streaks; it
-had been shorn close to his head
-some time since, as appeared from
-its irregular growth at present.
-Beneath his cloak he wore a long
-black robe, with a leathern girdle
-round the waist. The child was
-very beautiful, even in death; his
-eyes were closed, but his black,
-curling hair hung round his neck,
-and the lips had a sweet though
-somewhat proud outline. The
-scald’s daughter set some simple
-food before her silent guest, and
-made him a sign to eat. He was
-evidently very hungry, but before
-he began he moved his lips and
-made the sign of the cross on his
-forehead, lips, and breast. She asked
-him in her own language what
-that ceremony meant, not hoping
-to make him understand her speech,
-but trusting to her inquiring looks
-for some explanatory sign that she
-might interpret as best she could
-to herself. To her surprise, he
-answered in a few, slow, labored
-words, not in Icelandic to be sure,
-but in some dialect akin to it; for
-she could make out the meaning.
-It was, in fact, the Norse dialect
-that was spoken in the Orkney Islands,
-but she did not know that.
-As he spoke, her guest pointed
-upwards, and she knew that he referred
-to God. A great longing
-came into her heart, and she asked
-again if his God were the same
-the Icelanders worshipped. He
-shook his head, and she eagerly
-questioned farther, but grew so
-voluble that he could not follow
-her, and the conversation ceased.
-Then the stranger rose and went
-out to the little corpse, which he
-addressed in impassioned terms
-in his own language, making over
-it the same sign that had drawn
-the maiden’s attention before.
-He then described to her&mdash;mostly
-in pantomime, and with a few
-Norse words to help him on, and
-a few slowly-pronounced questions
-on her part&mdash;how the boy and
-he had been in a boat that was
-wrecked many days’ journey from
-their own country, and how he
-had carried him and fed him for
-three or four days, and then seen
-him die in his arms. The boy was
-the only son of a great chief, and
-he was taking him to his uncle in
-the North of Scotland. His own
-country was south of Scotland, a
-large island like Iceland, but green
-and beautiful, and there was no
-ice there.</p>
-
-<p>“The girl made him understand
-that she was alone for a day or two,
-but when her father came back he
-would help him. He evidently
-understood her better than she did
-him.</p>
-
-<p>“The next morning, when she
-again set food before him, she imitated
-his sign of the cross, and
-said she wished to believe in the
-true God; and if his God were the
-true one, she would believe in him.
-She looked so earnest and anxious
-that he again began to try to explain;
-but the few words he could
-command, though they sufficed to
-hint at his worldly adventures, and
-made clear to her that he had been
-wrecked, were scarcely adequate
-to tell her of the new religion she
-longed to understand.</p>
-
-<p>“But at noon that day another
-guest and traveller passed by the
-scald’s dwelling. He was hurrying
-to the same castle where the girl’s
-father had gone in his capacity of
-minstrel, but a violent snow-storm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[499]</a></span>
-had come on that morning, and he
-had lost his way. He stopped a
-moment to refresh himself, and noticed
-the stranger. He was himself
-known as a great traveller, and the
-figure in the coarse black robe
-seemed not unfamiliar to him. He
-addressed the stranger in the latter’s
-language, guessing him at once
-to be an Irish monk. He said he
-had seen such men in the Scottish
-islands, where he had been storm-driven
-with his ship two years ago,
-and he had picked up a little of
-their speech. When the maiden
-discovered that in this stray guest
-she had found an interpreter, she
-pressed him, implored him, almost
-commanded him, to stay.</p>
-
-<p>“‘I must ask him the questions
-my father could not solve yesterday,’
-she said; ‘and my father’s
-friend will not refuse to speak in
-my name, for I believe that the unknown
-God has answered my
-prayer in sending this holy man
-over the sea to my very feet.’
-And she told him how the stranger
-had come to her, out of the darkness,
-in the shape of a cross&mdash;the
-same sign he made to propitiate his
-God.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Ask him to tell us what he believes,’
-she said impetuously; and
-the interpreter, compelled by some
-instinct that he could not resist,
-began his office willingly.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Tell him,’ she said, ‘that yesterday,
-before he came, I was all
-day thinking that the high, true,
-unknown God had a message for
-me, and a truer faith to teach me,
-because he had put into my heart
-a longing for something higher than
-what our books and songs have
-taught us. And tell him that I believe
-God sent him in answer to
-my doubts and prayers.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘The traveller faithfully translated
-all this. The monk’s face
-glowed as he replied, in his own
-language, which he used with the
-grace and skill of a poet:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Tell the maiden that she is
-right; the true God <em>did</em> send me,
-and now I know why such things
-happened to me; why I was wrecked
-with my lord’s only son, a precious
-freight, a sacred deposit, which the
-Lord of lords has now taken upon
-himself to account for to the earthly
-father, bereaved of his one hope.
-But God sent me here because to
-this pure-hearted virgin I was to
-explain the faith he had already
-put into her heart. It is not I who
-bring her the true faith, but God
-himself who has spoken to her and
-inclined her to believe; me he has
-sent to put this message into practical
-form. Tell her that this is the
-birthday of the Lord, and that a
-thousand years ago, almost at the
-same hour when I set my dead burden
-at her feet, a living Child,
-God’s own Child, lay at the feet of
-a pure Virgin in a little village far
-away in the land of the rising sun.
-And as this maiden’s torch which I
-saw over the wild, frozen sea, and
-followed, was an emblem of the
-faith that dwelt already in her
-heart, so, too, a marvellous star led
-three wise men, the scalds of the
-East, to where this Child lay, and
-the star was the emblem of their
-firm faith, which led them to cross
-rivers and deserts to reach the
-Child. And tell her that the way
-in which this wonderful birth was
-celebrated was by a song which
-held all the essence of truth in it:
-“Glory to God on high, and on
-earth peace to men of good-will.”’</p>
-
-<p>“All this the interpreter told the
-maiden, and both marvelled at it.
-The stranger told them more and
-more of that wonderful tale, so
-familiar to us, but which once sounded
-to our warlike forefathers like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[500]</a></span>
-the foolishness of babes and sucklings,
-or at most like some Eastern
-myth good enough for philosophers
-to wrangle over, but unfit for sturdy
-men of the forest. To the Icelandic
-maiden it seemed but the fulfilment
-of her own dreams; and as
-she listened to the story of the Child,
-grown to be a wise but obedient
-Boy, and then a wandering, suffering
-Man, her soul seemed to drink in
-the hidden grandeur of the relation,
-to pierce beyond the human stumbling-blocks
-which confronted the
-wise and learned of other lands,
-and go at once to the heart of the
-great mystery of love, personified
-in the Man-God. All the rest
-seemed to her to be the fitting garment
-of the central mystery, the
-crown of leaves growing from the
-fruitful trunk of this one doctrine.
-All day long the three sat together,
-the two Icelanders hanging on the
-words of the stranger; and so the
-scald found them on his return.
-He, too, wanted to know the news
-which the monk had brought; for
-he said he had always believed
-that behind their national songs
-and hymns lay something greater,
-but perhaps not expedient for
-Norsemen to know. He shook his
-head sadly when he learned the
-monk’s precepts of love, peace,
-mercy, and forgiveness, and said
-he feared his countrymen would
-not understand that, but for his
-part it was not uncongenial to him.
-As the weather was such that no
-vessel could put to sea before
-the ice broke up, he constrained
-the monk to stay the rest of the
-winter with him, and in the spring
-promised to go over with him to
-the nearest Scottish coast, and carry
-the body of his little charge to
-the uncle to whom he had been on
-his way when he was wrecked.</p>
-
-<p>“Before the New Year began,
-the monk baptized the first Icelandic
-convert, the daughter of the
-scald, and gave her the name of the
-Mother of the Babe of Bethlehem,
-Mary. Many others heard of the
-new religion before he left, but that
-does not belong to my story. The
-new convert and her father accompanied
-him to Scotland, and were
-present at the burial of the Irish
-chieftain’s son at the castle of his
-Scottish uncle. The latter’s son
-married the Norse maiden, but she
-never ceased to lament that it had
-not been given to her to convert
-many of her own countrymen, or at
-least shed her blood for her new
-faith. All her life long she helped
-to send missionaries to Iceland; and
-when her son grew up to manhood,
-the palm she coveted was awarded
-to him, for he went to his mother’s
-native country, founded a monastery
-there, labored among the people,
-converted many, and taught reading
-and the arts of peace as well as the
-faith to his pupils; became abbot
-of the monastery, and was finally
-martyred on the steps of the altar
-by a horde of savage heathen Norsemen.</p>
-
-<p>“This is the best Christmas story
-I know, children,” concluded the
-Herr Pfarrer; “and you, Rika, I can
-wish you no better model than the
-fair maiden of Iceland.”</p>
-
-<p>It was nearly midnight when the
-old priest finished his tale, and
-Frau Köhler, rising, and thanking
-him cordially for this unwonted addition
-to ordinary Christmas stories,
-led him to a door which had been
-locked till now. It opened into a
-room decked as a chapel, with an
-altar at the end, which was now
-decorated with evergreens. A few
-chairs and benches were ranged before
-it, and on a table at the side
-was everything in readiness for saying
-Mass.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[501]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“It is long since I have heard
-a midnight Mass,” said the good
-hostess, growing suddenly grave and
-reverential in her manner, “and
-my Rika never has; and you know,
-Herr Pfarrer, I told you I had a
-greater surprise in store for you yet,
-after all the local customs in which
-you were so much interested.”</p>
-
-<p>So the beautiful Midnight Mass
-was said in the Mecklenburg inspector’s
-farm-house, and a more impressive
-one Frau Köhler had never
-heard in any southern cathedral;
-for though there was no music and
-no pomp, there brooded over the
-little congregation a spirit of reverence
-and peace, which comes in full
-perfection only through a deep silence.
-The hostess and her daughter
-received Communion together,
-and the attentive household could
-not help thinking of the beautiful
-Icelandic convert when she came
-back from the altar, her hands
-folded over her breast, and her long,
-fair hair plaited in two plain, thick
-tresses.</p>
-
-<p>Herr Heldmann had stayed too,
-and from that day he never ceased
-his study of theological problems
-and his correspondence with the
-Herr Pfarrer, till he became a Catholic,
-and was married to Rika in
-this same little chapel-room a year
-later by the same kind old priest.
-One of the young apprentices of
-Emanuel Köhler had been his secret
-rival; but notwithstanding that
-Heldmann was ungainly, shy, and
-twice her age, Rika decidedly
-thought that she had the best of
-the bargain.</p>
-
-<p>And it was true; he had a heart
-of gold, and she made him a model
-wife.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>CHRISTMAS CHIMES.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">The clear starlight, of a southern night,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Shone in Judæa’s sky,</div>
-<div class="verse">The angels sang, and their harp-strings rang</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With “Glory to God on high.”</div>
-<div class="verse">Through the pearl gates streamed, ere the morning beamed,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The radiance of Heaven’s day;</div>
-<div class="verse">And the shepherds led to the lonely bed</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Where the holy Child-God lay.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">The Yule-log’s light gleams warm to-night</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In many an English home,</div>
-<div class="verse">And no spirits dare&mdash;so the wise declare&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In the light of its beams to come;</div>
-<div class="verse">The weird mistletoe and the holly glow</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">On castle and cottage wall;</div>
-<div class="verse">While the jest and song ring all night long,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Through the merry banquet-hall.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">And in other climes at the ringing chimes</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">There are scenes of joy and mirth:</div>
-<div class="verse">E’en round the dead is its beauty shed</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Who at Christmas pass from earth.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[502]</a></span>
-<div class="verse">On this holy day, so the old tomes say,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Heaven’s portals open wide,</div>
-<div class="verse">And the soul glides in, freed from all its sin</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">By the birth of the Crucified.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">In our own fair land there is many a band</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Whose home is filled with glee,</div>
-<div class="verse">Whose hearts beat high, as the fleet hours fly,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">With thoughts of the Christmas-tree.</div>
-<div class="verse">May the Christ-Child weave, on this Christmas eve,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">New hopes as the years go by,</div>
-<div class="verse">And around His throne may at last each one</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Sing “Glory to God on high.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>ANGLICANS, OLD CATHOLICS, AND THE CONFERENCE
-AT BONN.</h3>
-
-<p>Under the title of <cite>Anglicanism,
-Old Catholicism, and the Union of
-the Christian Episcopal Churches</cite>, an
-essay has recently been published
-by the Rev. Father Tondini,<a name="FNanchor_178" id="FNanchor_178"></a><a href="#Footnote_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> Barnabite,
-whose intimate acquaintance
-with the respective languages
-of England, Germany, and Russia,
-as well as the religious history and
-literature of those countries, peculiarly
-qualifies him for dealing with
-the questions just now exciting so
-much attention in Western Europe.
-We shall, therefore, not only make
-his treatise, which merits more than
-ordinary notice, the basis of the
-present article, but shall reproduce
-such portions of it as are particularly
-suggestive at the present time,
-and conclude with some account
-of the Conference at Bonn and the
-considerations it suggests.</p>
-
-<p>In the Introduction to his
-treatise the reverend author gives
-the reasons which called it forth,
-the last being the promise made on
-the tomb of a friend<a name="FNanchor_179" id="FNanchor_179"></a><a href="#Footnote_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a> to leave
-nothing untried which might promote
-the return of the Greco-Russian
-Church to Catholic unity; an
-unexpected opportunity being given
-for fulfilling this promise by the
-reference made more than once by
-Mr. Gladstone, in his recent publications,
-to the organization of the
-Eastern as contrasted with that of
-the Catholic Church. Moreover,
-the sympathy displayed by Mr.
-Gladstone for the Old Catholics
-and their Conference at Bonn serves
-to complete the argument.</p>
-
-<p>There are two passages in Mr.
-Gladstone’s <cite>Vaticanism</cite> with which
-Father Tondini has more especially
-dealt. One is the following:</p>
-
-<p>“Of these early provisions for a
-balance of church power, and for
-securing the laity against sacerdotal
-domination, the rigid conservatism
-of the Eastern Church presents us,
-even down to the present day, with
-an authentic and living record.”<a name="FNanchor_180" id="FNanchor_180"></a><a href="#Footnote_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[503]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>These valuable “provisions” are
-set forth at length in the second
-edition of a former work by Father
-Tondini, <cite>The Pope of Rome and
-the Popes of the Oriental Church</cite>.<a name="FNanchor_181" id="FNanchor_181"></a><a href="#Footnote_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a>
-In a special preface he there says:
-“There is much to be learned from
-them, especially if we take into
-consideration their recent date, and
-the ecclesiastical canons of which
-the Eastern Church has not been
-indeed a rigid conservator.”</p>
-
-<p>In the quotations there given at
-length from the original documents,
-we find abundant evidence of the
-manner in which the ancient canons
-have been set aside, wherever
-convenient to the czar, for his own
-regulations.</p>
-
-<p>The second passage requiring
-comment is the following:</p>
-
-<p>“The ancient principles of popular
-election and control, for which
-room was found in the Apostolic
-Church under its inspired teachers,
-and which still subsist in the Christian
-East.”<a name="FNanchor_182" id="FNanchor_182"></a><a href="#Footnote_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a></p>
-
-<p>This, as we shall see, is disposed
-of in the third chapter of the present
-essay, into which has been collected
-trustworthy information as
-to the non-popular mode of election
-of bishops resorted to in the
-Oriental Orthodox Church.<a name="FNanchor_183" id="FNanchor_183"></a><a href="#Footnote_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a></p>
-
-<p>Towards the close of the Introduction
-the writer remarks that
-if the statements made by Mr.
-Gladstone respecting the Catholic
-Church were true, she could not be
-the true church of our Lord, and,
-if not, he asks, where then is the
-true church to be found? The
-Oriental Church could not solve
-the question, because she is in contradiction
-to the doctrine contained
-in her own liturgy,<a name="FNanchor_184" id="FNanchor_184"></a><a href="#Footnote_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a> and also for
-other reasons, to which for some
-years past he has been directing
-public attention.<a name="FNanchor_185" id="FNanchor_185"></a><a href="#Footnote_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a> There remain
-to be considered the Anglican Establishment&mdash;this
-being the church
-to which belongs the writer who
-accuses the Catholic Church of
-having changed in faith, and deprived
-her children of their moral
-and mental freedom&mdash;and the newest
-sect of all, namely, the so-called
-Old Catholics, owing to the same
-writer’s admiration of those who
-figure in its ranks.</p>
-
-<p>Reason, so loudly appealed to by
-Mr. Gladstone, has been strictly
-adhered to by Father Tondini in
-his careful examination of the credentials
-of the two latter bodies,
-and we will give, in as concise a
-form as may be consistent with
-clearness, the result of his inquiry.
-He especially addresses those who
-admit the existence of a visible
-Church of Christ, and still more
-particularly those who, rather than
-reconcile themselves to the Catholic
-Church, say that neither the
-Roman Catholic Church, nor the Anglican
-Establishment, nor the Old-Catholic
-Society, but the Oriental
-Orthodox Church, is the true visible
-church of Christ.</p>
-
-<h4>I.</h4>
-
-<p>The claims of the Anglican<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[504]</a></span>
-Church are first examined, her vitality
-being an argument that we
-are in presence of an institution adhered
-to, at least by a large portion
-of her members, with conviction
-and devotedness, as a valuable medium
-between unbelief and superstition,
-worldliness and sanctity;
-and of a state church as solidly
-framed as human genius could devise.</p>
-
-<p>“Bodies,” says Mr. Gladstone,
-“are usually held to be bound by
-the evidence of their own selected
-and typical witnesses.”<a name="FNanchor_186" id="FNanchor_186"></a><a href="#Footnote_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a> Now, the
-selected and typical witnesses of
-the Church of England are the sovereign,
-who is “Defender of the
-Faith and Supreme Governor of the
-Church in her Dominions,” and
-the episcopate. If the whole clergy
-is consulted, the evidence becomes
-as undeniable as it can possibly be.</p>
-
-<p>This perfect evidence is found in
-the Thirty-nine Articles, which are
-thus headed: “Articles agreed upon
-by the archbishops and bishops of
-both provinces, and the whole clergy,
-assembled in convocation holden
-at London in the year 1562, for the
-avoiding of diversities of opinions,”
-etc., etc.</p>
-
-<p>The Ratification is to the same
-effect, with the addition of the
-assent and consent of the queen
-(Elizabeth), after their final rehearsal
-in the General Convocation of
-bishops and clergy in 1571. They
-are, moreover, reprinted in the <cite>Book
-of Common Prayer</cite>, with the Declaration
-of King James I. affixed, and
-which runs as follows:</p>
-
-<p>“Being by God’s ordinance, according
-to our just title, Defender
-of the Faith and supreme governor
-of the church in these our dominions,
-… we will that all curious
-search be laid aside, and these
-disputes shut up in God’s promises
-as they be generally set forth in the
-Holy Scriptures, and the general
-meaning of the Articles of the
-Church of England according to
-them; and that no man hereafter
-shall either print or preach to draw
-the article aside any way, but shall
-submit to it in the plain and full
-meaning thereof, and … shall
-take it in the literal and grammatical
-sense.”</p>
-
-<p>“Following this last admonition,
-and bearing in mind that the Church
-of England considers herself to be
-a branch of the universal church
-of Christ, we open the <cite>Book of Common
-Prayer</cite>, and turn to those
-among the Articles which treat of
-the universal church, that we may
-see how, without renouncing our
-Italian nationality&mdash;which to us is
-very dear&mdash;we could belong to the
-universal church of Christ. We
-see an article headed ‘Of the Authority
-of General Councils,’ and, on
-reading it, find to our astonishment
-the definition, not indeed of the infallibility
-of the Pope, but of the
-fallibility, without any exception, of
-the universal church of Christ! It
-is: Article XXI.&mdash;‘General Councils
-may not be called together without
-the commandment and will of
-princes. And when they be gathered
-together (forasmuch as they
-be an assembly of men, whereof all
-be not governed with the spirit and
-word of God), they may err, and
-sometimes have erred, even in
-things pertaining unto God. Wherefore
-things ordained by them as
-necessary to salvation have neither
-strength nor authority, unless it may
-be declared that they be taken out
-of Holy Scripture.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Thus” (we give Father Tondini’s
-words) “the Church of England
-has defined, in two plenary national
-councils, that the universal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[505]</a></span>
-church of Christ, even when assembled
-in a general council, may err,
-and ordain, as necessary to salvation,
-things which have neither
-strength nor authority; and a king,
-‘Defender of the Faith,’ has declared
-that this is the true doctrine
-of the Church of England, agreeable
-to God’s word, and required all his
-loving subjects to submit to this article
-‘in the plain and full meaning
-thereof,’ and to take it ‘in the literal
-and grammatical sense’!</p>
-
-<p>“We can hardly trust our own
-eyes. Again: What does the word
-‘declare’ mean in the concluding
-words of the article? This word
-may convey two senses&mdash;that of
-proving and of making a declaration.</p>
-
-<p>“In the first case, <em>who</em> is to offer
-the proofs that ‘the thing ordained
-as necessary to salvation’ is taken
-out of Holy Scripture? This the
-Church of England has forgotten to
-tell us!… Moreover, an
-authority whose decrees, in order to
-have a binding power, must be proved
-to be taken out of Holy Scripture,
-is by that very fact subordinate
-to those who are called to examine
-the proofs.<a name="FNanchor_187" id="FNanchor_187"></a><a href="#Footnote_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a> The chief authorities
-of the church assembled
-in a general council are thus rendered
-as inferior to the faithful as
-the claimant is inferior to the judge
-who is about to pronounce sentence
-upon his claims. The teaching
-and governing body of the church
-is consequently no more than an
-assembly commissioned to frame,
-‘as necessary to salvation,’ laws to
-be submitted to the approbation of
-the faithful!</p>
-
-<p>“Is this serious? Is it even respectful
-to human intelligence?”</p>
-
-<p>Again, if the word “declare”
-must be taken in the sense of a
-declaration, Father Tondini asks:
-“But by whom is such a declaration
-to be made? Assuredly not by the
-council itself&mdash;‘judice in causâ propriâ.’
-An authority liable to err,
-‘even in things pertaining unto
-God,’ and to ordain ‘as necessary
-to salvation’ things which have
-‘neither strength nor authority,’
-is liable also to mistake the sense
-of Holy Scripture. To seek such
-a declaration from this fallible
-authority would be like begging
-the question.</p>
-
-<p>“The declaration must, then, be
-made by some authority external to
-the general council. But the ‘archbishops,
-bishops, and the whole
-clergy of England’ have omitted to
-inform the faithful <em>where</em> such an
-authority is to be found. Moreover,
-since a general council&mdash;that is, the
-‘selected and typical witnesses’ of
-the whole Church of Christ&mdash;may
-err (according to Article XXI.), it
-necessarily follows that portions of
-the whole church of Christ may
-err also. In fact, this natural consequence
-is explicitly stated in Article
-XIX. The zeal displayed by
-the Church of England in asserting
-the fallibility, both of the whole
-church of Christ and of portions
-of that church, may be said to rival
-that of the most fervent advocates
-of the infallibility of the Pope.”</p>
-
-<p>This XIXth Article modestly asserts
-that, “as the Churches of Jerusalem,
-Alexandria, and Antioch have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[506]</a></span>
-erred, so also the Church of Rome
-hath erred, not only in their living
-and manner of ceremonies, but
-also in matters of faith.”</p>
-
-<p>Whereupon “a legitimate doubt
-arises whether the Church of England,
-too, might not have erred in
-issuing the Thirty-nine Articles
-of Religion. This doubt is very
-material. These Articles ordain
-several things as ‘necessary to salvation.’
-Are they, or are they not,
-‘taken out of Holy Scripture’?
-Have they, or have they not,
-‘strength and authority’?”</p>
-
-<p>Shortly after their promulgation,
-we have it upon the authority of
-King James I. himself that this
-doubt gave rise to “disputations,
-altercations, and questions such as
-may nourish faction both in the
-church and commonwealth,” and
-his majesty adds that “therefore,
-upon mature deliberation,” etc., he
-“thought fit” to make the declaration
-following:</p>
-
-<p>“That the Articles of the Church
-of England … do contain
-the true doctrine of the Church of
-England, agreeable to God’s Word,
-which <span class="smcapuc">WE</span> do therefore ratify and
-confirm.”</p>
-
-<p>“May we” (with Father Tondini)
-“be allowed respectfully to ask
-whether King James I. was infallible?”</p>
-
-<p>And if so, why should Catholics
-be charged with having forfeited
-their mental and moral freedom,
-etc., etc., because they admit the
-infallibility of the Pope, which results,
-by the law of development,
-from several passages of Holy Scripture;
-whereas, on the contrary, no
-“brain power” will ever be able to
-discover a single word in Holy
-Scripture which can, by the most
-vigorous process of development,
-bud forth into the infallibility of a
-King of England?</p>
-
-<p>On the other hand, if King James
-were <em>not</em> infallible, by what right
-could he then prohibit and <em>will</em> in
-matters of faith for his subjects?</p>
-
-<p>His only right was this: that the
-Church of England had been made
-a powerful <i lang="la">instrumentum regni</i> in
-the hands of her sovereigns,<a name="FNanchor_188" id="FNanchor_188"></a><a href="#Footnote_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a> just
-as the Church of Russia is in the
-hands of her czars.</p>
-
-<p>After this, observes the writer, no
-inconsistency ought to astonish us.</p>
-
-<p>In Article XVIII. it is declared
-that “the body of Christ is given,
-taken, and eaten in the [Lord’s]
-Supper <em>only after an heavenly and
-spiritual manner</em>”; and again, at the
-end of the “Order of the Ministration
-of the Holy Communion,” that
-“the natural body and blood of our
-Saviour Christ are in heaven, <em>and not
-here</em>.” How can these declarations
-be made to agree with the following,
-which is taught in the Little
-Catechism?&mdash;“The body and
-blood of Christ are <em>verily and indeed
-taken</em> and received by the faithful
-in the Lord’s Supper.”</p>
-
-<p>Again, in Article XI. we find:
-“That we are justified by faith
-<em>only</em> is a most wholesome doctrine,
-and very full of comfort”; whereas
-in the order for the visitation
-of the sick we read as follows:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[507]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Here shall the sick person be
-moved to make <em>a special confession
-of his sins</em>, if he feel his conscience
-troubled with any weighty matter.
-After which confession the priest
-shall absolve him (if he humbly
-and heartily desire it) after this
-sort,” etc., etc.</p>
-
-<p>“But,” asks Father Tondini,
-“by what strange metamorphosis
-can the above-quoted doctrine of
-justification <em>by faith only</em>, declared
-to be ‘most wholesome and very
-full of comfort’ while we are in
-good health, cease to possess the
-power of comforting the conscience
-of a sick person? And how can
-confession, which through life is
-to be considered by Anglicans as
-‘<em>grown of the corrupt following of
-the apostles</em>’ (see Article XXV.), become
-suddenly so transfigured by
-the approach of death as to obtain
-the power of relieving a conscience
-‘troubled with any weighty matter’?”</p>
-
-<p>Although it may not be matter
-of much surprise that a church
-which has so carefully defined her
-own fallibility should have one
-doctrine for her children in their
-days of health and vigor, and another
-for the time of their sickness
-and death, still it does surprise
-us that a man of education
-like Mr. Gladstone should be so
-unconscious of his own extraordinary
-inconsistency in appealing&mdash;as
-he does throughout his attacks
-against Catholics and the Catholic
-Church&mdash;to “mental and moral
-freedom,” “logic,” “consistency
-of mind,” “manliness of thought,”
-etc., etc.</p>
-
-<p>Already arise from all sides
-echoes of the question singularly
-enough asked by Mr. Gladstone
-himself: “Is the Church of England
-worth preserving?”<a name="FNanchor_189" id="FNanchor_189"></a><a href="#Footnote_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a></p>
-
-<p>“The Church of England,” said
-Laud, “is Protestant.” And Mr.
-Gladstone, true to “the church of
-his birth and his country,” protests,
-like her, against the church
-which made his country a Christian
-nation. The Ritualists, the latest
-sect within her, still boast that they
-“help to keep people from the
-Church of Rome,” and reject the
-imputation of sympathy with her
-as an insupportable calumny.<a name="FNanchor_190" id="FNanchor_190"></a><a href="#Footnote_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a>
-“They will give communion in
-Westminster Abbey to an Unitarian,
-flatter Jansenists and Monophysites,
-remain in communion with
-bishops whom they themselves proclaim
-to be heretics; but one thing
-they will not do&mdash;tolerate the creed
-of the church to which they owe
-every fragment and crumb of truth
-that remains to them.” “Take
-the great Anglian divines,” writes
-Mr. Marshall: “Bull scorned and
-preached against the Catholic
-Church; Barrow wrote a book
-against it; Sandys called the Vicar
-of Christ ‘that triple-crowned
-thief and murderer’; Hooker sent
-for a dissenter on his death-bed;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[508]</a></span>
-Morton, Bramhall, Andrews, and
-the rest avowed the opinion that
-the Protestant sects of the Continent
-were as true churches as their
-own. Episcopal ordination, as the
-late Mr. J. Keble confessed, was
-not made a condition for holding
-Anglican preferment until the latter
-half of the XVIIth century; and
-it was <em>then</em> adopted as a weapon
-against the growing power of the
-dissenters. <em>Then</em> Anglicans who
-had always argued as Protestants
-against the church began to argue
-as Catholics against dissent.”</p>
-
-<p>At the present time, however, the
-English episcopate seems veering
-round again to the Protestant quarter,
-against the pseudo-Catholic
-innovations of a portion of the
-clergy. The <cite>Church Herald</cite>, which,
-up to the time when it ceased to
-exist, a few weeks ago, had been
-protesting for many months previously,
-with good reason, against
-the implacable opposition offered
-by the Anglican bishops to the so-called
-“Catholic revival,” gravely
-told its readers, while asserting
-once more that “no one trusts the
-bishops,” and that “of influence
-they have and can have next to
-none,” nevertheless that “their
-claims as Catholic bishops were
-never so firmly established.” (!)
-Certainly Anglican logic is peculiar.
-Their bishops were never more
-vehemently opposed to the Catholic
-faith; but no matter, “never
-were they more truly Catholic.” (!)</p>
-
-<p>“I have very reluctantly,” says
-Dr. Lee (as reported in the <cite>John
-Bull</cite>), “come to a conclusion which
-makes me melancholy&mdash;that the
-passing of the Public Worship Bill
-has to all intents and purposes sealed
-the fate of the Church of England.”
-Its end, he thinks, is very
-near, because no church can last
-unless it be a true portion of the
-one family of God&mdash;not a mere human
-sect, taking its variable opinion
-from the civil government, and
-its practice from a parliamentary
-officer without the faintest shadow
-of spiritual authority. “The point
-that gravely perplexes me,” he
-writes, “with regard to the new law,
-is that our bishops, one and all,
-have, with their eyes open and deliberately,
-renounced their spiritual
-jurisdiction, which, for both provinces
-and every diocese, is placed
-in the hands of Lord Penzance, ex-judge
-of the Divorce Court.” For
-which reason certain Ritualist
-papers lament it as “strange and
-sad” that Dr. Lee should say of
-the bishops and their bill exactly
-the same <em>after</em> their victory as they
-themselves had said <em>before</em> it. These
-papers, after the example of some
-learned Anglican professors, etc.,
-are ready enough beforehand to
-threaten, in the event of such and
-such a decision, to “reconsider
-their position.” The decision is
-made; they then discover that, after
-all, it is not so very serious, and
-compose themselves, for the third,
-or fourth, or fifth time, just where
-they were before.</p>
-
-<p>It is stated that the first case
-under the Public Worship Regulations
-Act is now being brought before
-Lord Penzance. It is a suit
-against the Rev. J. C. Ridsdale, incumbent
-of S. Peter’s, Folkestone.
-According to the new law, three inhabitants
-made a representation to
-the Archbishop of Canterbury as
-to the manner in which the services
-were conducted at S. Peter’s. A
-copy of the representation was forwarded
-to Mr. Ridsdale, and, no
-agreement to abide by the decision
-of the archbishop having been
-made, the proceedings will be determined
-by the judge, from whom
-there is an ultimate appeal to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[509]</a></span>
-Majesty in council. There are, it
-is said, three cases pending under
-the new law; and fresh proceedings
-are about to be commenced against
-the clergy of S. Alban’s, Holborn.
-The bill bids fair to be as one-sided
-in its application as it avowedly
-was in its intention. “The Puritan
-triumph in the XVIIth century,”
-said the Bishop of London, “would
-not be more disastrous than a
-pseudo-Catholic triumph now,” and
-the rest of the episcopal bench are
-evidently of the same mind.</p>
-
-<p>Nor can it be matter of much
-surprise that such repression should
-be exercised against men, many of
-them truly earnest and self-denying,
-who are the means of reviving
-a certain amount of Catholic doctrine
-as well as practice (however
-illegal) in their communion, when
-Dr. Lee is able to write as follows
-to an episcopal correspondent:
-“The Catholic faith, Archbishop
-Tait, in the presence of his suffragans,
-frankly declared that <em>neither
-he nor they believed</em>, and his grace&mdash;to
-give him all credit&mdash;has done his
-worst to get rid of it.”</p>
-
-<p>Here again can we wonder at the
-result, even to her highest dignitaries,
-of the uncertain teaching of a
-church which, from its very beginning,
-was intended to be a compromise?</p>
-
-<p>And, again, how can a church
-which is essentially a compromise
-be expected to sympathize with that
-unchanging church which is “the
-pillar and ground of the truth”?</p>
-
-<h4>II.</h4>
-
-<p>To return to Father Tondini’s
-essay. We come now to consider
-the newest among the sects, the so-called
-Old Catholics, who, after the
-manner of many other schismatics,
-appropriate the name of “Catholic”
-with an affix of their own,
-which is a proof that theirs is a
-base metal, unworthy of the “image
-and superscription of the King”
-or his appointed vicegerent.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone’s judgment of
-these people is thus expressed:
-“When the cup of endurance,” he
-says, “which had so long been filling,
-began, with the Council of the
-Vatican in 1870, to overflow, the
-most famous and learned living
-theologian of the Roman communion,
-Dr. von Döllinger, long the
-foremost champion of his church,
-refused compliance, and submitted,
-with his temper undisturbed and
-his freedom unimpaired, to the extreme
-and most painful penalty of
-excommunication. With him many
-of the most learned and respected
-theologians of the Roman communion
-in Germany underwent the
-same sentence. The very few who
-elsewhere (I do not speak of Switzerland)
-suffered in like manner
-deserve an admiration rising in proportion
-to their fewness.</p>
-
-<p>“It seems as though Germany,
-from which Luther blew the mighty
-trumpet that even now echoes
-through the land, still retained
-her primacy in the domain of
-conscience, still supplied the <i lang="la">centuria
-prærogativa</i> of the great <i lang="la">comitia</i>
-of the world.”<a name="FNanchor_191" id="FNanchor_191"></a><a href="#Footnote_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a></p>
-
-<p>After giving this quotation, Father
-Tondini, in the exercise of his
-“mental freedom,” proceeds to examine
-whether Old Catholics really
-deserve this highly laudatory and
-enthusiastic passage, and in what
-their merit consists.</p>
-
-<p>Their merit consists “in having
-rebelled against the church to which
-they previously belonged, on the
-ground that, in their conviction,
-she had changed her faith.</p>
-
-<p>“Not one single bishop, not one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[510]</a></span>
-out of the teaching body of the
-church, has expressed the same
-conviction. Old Catholics are, then,
-a mere handful … protesting
-against the Pope and the whole
-episcopate, preferring their own
-private judgment to that of the
-whole teaching body of the Catholic
-Church, and fully decided to do
-everything in their power to bring
-about the triumph of their private
-personal judgment. Their first act
-was to raise a schism in the church.
-They had openly and freely separated
-themselves from her long before
-the sentence of excommunication
-was notified to them. They
-then became the occasion of a severe
-persecution against their former
-fellow-Catholics; and now,
-whilst the persecution is raging,
-and Old Catholics, supported by
-governments and the press, have
-suffered neither in person nor property,
-nor in their individual liberty,
-we are called upon to bestow upon
-those who suffered ‘in like manner’
-an admiration rising in proportion
-to their fewness!”<a name="FNanchor_192" id="FNanchor_192"></a><a href="#Footnote_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a></p>
-
-<p>But why is this? and what is
-the <cite>Expostulation</cite> itself but a cry
-of alarm to prevent British Catholics
-from rebelling against the
-queen? Why, then, is the rebellion
-of some private individuals to
-be extolled in terms like these?
-Or if, indeed, strong private religious
-convictions (taking it for
-granted that the Old Catholics have
-such) make it praiseworthy to rebel
-against the church, why should not
-strong private political convictions
-make it equally praiseworthy to rebel
-against the state? The field
-of similar applications is fearfully
-wide, and many a parental admonition
-to an indolent or disobedient
-child might be met by the young
-rebel in Mr. Gladstone’s words,
-that “with temper undisturbed,
-with freedom unimpaired,” he had
-no intention to do as he was bid.</p>
-
-<p>The first official document of the
-Old Catholics is the “Declaration”
-of Dr. von Döllinger and his adherents,
-dated Munich, June, 1871,<a name="FNanchor_193" id="FNanchor_193"></a><a href="#Footnote_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a>
-and which bears the signatures of
-Dr. von Döllinger, sixteen professors
-or doctors, seven magistrates,
-three private gentlemen, two manufacturers,
-one “Maître royal des
-cérémonies,” and one “Intendant
-royal de musique au théâtre de
-cour”&mdash;thirty-one signatures in all,
-to which was added later that of the
-unhappy Loyson.</p>
-
-<p>The second document is a French
-manifesto or appeal, “Aux fidèles
-de l’Ancienne Eglise Catholique,”
-signed “E. Michaud, Docteur en
-Théologie,” dated 1872, and widely
-circulated in France, with a request
-that every reader will help to make
-it known and gain as many additional
-adherents as possible.</p>
-
-<p>The style of both documents is
-peculiar. They alike belong to
-those literary productions which betray
-an almost feverish excitement
-of mind. A small number of persons,
-till lately belonging to the
-Catholic Church, declare themselves
-“determined” to do their utmost
-towards bringing about “the reform
-of ecclesiastical affairs, so long desired
-and henceforth so inevitable,
-in the organization as well as in the
-life of the church.” In fact, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[511]</a></span>
-authors of both these documents
-show a faith in their own infallibility,
-both doctrinal and practical, at
-least as strong as their conviction
-of the fallibility of the Pope. They
-are peculiarly unfortunate in their
-choice of the fathers they quote,
-as well as in their appeal to the authority
-of S. Paul. Their style is
-certainly wholly unlike that of this
-great apostle, who, with so much
-earnestness and humility, begs the
-prayers of the faithful, while the
-necessity of prayer for such an undertaking
-as that which the Old
-Catholics call the “regeneration of
-the church” is not even once alluded
-to in their manifestoes.</p>
-
-<p>There is another consideration
-which presents itself. Every practical
-man is careful to ascertain the
-competency, in any particular subject,
-of those who give him their
-advice upon it. A sick man would
-not consult a lawyer for his
-cure, nor an aggrieved man seek
-legal advice of his baker or shoemaker.
-The distinguished magistrates
-who signed the German Declaration
-must be supposed to have
-done so, not in consequence of a
-clear and detailed knowledge of the
-grounds of the assertions it contained,
-but in consequence of their
-confidence in Dr. von Döllinger,
-which led them to adopt his views.
-In the same way must be explained
-the adhesions given by the respectable
-manufacturers, “Maître royal des
-cérémonies,” and “Intendant royal
-de musique au théâtre de cour”; for
-though these pursuits need not be
-in themselves an obstacle to a man
-being well acquainted with religious
-matters, still they are an undeniable
-argument against his having made
-it the chief object of his studies.</p>
-
-<p>“Now,” continues Father Tondini,
-“the charges brought in the present
-case against the Catholic Church
-are so heavy, and the mere probability
-of their being founded on
-truth of such vital importance to
-the whole Christian world, …
-that to require something more
-than the ordinary amount of theological
-science which is in general
-to be found in men involved in
-worldly affairs of the most distracting
-kind, is only acting in accordance
-with the most ordinary laws
-of prudence. All this will become
-evident if we only suppose that the
-‘Declaration’ had appeared without
-the signatures of Dr. von Döllinger
-and the above-mentioned professors.”
-In looking over the latter
-we find that none of them can lay
-any claim to the same scientific
-authority and repute as that which
-he enjoys; and the same remark
-applies to all who have subsequently
-joined the Old Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to Dr. von Döllinger
-himself, he has till now, if we are
-rightly informed, abstained from
-joining his fellow-subscribers to the
-German “Declaration” in their
-submission to Mgr. Reinkens, the
-Old-Catholic Bishop of Germany.
-“Thus the chief promoter of the
-opposition to the Vatican Council
-stands apart, and we should be
-grateful to any one who might tell
-us to what church he belongs and
-whom he recognizes as his legitimate
-bishop. We cannot suppose
-that he whom Mr. Gladstone calls
-‘the most famous and learned theologian
-of the Roman communion’
-has the pretension of forming a
-church in his own person.”</p>
-
-<p>Father Tondini next notices the
-remarkable phenomenon presented
-by Old Catholicism during the first
-three years of its existence as
-body without a head, and calls
-the reader’s attention to the following
-passage in the French manifesto:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[512]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“If it be the will of God,” thus
-it runs, “that some Roman bishops
-have the courage to return publicly
-to the profession of the ancient
-faith, we will place them with joy
-at our head. And if none break
-publicly with heresy, our church,
-though essentially episcopal, will
-not for that reason be condemned
-to die; for as soon as it shall be
-possible to regularize its situation
-in this respect, we shall choose
-priests who will receive either in
-the West or in the East an episcopal
-consecration of unquestionable
-validity.”</p>
-
-<p>“These,” he remarks, “are plain
-words. It evidently results from
-them that there was a time when
-the church, ‘unstained by any Roman
-innovation,’ was still looking
-for a bishop&mdash;in other words, for a
-head, which she did not possess as
-yet. How, in spite of this deficiency,
-the Old-Catholic Church
-could be termed essentially episcopal
-we are at a loss to understand.
-That which is essential to a thing
-is that without which it cannot possibly
-exist for a single moment;
-but here we are asked to believe in
-a miracle which at once destroys
-all our physical and metaphysical
-notions of things. A new-born
-warrior fighting without a head,
-and a being existing without one
-of its essential constituents&mdash;such
-are the wonders which accompanied
-the genesis of the so-called regenerated
-church of the Old Catholics.”</p>
-
-<p>The German Declaration in like
-manner states the then headless
-condition of the Old-Catholic body.
-Its subscribers, and among them
-Prof. Reinkens, say they look forward
-to a time when “all Catholicity
-shall be placed under the
-direction of a primate and an
-episcopacy, which by means of
-science,” etc., etc., “and not by the
-decrees of the Vatican, … shall
-approach the crowning object assigned
-to Christian development&mdash;we
-mean that of the union of the
-other Christian confessions now
-separated from us,” etc.</p>
-
-<p>Such was their language in June,
-1871, when they were already nearly
-a year old. Their first bishop,
-Joseph Hubert Reinkens, was consecrated
-in August, 1873. These
-dates are very important. No power
-on earth will ever be able to
-annul them as historical facts, which
-prove that a body calling itself the
-true church of Christ has existed
-some time without a single bishop,
-although bishops are essential to
-the church of Christ, as Scripture,
-tradition, history, all antiquity
-agree. S. Cyprian says:</p>
-
-<p>“The church is the people in
-union with the bishop&mdash;a flock adhering
-to its shepherd. The bishop
-is in the church and the
-church in the bishop. He who is
-not with the bishop is not in the
-church.”<a name="FNanchor_194" id="FNanchor_194"></a><a href="#Footnote_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a> And again: “He cannot
-be accounted a bishop who, in
-despite of the evangelic and apostolic
-tradition, has, of himself, become
-one (<i lang="la">a se ipso ortus est, nemini
-succedens</i>), and succeeds to none.”</p>
-
-<p>Now, “to what bishop” (asks Father
-Tondini) “did Dr. Reinkens
-succeed? His first pastoral letter,
-dated August 11, 1873, is addressed
-‘to the priests and faithful of
-Germany who persevere in the ancient
-Catholic faith.’ Who ever
-heard of the bishop and diocese<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[513]</a></span>
-of Germany before this letter?”
-Again: “That same Dr. Reinkens
-who in June, 1871, signed the
-‘Declaration’ in which the Christian
-confessions outside the Roman
-Church were called ‘Christian confessions
-now separated from us,’ in
-August, 1873, saluted with the title
-of ‘Old Catholics,’ the Jansenists
-of Holland, and Mgr. Heykamp,
-the bishop by whom he was consecrated,
-with that of ‘bishop of the
-Old Catholics’!”<a name="FNanchor_195" id="FNanchor_195"></a><a href="#Footnote_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a></p>
-
-<h4>III.</h4>
-
-<p>We now come to the consideration
-of Old Catholicism as an instrument
-of union between the
-Christian Episcopal churches. In
-accordance with their “Declaration,”
-the Old Catholics insist upon
-its being one of their main objects
-to reunite the Christian churches
-separated from Rome during the
-VIIIth and IXth centuries, and
-complacently boast of the marks of
-sympathy bestowed upon them by
-these churches.</p>
-
-<p>From one of their manifestoes
-Father Tondini quotes the following
-important statements:</p>
-
-<p>“The bishops of the Oriental
-Orthodox Church”&mdash;thus runs the
-manifesto&mdash;“and those of the Episcopal
-Church of England and the
-United States of America (!) encourage
-Old Catholicism with their
-most profound sympathy. Representatives
-of the Orthodox Church
-of Russia assist every year at its
-congress.… The interest displayed
-for it by governments is not
-inferior to that of the churches.…
-The governments of Russia and of
-England are disposed to recognize
-its rights when it shall be opportune
-to do so.”<a name="FNanchor_196" id="FNanchor_196"></a><a href="#Footnote_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a></p>
-
-<p>Upon which he points out the
-exceeding inexpediency, for their
-own sakes, of these governments or
-their bishops having any participation
-in the doings of Old Catholics;
-and this for the following reasons,
-which are worthy of careful consideration
-by the two governments in
-question, and which we give in his
-own words:</p>
-
-<p>“In order, it would seem, to escape
-the stringent conclusion of S.
-Cyprian’s words, ‘He who does
-not succeed to other bishops, but is
-self-originated, cannot be reckoned
-among bishops,’ Mgr. Reinkens, in
-his above-quoted pastoral letter, …
-authoritatively declared not only
-that the ‘apostolic see of Rome
-was vacant,’ but that not one of the
-actually existing Roman Catholic
-bishops was legitimate.</p>
-
-<p>“In support of this assumption
-the Old-Catholic bishop invokes
-some fathers of the church&mdash;not, indeed,
-what they said or did while
-living, but what they would say or
-do if they were to return to life:
-‘If the great bishops of the ancient
-church were to return to life in the
-midst of us,’ says Mgr. Reinkens,
-‘a Cyprian, (!) a Hilary, an Ambrose,
-… they would acknowledge
-none of the existing bishops
-of the Roman Catholic Church as
-validly elected.’<a name="FNanchor_197" id="FNanchor_197"></a><a href="#Footnote_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a></p>
-
-<p>“So much for the fact. As it
-can only be ascertained when those
-great bishops are restored to life, all
-we can do is to defer this verification
-until the great day of judgment.</p>
-
-<p>“Now comes the general principle
-on which the assumed fact is
-founded. Let us listen again to
-Mgr. Reinkens: ‘They [the resuscitated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[514]</a></span>
-bishops of the ancient
-church] would not acknowledge
-any of the existing bishops of the
-Roman Catholic Church as validly
-elected, because none of them
-were appointed in conformity with
-the immutable rule of the fathers
-of the church. Never! no, never!
-would they have received into their
-company, in the quality of a Catholic
-bishop, one who had not been
-chosen by the people and the clergy.
-This mode of election was considered
-by them as of divine precept, and
-consequently as immutable.’”</p>
-
-<p>“How many bishops are there in
-existence at the present day,” asks
-Father Tondini, “either in the Anglican
-Church or in the Christian
-East, who have been chosen by
-the people and the clergy?”</p>
-
-<p>In answer to this question we
-have, respecting the non-popular
-mode of election in the Oriental
-Orthodox Church, the following
-trustworthy information: In the
-Orthodox Church of the Turkish
-Empire the election of a patriarch
-is made by the members of its
-synod, which is composed of metropolitans,
-of one of their own number,
-and this election “is then made
-known to the people assembled in
-the atrium of the synodicon, who
-give, by acclamation and the cry
-of ἄξιος (worthy), their assent to
-the election.… This, however, is
-in fact an empty formality; the
-more so as the election itself is the
-result of previous secret understandings
-between the more influential
-members of the synod and the leading
-men among the people.”<a name="FNanchor_198" id="FNanchor_198"></a><a href="#Footnote_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a></p>
-
-<p>“The three patriarchs of Alexandria,
-Antioch, and Jerusalem are
-elected by their respective synods,
-composed of metropolitans.</p>
-
-<p>“The metropolitans and bishops
-of each patriarchate are elected by
-the respective patriarchs, together
-with their synods.”</p>
-
-<p>Did the Patriarch of Constantinople,
-in agreeing, on the invitation
-of Dr. von Döllinger, to send representatives
-of the Greek Orthodox
-Church to the Old Catholic Church
-Congress at Bonn, forget that, according
-to Mgr. Reinkens, all bishops
-who have not been elected by
-the clergy and the people are illegitimate
-bishops, that their sees
-are all vacant, that this mode of
-election is of divine precept, and
-consequently immutable?</p>
-
-<p>“We know not,” says Father
-Tondini, “which of the two is more
-to be wondered at: the boldness
-of the Old Catholics in inviting the
-patriarch to be represented at the
-congress, or the logical inconsistency
-of the patriarch in accepting the
-invitation.”</p>
-
-<p>Next, with regard to the Orthodox
-Church of the Russian Empire.</p>
-
-<p>No one who may have read
-“The Future of the Russian
-Church,” which recently appeared
-in the pages of <span class="smcap">The Catholic
-World</span>,<a name="FNanchor_199" id="FNanchor_199"></a><a href="#Footnote_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a> will need to be told how
-little voice either the inferior clergy
-or people of Russia have in the
-election of their bishops. The
-Most Holy Governing Synod proposes
-to his majesty two persons
-(on an eparchy becoming vacant),
-and that one of the two selected by
-the czar is chosen and consecrated.<a name="FNanchor_200" id="FNanchor_200"></a><a href="#Footnote_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a>
-(See Consett, <cite>Spiritual Regulation
-of Peter the Great</cite>.)</p>
-
-<p>In the formula of the oath taken
-by the Russian bishops before being
-consecrated, they engage themselves
-to yield true obedience to the Holy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[515]</a></span>
-Synod, “the legitimate authority
-instituted by the pious Emperor Peter
-the Great of immortal memory,
-and confirmed by command of his (or
-her) present imperial majesty,” and
-to obey all the rules and statutes
-made by the authority of the synod
-agreeably to the will of his (or her)
-imperial majesty, adding the following
-words: “Furthermore, I do testify
-that I have not received this
-province in consideration of gold
-or silver given by me, … but I
-have received it by the free will of
-our most serene and most puissant
-sovereign (by name), and by the
-<em>election</em> of the Holy Legislative
-Synod.<a name="FNanchor_201" id="FNanchor_201"></a><a href="#Footnote_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a> Moreover, at the beginning
-of the ceremony the bishop-consecrator
-thus addresses the newly-elected
-bishop: “Reverend Father
-N., the Most Serene and Most
-Puissant Czar N. N. <em>hath commanded,
-by his own singular and proper
-edict</em>, and the Holy Legislative Synod
-of all the Russias gives its benediction
-thereto, that you, holy sir,
-be bishop of the city of N.”; to
-which the future bishop is made to
-answer: “Since the Most Serene,
-etc., Czar has <em>commanded</em>, and the
-… synod … has judged me
-worthy to undertake this province,
-I give thanks therefor, and do undertake
-it and in nowise gainsay.”<a name="FNanchor_202" id="FNanchor_202"></a><a href="#Footnote_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a></p>
-
-<p>After similarly disposing (with
-regard to the remaining Oriental
-churches) of Mr. Gladstone’s extraordinary
-assertion that “the ancient
-principles of popular election
-and control exist in the Christian
-East”&mdash;an assertion of which also
-he makes use as a weapon against
-the Catholic Church<a name="FNanchor_203" id="FNanchor_203"></a><a href="#Footnote_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a>&mdash;Father
-Tondini passes on to the election
-of bishops in the Anglican Church.
-With regard to this, the following
-abstract from Stephen is amply sufficient
-to show how far “the principles
-of popular election” prevail in
-the nomination of the bishops of
-the Establishment:</p>
-
-<p>“By statute 25 Henry VIII. c. 20
-the law was altered and the right
-of nomination secured to the crown,
-it being enacted that, at every future
-avoidance of a bishopric, the
-king may send the dean and chapter
-his usual license to proceed to
-election, or <i lang="fr">congé d’elire</i>, which is
-always to be accompanied with a
-letter missive from the king, containing
-the name of the person
-whom he would have them elect;
-and if the dean and chapter delay
-their election above twelve days,
-the nomination shall devolve to
-the king, who may by letters-patent
-appoint such person as he pleases.
-This election or nomination, if it
-be of a bishop, must be signified by
-the king’s letters-patent to the archbishop
-of the province; if it be of
-an archbishop, to the other archbishop
-and two bishops, or to four
-bishops, requiring them to confirm,
-invest, and consecrate the person
-so elected; which they are bound
-to perform immediately, without
-any application to the See of
-Rome. After which the bishop-elect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[516]</a></span>
-shall sue to the king for his
-temporalities, shall take oath to
-the king and to none other, and
-shall take restitution of his secular
-possessions out of the king’s hand
-only. And if such dean and chapter
-do not elect in this manner by
-this act appointed, or if such archbishop
-or bishop do refuse to confirm,
-invest, and consecrate such
-bishop-elect, they shall incur all
-the penalties of a præmunire&mdash;that
-is, the loss of all civil rights, the
-forfeiture of lands, goods, and
-chattels, and imprisonment during
-the royal pleasure. It is to be observed,
-however, that the mode
-here described of appointing bishops
-applies only to such sees as are
-of old foundation. The five new
-bishoprics created by Henry VIII.
-… have always been donatives,
-and conferred by letters-patent
-from the crown; and the case is
-the same as to the bishopric of Ripon,
-now recently created” (Stephen’s
-<cite>Commentaries on the Laws of
-England</cite>, vol. iii. p. 61).</p>
-
-<p>In concluding his essay, Father
-Tondini repeats Mgr. Reinkens’
-words: “If the great bishops of the
-ancient church were to return to life
-in the midst of us, … never! no,
-never! would they have received
-into their company, in the quality
-of a Christian bishop, one who had
-not been chosen by the people and
-the clergy; this mode of election
-was considered by them as of divine
-precept, and consequently as
-immutable”; and then asks: “How
-can the support given by the state
-churches and governments of England
-and Russia to Old Catholicism
-be explained? Is it for the purpose
-of declaring that all the episcopal
-sees, both of England and Russia, are
-vacant and awaiting the choice of
-the people?”</p>
-
-<p>The reader, being now acquainted
-with much of the contents as
-well as with the general tenor of
-Father Tondini’s essay, may find
-some interest (possibly amusement
-also) in comparing the following
-remarks of the London <cite>Tablet</cite>
-(Sept. 18) with the confirmation of
-their accurate appreciation of the
-“British Philistine’s” pride in his
-own obtuseness so ingenuously furnished
-(Sept. 25) by a writer in the
-<cite>Church Review</cite>:</p>
-
-<p class="center">LONDON TABLET.</p>
-
-<p>“We are a little afraid
-that the Anglican sympathizers
-with the Old
-Catholics will not be
-sharp enough to understand
-the keen logic of
-Father Tondini’s concise
-reasoning. The British
-Philistine rather glories
-in being impervious to
-logic or wit, and chuckles
-over his own obtuseness
-as a proof of the
-strength of the religion
-which he patronizes. It
-is provoking to a zealous
-controversialist to have
-to do battle with such a
-heavy antagonist, but we
-trust the good father
-will not cease to labor at
-the conversion of our illogical
-but worthy fellow-countrymen.
-We thank
-him for a well-timed and
-well-written pamphlet.”</p>
-
-<p>(The <cite>Universe</cite> calls it
-“another fatal blow for
-the theology of our ex-prime
-minister; closely
-reasoned and perfectly
-terrible in its manner of
-grasping its luckless opponent.”&mdash;<cite>Universe</cite>,
-September
-25, 1875.)</p>
-
-<p class="center">CHURCH REVIEW.</p>
-
-<p>“The Rev. Cæsar
-Tondini, who is fond of
-linking Russian Orthodoxy
-and Anglican Catholicism
-in one sweeping
-condemnation, is by no
-means one of the Pope’s
-greatest controversialists.
-But this pamphlet is
-hardly worthy of even
-his reputation. Every
-point in it might be answered
-by a <i lang="la">tu quoque</i>.
-Fact might be set against
-fact, defect against defect,
-innovation against
-innovation, inconsistency
-against inconsistency,
-and error against error.
-But picking holes in our
-neighbor’s coat will never
-mend the rents in our
-own. So we forbear, content
-for the present to
-congratulate ourselves
-on the fact that, while
-Romanists are still utterly
-blind to their own nakedness,
-we have at least
-plucked a fig-leaf by the
-efforts already made to
-bring about reunion.”
-[Who could help thinking,
-“We would not give
-a fig for such a leaf as
-this”?]</p>
-
-<h4>IV.</h4>
-
-<p>We will conclude the present
-notice by some account of the
-recent Conference at Bonn, in
-which the Old Catholics have given
-abundant proof that they are no
-freer from variation than are any
-other of the Protestant sects.</p>
-
-<p>Desirous of strengthening their
-position by alliance with other
-forms of schism, Dr. von Döllinger
-invited to a congress representatives
-of the schismatic Greek and Russian
-Church, the English and American
-Episcopalians, and the Old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[517]</a></span>
-Catholics. The assembly was called
-the “International Conference
-of the Union of the Christian
-Churches,” and proposed as its object
-an agreement on the fundamental
-points of doctrine professed
-by Christendom before its divisions,
-with a view “to restore by a reform
-as broad as possible the ancient
-Catholic Church of the West.”<a name="FNanchor_204" id="FNanchor_204"></a><a href="#Footnote_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a></p>
-
-<p>In this International Conference,
-which began on the 12th of August
-and ended on the 16th, the
-principal Orientals, who numbered
-about twenty in all, were
-two bishops from Roumania; an
-archimandrite from Belgrade; two
-archimandrites, Anastasiades and
-Bryennios, from Constantinople,
-sent by the patriarch as being well
-versed in all the questions which
-have divided and which still divide
-the Greek and Latin Churches;
-there were also present the Archbishop
-of Syra and Tino, Mgr. Licourgos,
-well known in England, and
-six professors, among whom were
-Profs. Osinnin and Janischef, the
-latter being the gentleman who at
-the last Conference was so severe
-on Anglican orders. The Protestant
-Episcopalians were the most
-numerous, being about a hundred
-in number; but they had only one
-bishop among them&mdash;namely, the
-Bishop of Gibraltar. Those of
-Winchester and Lincoln, who had
-also given their adherence to the
-movement, found themselves at the
-last moment unable to attend. The
-most notable person in the Anglican
-group was Dr. Liddon, Canon of
-S. Paul’s. Dean Howson, of Chester,
-was also one of its members;
-his “views” on nearly every point
-of church teaching being diametrically
-opposed to those of Canon
-Liddon. The same group contained
-an Unitarian minister from
-Chesterfield (Mr. Smith), and a
-“Primitive Methodist” (Mr. Booth,
-a chemist and druggist of the same
-town), who on a late occasion was
-voted for and returned at the head
-of the poll as an advocate of secular
-education. The Americans
-sent only three delegates, and the
-“Reformed Church” one&mdash;the Rev.
-Th. de Félice. The Old Catholics,
-all of whom were Germans, numbered
-eighteen or twenty, with Dr.
-von Döllinger and Bishop Reinkens
-at their head, supported by Herr
-Langen, “Altkatholik”; Herr Lange,
-Protestant, and Herr Lang, the
-least orthodox of all. Close to this
-little group figured seven or eight
-more German Protestants. In all,
-the Conference was composed of
-about one hundred and fifty persons,
-of whom the <cite>Times</cite> observes
-that, “slender as the gathering was,
-it was forced to display an almost
-ludicrous caution in drawing up
-such articles of faith as would command
-the assent of the whole assembly”&mdash;articles
-“so vague that
-they might be made to mean anything
-or nothing”; and, further,
-that the few English divines who
-went to Bonn to play at a council
-no more represent the Church of
-England than Dr. von Döllinger
-represents the Church of Rome, but
-spoke in the name of nothing but
-themselves. It suggests to them,
-with scornful irony, that “charity
-begins at home,” and that in the
-present distracted state of the
-Church of England, “when nothing
-keeps the various and conflicting
-‘schools’ of clergy in the same communion
-but the secular forces of the
-Establishment, there is surely there
-a magnificent field for the exercise
-of even a genius of conciliation.”</p>
-
-<p>A Bavarian Protestant clergyman
-informed the assembly that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[518]</a></span>
-as there was no chance of their
-coming to an agreement by means
-of discussion about dogma, they had
-far better throw over dogma altogether,
-and trust to brotherly love
-to bring about union. Dr. von
-Döllinger, however, said that if they
-all shared this opinion, they had
-better have stayed at home. One
-reverend gentleman proposed to
-settle the difference by examining
-where the fathers all harmonize,
-and abiding by the result (a task
-which, as a looker-on observed,
-would give all the theological acuteness
-and learning in the world
-abundant work for about half a dozen
-centuries); whereupon Bishop
-Reinkens nervously tried to draw
-the debaters into the cloud-land of
-love and unity of purpose, etc., etc.
-But here Canon Liddon hastened to
-the rescue with a carefully-prepared
-scheme for effecting the reconciliation
-of the East and West, which was
-apparently received by the Orientals
-with a tranquil indifference,
-and was chiefly remarkable for its
-adroit semblance of effecting much,
-while it in fact does nothing. Yielding
-here and there a phrase of no
-special meaning, it declared in the
-next clause that it would retain its
-own form of the Creed until the
-dispute should be settled by “a
-truly œcumenical council.” This
-announcement was the signal for an
-outburst of disapproval, questions,
-and objections. “What did Canon
-Liddon mean by an œcumenical
-council?” “An assent of the
-whole episcopate.” This was too
-much for Lord Plunkett, who exclaimed
-that he would never have
-come to the Conference if he had
-known that it meant to confine the
-Christian Church within the bounds
-of episcopacy. What, he should
-like to know, was to hinder Presbyterian
-ministers from being admitted
-equally with bishops to take part
-in an œcumenical council?</p>
-
-<p>On this the canon obligingly
-agreed to substitute “the whole
-church” for the obnoxious term;
-but while the assembly hesitated,
-some paragon of caution suggested
-the phrase “sufficient authority.”
-However, this masterpiece of conciliation&mdash;for
-nobody could say what it
-meant&mdash;was rejected for “the whole
-church,” this latter being equally
-ambiguous to those who were adopting
-it. On this they agreed. As
-the <cite>Times’</cite> correspondent observes,
-“Everybody will agree with everybody
-else when all deliberately use
-words for the purpose of concealing
-what they mean. When men
-differ from each other essentially, it
-is childish folly to try to unite them
-by an unmeaning phrase.”</p>
-
-<p>The great question was that of
-the procession of the Holy Spirit.
-On this M. Osinnin was the chief
-speaker on behalf of the Greeks,
-and he seems to have challenged
-every interpretation of the Westerns,
-maintaining even that <i lang="la">procedit</i>
-was not an exact rendering of
-ἐκπορεύεται. However, a committee
-was appointed, composed of
-the Germans, two Orientals, an
-Englishman, and an American;
-and Dr. von Döllinger announced
-to the Conference on its last sitting
-that an agreement had been arrived
-at on all essential points. The
-Greeks were to retain their version
-of the Nicene Creed, and the Westerns
-theirs; the latter were to admit
-that the <i lang="la">Filioque</i> had been improperly
-introduced, and that both
-were to agree that, whichever version
-they used, their meaning was
-that the Holy Spirit proceeds from
-the Father through the Son. With
-regard to the last point, however,
-the Orientals said that although
-they had personally no objection to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[519]</a></span>
-the expression, yet they must decline
-to give any official assent to
-the article until it had been submitted
-to their synods or other
-competent authorities at home.</p>
-
-<p>Judging from every account we
-have seen (all of them Protestant)
-of the Bonn Conference, it is evident
-that its members, in order to
-give an appearance of mutual agreement,
-subscribed to propositions
-which may be taken in various
-senses. The six articles agreed to
-by the committee were couched in
-the following terms:</p>
-
-<p>“We believe with S. John Damascene,
-1, that the Holy Spirit
-proceeds from the Father as the beginning,
-the cause, and the fountain
-of Deity. 2. That the Holy Spirit
-does not proceed from the Son
-ἐκ τοῦ υίοῦ, and that for this
-reason there is in the Godhead
-only one beginning, one cause,
-through which all that is in the
-Godhead is produced. 3. That
-the Holy Spirit is the image of the
-Son, who is the image of the Father,
-proceeding from the Father and
-resting in the Son, as the outbeaming
-power of the latter. 4. The
-Holy Spirit is the personal bringing
-forth of the Father, but belonging
-to the Son, yet not of the Son, since
-he is the Spirit of the Godhead
-which speaks forth the Word. 5.
-The Holy Spirit forms the connecting
-link between the Father and
-the Son, and is united to the Father
-through the Son. 6. The
-Holy Spirit proceeds [or, as amended
-by Mr. Meyrick, ‘issues’] from
-the Father through the Son.”</p>
-
-<p>It is the supposed denial of that
-unity of the αρχή, or originating
-principle in the Most Holy Trinity,
-which has always been the ground
-of the Greek objections to the
-Latin form of the Creed.<a name="FNanchor_205" id="FNanchor_205"></a><a href="#Footnote_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a> “The
-double <em>Procession</em><a name="FNanchor_206" id="FNanchor_206"></a><a href="#Footnote_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a> of the Holy
-Ghost has always been believed in
-the church, only to a certain number
-of minds it remained for a time
-obscure, and thus there are to be
-found in the writings of the fathers
-passages in which mention is made
-rather of the procession from the
-Father than of the double procession
-from the Father and the Son,
-but yet none which, although not
-formally indicating, exclude or contradict
-it.</p>
-
-<p>“In recurring to the expressions
-employed by the fathers, the members
-of the Bonn Conference have
-made choice of some of those which
-are vague and least explicit, instead
-of others which convey to the mind
-a clear idea. We are fully aware
-that, from a historical point of view,
-the question of the <i lang="la">Filioque</i> presents
-some difficulties. At Nicæa,
-in 325, the question of <em>procession</em>
-was not even mentioned, from the
-fact of its not having up to that
-time been raised. At Constantinople,
-in 381, in order to cut short
-discussions which were tending to
-result in a denial of the Trinity, the
-addition had been made to the
-Creed that the Holy Ghost proceeds
-from the Father, without
-mention of the Son. At the Third
-Council of Toledo, in 589, the faith
-of the church in the double procession
-was clearly indicated by the
-addition of the <i lang="la">Filioque</i>&mdash;an addition,
-which was adopted by several particular
-councils, and which became
-general in France. The popes,
-however, foreseeing that the Orientals&mdash;always
-inclined to be ill-disposed
-towards the West&mdash;would
-make this addition an excuse for
-breaking off into schism, appeared
-at first but little in favor of a modification
-which, although expressing
-with greater accuracy the faith of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[520]</a></span>
-the church, would furnish fresh
-fuel to theological disputes. It
-was a question of prudence. But
-when the truth was once placed in
-peril, they hesitated no longer. All
-the West chanted the <i lang="la">Filioque</i>;
-and the Greeks themselves, on repeated
-occasions, and notably at
-the Council of Florence in 1438,
-confessed the double procession to
-be an article of the Catholic faith.”</p>
-
-<p>The Old Catholics of Bonn have
-thus made, as it seems to us, a retrogression
-on this question. Will
-this help to secure “the union of
-the Christian churches” which was
-the object of the Conference? In
-outward appearance possibly it
-may, because all the separated communities
-willingly join hand in
-hand against the true church of
-Christ; but in reality, no, for the
-Greeks will continue to reject the
-procession through the Son, as the
-Anglicans will continue to accept
-it; and we have no need to say
-that the Catholic Church will never
-cease to confess the double procession,
-and to sing: <i lang="la">Qui ex Patre
-Filioque procedit</i>.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to other subjects
-discussed by the meeting at Bonn,
-we will briefly mention that Canon
-Liddon spoke against the invocation
-of saints, and Dr. von Döllinger
-talked of “making a clear sweep”
-of the doctrine of purgatory and indulgences;
-although, in stating the
-belief of his co-religionists, he was
-obliged to reaffirm the doctrine of
-purgatory in terms nearly equivalent
-to those of the Creed of Pope
-Pius IV. On this matter, whatever
-the Greeks might do, how many of
-the Anglicans would agree with the
-Old Catholics? Not only are the
-people who go to these conferences
-from England in no sense representatives
-of the body to which
-they belong, but even they themselves
-do not always abide by what
-they have agreed to.<a name="FNanchor_207" id="FNanchor_207"></a><a href="#Footnote_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a> Dean Howson,
-in a statement he read at the
-last Conference, put a Low-Church
-interpretation on the resolution of
-last year’s Conference about the
-Eucharist, which interpretation Canon
-Liddon immediately repudiated.
-Before Greek or German
-schismatics can unite with the
-Church of England, they will have
-to make up their minds as to which
-of at least four theological systems
-<em>is</em> Anglicanism, and then to get <em>that</em>
-admitted by the other three.</p>
-
-<p>As to the validity of Anglican
-orders, Dr. von Döllinger appears
-to have considered it as resting on
-the certainty of Parker’s consecration,
-without going into the really
-more important questions of Barlow’s
-orders, or the sufficiency of form or
-intention, all of which are matters of
-such grave doubt as to be practically
-worthless to any one insisting upon
-the necessity of <em>certainty</em> that the
-communion to which he belongs
-possesses the apostolic succession.</p>
-
-<p>We cannot conclude this sketch
-of the Bonn Conference without
-presenting our readers with a portrait
-of its chief, Dr. von Döllinger,
-drawn by a friendly hand&mdash;that of
-a French apostate priest, and one
-of the members of the Conference&mdash;which
-we reproduce from the
-pages of the <cite>Indépendance Belge</cite>.</p>
-
-<p>“M. Döllinger,” he writes, “pronounced
-three long and eloquent
-discourses, marked by that seriousness
-and depth which so especially
-characterize his manner of speaking;
-but notwithstanding their
-merit, they have not resulted in
-any new conclusion. May not the
-blame be in some measure due to
-M. Overbeck, who … introduced
-into the discussion authorities posterior
-to the epoch of the separation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[521]</a></span>
-of East and West, and mingled the
-question of the seven œcumenical
-councils with that of the <i lang="la">Filioque</i>?…
-At all events, both obscurity
-and coldness found their way into
-the debates.…</p>
-
-<p>“Truly, this excellent M. Döllinger
-seems fated to go on from one
-contradiction to another, and to accept
-one year that which he refused
-in the preceding. For instance, in
-1871, at the congress at Munich, he
-energetically opposed the organization
-of Old-Catholic parishes; afterwards
-he resigned himself to consent
-to this. In 1871 he desired
-the Old Catholics to confine themselves,
-after his example, to protesting
-against the excommunication
-they had incurred; but later on he
-is willing that their priests should
-take upon themselves the full exercise
-of their ministry. In 1871 and
-1872 he wished to maintain the decisions
-of the Council of Trent; in
-1873 he decided to abandon them,
-as well as the alleged œcumenicity
-of this council. In 1872 … he
-considered the attempts made to
-establish union between the Old
-Catholics and the Oriental churches
-as at any rate imprudent, if not
-even compromising. In 1874 he
-adopted the idea of which he had
-been so much afraid, and has since
-that time used every endeavor to
-promote the union of the churches.
-Last year a proposal [for a committee
-to examine on what points
-the earliest fathers harmonized]
-was rejected by M. Döllinger with
-a certain disdain, as impracticable
-and even childish. <em>Now</em>, however,
-we find him obliged to come back
-to it, at least in part.”<a name="FNanchor_208" id="FNanchor_208"></a><a href="#Footnote_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a> “It is by
-no means in reproach but in praise
-that we say this,” continues the
-writer, adding: “He accepted with
-the best grace possible, in one of
-the sittings of the Conference this
-year, the observations of Prof.
-Osinnin on the manner of studying
-texts; and when an erudite and venerable
-man like M. Döllinger knows
-how to correct himself with such
-humility, he does but raise himself
-in the esteem of sincere men.”</p>
-
-<p>We would here venture to observe
-that when “so erudite” a man
-as Dr. von Döllinger, and one who
-is acknowledged by an entire sect as
-its most distinguished doctor and
-its leader, is so little sure of his
-doctrine that he is continually altering
-it, he and his followers are surely
-among the last people who ought
-to refuse to the Pope the infallibility
-which he in fact arrogates to
-himself in setting himself above an
-œcumenical council, as was that of
-the Vatican.</p>
-
-<p>If the head is represented by one
-of the members as being in a chronic
-state of uncertainty, so are the
-members themselves represented by
-another. In the <cite>Church Review</cite>
-(Anglican) for Sept. 18, 1875, is an
-article entitled “Old-Catholic Prospects,”
-the greater part of which
-consists of one of the most abusive
-and malignant attacks against the
-Catholic Church, and in an especial
-manner against the Jesuits, that it
-has ever been our lot to come upon,
-even in the journal in which it appears.
-After informing his readers
-that “Jesuitism has led the Pope
-into the egregious heresy of proclaiming
-his own infallibility,” and
-that “the Spirit of Christ, who would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[522]</a></span>
-not rest in the Vatican Council,
-where all was confusion, restraint,
-and secrecy, (!) has brooded over
-the humble (?) Conference of trusting
-hearts” at Bonn, etc., etc., this
-person, with a sudden sobriety, ventures
-on a closer inspection of the
-favored sect for which he had just
-profanely claimed the guidance of
-the Eternal Spirit, while denying it
-to the œcumenical council where
-the whole episcopate of the Catholic
-Church was assembled with its
-head, the Vicar of Christ.</p>
-
-<p>This writer perceives that, “on
-the other hand, there are dangers
-in the future. At present,” he says,
-“the Old-Catholic body is kept in
-order by two master minds&mdash;Dr.
-Döllinger and Prof. Schulte. There
-are innumerable elements of discord”
-(he adds) “manifest enough,
-but they are as yet subdued by
-reverence for Dr. Döllinger, and
-beat down by the sledge-hammer
-will of the lay professor. If either
-of these pilots were removed, it is
-impossible to say into how many
-fragments Old Catholicism might
-split. Its bishop has no means of
-control over minds, as have Schulte
-and Döllinger. Michaelis is simply
-abusive and violent, ready to tear
-down with hands and teeth, but incompetent
-to build. Repulsive in
-personal appearance, his work is
-that of detraction, denunciation,
-and destruction. To human eyes
-the movement is no movement at
-all; <em>it contains in itself no authority</em>
-to hold its members personally in
-check; and yet, in spite of every
-disadvantage, the Old-Catholic society
-is the expression of true feeling,”
-etc., etc.</p>
-
-<p>But we have dwelt long enough
-on this picture; let us in conclusion
-turn to a very different one.
-“Rome accepts no compromise;
-she dictates laws,” says M. Henri
-Vignaud,<a name="FNanchor_209" id="FNanchor_209"></a><a href="#Footnote_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a> contrasting her in no
-friendly spirit with the sect we have
-been contemplating, but yet in a
-spirit of calmness and candor.</p>
-
-<p>And this, which he intends as a
-reproach, is in reality a commendation.
-It is the true church <em>only</em>
-which <em>can</em> accept no compromise
-when the truth is in question, of
-which she is the faithful depository;
-and whatever laws she dictates are
-to guard the truth, dogmatic or
-moral, issued in God’s name and
-with his authority.</p>
-
-<p>M. Vignaud acknowledges this
-in the following remarkable manner:
-“That cannot be conciliated
-which is by nature irreconcilable.
-There can be no compromise with
-faith.… Either man forges to
-himself the truths which must illuminate
-his path, or he receives
-them from the Deity, in which case
-he must submit to accept the dogma
-of infallibility; for without this
-the whole theory falls. It is for
-this reason that the apostolic Roman
-Catholicity is so strong. Subordinating
-reason to faith, it does
-not carry within it the germ of any
-scepticism. There can be no transacting
-with it, and whoever goes
-out of it enters, whether he is aware
-of the fact or not, into rationalism,
-of which the logical outcome is the
-elimination of the divine action in
-human affairs.”<a name="FNanchor_210" id="FNanchor_210"></a><a href="#Footnote_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a></p>
-
-<p>It would be scarcely possible to
-show more clearly that there are but
-two logical positions in the world
-of intelligences&mdash;namely, Catholicity
-and scepticism, or, as it is called in
-the present day, positivism. The
-next step after refusing God all action
-in human affairs is to refuse
-him existence.</p>
-
-<p>The Conference at Bonn, however<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[523]</a></span>
-little it may have done in other
-respects, has already produced one
-result which was far from the intention
-of its promoters. It has furnished
-an additional proof that there
-is one church only which is capable
-of resisting the invasion of scepticism
-and unbelief, and that this
-church is the Catholic and Roman.</p>
-
-<p>“<em>Either Jesus Christ never organized
-a church, or the Catholic is the
-church which he organized.</em>”<a name="FNanchor_211" id="FNanchor_211"></a><a href="#Footnote_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a></p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>MIDNIGHT MASS IN A CONVENT.</h3>
-
-<p>I have lately been reading some
-remarks on the curious association
-existing between certain tastes and
-odors and an involuntary exertion
-of the memory by which the recurrence
-of those tastes or odors recalls,
-with a vividness not otherwise to be
-obtained, a whole series of incidents
-of past life&mdash;incidents which, with
-their surrounding scenes, would
-otherwise be quite forgotten and
-buried out of sight by the successive
-overlaying of other events of greater
-interest or importance. Montaigne
-has some singular illustrations of
-this peculiar fact of consciousness,
-and there is a brief reference to the
-subject made in some recently republished
-recollections of William
-Hazlitt. Connected with this is
-the powerful influence known to
-be exercised in many well-authenticated
-cases upon the nervous
-sensibilities by the exhalation
-of particular perfumes or the scent
-of certain kinds of flowers harmless
-or agreeable to all other persons.
-There is a reciprocal motion of the
-mind which has also been noted, by
-which a particular train of thought
-recalls a certain taste or smell almost
-as if one received the impression
-from the existing action of the
-senses. An illustration is given in
-the discussion just noted, where a
-special association of ideas is stated
-to have brought back to the writer,
-with great vividness, the “smell of a
-baker’s shop in Bassorah.” Individual
-experiences could doubtless be
-accumulated to show that this mysterious
-short-hand mind-writing, so
-to term it, by means of which the
-memory records on its tablets, by the
-aid of a single sign imprinted upon
-a particular sense, the history of a
-long series of associated recollections,
-is not confined to the senses
-of taste and smell alone, but makes
-use of all.</p>
-
-<p>The recollection of one of the
-happiest days of my life&mdash;a day of
-strong excitement and vivid pleasure,
-but not carried to the pitch of satiety&mdash;is
-inseparably associated with
-the warm, aromatic smell of a cigar
-which I lighted and puffed, walking
-alone down a country road. In this
-case the train of thought is followed
-by the impression on the sense. But
-in another instance within my experience
-the reciprocal action of
-thought and sense is reversed; the
-sight of a particular object in this
-latter case invariably bringing back
-to my mind, with amazing distinctness,
-a scene of altogether dissimilar
-import, lying far back in the
-memory. The circumstances are
-these:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[524]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>’Tis now some years since I visited
-the seaport town of Shippington.
-It is, or was, one of those
-sleepy provincial cities which still
-retain an ante-Revolutionary odor
-about its dock-yard and ordnance
-wharves. A group of ragged urchins
-or a ruby-nosed man in greasy
-and much-frayed velveteen jacket
-might be seen any sunny morning
-diligently fishing for hours off the
-end of one of its deserted piers for
-a stray bite from a perch or a flounder.
-The arrival of the spring clipper-ship
-from Glasgow, bringing a
-renewal of stock for the iron merchants,
-or of a brig with fruit
-from the Mediterranean, used to set
-the whole wharf population astir.
-Great changes have taken place of
-late years. Railroads have been
-built. Instead of a single line of
-ocean steamships, whose fortnightly
-arrival was the event of the day, half
-a dozen foreign and domestic lines
-keep the port busy. Fashion, which
-was once very exclusive and confined
-to a few old families, has now
-asserted its sway over wider ranks,
-and the officers of her majesty’s
-gallant Onety-Oneth, and the
-heavy swells of Shippington society
-whose figures adorn the broad steps
-of the Shippington Club-House,
-have now the pleasure of criticising
-any fine morning a (thin) galaxy of
-female beauty and fashion sweeping
-by them, whose <i lang="fr">modes</i> rival those of
-Beacon Street or Murray Hill.</p>
-
-<p>But at the time of which I write&mdash;when
-I was a school-boy, a quarter
-of a century ago&mdash;it had not been
-much stirred by the march of these
-modern improvements. Her Britannic
-majesty was then young to
-the throne, and a great fervor of
-loyalty prevailed; and when the
-Royal Welsh Fusileers used to
-march down to the parade-ground
-for morning drill, with the martial
-drum-major and its great bearded
-Billy-Goat, presented by the queen,
-dividing the honors of the head of
-the regiment, it would be hard to
-exaggerate the enthusiasm that
-swelled the bosoms of the small
-boys and African damsels who stepped
-proudly along with the band.
-Those were grand days, <i lang="la">quorum
-pars magna fui</i>, when I too marched
-down the hill from the citadel, with
-a mind divided between awe and
-admiration of the drum-major&mdash;curling
-his mustache fiercely and
-twirling his staff with an air of
-majesty&mdash;and a latent terror of the
-bearded pet of the regiment, whom
-report declared to have destroyed
-three or four boys in Malta. But
-rare indeed were those holidays,
-for I was impounded most of the
-time in a college, where the study
-of the Latin <i lang="la">Delectus</i> gave little opportunity
-for the pursuit of those
-more attractive branches of a liberal
-education. About half a dozen of
-the boys, of whom I was one, were
-proficients at serving Mass. It was
-therefore with great joy at the distinction
-that we found ourselves
-named, one frosty Christmas Eve,
-to accompany Father W&mdash;&mdash; to the
-Convent of the Sacred Heart, about
-a mile distant, where he was to celebrate
-midnight Mass. Oh! how the
-snow crisped and rattled under
-our feet as we marched along, full
-of importance, after Father W&mdash;&mdash;,
-each boy with his green bag, containing
-his surplice and <i lang="fr">soutane</i>,
-swung over his arm! What a jolly
-night it was; and how the stars
-twinkled! We slapped our hands
-together, protected by our thick blue
-mitts, and stamped our feet like
-soldiers on the march to Moscow.
-It was after ten o’clock, and the
-streets were dark and nearly deserted.
-To us, long used to be sound
-asleep at that hour in our warm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[525]</a></span>
-dormitory, each boy in his own little
-four-poster, with the moonlight
-streaming in through the windows
-on its white counterpane&mdash;and not
-daring, if we were awake, so much as
-to whisper to the boy next to us,
-under pain of condign punishment
-in the morning&mdash;there was something
-mysterious and almost ghostly
-in this midnight adventure. As
-we passed the guard-house near
-the general’s residence, the officer
-of the night, muffled in his cloak,
-came along on the “grand rounds.”
-The sentry, in his tall bear-skin hat,
-stops suddenly short in his walk.</p>
-
-<p>“Who goes there?” he calls out in
-a loud, fierce voice, bringing down
-his bayonet to the charge.</p>
-
-<p>We clung closer to Father
-W&mdash;&mdash;’s skirts. “Rounds,” replies
-the officer in a voice of command,
-his sword rattling on the ground,
-iron-hard with the frost. “What
-rounds?” “Grand rounds!” “Advance,
-grand rounds, and give the
-countersign!” Then the sergeant
-of the guard, the alarm being given,
-rushes out into the street with his
-men, all with bayonets drawn and
-looking terrible in the moonlight.
-They form in line, and the officer
-advances. A whispered conversation
-takes place; the soldiers present
-arms and march back into the
-warm guard-house; and the officer
-passes silently on to the next
-guard.</p>
-
-<p>While this scene was going on we
-stood half terrified and fascinated,
-hardly knowing whether to take to
-our heels or not. But the calm
-voice of Father W&mdash;&mdash;, as he answered
-“A friend” to the sentry’s
-challenge, reassured us. Soon we
-reached the convent gate, and, entering
-the grounds, which were open
-for the occasion, found the convent
-all ablaze with lights. The parents
-and friends of the young lady pupils
-were permitted to attend the
-midnight Christmas Mass. The
-convent, and convent chapel which
-communicated with it, stood in the
-midst of winding walks and lawns
-very pretty in the summer; but the
-tall trees, now stripped of their
-leaves, swung their bare branches
-in the wind with a melancholy recollection
-of their faded beauty.
-Groups, in twos and threes, walked
-silently up the paths, muffled in
-cloaks and shawls, and disappeared
-within the chapel. We were received
-by the lady-superior, Mme.
-P&mdash;&mdash;, whose kind voice and
-refined and gentle manners were
-sadly maligned by a formidable
-Roman nose, that struck our youthful
-minds with awe. What unprincipled
-whims does Nature sometimes
-take thus to impress upon
-the countenance the appearance of
-a character so alien to our true disposition!
-Nor is it less true that
-a beautiful face and a form that
-Heaven has endowed with all the
-charms of grace and fascinating
-beauty may hide a soul rank with
-vice and malice. The Becky
-Sharpes of the world are not all
-as ferret-featured as Thackeray’s
-heroine, whom, nevertheless, with
-much truth to art, he represents as
-attractive and alluring in her prime.
-But dear Mme. P&mdash;&mdash;’s Roman
-nose was not, I have reason to believe,
-without its advantages; the
-fortuitous severity of its cast helping
-to maintain a degree of discipline
-among her young lady boarders,
-which a tendency to what Mr.
-Tennyson calls “the least little
-delicate curve” (<i lang="la">vulgo</i>, a pug), or
-even a purely classical Grecian,
-might have failed to inspire. Forgive
-me the treason if I venture
-even to hint that those young ladies
-in white and blue who floated in
-and out of Mme. P&mdash;&mdash;’s parlors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[526]</a></span>
-on reception-days, like angels cut
-out from the canvas on the walls,
-were ever less demure than their
-prototypes!</p>
-
-<p>We altar-boys were marshalled
-into a long, narrow hall running
-parallel with the chapel. There
-we busied ourselves in putting
-on our red <i lang="fr">soutanes</i> and white surplices,
-and preparing the altar for
-Mass. But we had a long time to
-wait, and while we stood there in
-whispering silence, and the chapel
-slowly filled, suddenly appeared
-Mme. P&mdash;&mdash; with a lay sister,
-carrying six little china plates full
-of red and white sugar-plums, and
-some cakes not bigger than a
-mouthful, to beguile our tedium.
-To this day the sight of one of
-those small plates, filled with that
-kind of sugar-plums, brings back to
-my mind with wonderful minuteness
-all the scenes I have described
-and those that followed. The long
-walk through the snow, the guard-house,
-the convent grounds, the figures
-of Mme. P&mdash;&mdash; and her lay
-sister advancing towards us, rise
-before me undimmed by time; and
-even now as I write the flavor of
-the sugared cassia-buds seems to be
-in my mouth, though it is over
-twenty years ago since I cracked
-them between my teeth with a
-school-boy’s relish for sweetmeats.</p>
-
-<p>The feeling of distant respect engendered
-by the sight of Mme.
-P&mdash;&mdash;’s nose gave way all at once
-to a profound sympathy and admiration
-for that estimable lady, as she
-handed us those dainties. Yet, as
-they disappeared before our juvenile
-appetites, sharpened by the frost,
-we could not help feeling all a boy’s
-contempt for the girls that could be
-satisfied with such stuff, instead of
-a good, solid piece of gingerbread
-that a fellow could get two or three
-bites at! We had no doubt that the
-convent girls had a <i lang="fr">congé</i> that day,
-and that this was a part of the feast
-that had been provided for them.</p>
-
-<p>We marched gravely into the
-sanctuary before Father W&mdash;&mdash;, and
-took our places around the altar-steps
-while he ascended the altar.
-A deeper hush seemed to fall on
-the congregation kneeling with
-heads bowed down before the Saviour
-born on that blessed morning.
-The lights on the altar burned
-with a mystical halo at the midnight
-hour. The roses around the
-Crib of the infant Redeemer
-bloomed brighter than June. We
-heaped the incense into the burning
-censer, and the smoke rushed up in
-a cloud, and the odorous sweetness
-filled the air. Then along the
-vaulted roof of the chapel stole the
-first notes of the organ, now rising,
-now falling; and the murmuring
-voice of the priest was heard reading
-the Missal. Did my heart stand
-still when a boy&mdash;or is it touched
-by a memory later?&mdash;as, birdlike,
-the pure tones of the soprano rose,
-filling the church, and thrilling the
-whole congregation? Marvellous
-magic of music! Can we wonder
-to see an Arion borne by dolphins
-over the waves, and stilling the
-winds with his lyre? Poor Mme.
-L&mdash;&mdash;! She had a voice of astonishing
-brilliancy and power. Her
-upper notes I have never heard excelled
-in flute-like clearness and
-sustained roundness of tone. When
-I heard her years later, with a more
-experienced ear, her voice, though a
-good deal worn, was still one to be
-singled out wherever it might be
-heard. She is since dead. She
-was a French lady of good family.
-Her voice had the tone of an exile.
-She sang the <cite>Adeste fideles</cite> on that
-Christmas morning with a soul-stirring
-pathos that impressed me so
-much as a boy that the same hymn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[527]</a></span>
-sung by celebrated singers and
-more pretentious choirs, has always
-appeared to me tame.</p>
-
-<p>It would not serve my present
-purpose to pursue these recollections
-farther. Enough has been said to
-show how quickly the mind grasps
-at some one prominent point affected
-by sense, to group around it a
-tableau of associated recollections.
-That little china tea-plate with its
-blue and gilt edge, heaped over with
-sugar-plums, brings back to me
-scenes that seem to belong to another
-age, so radical is the change
-which time makes in the fortunes
-and even emotions of men.</p>
-
-<p>When the lights were all out in
-the chapel, except those that burned
-around the Crib, and the congregation
-had silently departed, we wended
-our way back to the college with
-Father W&mdash;&mdash; in the chill morning
-air more slowly than when we started;
-sleepy, but our courage still
-unabated by reason of the great
-things we had shared in, and the
-still greater things separated from
-us by only one more, fast-coming
-dawn. We slept like tops all the
-morning, being excused from six
-o’clock Mass on account of our
-midnight excursion. When we joined
-the home circle on Christmas
-morning, you may be assured we
-had plenty to talk about. Nor was
-it until after dinner, and all the
-walnuts had been cracked, and our
-new pair of skates&mdash;our most prized
-Christmas gift&mdash;tried on and
-admired, that the recollection of
-our first Christmas Mass began to
-fade from our minds. Pure hearts
-and innocent joys of youth! How
-smooth the stream&mdash;<i lang="la">nescius auræ
-fallacis</i>&mdash;on which it sails its tiny
-craft! How rough the sea it drifts
-into!</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>S. LOUIS’ BELL.<a name="FNanchor_212" id="FNanchor_212"></a><a href="#Footnote_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a></h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent3">S. Louis’ bell!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">How grandly swell</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Its matin chime,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Its noonday peal,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Its vesper rhyme!</div>
-<div class="verse">How deeply in my heart I feel</div>
-<div class="verse">Their solemn cadence; they to me</div>
-<div class="verse">Waft hymns of precious melody.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent3">S. Louis’ bell!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">What memories dwell</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Enshrined among</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Each lingering note</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">And tuneful tongue!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[528]</a></span>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">As on the quivering air they float,</div>
-<div class="verse">Those sweet vibrations o’er and o’er</div>
-<div class="verse">Bear tidings from a far-off shore.</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">S. Louis’ bell!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">What clouds dispel,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">What doubts and fears</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Dissolve away,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">What sorrowing tears,</div>
-<div class="verse">Like mists before the rising day!</div>
-<div class="verse">While on the waiting, listening air</div>
-<div class="verse">Rings out S. Louis’ call to prayer.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent3">S. Louis’ bell!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Ring on and tell</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">In matin chime,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">And noonday peal,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">And vesper rhyme,</div>
-<div class="verse">And let thy joyful notes reveal</div>
-<div class="verse">The story loved of mortals best&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Of Holy Child on Virgin’s breast,</div>
-<div class="verse">While herald angels from above</div>
-<div class="verse">Sang anthems of eternal love!</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent3">S. Louis’ bell!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">When earth’s farewell</div>
-<div class="verse">Upon my parting lips shall dwell,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">And when I rise</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">On angel wing</div>
-<div class="verse">To seek the gates of Paradise,</div>
-<div class="verse">And stand before the Heavenly King,</div>
-<div class="verse">Though in that realm of perfect peace</div>
-<div class="verse">All other earthly sounds should cease,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Methinks ’twould be</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">A joy to me</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Once more to hear,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">With bended ear,</div>
-<div class="verse">The music loved on earth so well&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">The echoes of S. Louis’ bell!</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[529]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>FROM CAIRO TO JERUSALEM.</h3>
-
-<p>Seated in the spacious hall of
-the new hotel in Cairo, we discussed
-a tour through the Holy
-Land. We had quitted our comfortable
-and home-like <i lang="ar">dahabéeah</i>,
-wherein we had lived for nearly
-four months upon the waters of the
-historical Nile. A sad farewell had
-been said to our trusty sailors, and
-even those of them who had lingered
-around the hotel for days after
-our arrival, to kiss our hands as we
-came out, had now taken their departure.
-Old Abiad, our funny
-man, had for once worn a sober
-look as he bade us God-speed on
-our homeward voyage. Said&mdash;the
-indefatigable, hard-working, muscular
-Said, ever ready for the hardest
-work, and ever foremost in action&mdash;had
-left us with tearful eyes, and
-had started on his upward voyage
-to Keneh, to marry the young Moslem
-maiden to whom he had pledged
-his troth some few months before.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, the Nile trip was really over,
-but on the tablets of memory was
-painted a most bright and beautiful
-picture, which time alone could efface.
-Still another separation: one
-of our party, having been in the
-Holy Land the previous year, was
-about to remain in Egypt, while the
-rest of us visited Syria. Father
-H&mdash;&mdash;, Mme. D&mdash;&mdash;, and the writer
-made the travelling party. The
-plans were soon settled, and a day
-was appointed upon which we
-should depart from Cairo to meet the
-Russian steamer which was advertised
-to leave Alexandria on Monday,
-April the 13th, <span class="smcapuc">A.D.</span> 1874. One of
-the greatest difficulties in travelling
-in the East is to obtain accurate
-information concerning the arrival
-and departure of steamers and
-trains. When inquiring what time
-the train would leave Cairo for
-Rhoda, the terminus of the railway
-along the Nile, I was informed that
-it would leave somewhere about
-seven o’clock in the morning, and
-would reach Rhoda between six
-and eight in the evening; this was
-the most accurate information I
-could possibly obtain. In point of
-fact, the train left Cairo at nine <span class="smcapuc">A.M.</span>,
-and reached Rhoda at half-past ten
-at night. On Monday morning,
-April 13, there was a general clearing
-out of travellers from the hotel.
-At nine <span class="smcapuc">A.M.</span>&mdash;and, for a wonder,
-punctual to the minute&mdash;we left
-the station at Cairo on the train
-going to Ismailïa. We passed
-through some of the richest country
-of the Delta, teeming with life
-and activity. The <i lang="fr">Sagéars</i>, or Persian
-water-wheels, were sending
-their streams of life-giving water
-through the numberless little canals
-on every hand. Here a line of
-laden camels march along with
-stately step. There a family&mdash;father,
-mother, and son&mdash;accompanied
-by the omnipresent donkey,
-called to mind the flight of the
-Holy Family into Egypt. And
-well they may; for here we are in
-the land of Goshen, at Rameses,
-the home of the Israelites, the
-starting-point of their long, dreary
-wanderings. Now the railroad
-marks the line between the cultivated
-land and the sandy plains of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[530]</a></span>
-desert; on one side rich vegetation,
-nurtured by the fresh-water canal,
-on the other, sandy hillocks stretching
-away to the line of the horizon;
-and in a few moments we
-see the deep, rich blue of the water
-of Lake Timsah, contrasting most
-strikingly with the golden sand of
-its desert bank. Ismailïa! Ere the
-train has stopped we are surrounded
-by a crowd of Arabs thirsting
-for their spoil. A score of them
-pounce upon our baggage. After
-considerable shouting and threatening,
-we compromise, and a truce is
-proclaimed. We engaged two of
-them to carry our baggage to the
-steamer on the lake. O porters of
-the United States! how you would
-blush and hang your heads in
-shame to see these Arabs handle
-baggage. In my childish and untravelled
-simplicity I thought it
-most wonderful to see you lift those
-heavy boarding-houses, miscalled
-trunks, and carry them to the fourth
-story of a hotel. But hereafter, for
-porters, commend me to the Arabs.
-We had four or five heavy valises,
-one of them weighing nearly one
-hundred pounds, and numberless
-small parcels. One of the men
-hung these valises from his neck,
-and tying the smaller parcels in
-among them, as though by way of
-ornament, started off, followed by
-his brother porter, with our only
-trunk, a large and very heavy one,
-strapped on his back. They walked
-at a brisk pace to the boat,
-about one mile distant, and did not
-seem in the least fatigued when they
-arrived there. As we started to
-walk down the long avenue leading
-to the lake, we were beset as usual
-by the importunities of three or
-four donkey-boys, each one recounting
-the praises of his own animal,
-and speaking disparagingly of the
-others, yet all in the best possible
-humor. Running here and there,
-dragging after them the patient
-donkey, they cried out: “Him
-good donkey, sah; look him. Oder
-donkey no good; him back break.
-Him exquisite donkey, sah! Him
-Yankee Doodle!” Suddenly, in a fit
-of indignation, I turned upon them
-and howled at the top of my voice:</p>
-
-<p>“Empshy Ya Kelb” (“Get out, O
-dog!”), when, with a roar of laughter,
-one little imp jumped in front
-of me, and exclaimed: “Oh! Howadji
-can speak Arabic. Him good
-Arab donkey. Take him, sah; him
-speak Arabic.” Notwithstanding
-this great inducement, I did not
-take him.</p>
-
-<p>Like Aladdin’s palace, Ismailïa
-has sprung up almost in a single
-night. In 1860 the site of the present
-town was a barren waste of sand;
-but when the fresh-water canal was
-completed to this place, and the
-magic waters of the Nile were let
-loose upon it, the golden sands of
-the desert gave place to the rich
-verdure of vegetation; gardens, filled
-with the choicest fruits and flowers,
-sprang up on every hand. Indeed,
-it seems but necessary to pour the
-waters of the Nile on the desert to
-produce a soil which will grow anything
-to perfection. Here we see
-the pretty little Swiss <i lang="fr">châlet</i> of M. de
-Lesseps, and a short distance beyond
-the palace of the viceroy,
-built in a few months, for the purpose
-of entertaining his illustrious
-guest at the opening of the Suez
-Canal.</p>
-
-<p>What singular fellows these Arabs
-are! Our two porters demand
-three rupees (a rupee is worth
-about fifty cents) for their services.
-I quietly take one rupee
-from my pocket and offer it to
-them. Indignantly they reject it;
-and if I will not give them what
-they ask, they will accept nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[531]</a></span>
-at all; and with loud words and
-angry gestures they shout and gesticulate
-most vehemently, complaining
-of the insignificant pittance
-I offer them for the hard work they
-have just gone through. I repocket
-the rupee, and proceed very leisurely
-to arrange our places on the
-little postal boat, which is to leave
-in about an hour. Having purchased
-tickets, and seen that
-everything was properly arranged,
-I again return to the attack, as I am
-now upon the offensive, and offer
-them the rupee. No, they will not
-have it; but now they will accept
-two rupees. Well, it being the rule
-of Eastern negotiations that as one
-party comes down the other should
-go up, like a balance, I increase
-the rupee by a franc, and after
-much talking they agree to accept
-it. But now what a change comes
-over them! Finding that they have
-extracted from me all that they
-possibly can, their whole manner
-changes, and they become as polite
-and affable as you please. They
-thank me, proffer their services to
-do anything for me that I may
-wish, kiss their hands in respectful
-salutation, and are off.</p>
-
-<p>Our steamer is somewhat larger
-than a man-of-war’s boat, and our
-little company is soon assembled in
-the cabin. Besides ourselves, there
-are, first, a voluble young Russian
-who came with us from Cairo, and
-who precipitates himself most desperately
-into the strongest friendships
-that the time will allow with
-every one he meets, telling you all
-about himself and his family, and
-then finding out as much as he
-can about you and yours; next, a
-stolid Saxon, Prussian vice-consul
-at Cairo, a very pleasant and intelligent
-young man; and, lastly, a
-quiet, retiring young Italian lady,
-who, unable to speak any language
-besides her own, cannot join in the
-general conversation, which is carried
-on principally in French. At
-six o’clock we left the landing-place
-at Ismailïa, and, passing out the
-northeast corner of Lake Timsah,
-we entered the narrow cutting of
-El Guisr. The surface of these
-heights is the highest point in the
-Isthmus of Suez, being from sixty
-to sixty-five feet above the level
-of the sea. In cutting the canal
-through this part they were obliged
-to dig down some ninety feet, in order
-to give the canal its proper
-depth below the sea level. Just
-after we entered this cutting, the
-strong north wind which was blowing
-at the time caught madame’s
-parasol, whirled it out of her hand,
-blew it overboard, and the last we
-saw of it it was floating placidly
-along toward Suez. One sees here
-how perceptibly the sand is filling
-up the hard-won trench, and the
-dredging-machines are kept in constant
-operation to keep the channel
-clear. At dusk we passed a
-large English steamer tied up for
-the night&mdash;as large steamers are
-never allowed to travel in the canal
-after dark.</p>
-
-<p>We soon entered Lake Menzaleh,
-and continued through it some
-twenty-seven miles to Port Said.
-Fifteen years ago a belt of sand,
-from six to nine hundred feet in
-width, occupied the place where
-Port Said now stands. Here in
-April, 1859, M. de Lesseps, surrounded
-by a handful of Europeans
-and a score of native workmen,
-gave the first blow of the
-spade to that great channel of communication
-between the East and
-the West. Soon the ground for the
-future town was made, houses erected,
-gardens laid out, and to-day
-Port Said is a town of nearly ten
-thousand inhabitants, with streets,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[532]</a></span>
-squares, gardens, docks, quays,
-mosques, churches, and a very safe
-and easily-approached harbor. The
-name Port Said was given to it in
-honor of the then viceroy, Said
-Pasha. The next morning, when I
-went to the office to purchase tickets,
-I was informed, by the not over-polite
-clerk in the Russian Steamship
-Co.’s office, that notwithstanding
-it was advertised that the steamer
-would leave Alexandria on Monday,
-it would not leave until Tuesday,
-and consequently would not
-leave Port Said until Wednesday
-afternoon&mdash;another illustration of
-the uncertainty of travelling information
-in the East. In the afternoon
-I determined to go down to the
-lake and endeavor to shoot some
-flamingoes or pelicans, both of
-which abound here in great numbers.
-Leaving the town, I started to
-cross the wide, level plain which
-separated it, as I supposed, from
-the lake. Some distance ahead I
-saw numerous birds disporting themselves
-amid the glistening and
-sparkling waters of the lake. After
-walking for nearly an hour, I
-reached the spot, but no lake was
-there, and turning around, I saw it
-at the point from which I had started.
-Somewhat confused, I turned
-towards the sea, and there I saw,
-high up in the air, a sand-bank with
-women walking upon it, and a little
-further on two gigantic figures like
-light-houses moving toward me in
-the air. In a moment the truth
-flashed upon me&mdash;it was a mirage;
-and retracing my steps to the town,
-I found that the lake was in a different
-direction from the one I had
-taken. The next day we went on
-board the steamer, which arrived
-from Alexandria about ten in the
-morning. There is considerable excitement
-on board, and a number of
-smart-looking boats with trim crews
-rapidly approaching us announce
-the arrival of M. de Lesseps with
-his wife and her two nieces, <i lang="fr">en route</i>
-for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
-M. de Lesseps is a man of medium
-height, rather stout, and with a very
-good-natured and jovial-looking
-countenance. He wears a heavy gray
-mustache, and his hair is silvery
-white. His appearance is that of a
-man of great energy and determination,
-and one to project and carry
-through the colossal work he has
-so successfully executed. The
-ship was very much crowded, or
-perhaps it would be more correct
-to say that the accommodations
-were very limited, as we did not
-have more than fifty first-class passengers
-on board, and yet there
-were not sufficient accommodations
-for them in the first cabin. Father
-H&mdash;&mdash; and I, together with a young
-Austrian with whom we had become
-acquainted at Port Said, were
-obliged to sleep in a second-class
-cabin. We were told that they
-would so arrange it that we could
-eat in the first saloon, and at dinner-time
-we found a small work-table
-set for four of us to eat from. However,
-it was quite large enough
-for me; for I had not been seated
-many minutes before I felt an unaccountable
-desire to go on deck and
-inhale the fresh air.</p>
-
-<p>Having done so, I retired for the
-night. Bright and early the next
-morning I was upon deck, but I
-found Father H&mdash;&mdash; there before
-me. Madame, having a very comfortable
-room in the first cabin,
-had not yet risen. The sea was
-still and calm as a pond, and, turning
-my face toward the east, I beheld
-for the first time the mountain
-ranges of Judæa. Yea, there before
-me was Judæa, the land promised
-and given to the seed of Abraham.
-There, among those hills,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[533]</a></span>
-Samson had performed his exploits
-of power. There the royal David
-and the wise Solomon had lived
-and reigned. Ay, and there One
-greater than them all, the Man-God,
-was born, lived, and laid
-down his life for the salvation of
-mankind. And was it really true
-that I, an inquisitive Yankee of the
-XIXth century, was soon to tread
-those sacred spots, hallowed with
-reminiscences so dear to the heart
-of every Christian? I could scarce
-believe it. Was I not in a dream,
-and would I not soon awake to
-find it all a beautiful but fleeting
-vision? No, it was true, and it was
-made most painfully apparent by
-the harsh clangor of the Arab
-boatmen, and their frantic endeavors
-to take possession of us, as our
-ship dropped anchor off the town
-of Jaffa. There is no harbor of
-any kind here, and when the sea is
-calm the steamers anchor about
-one mile from the shore, and passengers
-and their baggage are landed
-in small boats. Immediately in
-front of the town, and but a short
-distance from it, a series of partially-covered
-rocks forms a wall, broken
-only by two channels or gateways,
-one about ten feet in width,
-and the other a little wider.
-Through these the sea dashes with
-tremendous fury, and as the little
-boat approaches it is caught upon
-the summit of some breaker, and
-dashed through the opening into
-the quiet haven behind. When it
-is stormy, the steamers do not stop
-here at all, but land their passengers
-a short distance farther up the
-coast. The bright, genial face of
-Father Guido (president of the
-Casa Nuova) soon welcomed us to
-Palestine. He had come down
-from Jerusalem to meet M. de
-Lesseps, and to offer him the hospitality
-of their convent, which
-was thankfully accepted. We soon
-disembarked and entered a small
-boat, accompanied by our trusty
-dragoman, Ali Aboo Suleyman,
-who had travelled with one of our
-party the previous year, and whom
-I believe to be one of the best
-dragomans in the East. Our boat,
-propelled by the strong arms of a
-half-score of powerful Arabs, soon
-brought us alongside of the town.
-Passing through a narrow gateway,
-and giving a substantial and material
-wink to the revenue official, we,
-with our baggage, were soon deposited
-at the door of the Latin convent.
-After greeting the kind and
-hospitable fathers, and arranging
-terms with Ali, we started out for a
-short walk. Traversing the narrow,
-tortuous streets and filthy alleys,
-jostled by camels, horses, donkeys,
-and preceded by Achmud, Ali’s
-youngest son&mdash;a lad of fourteen
-years, who, with a pompous and
-authoritative air, pushed aside old
-men and young, women and children,
-and would have done the
-same with the camels had he been
-able, to make room for the Howadji&mdash;we
-reached the spot where
-stood in former days the house of
-Simon the tanner. Here the Apostle
-Peter resided many days, and
-here he saw the vision of the clean
-and unclean beasts, wherein the
-voice commanded him saying:
-“Arise, Peter, kill and eat.” A
-small mosque now occupies the
-site of the house. The streets
-were thronged with Russian pilgrims
-returning from their Easter
-pilgrimage to the Holy City.
-Many of them will leave in the afternoon
-on the steamer which has
-brought us from Egypt, and in a
-few short days will be at Odessa,
-whence the railway will carry them
-to St. Petersburg. About three in
-the afternoon, accompanied by an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[534]</a></span>
-Irish priest who had lived in Malta
-for several years, we mounted our
-horses and started for Jerusalem.
-We had been most hospitably entertained
-by the kind fathers at the
-convent; a large room and an excellent
-breakfast had been provided
-for us, but no remuneration
-asked. We, of course, made a donation,
-which was thankfully received.
-We rode through the narrow
-streets, passed out the gate,
-and in a few moments were among
-the world-famous orange-groves of
-Jaffa. The sky was cloudless, the
-weather like a beautiful May day
-at home, and the air heavy with
-the delicious fragrance of the
-oranges. We rode for nearly a
-mile through these beautiful groves.
-Meanwhile, Ali provided himself
-with numbers of these large oranges,
-and soon for the first time I tasted
-an orange that I really enjoyed.
-Just plucked from the tree, with
-skin half an inch in thickness, and
-without seeds, this luscious fruit
-seems almost to dissolve in the
-mouth like ice-cream. Ali owns a
-large grove, from which he gathers
-about one hundred and fifty thousand
-oranges per annum. These
-he sells in large quantities at the
-rate of two pounds sterling per
-thousand, yielding him a very nice
-income, as the expense of taking
-care of them is very small. Now
-we are riding along the level plain
-which separates the Judæan hills
-from the bright blue waters of the
-Mediterranean, and a little after six
-o’clock we drew rein at the Latin
-convent in Ramleh. It is almost
-useless for me to speak of the kindness
-and hospitality of these good
-Franciscan fathers of the Holy
-Land, as it is known throughout
-the world, and abler pens than
-mine have endeavored, but in vain,
-to praise them as they deserve.
-Unselfish, kind, burying self completely
-in the great work they
-have undertaken, they have given
-up their homes, families, and all
-that was dear to them, to live
-a monastic life among these
-sacred spots, to guard these
-holy places, and, like ministering
-angels, to assist pilgrims
-from every clime and of every
-Christian race and nationality.
-Clad in the humble garb of their
-order, they go quietly and unostentatiously
-through life, sacrificing
-themselves at every turn for the
-benefit and comfort of others.
-They have stood through centuries,
-a devoted band of chivalrous
-knights guarding the spots rendered
-sacred by the presence of their
-God. May he in his goodness reward
-them by permitting them to
-stand as a noble guard of honor
-around his celestial throne in the
-heavenly hereafter! After a comfortable
-night’s rest and a good
-breakfast, we started at six o’clock,
-in order to avoid the intense heat
-of midday. M. de Lesseps and
-party had preceded us by nearly
-two hours. As we rode out the
-convent gate, numbers of lepers,
-with shrunken limbs and distorted
-countenances, clamored piteously
-for alms. We dropped some small
-coins into their tin boxes, which
-they carry so that there may be
-no possibility of contact with the
-compassionate passer-by who may
-bestow alms upon them. We rode
-for some time across a level plain,
-and near ten o’clock reached Bab-el-Wady
-(Gate of the Valley), at the
-foot of the mountain range. Here
-we found a very comfortable house,
-which has been erected for the
-sake of affording accommodation to
-pilgrims. We lunched here, took
-a short nap, and started on our
-way about two in the afternoon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[535]</a></span>
-The whole distance from Jaffa to
-Jerusalem is not over thirty-six
-miles; but fast riding is not practicable
-on account of the baggage,
-which is transported on mules at a
-very slow pace; consequently, it
-generally requires two days to
-make the trip, whereas a moderately
-fast horse could easily accomplish
-the journey in seven or eight
-hours. We now enter Wady Ali.
-One could scarcely imagine a more
-suitable place for lurking bandits
-to conceal themselves in than
-among the thick undergrowth here.
-Their musket-barrels might almost
-touch their unconscious victim’s
-breast, without being visible, and
-many a tale has been told and retold
-around the Howadji’s camp-fire
-of their exploits of robbery and
-murder in this place. But now,
-thanks to the strict though tardy
-vigilance of the sultan, the pass is
-free from danger.</p>
-
-<p>What feelings of emotion now
-fill my breast! The dreams of my
-childhood are being realized&mdash;I am
-in the Holy Land! Reaching the
-summit of one of the ridges, a beautiful
-panorama is spread out before
-us. At our feet lies the valley of
-Sharon, dressed in the richest green,
-and ornamented with the bright,
-beautiful wild flowers of early
-spring; beyond lies the plain of
-Ramleh, and in the distance, like a
-silver frame, sparkles and glistens
-the bright waters of the Mediterranean.
-Anon we see beneath us the
-beautiful valley of Beit Hanina, and
-Ali, laying one hand on my shoulder,
-points to a little village nestled
-amid the olive-groves in the valley.
-Yes, that is Ain-Karim, the place of
-the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin&mdash;the
-spot where was born the
-“greatest of men.” We check our
-horses but for a moment; we have
-no eyes for that now. Every gaze is
-fixed upon that small yellow house
-upon the top of the opposite hill;
-for has not Ali told us that from that
-point we shall see the Eternal City?
-Riding rapidly down the mountain-side,
-we do not even stop as we
-cross the brook&mdash;where David gathered
-the pebbles with which he slew
-his gigantic adversary&mdash;and push
-rapidly up the opposite mountain.
-Father H&mdash;&mdash; and I are in advance,
-while madame rides behind with the
-Irish priest. The shades of evening
-are now falling, and I fear lest night
-may come on before we reach the
-city. Scarce a word is spoken; my
-heart beats with excitement, such
-as it has never known before, and
-seems as though it would break
-through its prison-house, so eager,
-so anxious, is it to move quickly on.
-Unable to restrain my impatience,
-I give my horse a blow with my
-riding-whip, and he starts on a full
-run. Father H&mdash;&mdash; calls me back.
-We have travelled so long and shared
-so many pleasures together, let us
-together share the great pleasure of
-the first sight of Jerusalem. I rein
-in my horse, and ride by his side.
-Now the top of the hill is reached,
-and it is yet light; but we have mistaken
-the house&mdash;it is another one
-still farther on. It is now twilight.
-We speak not a word, but, bent forward,
-we scan the horizon with
-piercing eyes, as though we would
-penetrate the mountains themselves,
-so eager are we to see the city. I
-hail a passing boy: “Fin el Kuds?”
-(“Where is Jerusalem?”), but with a
-stupid stare he passes on. A few
-moments more the house is reached,
-and Sion, royal city of David, lies
-before us! Waiting until the rest
-of the party ride up, we dismount,
-kneel, kiss the ground, and then
-recite aloud the psalm <cite>Lætatus Sum</cite>,
-a Pater Noster, and an Ave Maria,
-remount, enter the city by the Jaffa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[536]</a></span>
-gate, ride to our comfortable quarters
-at the Latin Hospice, and <em>are in
-Jerusalem</em>.</p>
-
-<p>At the convent we were entertained
-in the most hospitable manner,
-and provided with the neatest
-and tidiest of rooms. Early the
-next morning Father H&mdash;&mdash; and I
-sallied forth to call on Père Ratisbonne.
-Following the Via Sacra,
-we stopped before an iron gate a
-short distance below the arch Ecce
-Homo, and little Achmud, picking
-up a large stone, pounded upon it
-as though he were repaying a
-grudge which he had cherished
-against it for centuries. I ventured
-to remonstrate, suggesting that they
-might be displeased at so much
-noise being made. But he answered
-very coolly&mdash;meanwhile continuing
-the pounding as if his future
-happiness depended upon making a
-hole in the door&mdash;that he wanted to
-inform those inside that some visitors
-wished to call upon them. I
-said nothing, but doubted seriously
-whether that would be the impression
-produced on their minds. Had
-it been in America, and had I been
-inside, I should have imagined that
-it was an election row, or a fire during
-the reign of the volunteer fire
-department. But notwithstanding
-all this, no one appeared, and we
-moved away disgusted, only to find
-that we had been at the wrong
-place, and to be farther informed
-that Père Ratisbonne was in Paris.</p>
-
-<p>What shall I say of the sacred
-spots of Jerusalem, which so many
-abler pens than mine have attempted
-to describe?&mdash;vainly endeavoring
-to portray the inexpressible
-emotions that crowd the breast of
-every Christian as he kneels before
-them for the first time! Perhaps I
-can convey to my readers some idea
-of the feeling which continually pervaded
-my whole being. It was as
-if the curtain of the past had been
-rolled back, placing me face to face
-with the living actors in that great
-tragedy of our Redemption eighteen
-hundred years ago. What contributed
-in a great measure to this was
-that we had lived during the winter
-in an atmosphere of three or four
-thousand years ago. We had scarcely
-esteemed it worth while to look at
-the ruins of the Ptolemys, they seemed
-so recent after the massive temples
-of the Rameses and the Ositarsens,
-and now the beginning of the
-Christian era appeared but an affair
-of yesterday. The Adamic and Mosaic
-dispensations seemed a little
-old, ’tis true, but the Christian dispensation
-was yet to us in all the
-glory of its early morn. I felt, as I
-crossed the Kedron and read the
-Holy Gospels seated beneath the
-olive-trees in the garden of Gethsemane,
-as if even I had been a
-personal follower of the Man-God,
-and in imagination could hear the
-hosannas of praise as he rode past
-me on the ass on the way from
-Bethany. Before this religion had
-seemed to me more like an intellectual
-idea. Now I felt that I knew
-Him as a friend, and my heart beat
-earnest acquiescence to Father
-H&mdash;&mdash;’s remark: “Coming from
-Egypt, Christ appears a modern
-personage; and the visit to the
-sacred places of Palestine adds to
-the intellectual and moral conviction
-of the truth of Christianity,
-the feeling and strength of personal
-friendship with its Author.”</p>
-
-<p>On Sunday Father H&mdash;&mdash; celebrated
-Mass at the altar erected on
-the spot where the Blessed Virgin
-stood during the Crucifixion. The
-hole in the rock wherein the sacred
-cross was planted belongs to the
-Greeks, and over it they have erected
-an altar, loaded down, like all
-their other altars, with tawdry finery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[537]</a></span>
-On another occasion I had the
-happiness to serve Father H&mdash;&mdash;’s
-Mass on the spot where our Lord
-was nailed to the cross. But the
-greatest happiness of all was reserved
-for the morning we left the Holy
-City, when madame and I received
-Holy Communion from the hands of
-Father H&mdash;&mdash;, who celebrated Mass,
-which I served, in the Holy Sepulchre
-itself. <i lang="la">Hic Jesus Christus
-sepultus est.</i> In that little tomb the
-three of us, who had shared together
-the pleasures and dangers of a long
-voyage in Egypt and Nubia&mdash;here
-on the very spot where He was entombed,
-we alone, in early morn, received
-his sacred body and blood,
-giving fresh life and courage to our
-souls for our future struggles with the
-world. How much better, instead
-of incrusting the sepulchre with
-marble and gems, to have left it as
-it was, rude and simple as when the
-Man-God was laid in it! But one
-sacred spot is left in its primitive
-state&mdash;the grotto of the Agony. A
-simple altar has been erected in it,
-and a marble tablet let into the wall
-with this inscription upon it: “Hic
-factus est sudor ejus sicut guttæ
-sanguinis decurrentis in terram.”
-The walls and roof of the grotto
-are to-day as they were that terrible
-night when they witnessed the
-sweat as drops of blood rolling
-down his sacred face.</p>
-
-<p>The limits of this article will not
-permit me to tell how we wandered
-reverentially along the Via Sacra,
-or gazed in admiration from
-Olivet’s summit on Jerusalem the
-Golden lying at our feet; of our interesting
-visit to the residence of the
-Princesse de La Tour d’Auvergne,
-on the spot where the apostles were
-taught the Lord’s Prayer, which
-she has inscribed on the court-yard
-walls in every written language. I
-could tell of our visit to the <i lang="la">Cœnaculum</i>
-to the Temple, the tomb of the
-Blessed Virgin, our walks through
-the Valley of Jehoshaphat; but these
-descriptions are so familiar to every
-Christian that I will content myself
-with relating more of the personal
-incidents which befell us than general
-descriptions of what we saw.</p>
-
-<p>Father H&mdash;&mdash; and I left Jerusalem
-on Tuesday morning, and, after
-riding several hours, camped for the
-night near the Greek convent of
-Mars Saba. No woman is allowed
-to enter this convent, and men only
-with permission of the Greek Patriarch
-of Jerusalem. We visited the
-tomb of S. Saba, model of anchorites,
-and saw in one room the skulls of
-fourteen thousand of his brethren,
-most of them massacred by the Bedouins.
-Rev. Mr. Chambers, of New
-York, with two young friends, was
-encamped near us, and we spent a
-very pleasant evening in their tent.
-At five o’clock the next morning we
-were in the saddle, <i lang="fr">en route</i> for the
-Dead Sea. We had a Bedouin escort,
-who was attired in a dilapidated,
-soiled night-shirt, and was scarcely
-ever with us, either taking short
-cuts down the mountain-side&mdash;as he
-was on foot&mdash;and getting far in advance
-of us, or lagging equally as
-far in the rear. Nevertheless, it
-was a powerful escort&mdash;had we not
-paid the sheik of the tribe five dollars
-for it? and did it not represent
-the force and power of a mighty
-tribe of Bedouins? In sober
-earnest, this hatless, shoeless escort
-was a real protection; for if
-we had been attacked while he
-was with us, his tribe, or the sheik
-of it, would have been forced by the
-authorities to make good our loss,
-and, moreover, the attacking tribe
-would have incurred the enmity of
-our escort’s tribe&mdash;a very serious
-thing in this part of the world, and
-among men whose belief is: Whoso<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[538]</a></span>
-sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall
-his blood be shed. The Bedouins
-find this way of robbing travellers
-more profitable than the old-time
-system of taking their victim’s property
-<i lang="la">vi et armis</i>, for in the latter
-instance they are liable to be pursued,
-caught, and punished; while
-in the former, by exacting a fee
-from the traveller and furnishing
-an escort in return, they make considerable
-money without fear of
-punishment. While riding along toward
-the Dead Sea, I frequently
-dismounted to shoot partridges, and
-on remounting I took out the cartridges
-which had not been used,
-before handing my gun to the escort,
-who carried it for me. On one occasion,
-when near the Dead Sea,
-I had pursued several partridges,
-but did not get a shot at them, and
-returning to my horse, held by the
-escort, I was about to draw out the
-cartridges when he requested me
-to let them remain, so that I should
-not have the trouble of reloading
-for the next shot. I shook my
-head with a negative motion, when
-he replied in an humble tone:
-“Very well. I am a Bedouin, and of
-course you cannot trust me.” And
-then flashed across my mind that
-terrible curse pronounced upon Ishmael
-and his descendants: “His
-hand shall be against every man,
-and every man’s against him.”
-Feeling sorry for the poor fellow, I
-looked him straight in the eye, as
-though expressing my confidence
-in him, and handed him the loaded
-gun. I was alone with him now, as
-the rest of the party had ridden on
-a mile or two in advance. But I
-felt perfectly safe, because he was
-walking ahead of me, and, had he
-meditated treachery, I had my revolver
-in my belt, and could have
-killed him before he could raise the
-gun to shoot. However, I presume
-that he simply wanted to play
-sportsman himself; for when he returned
-me the gun, some hours afterwards,
-both barrels were empty.
-About ten o’clock we reached the
-barren shores of the Dead Sea,
-passing, very close to it, numberless
-heaps of cinders, indicating a recent
-Bedouin encampment. We took a
-long bath in these buoyant waters.
-I sank as far as my neck, and then
-walked through the water as though
-on land. I remained nearly an hour
-in the water without touching the
-bottom. It is very difficult to swim,
-as, when one assumes the swimming
-position, the legs are thrown half
-out of the water. These waters,
-covering the site of Sodom and Gomorrha,
-are clear as crystal, yet to
-the taste are bitter as gall. Riding
-along the plain for a short hour,
-we entered the luxurious vegetation
-on the banks of the Jordan, and
-dismounted near the place where
-S. John baptized our Lord. Swift-flowing,
-muddy, turbulent Jordan!
-shall I ever forget thee or
-the pleasant swim I had in thy
-sweet waters? Father H&mdash;&mdash; and
-I dozed for about an hour, took a
-lunch, and then, remounting, rode
-across the level plain of Jericho,
-and about five o’clock reached our
-tent, pitched on the site of ancient
-Jericho, at the foot of the Mount of
-Temptation, where Satan would
-tempt our Lord with the vain, fruitless
-riches of this world. After
-dinner we walked a short distance,
-and sat down on the limb of a
-tree overhanging the sweet waters
-of the heaven-healed fountain of
-Elisha. Surrounded by armed
-Bedouins, who watched our every
-motion with eager curiosity, and
-occasionally in plaintive tones requested
-<i lang="fa">backsheesh</i>, we passed a delightful
-hour recalling the sacred
-reminiscences connected with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[539]</a></span>
-spots around us. Behind us a
-crumbling ruin marks the site of
-once proud Jericho&mdash;the city to
-which the warlike Joshua sent the
-spies from the Moabitish hills beyond
-the Jordan; the city destroyed
-by the Israelitish trumpet-blast,
-and against which the terrible curse
-was pronounced: “Cursed be the
-man before the Lord that riseth up,
-and buildeth this city Jericho: he
-shall lay the foundation thereof in
-his first-born, and in his youngest
-son he shall set up the gates of it”&mdash;a
-curse which was most fearfully
-fulfilled. Yonder Elijah went up
-to heaven in a whirlwind. Far
-away in the distance the Dead Sea,
-hemmed in by its mountain banks,
-lies calm and placid in the dying
-sunset. At our feet is the broad
-plain of Jericho, and at our back
-the mountains of Judæa. How
-singular it must have seemed to the
-Israelites when they first saw mountains
-covered with trees and verdure!
-In their old Egyptian home
-they had seen but sand-mountains,
-the vegetation in no place extending
-beyond the level ground; and
-now for the first time after their
-dreary desert wanderings they saw
-the vegetation creeping up the
-mountain-side even to its summit,
-and thousands of sheep browsing
-upon it on every hand. Early the
-next morning we were in the saddle,
-<i lang="fr">en route</i> for Jerusalem, and,
-passing the spot where the good
-Samaritan ministered to the poor
-man who had fallen among thieves,
-we reached Bethany about noon.
-Procuring some tapers from an old
-woman, we descended into the
-tomb from which the voice of his
-God had called forth the dead
-Lazarus. A flight of steps leads
-down some distance into a small
-chamber, which is to-day in the
-same condition as when Martha’s
-brother, arising from the dead, testified
-to the assembled crowd the
-power of Jesus of Nazareth. From
-here we ascended Olivet, and from
-its summit looked with admiration
-upon the beautiful panorama spread
-out beneath us, and lunched under
-the venerable olive-trees, which
-perhaps had cast their shade upon
-the weary form of our Saviour, and
-had witnessed the glorious miracle
-of his Ascension. Soon after we
-reached our convent home.</p>
-
-<p>The Jews in the Holy City are
-much fairer than their brethren in
-America. They wear the old-time
-gabardine, belted at the waist and
-extending to the ankles; on the
-head a high black felt hat with
-broad brim, while two curls hang
-down the cheek on either side.
-They are a sorrowful-looking race,
-fascinating to gaze upon as connected
-with the great Drama, yet
-inspiring me at the same time with
-a feeling of disgust which I could
-not control. How striking a picture
-of their degradation and fall
-from their once proud estate as the
-chosen ones of God, is shown as
-they gather on Fridays to their
-wailing-place; five courses of large
-bevelled stones being all that remain
-of Solomon’s grand Temple!
-Here are Jews of all ages and of
-both sexes, crying bitterly over fallen
-Jerusalem. Old men, tottering
-up, bury their faces in the joints
-and cavities, and weep aloud as
-though their hearts were breaking,
-while in chorus comes the low,
-plaintive wail of the women. In
-and among, and around and about
-them, with shouts of mirth and
-laughter, play the children of the
-Arab conquerors. The Jews are
-permitted to weep here unmolested.</p>
-
-<p>On Sunday afternoon, accompanied
-by Father Guido, we went
-to Bethlehem. We passed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[540]</a></span>
-night in the Latin convent,
-and the next morning madame
-and I received Holy Communion
-from the hands of Father
-H&mdash;&mdash;, who celebrated Mass in
-the Crib of the Nativity, on the
-spot where the Wise Men stood
-when adoring the new-born Babe.
-The very spot where Christ was
-born is marked by a silver star,
-with this inscription upon it: “Hic
-de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus
-Natus est.” The star belongs to
-the Latins, but the altar over it to
-the Greeks, who have several times
-attempted to carry off the star, but
-unsuccessfully. They, of course,
-will not permit the Latins to celebrate
-Mass upon the altar. The
-Greeks, being more powerful, are
-continually harassing and heaping
-all sorts of indignities upon the
-Latins, who are obliged to submit
-to them. Shame upon the Catholic
-nations of Europe&mdash;nations
-which in bygone times sent forth
-those noble bands of Crusaders,
-sacrificing their lives to rescue the
-holy places from infidel hands!
-But Easter a year ago they destroyed
-the valuable hangings in
-the Holy Crib, presented to the
-Latins by the French government,
-and stole two pictures from their
-altars valued at six thousand dollars
-apiece. Nay, more than this:
-they even severely wounded with a
-sword the Franciscan brother who
-endeavored to prevent the execution
-of their nefarious designs.
-And again the past Easter, but a
-few days before we were there, witnessed
-another of these terrible
-scenes of barbarism and inhumanity.
-A number of unoffending pilgrims,
-just returned from their annual
-Easter visit to the Jordan, were
-denied entrance by the Greeks to
-the basilica over the Holy Crib.
-And when they insisted upon entering
-the church&mdash;which is common
-property, and in which they had a
-perfect right to go&mdash;and attempted
-to force their way in, they were arrested
-by the Turkish governor of
-Bethlehem&mdash;who is in league with
-the Greeks&mdash;under the pretext that
-they were inciting to riot, and cast
-into a loathsome dungeon in Jerusalem.
-But, thanks to the exertions
-of M. de Lesseps, they were subsequently
-released.</p>
-
-<p>I rode over to the hill where the
-shepherds watched their flocks
-that eventful night when the angels
-announced to them the “glad tidings
-of great joy.” In the afternoon
-we rode across the mountains
-to Ain-Karim, the birth-place of
-S. John the Baptist.</p>
-
-<p>The women in this part of the
-country, but particularly in Bethlehem
-and its vicinity, carry all
-their fortunes on their heads.
-Dressed in the picturesque garb of
-the Moabitish women, their coins
-are hung in great numbers from
-their caps. One young mother, with
-her babe in her arms, and with
-her cap almost covered with rows
-of gold coins, approached me at
-Ain-Karim, and begged me in a
-piteous tone for a copper, and appeared
-delighted when I gave it to
-her. They would almost sooner
-starve than part with these coins,
-in which they take great pride; but
-I imagine that after they are married
-their husbands find means of
-obtaining possession of them, and
-then they get into general circulation
-again. We went to see the
-scene of the Visitation, over which
-an altar had been erected in the
-early ages of Christianity, but which
-had been concealed for centuries,
-and only accidentally discovered of
-late by the Latins in renovating
-their church. Alongside the altar
-is the impression of a baby in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[541]</a></span>
-rock. It is said that when Herod’s
-soldiers came to the house of S.
-Elizabeth to execute their master’s
-murderous commands to massacre
-the little innocents, the saintly mother
-pressed her infant against the
-wall, which opened, received him,
-and then, closing again, hid him
-from view; and thus was he saved
-to grow up a voice crying in the
-wilderness, “Make straight the way
-of the Lord.” We spent the night
-in the convent built on the site of
-the house where was born this
-“greatest of men.” The next day
-we returned to Jerusalem, visiting
-<i lang="fr">en route</i> the Greek church on the
-spot where grew the tree from
-which the sacred cross was made.</p>
-
-<p>Shortly after this we left the Holy
-City, soon bade farewell to our
-trusty dragoman, and embarked on
-the <i>Tibre</i> at Jaffa, bound for Marseilles.
-Oh! what impressions were
-made upon me by my short sojourn
-among those sacred places. How
-my faith was strengthened, and my
-love and devotion increased, and
-how earnestly and often I wished,
-and still wish, that each and every
-one I know could see what I have
-seen and feel as I now feel!</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A CHRISTMAS VIGIL.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“One aim there is of endless worth,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">One sole-sufficient love&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">To do thy will, O God! on earth,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And reign with thee above.</div>
-<div class="verse">From joys that failed my soul to fill,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">From hopes that all beguiled,</div>
-<div class="verse">To changeless rest in thy dear will,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">O Jesus! call thy child.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Exeter Beach was divided into
-two distinct parts by a line of cliff
-jutting far out into Exeter Bay.
-Below the eastern face of the cliff
-lay the Moore estate, and then
-came the town; but on the west
-side was an inlet, backed by dense
-woods, and bounded on the farther
-extremity by another wall of rock.
-This was known as Lonely Cove,
-and deserved its title. From it one
-looked straight out to the open
-sea; no island intervened, nor was
-anything visible on shore save the
-two long arms of frowning rock,
-the circuit of pine coming close to
-the edge of drift-wood that marked
-the limit of the tide, and, at the
-far distance, a solitary house.
-This had once been occupied by a
-man who made himself a home
-apart from every one, and died as
-lonely as he lived; since then it
-had been deserted, and was crumbling
-to decay, and many believed it
-to be haunted.</p>
-
-<p>Along this beach, about three
-o’clock one Christmas Eve, Jane
-Moore was walking. It was a dull
-afternoon, with a lowering sky, and
-a chill in the air which foreboded
-rain rather than snow; but, wrapped
-in her velvet cloak and furs of
-costly sable, Jane did not heed the
-weather.</p>
-
-<p>Her heart was full to overflowing.
-From the first Christmas that she
-could remember to the one previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[542]</a></span>
-to his death, she had taken that
-walk with her father every Christmas
-eve, while he talked with her
-of the joy of the coming day, sang
-to her old Christmas carols, and
-sought to prepare her for a holy as
-well as a merry feast. He had tried
-to be father and mother both to his
-motherless girl, but his heart ached
-as he watched her self-willed, imperious
-nature, often only to be curbed
-by her extreme love for him.</p>
-
-<p>“Be patient, my friend,” the old
-priest who knew his solicitude used
-to say. “It is a very noble nature.
-Through much suffering and failure,
-it may be, but <em>surely</em>, nevertheless,
-our Jane will live a grand life yet
-for the love of God.” And so
-James Moore strove to believe and
-hope, till death closed his eyes
-when his daughter was only thirteen
-years old.</p>
-
-<p>Heiress of enormous wealth, and
-of a beauty which had been famous
-in that county for six generations,
-loving keenly all that was fair, luxurious,
-and intellectual, Jane Moore
-was one of the most brilliant women
-of her day. Dancing and riding,
-conversation and music&mdash;she threw
-herself into each pursuit by turn
-with the same whole-hearted <em>abandon</em>
-which had ever characterized
-her. Yet the priest who had baptized
-her, and who gave her special,
-prayerful care and direction, laid
-seemingly little check upon her.
-Such religious duties as were given
-her she performed faithfully; she
-never missed the daily Mass or
-monthly confession; not a poor
-cottage in the village in which she
-was not known and loved, though
-as yet she only came with smiles
-and money and cheery words, instead
-of personal tendance and
-real self-denial. No ball shortened
-her prayers, no sport hindered her
-brief daily meditation. The priest
-knew that beyond all other desires
-that soul sought the Lord; beyond
-all other loves, loved him; and
-that she strove, though poorly and
-imperfectly and with daily failure,
-to subject her will to the higher
-will of God. To have drawn the
-curb too tightly then might have
-been to ruin all; the wise priest
-waited, and, while he waited, he
-prayed.</p>
-
-<p>This Christmas Eve on which
-Jane Moore was speeding along
-the beach was the last she would
-ever spend as a merry girl in her
-old home. As a wife, as a mother,
-she might come there again, but
-with Epiphany her girlhood’s days
-must end. Her heart, once given,
-had been given wholly, and Henry
-Everett was worthy of the gift; but
-the breaking of old ties told sorely
-upon Jane, who always made her
-burdens heavier than need be by
-her constant endeavor to gain her
-own will and way. Her handsome
-face looked dark and sallow that
-afternoon; the thin, quivering nostrils
-and compressed lips told of a
-storm in her heart.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot understand it,” she
-said aloud. “<em>Why</em> must I go
-away? Surely it was right to wish
-to live always in my old home
-among my father’s people. <em>Why</em>
-should God let Henry’s father live
-and live and live to be ninety years
-old, and he be mean and troublesome?
-and <em>why</em> should my dear father
-die young, when I needed him?
-I cannot bear to go away.”</p>
-
-<p>And then came to her mind
-words said to her that very day&mdash;few
-words, but strong, out of a wise
-and loving heart&mdash;“God asks something
-from you this Christmas, in the
-midst of your joy, which I believe
-he will ask from you, in joy or sorrow,
-all your life long until he gets
-it. He wants the entire surrender<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[543]</a></span>
-of your will. I do not know how
-he will do it, but I am sure he will
-never let you alone till he has
-gained his end. Make it your
-Christmas prayer that he will teach
-you that his will is better and
-sweeter than anything our wills
-may crave.”</p>
-
-<p>She flew faster along the beach,
-striving by the very motion to find
-relief for the swelling of her heart.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot bear it,” she cried&mdash;“to
-have always to do something I do
-not want to do! I cannot bear it.
-Yes, I can, and I will. God help
-me! But I cannot understand.”</p>
-
-<p>On, on, faster still, sobs choking
-her, tears blinding her. “I wanted
-so much to live and die here. God
-must have known it, and what difference
-could it make to him?”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t ye! Don’t ye, Tom!
-Ye’ve no right. Ye mustn’t, for
-God’s sake.” The words, in a
-woman’s shrill voice, as of one
-weak with fasting or illness,
-yet strong for the instant with
-the strength of a great fear or
-pain, broke in upon Jane’s passion,
-and, coming to herself, she found
-that she was close to the Haunted
-House. Fear was unknown to her;
-in an instant she stood within the
-room.</p>
-
-<p>Evidently some tramp, poorer
-than the poorest, had sought shelter&mdash;little
-better than none, alas!&mdash;in
-the wretched place. A haggard
-woman was crouching on a pile of
-sea-weed and drift-wood, holding
-tightly to something hidden in the
-ragged clothing huddled about her,
-striving to keep it&mdash;whatever it
-might be&mdash;from the grasp of a desperate,
-half-starved man who bent
-over her.</p>
-
-<p>“Gie it to me,” he cried. “I tell
-ye, Poll, I’ll have it, that I wull, for
-all ye. And I’ll trample it, and I’ll
-burn it, that I wull. No more carrying
-o’ crucifixes for we, and I
-knows on’t. Gie us bread and
-butter, say I, and milk for the babby
-there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, nay, Tom,” the woman
-pleaded. “It’s Christmas Eve.
-He’ll send us summat the night,
-sure. Wait one night, Tom.”</p>
-
-<p>“Christmas! What’s him to we?
-Wait! Wait till ye starve and freeze
-to death, lass; but I’ll not do’t.
-There’s no God nowhere, and no
-Christmas&mdash;it’s all a sham&mdash;and
-there sha’n’t be no crucifixes neither
-where I bes. Ha! I’s got him now,
-and I’ll have my own way, lass.”</p>
-
-<p>“Stop, man!” Jane stood close
-beside him, with flashing eyes and
-her proud and fearless face. “Give
-me the crucifix,” she said.</p>
-
-<p>But she met eyes as fearless as
-her own, which scanned her from
-head to foot. “And who be you?”
-he asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Jane Moore,” she answered,
-with the ring that was always in her
-voice when she named her father’s
-honored name.</p>
-
-<p>“And what’s that to me?” the
-man exclaimed. “Take’s more’n
-names to save this.” And he shook
-the crucifix defiantly.</p>
-
-<p>“Stop, stop!” Jane cried. “I will
-pay you well to stop.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why then, miss?”</p>
-
-<p>“Your God died on a cross,”
-Jane answered. “You shall not
-harm his crucifix.”</p>
-
-<p>“Speak for yourself, miss! Shall
-not? My wull’s as strong as yours,
-I’ll warrant. God! There’s no
-God; else why be ye in velvets and
-her in rags? That’s why I trample
-this ’un.”</p>
-
-<p>In another moment the crucifix
-would have lain beneath his heel;
-but Jane flung herself on her knees.
-All pride was gone; tears rained
-from her eyes; she, who had been
-used to command and to be obeyed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[544]</a></span>
-pleaded like a beggar, with humble
-yet passionate pleading, at the feet
-of this beggar and outcast.</p>
-
-<p>“Wait, wait,” she cried. “Oh!
-hear me. Truly your God was
-born in a stable and died upon a
-cross. He loves you, and he was
-as poor as you.”</p>
-
-<p>“There be no God,” the man reiterated
-hoarsely. “It’s easy for
-the likes o’ ye to talk, all warm and
-full and comfortable.”</p>
-
-<p>Jane wrung her hands. “I cannot
-explain,” she said, “I cannot understand.
-But it must be that God
-knows best. He sent me. Come
-home with me, and I will give you
-food and clothes and money.”</p>
-
-<p>“Not I,” cried the man defiantly.
-“I knows that trick too well, miss.
-Food and clothes belike, but a jail
-too. I’ll trust none. Pay me
-here.”</p>
-
-<p>Jane turned her pocket out. “I
-have nothing with me,” she said.
-“Will you not trust me?” But in
-his hard-set face she read her answer
-while she spoke.</p>
-
-<p>“Very well,” she continued.
-“Take a note from me to my steward.
-He will pay you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s see’t,” was the brief reply.
-Hastily she wrote a few words in
-pencil, and he read them aloud.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, miss,” he said, “it’s not
-safe for me to be about town much
-’fore dark, and, what’s more, I won’t
-trust ye there neither. Here ye’ll
-bide the night through, if ye means
-what ye says.”</p>
-
-<p>“O Tom!” the woman exclaimed,
-breaking silence for the first
-time since Jane spoke, “’twull be
-a fearful night for the like o’ she.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let her feel it, then,” he retorted.
-“Wasn’t her Lord she talks on born
-in the cold and the gloom to-night,
-’cording to you and she, lass? Let
-her try’t, say I, and see what she’ll
-believe come morn.”</p>
-
-<p>Like a flash it passed through
-Jane’s mind that her last midnight
-Mass among her own people was
-taken from her; that, knowing her
-uncertain ways, no one would think
-of seeking her till it was too late,
-any more than her steward, well
-used to her impulses, would dream
-of questioning a note of hers, no
-matter who brought it. Yet with
-the keen pang of disappointment a
-thrill of sweetness mingled. Was
-not her Lord indeed born in the
-cold and the gloom that night? “I
-am quite willing to wait,” she said
-quietly.</p>
-
-<p>The man went to the door.
-“Tide’s nigh full,” he said, “and
-night’s nigh here. I’ll go my ways.
-But mark ye, miss, I’ll be waiting
-t’other side, to see ye don’t follow.
-Trust me to wait patient, till it’s too
-dark for ye to come.”</p>
-
-<p>Jane watched him till he had
-reached the further line of the cliff;
-then she buried her face in her
-hands. Space and time seemed as
-nothing; again, as for years she had
-been used to do, she strove to place
-herself in the stable at Bethlehem,
-and the child-longing rose within
-her to clasp the Holy Infant in her
-arms, and warm him at her heart,
-and clothe him like a prince. And
-then she remembered what the man
-had said: “It’s easy for the likes o’
-ye to talk, all warm and full and
-comfortable.”</p>
-
-<p>There are natures still among us
-that cannot be content unless they
-lavish the whole box of ointment
-on the Master’s feet. Jane turned
-to the heap of sea-weed where the
-half-frozen woman lay. “Can you
-rise for a minute?” she asked gently.
-“I am going to change clothes
-with you. Yes, I am strong, and can
-walk about and bear it all; but you
-will freeze if you lie here.” And putting
-down the woman’s feeble resistance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[545]</a></span>
-with a bright, sweet will, Jane
-had her way.</p>
-
-<p>Half exhausted, her companion
-sank back upon her poor couch,
-and soon fell asleep; and when the
-baby woke, Jane took it from her,
-lest its pitiful wailing should rouse
-the mother, to whom had come
-blessed forgetfulness of her utter
-inability to feed or soothe it. She
-wrapped the child in her rags, and
-walked the room with it for hours
-that night. It seemed to her that
-they must freeze to death if she
-stopped. For a time the wind
-raged furiously and the rain fell in
-torrents; no blessed vision came
-to dispel the darkness of her vigil;
-no ecstasy to keep the cold from
-biting her; she felt its sting sharply
-and painfully the whole night
-through. The first few hours were
-the hardest she had ever spent, yet
-she would not have exchanged
-them for the sweetest joy this world
-had ever given her. “My Lord
-was cold,” she kept saying. “My
-Lord was cold to-night.”</p>
-
-<p>By and by&mdash;it seemed to her that
-it must be very late&mdash;the storm
-passed over. She went to the
-door. The clouds were lifting, and
-far away the sea was glimmering
-faintly in the last rays of a hidden
-and setting moon. Below a mass
-of dark clouds, and just above the
-softly-lighted sea, shone out a large
-white star. Across the water, heaving
-heavily like one who has fallen
-asleep after violent weeping, and
-still sobs in slumber, came to her
-the sound of the clock striking midnight;
-and then all the chimes rang
-sweetly, and she knew that the
-Mass she had longed for had begun.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot bear it!” she cried;
-then felt the child stir on her
-breast, and, gathering it closer to
-her, she said slowly: “God understands.
-His way must be best.”
-And she tried to join in spirit with
-those in church who greeted the
-coming of the Lord.</p>
-
-<p>Surely there was some reason for
-her great disappointment and for
-her suffering that night. Reason?
-Was it not enough to be permitted
-thus to share His first night of deprivation?
-And presently she began
-to plan for herself God’s plan&mdash;how
-the man would return, and
-find her there wet and cold and
-hungry, and would learn why she
-had done it, and would never
-doubt God again. She fancied
-them all at home with her, employed
-by her, brought back to a happy,
-holy life; and she prayed long and
-earnestly for each.</p>
-
-<p>He did come, as soon as the gray
-morning twilight broke&mdash;came with
-haste, bade his wife rise, and take
-her child and follow him. He gave
-no time for the words Jane wished
-to speak; but when the woman said
-that she must return the garments
-which had kept her warm, and perhaps
-alive, that night, Jane cried
-“No, no! It is as if I had kept
-our Lady warm for once, and carried
-her Child, not yours.” And
-she clasped the baby passionately,
-kissing it again and again.</p>
-
-<p>The man stood doubtful, then
-tore the rich cloak from his wife’s
-shoulders, seized the mean one
-which it had replaced, wrapped her
-in it, hiding thus the costly attire,
-that might have caused suspicion,
-then looked about the room.</p>
-
-<p>“The crucifix?” he said.</p>
-
-<p>“Is it not mine?” Jane asked.</p>
-
-<p>He pointed to the woman. “It’s
-her bit o’ comfort,” he said. “Gie
-it to her, miss. Plenty ye’s got, I
-wot. I’ll ne’er harm ’un again.”</p>
-
-<p>There was no more farewell than
-that; no more promise of better
-things. In a few minutes they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[546]</a></span>
-disappeared among the pines; and
-cold, suffering, disheartened, Jane
-made her way homeward. To her
-truest home first; for bells were
-ringing for first Mass, and Jane
-stole into church, and, clad in beggar’s
-rags beneath her velvet cloak,
-knelt in real humility to receive her
-Lord. “I do not understand,” she
-said to him, sobbing softly. “Nothing
-that I do succeeds as I like.
-But, my Jesus, I am sure thy will
-is best, only I wanted so much to
-help them for thee. Why was it,
-my Jesus?”</p>
-
-<p>But the years went by, and
-though Christmas after Christmas
-Jane remembered with a pang that
-great disappointment, her longings
-and her questions remained unanswered.</p>
-
-<p>And so it was in almost everything.
-Her life after that strange
-Christmas Eve was one of constant,
-heroic, personal service for others,
-in the love of the Sacred Heart of
-Jesus. The brilliant woman was
-never seen again at ball or hunt,
-but beside the beds of the sick and
-suffering she was daily to be found,
-making the most painful, repulsive
-cases her special care. And
-she, who had delighted in daintiest
-apparel, never wore again after that
-Christmas morning jewels or costly
-clothing. “I have tasted once the
-sweetness of faring like my Lord,”
-she said impetuously to her husband.
-“Do not break my heart
-by making me all warm and full
-and comfortable again.” And he,
-whose high soul answered nobly to
-her own, never tried to hold her
-back, but followed her eagerly in
-her earnest following of her Lord.</p>
-
-<p>Yet the self-willed nature cost its
-owner many sufferings before it
-learned submission to the divine
-Master. It pleased God that Jane
-Everett should live to an advanced
-and very strong old age, and it also
-pleased him through all those years
-to conform her will to his by constant
-and peculiar trials. The husband
-whom she loved with an almost
-idolatrous love was taken from
-her, without an instant’s warning, by
-a fearful accident. Her sons, whom
-she dedicated to God’s holy priesthood,
-died in their cradles; her
-daughters grew into the fairest
-bloom of womanhood, only to become
-the brides of death. Yet nothing
-quenched the fire in her eye,
-and the cry of her heart for years
-was still its old cry: “O God! I
-cannot bear it. Yes, I can. God’s
-will is best. But I cannot understand.”</p>
-
-<p>One Advent the last remaining
-friend of her youth sent to her, begging
-her to come with haste to pass
-with her the last Christmas they
-could expect to be together on
-earth; and the brave old woman,
-though craving to spend the holy
-season near her darlings’ graves,
-went forth to face the inclement
-weather with as stout a heart as in
-her youth she had sped along Exeter
-Beach under the threatening
-sky. In a little village, with no one
-near who knew her except her servants,
-Death laid his hand upon her
-who had desired him for many
-days.</p>
-
-<p>“This is a serious illness,” the
-physician said to her. Then, reading
-rightly the spirit with which he
-had to deal, he added: “A sickness
-unto death, madam.”</p>
-
-<p>“Harness the horses, then,” she
-said, lifting herself, “and let me
-get to Ewemouth and die there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Send for a priest,” the doctor
-answered her. “You have no time
-to lose.”</p>
-
-<p>“It has been always so, father,”
-Jane said, looking up pitifully into
-the face of the priest when at last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[547]</a></span>
-he came. “From the time that I
-first earnestly gave myself to God,
-up to this time, he has thwarted
-me in every way. Sixty years ago
-this very Christmas Eve he did it.
-It all comes back to me as hard to
-bear as then; and all my life has
-been like that.” And slowly and
-with pauses Jane told the story of
-her night at Lonely Cove.</p>
-
-<p>“It has always been so, father.
-Whenever I have loved any one
-or tried to help any one, I have
-failed or they have left me.”</p>
-
-<p>“My daughter,” the priest replied,
-“God’s work in a life like yours
-is far more the subjection of the
-will than the number of holy actions
-for others. Be sure that what we
-think failure is often success in God’s
-eyes and through his power. He
-asks one last sacrifice from you.
-Madam, God has brought you here
-to add the crowning blessing to
-your life&mdash;the opportunity of a last
-and entire surrender of your will
-to his most blessed will. Will you
-offer to him your whole life, that to
-you seems so incomplete and marred,
-judged by your own plans and
-wishes, saying to him without reserve
-that you believe, certainly, that
-his way is far better than yours?”</p>
-
-<p>He held the crucifix before her,
-and suddenly the long years seemed
-to vanish like a dream, and she
-felt once more the biting cold in
-the haunted house at Lonely Cove,
-and again a child nestled upon her
-heart, bringing with it the thought
-of the manger-bed, and the question,
-<em>Why</em> should so much suffering
-be? And from that manger her
-thoughts returned to the hard couch
-of the cross; and to all that mystery
-of suffering came the mysterious
-answer, “Not my will, but
-thine, be done.”</p>
-
-<p>She took and kissed the offered
-crucifix. “Yes, father,” she said
-meekly. “May the most just, most
-high, and most amiable will of God
-be done, praised, and eternally exalted
-in all things. I had rather
-die here, O my God! since it is thy
-blessed will, than in any other place
-on earth.”</p>
-
-<p>“Amen,” said the priest.</p>
-
-<p>But when the last sacraments had
-been administered, and Jane lay
-calm and patient now, waiting her
-release, the priest drew near to her,
-and looked with a great reverence
-upon her face.</p>
-
-<p>“My daughter,” he said “it is at
-times the will of God to show us
-even here the use of some part at
-least of what he has let us do for
-him. Be sure his Sacred Heart remembers
-all the rest as well. Sixty
-years ago this Christmas Eve my
-father was saved from a great sin,
-my mother and I from death, by a
-Christian woman’s love for her Lord.
-The first confession I ever heard
-was my own father’s last. He told
-me that from the time he saw that
-rich young girl in rags endure the
-biting cold for God, faith lived in
-his heart, and <em>would not die</em>. I saw
-him pass away from earth in penitence
-and hope. For more than
-thirty years I have labored among
-God’s poor as your thank-offering.
-Madam, my mother by the love of
-God, God sends you this token that
-he has worked his own work by
-means of you all your life long.
-He sends you this token, because
-you have given him the thing he
-most desired of you&mdash;your will.”</p>
-
-<p>Jane folded her aged hands humbly.
-“Not unto us, O Lord!” she
-said, low and faint, and then a voice
-as of a son and priest at once spoke
-clearly, seeing her time had come:
-“Depart, O Christian soul! in
-peace.”</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[548]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE APOSTOLIC MISSION TO CHILI.<br />
-<i>A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF PIUS IX.</i></h3>
-
-<p>Before entertaining ourselves
-with an account of the voyage and
-journeys, from Genoa to Buenos
-Ayres and across the continent to
-Valparaiso, of the first pope who has
-ever been to America, we shall enter
-into a few details to show the
-occasion of the apostolic mission
-which he accompanied in an official
-capacity.</p>
-
-<p>The great reverses of Spain at
-the beginning of the present century,
-and the consequent weakening
-of the bonds that united her
-American colonies to their mother-country,
-besides some other causes
-silently working since the emancipation
-of the thirteen British provinces
-from England, finally led to a
-Declaration of Independence, which
-was established after several years
-of war. But the king to whose
-government these New-World possessions
-had been subject for nearly
-three hundred years refused to recognize
-the accomplished fact or
-to enter into diplomatic relations
-with rebels against his authority.<a name="FNanchor_213" id="FNanchor_213"></a><a href="#Footnote_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a></p>
-
-<p>The Congress of Verona, in 1822,
-took some notice of these revolted
-countries; but the European powers
-did not all agree to receive
-them into the family of nations by
-a formal recognition, and it is well
-known that the views expressed in
-that assembly gave rise on the part
-of the President of the United
-States to a declaration of policy
-which has been called the Monroe
-Doctrine.<a name="FNanchor_214" id="FNanchor_214"></a><a href="#Footnote_214" class="fnanchor">[214]</a> The Holy See, having
-sublimer interests to deal with,
-could not act as indifferently in this
-matter as other governments, which
-looked only to temporal advantage,
-and wrangled over old systems of
-public policy regardless of recent
-events. By the quixotic obstinacy
-of Spain the South American republics
-suffered much inconvenience,
-particularly in point of religion,
-because Rome could not
-provide for their spiritual wants
-without risking an open rupture
-with his Catholic Majesty&mdash;such
-were royal pretensions of restricting
-the exercise of papal rights,
-even in merely nominal dominions.<a name="FNanchor_215" id="FNanchor_215"></a><a href="#Footnote_215" class="fnanchor">[215]</a></p>
-
-<p>During the latter part of Pius
-VII.’s pontificate the government
-of Chili sent one of its distinguished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[549]</a></span>
-citizens, the Archdeacon Don José
-Cienfuegos, envoy to Rome, with
-instructions to try to establish
-direct ecclesiastical relations between
-the Holy See and Santiago,
-the capital of his country. He arrived
-there on August 22, 1822,
-and was well received, but only in
-his spiritual capacity. The pope
-would not recognize him as a political
-agent. On the 7th of September
-following the Holy Father addressed
-a brief to the Bishop of Merida
-de Maracaybo, in which he expressed
-himself solicitous for the spiritual
-necessities of his children in
-those far-distant parts of America,
-and intimated his ardent desire to
-relieve them. A little later he
-formed a special congregation of
-six cardinals, presided over by Della
-Genga, who became his successor
-as Leo XII.; and after mature
-deliberation on the religious affairs
-in the ex-viceroyalties of Spain, it
-was determined to send a mission
-to Chili, that country being chosen
-for the honor as having made the
-first advances. This measure so
-displeased the Spanish government
-that the nuncio Monsignor&mdash;afterwards
-Cardinal&mdash;Giustiniani was
-dismissed; and although he was
-soon after permitted to return, the
-wound inflicted upon him left its
-sting behind, for, coming very near
-to the number of votes requisite to
-election in the conclave after Pius
-VIII.’s death, the court of Madrid
-barred his fortune by the exercise
-of that odious privilege called
-the <i lang="es">Esclusiva</i>; the ground of his
-exclusion from the Papacy being
-supposed at Rome to have been
-his participation in the appointment
-of bishops to South America.
-The right (?) of veto expires with
-its exercise once in each conclave;
-and Cardinal Cappellari (Gregory
-XVI.), who, as we shall see, had the
-most to do with these episcopal
-nominations, was elected pope.</p>
-
-<p>The choice of a vicar-apostolic
-for the Chilian mission fell upon
-Prof. Ostini (later nuncio to Brazil
-and a cardinal), who, after having
-accepted the position, saw fit
-suddenly to decline it for reasons
-best known to himself. In his
-stead Don Giovanni Muzi, then attached
-to the nunciature at Vienna,
-was selected, and, having been recalled
-to Rome, was consecrated
-Archbishop of Philippi in <i lang="la">partibus
-infidelium</i>,<a name="FNanchor_216" id="FNanchor_216"></a><a href="#Footnote_216" class="fnanchor">[216]</a> with orders to proceed
-immediately to Santiago. The mission,
-of which we shall speak more
-particularly hereafter, embarked
-on October 4, 1823, and reached
-Rome on its return the 7th of
-July, 1825.</p>
-
-<p>Leo XII. succeeded Pius VII.
-In 1824 the republic of Colombia
-sent Don Ignacio Texada to Rome
-with an application for bishops and
-apostolic vicars in that immense
-region; but the Spanish ambassador,
-Chevalier Vargas, a haughty
-diplomate, brimful of <i lang="es">Españolismo</i>,
-went to the pope and demanded
-his dismissal. This was refused.
-The envoy had come for spiritual
-interests, not on political grounds;
-and the Spaniard could not convince
-Leo that the rebel’s argument&mdash;by
-which he asked no more than
-that species of indirect recognition
-granted by the Holy See, under Innocent
-X. and Alexander VII., to
-the house of Braganza when it forced
-Portugal from under Spanish
-rule&mdash;was not a good one and
-founded on precedent. Nevertheless,
-Texada returned to Bologna,
-and finally withdrew altogether
-from the Papal States. He had
-some fine qualities, but lacked discretion
-in speech, which was a fault<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[550]</a></span>
-very injurious to his position.
-Harpocrates is still the great god
-of diplomacy the world over. This
-state of things was embarrassing.
-Spain had refused to recognize the
-independence of her many provinces
-in the New World, although she
-had ceased practically even to disturb
-them. The king, who was
-somewhat of a <em>Marquis de Carabas</em>,
-claimed all his old rights over
-them, and, among them, that of
-episcopal presentation. Cardinal
-Wiseman, who was an attentive observer
-of these times, remarks&mdash;very
-properly, we think&mdash;that even if
-such a power could be still called
-legal, “it would have been quite
-unreasonable to expect that the
-free republics would acknowledge
-the jurisdiction of the country
-which declared itself at war with
-them.” This was a clear case in
-which allegiance should follow protection.
-After a prudent delay,
-Leo thought it his duty to represent
-energetically to the Spanish
-government the inconvenience he
-suffered from the existing state of
-affairs, and the impossibility of his
-viewing with indifference a condition
-in which the faithful, long deprived
-of pastors, were urgently
-asking for bishops for the vacant
-sees. Yet His Holiness had taken
-no decisive step, but called upon
-his majesty either to reduce his
-transatlantic subjects to obedience
-or to leave him free to provide as
-best he could for the necessities of
-the church. In the consistory of
-May 21, 1827, the pope, after protesting
-that he could not any longer
-in conscience delay his duty
-to Spanish America, proceeded to
-nominate bishops for more than
-six dioceses in those parts. Madrid
-was, of course, displeased, although
-it was twelve years since the government
-had lost even the shadow
-of authority there, and at first refused
-to receive the new nuncio,
-Tiberi.<a name="FNanchor_217" id="FNanchor_217"></a><a href="#Footnote_217" class="fnanchor">[217]</a> At this juncture Pedro
-Gomez de Labrador was sent from
-Spain expressly to defeat the measure;
-but although “acknowledged
-by all parties, and especially by the
-diplomatic body in Rome, to be
-one of the most able and accomplished
-statesmen in Europe, yet
-he could not carry his point”
-against the quiet and monk-like
-Cardinal Cappellari, who was deputed
-by the pope to meet him. In
-the allocution pronounced by Labbrador
-before the Sacred College,
-assembled in conclave to elect a
-successor to Leo, he made an allusion
-to the ever-recurring subject
-of the revolted Americans; but
-although done with tact, it grated
-on the ears of many as too persistently
-and, under the circumstances,
-unreasonably put forward.</p>
-
-<p>The discussion between the courts
-of Rome and Madrid was not renewed
-during the brief pontificate of
-Pius VIII.; but in the encyclical
-letter announcing his election there
-is a delicate reference to the affair
-which, although not expressly
-named, will be perceived by those
-who are acquainted with the questions
-of that day. Comte de Maistre
-says somewhere that if a parish be
-left without a priest for thirty years,
-the people will worship&mdash;the pigs;
-and although the absence of a bishop
-from his diocese for such a
-length of time might not induce a
-similar result, yet the faithful would
-drop, perhaps, into a Presbyterian
-form of church government and be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[551]</a></span>
-lost. The veteran statesman Cardinal
-Consalvi evidently thought so,
-as we see by the fourth point, which
-treats of Spanish America, in the
-conference that he was invited to
-hold with Leo XII. on the most
-important interests of the Holy
-See.<a name="FNanchor_218" id="FNanchor_218"></a><a href="#Footnote_218" class="fnanchor">[218]</a> When, therefore, Gregory
-XVI.&mdash;who, as Cardinal Cappellari;
-had not been a stranger to the long
-dispute&mdash;became pope, he ended
-the matter promptly and for ever.
-In his first consistory, held in February,
-1831, he filled a number of
-vacant sees and erected new ones
-where required in South America.
-On the 31st of August following he
-published the apostolic constitution
-“Solicitudo Ecclesiarum,” in which
-he explained the reasons why the
-Holy See, in order to be able to
-govern the universal church, whose
-interests are paramount to all local
-disputes, recognizes <i lang="la">de facto</i> governments,
-without intending by this
-to confer a new right, detract from
-any legitimate claim, or decide upon
-<i lang="la">de jure</i> questions. The republics
-of New Granada<a name="FNanchor_219" id="FNanchor_219"></a><a href="#Footnote_219" class="fnanchor">[219]</a> (1835), Ecuador
-(1838), and Chili (1840) were subsequently
-recognized with all the
-solemnities of international law.</p>
-
-<p>In the last-named country there
-were two episcopal sees during the
-Spanish dominion. These were
-Santiago and Concepcion, both subject
-to the Metropolitan of Lima;
-but Gregory rearranged the Chilian
-episcopate, making the first see an
-archbishopric, with Concepcion, La
-Serena, and San Carlos de Ancud
-(in the island of Chiloe) for suffragan
-sees.</p>
-
-<p>At the time that the apostolic
-mission to South America was determined
-upon, there was living in
-Rome a young ecclesiastic as yet “to
-fortune and to fame unknown,” but
-who was destined to become the
-first pope who has ever been across
-the Atlantic, and the foremost man
-of the XIXth century. This was
-Don Giovanni Mastai-Ferretti, one
-of the fourteen canons of the collegiate
-church of Santa Maria <i lang="it">in Via
-Lata</i>. He was selected by Pius VII.
-to accompany Mgr. Muzi as adjunct.
-The secretary of the apostolic
-delegation was a priest named
-Giuseppe Sallusti, who wrote a full
-narrative of the expedition, in
-which, as Cardinal Wiseman says,
-“The minutest details are related
-with the good-humored garrulity of
-a new traveller, who to habits of
-business and practical acquaintance
-with graver matters unites, as is
-common in the South, a dash of
-comic humor and a keen sense of
-the ridiculous, and withal a charming
-simplicity and freshness of mind,
-which render the book amusing as
-well as instructive, in spite of its
-heavy quotations from that lightest
-of poets, Metastasio.”<a name="FNanchor_220" id="FNanchor_220"></a><a href="#Footnote_220" class="fnanchor">[220]</a> It is in 4
-vols. 8vo, with a map. Comparatively
-only a small portion of the
-work is taken up with the actual
-voyages and travels of the party,
-the rest being devoted to the
-preliminaries or causes of the mission,
-to a description of Chili, and
-an account of the many missionary
-establishments which had once
-flourished, as well as of those that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[552]</a></span>
-were still maintained, there. A
-fifth volume was promised by the
-author to contain the documents,
-official acts, and results of the mission;
-but we believe that it was
-never published. The vicar-apostolic
-having received, at the earnest
-solicitation of a learned ecclesiastic
-from the Argentine Confederation,
-Rev. Dr. Pacheco, very ample faculties
-not only for the country to
-which he was more immediately accredited,
-but also for Buenos Ayres,
-Peru, Colombia, Mexico, and all
-other parts of the ex-Spanish dominions,
-and accompanied by the
-envoy Cienfuegos and Father Raymond
-Arce, a young Dominican
-belonging to Santiago, the party
-left Rome for Bologna, where it
-rested awhile to get a foretaste of
-the magnificent scenes in the New
-World from Father T. de Molina,
-who had long resided in Chili. The
-next stage in the journey was to
-Genoa, the port of embarkation,
-which was reached only on the
-17th of July; but, “by a series of
-almost ludicrous delays,” the expedition
-was detained until after the
-death of Pius VII. and the election
-of his successor, Leo XII., who confirmed
-the mission and addressed a
-brief to the president<a name="FNanchor_221" id="FNanchor_221"></a><a href="#Footnote_221" class="fnanchor">[221]</a> of the Chilian
-Republic, recommending its objects
-and the welfare of its members.</p>
-
-<p>All matters being now satisfactorily
-arranged, the party got on
-board the fine French-built brig
-<i>Eloysa</i> on the 11th of October,
-1823. The vessel sailed under
-Sardinian colors, and was manned
-by a crew of thirty-four men, and
-officered by experienced sailors, the
-captain, Anthony Copello, having
-several times navigated the South
-Atlantic. The weather was very
-rough, as usual, in the Gulf of
-Lyons; “and gurly grew the sea,”
-to the dismay and discomfiture of
-the terrified landsmen, “Mastai,” as
-Sallusti familiarly calls his companion,
-suffering horribly from sickness.
-This was but the beginning of many
-trials, and even some serious dangers,
-amidst which we can well
-imagine that the captain would have
-been glad beyond measure if any
-one had hinted at the very special
-Providence that guarded his ship,
-by quoting the famous words, “<i lang="la">Quid
-times? Cæsarem vehis et fortunam
-ejus!</i>” Soon the <i>Eloysa</i> approached
-the coast of Catalonia, down which
-she sailed at the rate of ten knots
-an hour, until struck by a furious
-southwest hurricane, the <i lang="it">libeccio</i> so
-much dreaded in the Mediterranean,
-which threatened destruction to all
-and everything in its course. To a
-landsman like Sallusti the storms
-encountered on this voyage would
-naturally appear worse than they
-really were, and his frequent account
-of “waves mountain-high”
-and “imminent shipwreck” would
-perhaps sound like “yarns” to an
-old tar. He delights in describing
-the <i>Eloysa</i> as</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she flies,</div>
-<div class="verse">Her shattered top half buried in the skies”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;(<cite>Falconer</cite>),</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and everywhere shows himself, like
-a good inland <i lang="it">abbate</i>, dreadfully
-afraid of salt water. Capt. Copello
-would fain have put into Valencia
-for shelter; but it was feared that
-the Spanish authorities might detain
-his ship, or at least disembark
-the passengers, and it was determined
-rather to brave the elements<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[553]</a></span>
-than to trust themselves within gunshot
-of a Spanish harbor. These
-bold resolutions, however, did not
-appease the fury of the wind, and it
-finally came to deciding between a
-watery grave and a stony prison;
-the decision was quickly taken, and
-Palma, in the island of Majorca,
-was fetched in safety. The mission
-party was very inhospitably treated
-here; and Mgr. Muzi and Canon
-Mastai were ordered to come on
-shore at once and give an account
-of themselves. As soon as they
-had put foot on land, the two distinguished
-ecclesiastics were thrust
-into a cold and filthy Lazaretto, on
-plea of sanitary regulations, but
-really out of spite for their character
-and destination. Their papers
-were seized, and measures instantly
-taken to bring them to trial; and
-there was even talk of sending them
-to an African fortress where political
-prisoners were confined. When
-Sallusti heard of this Balearic treatment,
-he summoned all his Italian
-courage, and, going on shore, declared
-to the cocked-hatted officials
-that he would share the fate of his
-companions; but instead of admiring
-this prodigality of a great soul
-(Hor. <cite>Od.</cite> i. 12, 38), those unclassical
-islanders simply swore round
-oaths and turned him in with the
-rest. This was fortunate in one
-sense; for we would otherwise have
-missed a good description of the
-examination of the three Italians
-before the magistrates, who behaved
-rudely; the alcade, in his quality
-of judge, putting on more airs than
-a Roman proconsul.<a name="FNanchor_222" id="FNanchor_222"></a><a href="#Footnote_222" class="fnanchor">[222]</a> Further
-outrages were threatened, but the
-intervention of the <em>Sardinian consul</em>
-and of the Bishop of Palma finally
-convinced those proud men of the
-exclusively religious mission of
-their victims. In view of subsequent
-events in Italy, it seems
-strange that the future pope should
-have been saved from further indignities,
-and perhaps from a dungeon,
-by an agent of the Piedmontese
-government; yet so it was.
-The Italians were permitted to return
-to the ship, but a demand was
-made to deliver up the two Chilians
-as rebellious Spanish subjects.
-This was promptly refused; but
-notwithstanding a great deal of
-blustering and many threats, the
-case was allowed to drop, and the
-<i>Eloysa</i> sailed away after several
-days’ detention. Gibraltar was passed
-on the 28th of October, and a
-severe storm having tossed the
-brig about unmercifully on her
-entry into the Atlantic, the peak
-of Teneriffe loomed up on November
-4.</p>
-
-<p>After leaving the Canary Islands,
-the <i>Eloysa</i> was hailed one dark
-night by a shot across her bows,
-which came from a Colombian privateer,
-and quickly brought her to.
-She was quickly boarded, and a
-gruff voice demanded her papers
-and to have the crew and passengers
-mustered on deck. Sallusti
-was in mortal dread, and, to judge
-from his description of the scene,
-he must have been quaking with
-fear; but Don Giovanni Mastai behaved
-with that calmness and dignity
-which even then began to be
-remarked in him, in whatever circumstances
-he found himself. After
-some delay, the brig was allowed
-to proceed; nothing being
-taken off but a bottle of good Malaga
-wine&mdash;which, however, was rather
-<em>accepted</em> than stolen by the
-rover of the seas.</p>
-
-<p>After a time the Cape Verd Islands
-appeared in all their richness;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[554]</a></span>
-and on the 27th of the month the
-line was crossed amidst the usual
-riot of sailors, and with the payment
-of a generous ransom by the
-clergy. On December 8 the <i>Eloysa</i>
-lay becalmed alongside of a slaver
-crowded with poor Africans
-on their way to Brazil. Sallusti
-complains about this time of bad
-water and short rations, and mentions
-with particular disgust that
-the fare generally consisted of potatoes
-and lean chickens. On the
-22d a man fell overboard in a dreadful
-gale, and was rescued with difficulty.
-Christmas was celebrated
-as well as circumstances permitted;
-and a neat little oratory having
-been fitted up in the main cabin,
-midnight Mass was said by the
-archbishop, the second Mass by
-Canon Mastai, and the third by
-Friar Arce. On the 27th of December,
-S. John’s Day, and the patronal
-feast of the canon, the welcome
-cry of “Land ho!” was heard
-from the look-out at the mast-head
-about three <span class="smcapuc">P.M.</span>, and the crew and
-passengers united upon deck to return
-fervent thanks to Almighty
-God. The land sighted was a small
-desert island, a little north of Cape
-Santa Maria, off the coast of Uruguay.
-A fearful storm was encountered
-the next evening at the mouth
-of the La Plata. This was one of
-those southwestern gales, called
-<i lang="es">Pamperos</i>, which frequently blow
-with inconceivable fury, causing singular
-fluctuations in the depth of
-the wide mouth of the river. It raged
-so that the captain was obliged to
-cut his cable and abandon the shelter
-of Flores Island, which he had
-sought when it began, and to take
-to the open sea again. With better
-weather he returned and dropped
-anchor opposite Montevideo on the
-evening of January 1, 1824. Sallusti
-goes into raptures over the
-beautiful aspect of the city, as seen
-from the bay; its broad and regular
-streets, its stately houses built on a
-gentle elevation, its fine cathedral,
-the strains of music borne over the
-water&mdash;everything enchanted the
-travellers, weary of a three months’
-voyage.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“The sails were furl’d; with many a melting close</div>
-<div class="verse">Solemn and slow the evening anthem rose&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Rose to the Virgin. ’Twas the hour of day</div>
-<div class="verse">When setting suns o’er summer<a name="FNanchor_223" id="FNanchor_223"></a><a href="#Footnote_223" class="fnanchor">[223]</a> seas display</div>
-<div class="verse">A path of glory, opening in the west</div>
-<div class="verse">To golden climes and islands of the blest;</div>
-<div class="verse">And human voices on the balmy air</div>
-<div class="verse">Went o’er the waves in songs of gladness there!”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;(<cite>Rogers.</cite>)</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>As soon as the news got abroad
-of a delegation from the pope, the
-whole city was in a joyful commotion,
-and a deputation, consisting
-of the cathedral chapter, four other
-secular priests, and two Dominican
-fathers, came to the ship to pay their
-respects to Mgr. Muzi, who was also
-invited on shore and pressed with
-every offer of assistance by the most
-honorable representatives of the
-laity. These kind attentions could
-not induce the party to land; and as
-soon as damages were repaired and
-a pilot received, sail was made for
-Buenos Ayres, which was sighted at
-two <span class="smcapuc">P.M.</span> of January 5; but just
-while the passengers were all on
-deck watching the approaches to
-the city, they were assailed and
-driven below by myriads of mosquitoes.
-Sallusti is very vehement
-against these sharp little insects, and
-bewails the lot of those who must
-live among them; but he carefully
-avoids a comparison with the <em>fleas</em>
-of his native Italy. Although the
-passengers remained on board that
-night, crowds of people lined the
-shore, and, after salutes of artillery,
-greeted them with cries of “Long
-live the vicar apostolic!” “Cheers
-for America!” “Success to Chili!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[555]</a></span>
-On the following day the captain of
-the port and his suite came off to
-the brig, bringing a courteous note
-from the governor, offering a public
-reception (for which preparations
-had already been made) and the hospitalities
-of the city to the members
-of the mission. This was declined,
-for reasons that are not very clear;
-but although the archbishop gave
-his bad health as the principal excuse,
-we suspect that Cienfuegos
-impressed upon the Italians that,
-the mission being directed to <em>his</em>
-country, it were uncourtly to parade
-it before reaching its destination.
-By their minds such a view would
-be accepted as <i lang="it">assai diplomatico</i>.
-When the party did land, they put
-up at a hotel called “The Three
-Kings,” kept by a jolly Englishman,
-who treated them right royally&mdash;and
-made them pay in proportion.
-During their twelve days’ stay in
-Buenos Ayres, the archbishop and
-his suite received every mark of
-reverence from the people; yet the
-officials maintained a cold reserve
-since the refusal to accept their invitation.
-Even the ecclesiastical
-authority&mdash;such as it was&mdash;put on
-very bad airs; Zavaletta, a simple
-priest, but administrator of the diocese,
-having the audacity to withdraw
-from Mgr. Muzi permission,
-which had been previously granted
-to give confirmation. At the time
-of the arrival of the apostolic mission
-the provinces of the Rio de
-la Plata, which had formed part of
-the Spanish viceroyalty of Buenos
-Ayres, had been united from 1816
-to 1820, but were now in a state of political
-isolation, somewhat like that
-of the States of the American Union
-before the federal Constitution was
-adopted. Soon after the arrival of
-the mission, another General Congress
-was called. Still, the Italians
-were not impressed&mdash;as it was important
-that they should be to obtain
-proper consideration at Rome,&mdash;with
-the idea of a strong government
-holding sway over a vast and
-wealthy territory. On the 16th of
-January, at nine o’clock in the forenoon,
-the party began the journey
-across the continent. Three great
-covered wagons, each drawn by four
-horses and guided by twelve postilions,
-composed the train; while a
-courier went ahead to hunt up quarters,
-and a mounted orderly, with
-a very long sword and a fierce-looking
-beard, brought up the rear or
-pranced about the flanks of the
-line. The drivers kept around in
-no particular order, sonorously
-cracking their whips and uttering
-loud sounds which probably were
-not oaths to the unaccustomed ears
-of Sallusti. Besides the three Italians,
-there was Cienfuegos with four
-young Chilians in his company and
-two servants, so that the whole
-party was pretty numerous, and the
-more so when, a little further on, six
-gallant guachos were added as an
-escort. Only fifteen miles were
-made the first day, which brought
-the party to Moron, where confirmation
-was given. At a miserable
-rancho called Lujan the archbishop
-said his first Mass on the pampas at
-a rich altar improvised for him by
-the <i lang="es">padre</i> of the place, and surmounted
-by four massive silver candlesticks.
-The room was hung
-round with rich damask hangings.
-It was like a jewel in a dung-heap.
-The Arecife stream was crossed in
-boats by the travellers, but forded by
-the wagons and horsemen. The superb
-Parana River was reached at
-San Pedro; and thence the route lay
-through a rich and beautiful country
-to the important town of Rosario,
-on the high, precipitous banks of
-the great river. At the outskirts of
-this place the party was met by the
-parish priest; and confirmation was
-administered the next day to an immense
-number of the faithful, long
-deprived of this sacrament. From
-Rosario, which they left on the
-morning of the 23d, the journey
-was long, weary, and dangerous, on
-account of the roving bands of Indians
-which at that period scoured
-the plains in all directions to cut
-off herdsmen and small parties of
-travellers or traders, making a booty
-of their baggage, killing the men,
-and carrying women and children
-into captivity. At a little station
-called Orqueta the party caught
-sight for the first time of a wild Indian,
-who was lurking about the
-place in a very suspicious manner,
-but kept at a respectful distance
-from the guachos. When Sallusti
-saw this man apparently spying out
-the route and strength of the party,
-the marrow nearly froze in his
-bones; and he certainly had good
-cause for alarm. It happened that
-leaving Buenos Ayres a few days
-earlier than had been given out was
-lucky; for a large band of these
-mounted savages, armed with lances
-and lassos, had got wind of the arrival
-of great personages from Europe,
-carrying (it was reported) an
-immense amount of treasure to the
-Pacific coast, and had formed a plan
-to attack them, which was defeated
-only by mistaking the day of their
-departure, whereby their arrival at
-the lonely and ill-famed post of Desmochados
-was miscalculated. Three
-days after the mission party had
-passed, the Indians, to the number
-of about three hundred, swooped
-down upon the place, but, instead of
-finding the rich foreigners, they surrounded
-only a miserable set of
-twenty peons escorting a lot of goods
-across the plains. These were all
-massacred except one, who, although
-badly wounded and left for dead,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[556]</a></span>
-survived to tell the story and
-describe the fiendish disappointment
-of the savages at not capturing
-the prey they expected. At Frayle
-Muerto Mgr. Muzi received, through
-the agency of Cienfuegos, a polite
-message from the clergy of Cordova;<a name="FNanchor_224" id="FNanchor_224"></a><a href="#Footnote_224" class="fnanchor">[224]</a>
-but having sent his return compliments
-directly instead of through
-the channel of original communication,
-the Chilian thought himself
-slighted, and separated from the mission
-party, preceding it a good distance,
-and taking with him, besides
-his own attendants, the orderly in
-brilliant uniform, who, the Europeans
-had the mortification of seeing,
-was meant to distinguish the <em>native</em>,
-although a subordinate in clerical
-rank. Such is human nature,
-whether at courts or on a dusty
-plain.</p>
-
-<p>After passing through several
-small settlements and the more important
-town of San Luis&mdash;being
-everywhere well received&mdash;the fine
-old city of Mendoza was reached
-on the 15th of February. It seemed
-as if the entire population had
-turned out to honor the distinguished
-arrivals. Triumphal arches were
-erected, troops were drawn up
-under arms, processions of citizens
-and clergy marshalled; from every
-house richly-colored tapestry was
-suspended, while the balconies were
-filled with ladies, who threw down
-flowers in the path of the apostolic
-vicar as he entered the town and
-proceeded to the house of a noble
-and wealthy lady, Doña Emmanuela
-Corbalan, in which everything had
-been prepared on the grandest scale
-of provincial magnificence, and
-where Cienfuegos, in all his glory and
-recovered temper, was waiting to receive
-him and Canon (Count) Mastai,
-who were to be lodged there
-during their stay; the secretary, Sallusti,
-being handed over to a less worshipful
-host. Religious and civic
-festivals, excursions in the environs
-to the vineyards, gardens,
-farms, and silver-mines, with other
-congenial occupations, detained
-the party very agreeably during
-nine days in this neat and pleasant
-town, the climate of which is noted
-for its salubrity. On the 24th they
-left Mendoza, and had a delightful
-trip on horseback over good roads
-and through a civilized country
-for seventy-five miles to the foot of
-the mighty Andes. They were now
-on the eastern range of the Cordilleras,
-at the Paramilla Mountains,
-which are about ten thousand feet
-high and partly covered with wood.
-Between these and the western range
-they traversed, near thirty-two degrees
-south latitude, a wide valley,
-sterile and impregnated with salt, for
-over forty miles, called the Uspallata.
-For fifteen miles the road was level,
-and the remainder winding up and
-down the hills which skirt both
-ranges. After crossing this valley,
-they struck the great range of the
-Andes, which is between fifty and
-sixty miles in width, consisting of
-four or five parallel masses of rock,
-divided from one another by deep
-and dangerous ravines and sombre
-glens. The road which leads over
-them is called the <i lang="es">Cumbre</i> (summit)
-Pass, and attains an elevation of
-twelve thousand four hundred and
-fifty-four feet above the level of the
-sea. Our travellers crossed on
-mules by this road, getting to the
-north of them, amidst piles of perpetual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[557]</a></span>
-snow, a magnificent view of
-the grand volcano of Aconcagua,
-which is nearly twenty-four thousand
-feet high. The passage of
-the mountains was grand and impressive,
-but was not made without
-danger to the lives of some of the
-party, particularly on the 29th of
-February. From La Cumbre there
-is a gradual descent to the city of
-Santiago. On the 1st of March
-the travellers cast their admiring
-gaze upon the Pacific slope, which,
-from that day until they entered the
-capital of Chili, on the 6th of the
-month&mdash;passing through Villa-de-Santa-Rosa
-and over the magnificent
-plains of Chacabuco&mdash;was a continually
-shifting panorama of natural
-beauty, enhanced by villages, convents,
-and churches perched on the
-side of verdant hills or nestling in the
-fruitful valleys. At every halting-place
-their hearts were filled with a
-holy joy to witness the demonstrations
-of faith among the people, and
-of loyalty to their great spiritual
-chief on earth, represented by Mgr.
-Muzi. The party entered Santiago,
-as was said, on the 6th, and, going
-to the cathedral, the archbishop intoned
-pontifically the <cite>Te Deum</cite>,
-with the assistance of a future pope
-and of the historian of the apostolic
-mission. The members of the legation
-were lodged in a house near
-the <i lang="es">Cappucinas</i>; and although we
-know little of the occupations of
-Canon Mastai in Chili, it is certain
-that he made himself personally
-very agreeable. How could
-it be otherwise?</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“A man of letters, and of manners too:</div>
-<div class="verse">Of manners sweet as virtue always wears,</div>
-<div class="verse">When gay good nature dresses her in smiles.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;(<cite>Cowper.</cite>)</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>We have been told by a distinguished
-Chilian that Canonico Mastai
-was a frequent guest in Santiago
-at the house of his uncle, Don Francisco<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[558]</a></span>
-Ruiz Tagle, and used to go
-out with him quite often to his
-country-seat. Although the mission
-was received with an almost universal
-outburst of enthusiasm, and
-notwithstanding the majority of the
-clergy and people was well disposed,
-it met with considerable opposition
-from a fierce and fanatical party of
-Freemasons, which threw every obstacle
-in the way of close relations
-with Rome. Cardinal Wiseman
-says, in the article in the <cite>Dublin
-Review</cite> from which we have already
-quoted, that “there was jealousy
-and bad faith on the part of the
-Chilian government, and want of
-tact and bad management, we fear
-on the part of the head of the mission.”
-Unfortunately, the government
-was in a transition state between
-the presidency of O’Higgins
-and the election of his successor,
-Freire, and administered by a <i lang="es">Junta</i>.
-Where there were so many voices
-there was much confusion. Cienfuegos,
-however, seems to have
-done his duty, and he was rewarded
-in 1832 by the bishopric of Concepcion,
-which had been vacant for
-fourteen years. He died in 1839.
-With regard to the causes of the
-failure of the mission, we will not
-conceal what we have heard from an
-excellent senator of Chili, although
-we mention it reservedly&mdash;that one,
-at least, of the reasons was a suspicion
-that Muzi intended to put Italians
-in the sees vacant or to be
-erected in Chili.</p>
-
-<p>From Santiago Mgr. Muzi and
-his party went to Valparaiso, and
-embarked for their return voyage
-on the 30th of October, 1824.
-The remarks of the celebrated
-Spaniard Balmes upon the visit of
-the future pope to the New World
-find their place here: “There is
-certainly in nature’s grand scenes
-an influence which expands and
-nerves the soul; and when these
-are united to the contemplation of
-different races, varied in civilization
-and manners, the mind acquires a
-largeness of sentiment most favorable
-to the development of the understanding
-and the heart, widening
-the sphere of thought and ennobling
-the affections. On this account
-it is pleasing, above all things,
-to see the youthful missionary, destined
-to occupy the chair of S.
-Peter, traverse the vast ocean; admire
-the magnificent rivers and
-superb chains of mountains in
-America; travel through those forests
-and plains where a rich and
-fertile soil, left to itself, displays
-with ostentatious luxury its inborn
-treasures by the abundance, variety,
-and beauty of its productions, animate
-and inanimate; run risks
-among savages, sleep in wretched
-hovels or on the open plain, and
-pass the night beneath that brilliant
-canopy which astonishes the traveller
-in the southern hemisphere.
-Providence, which destined the
-young Mastai-Ferretti to reign
-over a people and to govern the
-universal church, led him by the
-hand to visit various nations, and
-to contemplate the marvels of
-nature.”<a name="FNanchor_225" id="FNanchor_225"></a><a href="#Footnote_225" class="fnanchor">[225]</a></p>
-
-<p>A remote but very providential
-consequence of the visit of Pius IX.
-to America, during his early career,
-was the establishment of the South
-American College at Rome, called
-officially in Italian the Pio-Latino
-Americano,<a name="FNanchor_226" id="FNanchor_226"></a><a href="#Footnote_226" class="fnanchor">[226]</a> which educates aspirants
-to the priesthood from Brazil
-and all parts of the American continent
-where the Spanish language
-is spoken. A wealthy, intelligent,
-and influential Chilian priest, Don<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[559]</a></span>
-Ignacio Eyzaguirre,<a name="FNanchor_227" id="FNanchor_227"></a><a href="#Footnote_227" class="fnanchor">[227]</a> who had been
-vice-president of the House of Representatives
-in 1848, and was an
-author of repute, was charged by
-Pius IX. in 1856 to visit the dioceses
-of South and Central America
-and Mexico, to obtain the views of
-the several bishops upon the necessity
-of founding an ecclesiastical
-seminary at Rome. The project
-was universally acceptable, and
-funds having been provided&mdash;the
-Holy Father giving liberally from his
-private purse&mdash;a beginning was
-made in 1858, when a part of the
-Theatine Convent of San Andrea
-<i lang="it">della Valle</i> was given up to the students,
-who were put under the direction
-of Jesuit Fathers. This
-location was only temporary; and
-the college was soon transferred to
-the large house of the general of
-the Dominicans, attached to the
-convent of Santa Maria <i lang="it">sopra Minerva</i>,
-and facing the piazza. However,
-it has been moved again, and
-in 1869 occupied the right wing of
-the novitiate at San Andrea on the
-Quirinal, with fifty-five inmates.
-As if this worthy establishment had
-to figure in its shifting fortune the
-unsettled state of so many of the
-Spanish American countries, it has
-again been disturbed; yet to suffer
-at the hands of Victor Emanuel
-and his sacrilegious band is the
-indication of a good cause, and will
-prepare to meet other, although
-hardly worse, enemies in the New
-World.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>FREE WILL.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">I.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">The river glideth not at its sweet will:</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The fountain sends it forth;</div>
-<div class="verse">And answering to earth’s finger doth it still</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Go east, west, south, or north.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">II.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">The soul alone hath perfect liberty</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To flow its own free way;</div>
-<div class="verse">And only as it wills to follow thee,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">O Lord! it findeth day.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[560]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>NELLIE’S DREAM ON CHRISTMAS EVE.</h3>
-
-<p>They had quarrelled, these two&mdash;it
-matters not about what trifle&mdash;till
-the hot, bitter words seemed to
-have formed an impassable barrier
-and a silence fell between them that
-the lowering brow and compressed
-lip told would not be easily broken.
-Both had loving hearts, and
-treasured each other above all
-earthly things. They had real sorrows
-enough to make imaginary
-ones glance off lightly; for the
-second Christmas had not yet cast
-its snows on their mother’s grave.
-The thought of each was, “Had
-<em>she</em> been here, this would not have
-happened”; but pride was strong,
-and the relenting thoughts were
-hidden behind a cold exterior.</p>
-
-<p>It was the week before Christmas,
-and Laura, the eldest, was
-assisting to trim the village church,
-and in the Holy Presence the dark
-thought faded and tender memories
-seemed to reassert their olden
-sway; and on returning from her
-occupation she formed the resolution
-to stop this folly, and make
-advances towards assuming the old,
-happy life.</p>
-
-<p>“Father Black asked after you,
-Nell,” she said, as she laid aside
-her wrappings, and turned cheerily
-to the fire. “He wants you to
-play during the rehearsal of the
-new Benediction to-morrow; for
-Prof. C&mdash;&mdash; will be away.” But
-she was met by a stony look and
-closed lips. “Come, Nell,” she said
-half impatiently, “don’t be so dignified;
-why do you love that temper
-of yours so dearly?”</p>
-
-<p>“You said let there be silence
-between us, and I am content,” was
-the rejoinder. “I shall take care
-not to trouble you in future.”</p>
-
-<p>Pride and love struggled for mastery
-in the heart of the eldest, and
-it was a mingling of both that
-brought the answer, in tones cold
-enough to freeze the tenderness of
-the words: “There will come a
-silence between us one day, Nell,
-you will be glad to break.” And
-she passed from the room.</p>
-
-<p>“Let it come,” was the almost
-insolent reply; but there was a mist
-in the flashing black eyes that contradicted
-the words.</p>
-
-<p>They passed the day apart from
-each other, and at night, although
-kneeling for prayer in the same
-little oratory, and occupying the
-same little white-draped chamber,
-the chilling silence remained. So
-passed the next day, and it was
-now Christmas Eve. The evergreens
-were all hung in the village
-church; the altar was radiant
-with flowers and tapers; the confessionals
-were thronged; but both
-sisters kept aloof, and both hearts
-were aching over the pride and
-anger that was strangling even religion
-in their souls. Alas! alas!
-how the angels must have mourned
-to see days of such especial grace
-passing in sin. Christmas gifts
-had been prepared, but neither
-would present them. How different
-other Christmas Eves had
-been!&mdash;the gentle mother overseeing
-every preparation for the next
-day, that was always celebrated as
-a feast of joy. Those busy hands
-were idle now, and the white snow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[561]</a></span>
-was coldly drifting over the mound
-that loving hearts would fain have
-kept in perpetual summer. A
-mother’s grave! Except to those
-who have knelt beside that mound&mdash;that
-seems such a slight barrier between
-the aching heart and its
-treasure, and yet is such a hopeless,
-inexorable one&mdash;these words
-have little meaning.</p>
-
-<p>They retired early, and, as Nell
-knelt for prayer, the hot tears rolled
-through her fingers as she
-thought of other Christmas mornings,
-when they had been awakened
-for early Mass by the “Merry
-Christmas! girls,” that earth would
-never, never hear again. But the
-icy bands of pride that had frozen
-around her heart would not melt,
-and sleep came again in that stony
-stillness.</p>
-
-<p>Morning came to Nellie’s perturbed
-visions, and in the gray
-dawn “Merry Christmas” broke
-forth from her lips; but the memory
-of the past few days checked the
-words, and they died in whispers.
-But as she glanced at Laura, she
-saw that her eyes were open, but
-that their expression was fixed and
-rigid. She sprang up with a vague
-alarm, and laid her hand upon the
-low, broad forehead. It was icy
-cold. Shriek after shriek rang from
-her lips, but they reached not the
-death-dulled ear.</p>
-
-<p>“I never meant it, Laura&mdash;I never
-meant it! Only come back that I
-may speak one word!” she moaned.
-“O my God! give her back to me
-for one hour, and I will submit to
-thy will.” But her voice only broke
-the silence, and the white, smiling
-lips on the bed seemed a mockery
-of the passionate anguish wailing
-above them. She threw herself before
-the little altar in her room.
-“Blessed Mother!” she prayed,
-“I promise, solemnly promise, that
-never, never again will I give way
-to the passionate temper that has
-been my bane, if she may only come
-back for one hour to grant forgiveness
-for the awful words I have
-spoken.” And for the first time
-since she had realized her sorrow
-tears fell from her eyes.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Nellie, Nellie, what ails
-you?” said a familiar voice. “You
-are crying in your sleep on this
-merry Christmas morning; <em>do</em> waken.”
-And, oh! the heaven that
-met those unclosing eyes&mdash;Laura
-bending over her, smiling, yet with
-a look of doubt in her face as if the
-icy barrier had not yet broken
-down.</p>
-
-<p>“O my darling, my darling!”
-sobbed the excited girl, winding her
-arms around her sister. “Thank
-God it is only a dream; but never,
-never again will I give way to my
-awful temper. I have promised it,
-Laura, and I will keep my vow.”</p>
-
-<p>And she did. For though she
-lived long enough for the dark hair
-to lie like snowy floss under the
-matron’s cap, never did those lips
-utter stinging sarcasm or close in
-sullen anger. And often, when
-her gentle voice seemed unable to
-stem some furious tide of passion
-among her grandchildren, would
-she tell the story of her dream on
-Christmas Eve.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[562]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ALLEGRI’S MISERERE.</h3>
-
-<p>AT the base of a cliff flowed a
-tiny rivulet; the rock caught the
-rain-drops in his broad hand, and
-poured them down in little streams
-to meet their brothers at his feet,
-while the brook murmured a constant
-song of welcome. But a stone
-broke from the cliff, and, falling
-across the rivulet, threatened to cut
-its tender thread of life.</p>
-
-<p>“My little strength is useless,”
-moaned the streamlet. “Vainly I
-struggle to move onward; and below
-the pebbles are waiting for
-their cool bath, the budding flowers
-are longing for my moisture, the
-little fish are panting for their
-breath. A thousand lives depend
-on mine. Who will aid me? Who
-will pity me?”</p>
-
-<p>“Wait until Allegri passes; he
-will pity you,” said the breeze.
-“Once the cruel malaria seized me,
-and bound messages of death upon
-me. ‘Pity!’ I cried. ‘Free me from
-this burden, from which I cannot
-flee.’ ‘Hear the wind moan,’ said
-some; but no one listened to my
-prayer till I met a dreamy musician
-with God’s own tenderness in his
-deep eyes. ‘Have mercy!’ I sobbed;
-and the gentle master plucked
-branches of roses, and cast them to
-me. I was covered with roses,
-pierced with roses, filled with roses;
-their redness entered my veins, and
-their fragrance filled my breath;
-roses fell upon my forehead with
-the sweetness of a benediction.
-The death I bore fled from me; for
-nothing evil can exist in the presence
-of heaven’s fragrance. Cry
-to the good Allegri, little brooklet;
-he will pity you.”</p>
-
-<p>So the rivulet waited till the
-master came, then sighed for mercy.
-The rock was lifted, and the stream
-flowed forward with a cry of joy to
-share its happiness with pebble and
-flower and fish.</p>
-
-<p>A little bird had become entangled
-in the meshes of a net. “Trust
-to the good Allegri,” whispered the
-breeze; “it is he who gave me liberty.”
-“Trust to the good Allegri,”
-rippled the brook; “it is he
-who gave me liberty.” So the bird
-waited till the master passed, then
-begged a share of his universal
-mercy. The meshes were parted,
-and the bird flew to the morning
-sky to tell its joy to the fading stars
-and rising sun.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! yes, we all know Allegri,”
-twinkled the stars. “Many a night
-we have seen him at the bed of
-sickness.”</p>
-
-<p>“Many a day I have seen him in
-the prison,” shouted the sun with
-the splendor of a Gloria. “Wherever
-are those that doubt, that mourn,
-that suffer; wherever are those that
-cry for help and mercy&mdash;there have
-I found Allegri.”</p>
-
-<p>The people of the earth wondered
-what made the sun so glorious, not
-knowing that he borrowed light
-from the utterance of a good man’s
-name.</p>
-
-<p>A multitude of Rome’s children
-had gathered in S. Peter’s. The
-Pope was kneeling in the sanctuary;
-princes and merchants were kneeling
-together under the vast cupola,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[563]</a></span>
-the poor were kneeling at the threshold;
-even a leper dared to
-kneel on the steps without, and
-was allowed the presence of his
-Lord. All souls were filled with
-longing, all hearts were striving for
-expression.</p>
-
-<p>Then strains of music arose: O
-soul! cease your longing; O heart!
-cease your strife; now utterance is
-found.</p>
-
-<p>Sadder grew the tones, till, like the
-dashing of waves, came the sigh:
-“Vainly I struggle to move onward.
-Have mercy, Father!” The lights
-flickered and died, a shadow passed
-over the worshippers, and the Tiber
-without stopped in its course to
-listen.</p>
-
-<p>Sadder grew the tones, till the
-moan was heard: “Vainly I strive to
-escape these meshes. Have mercy,
-Father!” The shadow grew deeper,
-and a little bird without stopped in
-its flight to listen.</p>
-
-<p>Still was the music sadder with
-the weight of the sob: “Vainly I flee
-from this loathsome burden. Have
-mercy, Father!” Vaster and darker
-grew the shadow, and the very
-breeze stopped in its course to listen.</p>
-
-<p>And now the music mingled sigh
-and moan and sob in one vast
-despairing cry: “Vainly I struggle
-against this rock of doubt. Have
-mercy, Father! Vainly I strive to
-escape these meshes of sin. Have
-mercy, Father! Vainly I flee from
-this evil self. Have mercy, O
-Father! have mercy.” Darker and
-deeper and vaster grew the shadow,
-and all sin in those human hearts
-stopped in its triumph to listen.</p>
-
-<p>All light was dead, all sound was
-dead. Was all hope dead? “No!”
-wept a thousand eyes. “No!” sobbed
-a thousand voices; for now high
-above the altar shone forth the
-promise of light in darkness, of
-help in tribulation&mdash;in sight of
-Pope and prince, in sight of rich
-and poor, and even in sight of the
-leper kneeling without, gleamed the
-starry figure of the cross.</p>
-
-<p>“How was this Mass of Allegri so
-completely formed,” cry the three
-centuries that have passed since
-then, “that we have been able to
-add nothing to its perfection?”</p>
-
-<p>The calm voice of nature answers:
-It is because his own love
-and mercy were universal; because
-he had learned that all creation
-needs the protecting watchfulness
-of the Maker; because he gave even
-the weakest creatures voice in his
-all embracing cry of Miserere.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[564]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">I.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza smaller">
-<div class="verse">“That city knoweth nor sign nor trace</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Of mutable land or sea;</div>
-<div class="verse">Thou who art changeless, grant me a place</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In that far city with Thee.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">So spake she, gazing on the distant sea,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">That lay, one sheet of gold, in morning light;</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">And then she cried, “God, make my blindness sight!”</div>
-<div class="verse">Heart-sore, heart-hungry, sick at heart, was she,</div>
-<div class="verse">And did mistrust no other hope could be,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">This side the grave, than shifting sea and land;</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Yet dreamed she not her house was built on sand,</div>
-<div class="verse">But fearless thought of dread eternity.</div>
-<div class="verse">And men admired the house she builded fair,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Until a tempest, risen with sudden shock,</div>
-<div class="verse">Rent it. Then God made answer to her prayer:</div>
-<div class="verse">Showed her <em>on earth</em> a city, calm, and old,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">And strong, and changeless; set her on a rock;</div>
-<div class="verse">Gave her, with him, a place in his true fold.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse center">II.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza smaller">
-<div class="verse">“For, oh! the Master is so fair,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">His smile so sweet to banished men,</div>
-<div class="verse">That they who meet it unaware</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Can never rest on earth again.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Such were the words that charmed my ear and heart,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">In days when still I dwelt outside the fold;</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">But now they seem to me too slight and cold,</div>
-<div class="verse">For I have been with thee, dear Lord, apart,</div>
-<div class="verse">And seen love’s barbed and o’ermastering dart</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Pierce thee beneath the olives dark and old,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Until thy anguish could not be controlled,</div>
-<div class="verse">But from thy veins the Blood of life did start.</div>
-<div class="verse">O Word made flesh, made sin, for sinful man!</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">I seek not now thy smile, so fair, so sweet;</div>
-<div class="verse">Another vision, haggard, pale, and wan,</div>
-<div class="verse">Of one who bore earth’s sin and shame and smart,</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Hath drawn me, weeping, to thy sacred feet,</div>
-<div class="verse">To share the unrest of thy bleeding Heart.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[565]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1875.</h3>
-
-<p>The year 1875 has not been a specially
-remarkable one as distinct from the years
-immediately preceding it. Great questions,
-which affect humanity at large beyond
-the line of nationality, and which
-were rife three or four years ago, are undecided
-still. No wars, or revolutions, or
-discoveries, or mighty changes have occurred
-during the year to alter sensibly
-the current of human affairs. What the
-world at large quarrelled and wrangled
-over a year, two years, three, four years
-ago, it wrangles over still, and may for
-years yet to come. Much as science and
-culture have done to break down the
-barriers that separate men and bring the
-human family nearer together, nations,
-nationally considered, stand as far apart
-as ever they did, and the imaginary line
-that divides neighboring peoples finds
-them wide apart as the antipodes.</p>
-
-<p>To begin a rapid and necessarily incomplete
-review at home, the past year
-can scarcely be regarded as either a
-happy or successful one, commercially
-speaking, in the United States. Preliminary
-echoes of the Centennial year of
-the great republic have been heard, but
-amid them the crash of falling banks
-that had no legitimate excuse for falling,
-and of business firms that followed in
-due order. This, however, is only a
-repetition of the two preceding years,
-which it is as painful as it would be useless
-to dwell upon here. In a word,
-business at large&mdash;instead of recovering,
-as it was hoped it would, during the past
-year&mdash;if anything, fell behind, and so continues.
-The election did not tend to
-enliven it. There are hopes, however, of
-a real revival during the coming Centennial
-year, or at least of a beginning on
-the road of improvement. There is the
-more reason to hope for this that large
-branches of our industries, such as cereals,
-iron, and cotton goods, are beginning
-to find a good foreign market.</p>
-
-<p>Looked at largely, there are some things
-on which Americans may congratulate
-themselves during the year. Chief
-among these are their very misfortunes.
-Extravagance in living, foolish
-and vulgar display in dress and
-equipage, have disappeared to a satisfactory
-extent. Of course where wealth
-abounds and fortunes are rolled up
-easily, there will be shoddy; but then
-let it be marked off, and the world will
-not be the loser. Again, there was a
-good sign on the part of the people to
-form opinions of their own regarding the
-questions up before them and the respective
-merits and qualifications of the
-various candidates for election. To be
-sure, many, too many, persons were elected
-who were a disgrace to their constituencies;
-and while such men are set in
-high and responsible positions it is vain
-to look for reform in the thousand abuses
-that afflict the conduct of public affairs.
-Still, there was a hopeful indication of
-the right feeling among the people.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps the most memorable, certainly
-the most significant, event to Catholics
-in the history of this country took place
-during the year. The venerable Archbishop
-of New York was raised by the
-Holy Father to the dignity of the cardinalate,
-and thereby set in the senate of
-the church of which Christ is the invisible,
-and the Pope, the successor of Peter,
-the visible, head. To speak of the fitness
-of the Holy Father’s choice in selecting
-Archbishop McCloskey for this high
-office and proud privilege of being the
-first American cardinal is not for us.
-It is sufficient to say that not Catholics
-alone, but their Protestant fellow-countrymen
-also, all the land over, received
-the news and hailed the choice with acclaim.
-But what moves us most is the
-significance of the act. In the appointment
-of an American cardinal in the
-United States the wish expressed by the
-Council of Trent has in this instance
-been realized. That great council ordained,
-respecting the subjects of the
-cardinalate, that “the Most Holy Roman
-Pontiff shall, as far as it can be conveniently
-done, select (them) out of all the
-nations of Christendom, as he shall find
-persons suitable” (Sess. 24, <cite>De Ref.</cite>,
-c. i.) Were this recommendation completely
-carried out, it would probably be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[566]</a></span>
-one of the greatest movements that have
-taken place in the Catholic Church for
-the last three centuries.</p>
-
-<p>Suppose, for example, that the great
-Catholic interests throughout the world
-were represented in that body by men
-of intelligence, of known virtue, and
-large experience; suppose every nationality
-had there its proportionate expression&mdash;a
-senate thus composed would be
-the most august assembly that ever was
-brought together upon earth. It would
-be the only world’s senate that the world
-has ever witnessed. This would be giving
-its proper expression to the note of
-the universality of the church. The decisions
-of the Holy Father on the world-interests
-of the church, assisted by the
-deliberations of such a body, would have
-more power to sway the opinions and
-actions of the world than armies of bayonets.
-For, whatever may be said to the
-contrary in favor of needle-guns and
-rifled cannon, the force of public opinion
-through such agents as electricity
-and types moves the world, above
-all when supported by the intelligence,
-virtue, and experience of men who have
-no other interests at heart than those of
-God and the good of mankind.</p>
-
-<p>Who knows but the time has come to
-give this universality of the church a
-fuller expression? Is not divine Providence
-acting through modern discoveries,
-rendering it possible for the human race
-to be not only one family in blood, but
-even in friendship and unity of purpose?
-Perhaps the present persecutions of the
-church in Italy are only relieving her
-from past geographical and national
-limitations, to place her more completely
-in relations with the faithful throughout
-the world. Who knows but the time is
-near when the Holy Father will be surrounded
-by representatives of all nations,
-tribes, and peoples, from the South as
-well as from the North, from the East as
-well as from the West; by Italians,
-Germans, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen,
-Belgians, Portuguese, Austrians,
-Irishmen, Americans, Canadians,
-South Americans, Australians, as well
-as by representatives of the faithful from
-the empire of China? Would this new
-departure be anything more than the
-realization of the wish expressed by
-that great and holy council held at
-Trent three centuries ago?</p>
-
-<p>In passing from our own to other lands,
-we cannot do so, at the opening of
-the second century of our country’s life,
-without a glance at something larger
-and wider than the mere local interests
-of every-day life which touch us most
-nearly. Beyond doubt there is much to
-criticise, much, perhaps, to be ashamed
-of, much to deplore, in the conduct
-of our government, local and national,
-and in the social state generally
-of our people. Still, we see nothing at
-present existing or threatening that is
-beyond the remedy of the people itself.
-It is a fashion among our pessimists to
-contrast the America of to-day with the
-America of a hundred years ago. Well,
-we believe that we can stand the contrast.
-The country has expanded and
-developed, and promises so to continue
-beyond all precedent in the history of
-this world. When the experiment of a
-century ago is contrasted with the established
-fact&mdash;the nation&mdash;of a free and
-prosperous people of to-day, we can only
-bless God. And allowing the widest
-margin for the evils and shortcomings in
-our midst, when we glance across the
-ocean at nations armed to the teeth,
-looking upon one another as foes, and
-either rending with internal throes or
-threatening to be rent, pride in this
-country deepens, and the heart swells
-with gratitude that in these days God
-has raised up a nation where all men
-may possess their souls in peace.</p>
-
-<p>We have some alarmists among us
-who look in the near future to the occurrence
-of scenes in this country similar
-to those now being transacted in Europe,
-where men are persecuted for conscience’
-sake. We cannot share in these
-alarms. As we see no evils in our
-midst which are beyond the remedy of
-the people, so we see no religious or
-other questions that may arise which cannot
-be civilly adjusted. This is not a
-country where the raw head and bloody
-bones thrive. The question of religion
-is decided once for all in the Constitution.
-Catholics, of course, have a large
-heritage of misrepresentation to contend
-against, but that is rapidly diminishing.
-A Bismarck may strive to introduce into
-our free country, through a band of
-fanatics and weak-minded politicians,
-the persecuting spirit which he has attempted
-to introduce into England by a
-Gladstone, which he has succeeded in
-introducing into Italy by a Minghetti,
-and into Switzerland by a Carteret; but
-before they reach the hundredth part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[567]</a></span>
-of the influence of the disgraceful
-Know-Nothing party, the good sense
-and true spirit of our countrymen will,
-as it did in the case of that party,
-brand all who have had any prominent
-connection with the movement with the
-note of infamy. The fanatical cry of
-“No Popery” is evidently played out at
-its fountain-source in old England, while
-the attempt to revive its echoes will meet
-with still less success in <em>new</em> England.
-We see no clouds on the American
-horizon that should cause Catholics any
-grave apprehension.</p>
-
-<p>The end of such attempts always is
-that those who strike the sparks only
-succeed in burning their fingers. All we
-have to do is to walk straight along in
-the path we have been following of common
-citizenship with those around us,
-in order to secure for ourselves all the
-rights which we are ready to concede to
-others.</p>
-
-<p>The European situation during the
-past year may be summed up under two
-headings&mdash;the struggle between church
-and state, and the prospects of war. To
-enter at any length into the question between
-church and state in Germany and
-in other countries in Europe would be
-going over old ground which has been
-covered time and again in <span class="smcap">The Catholic
-World</span>. Only such features of the
-contest will be touched upon as may set
-the present situation clearly before the
-mind of the reader.</p>
-
-<p>The official <cite>Provincial Correspondence</cite>, at
-the opening of the past year, said in a retrospective
-article on the events of 1874:
-“The conviction has been forced upon
-the German government that the German
-ultramontane party are a revolutionary
-party, directed by foreigners and
-relying mainly upon the assistance of
-foreign powers. The German government,
-therefore, are under the necessity
-of deprecating any encouragement of the
-ultramontane party by foreign powers.
-It was for this reason that the German
-government last year thought it incumbent
-on them to use plain language in
-addressing the French government upon
-the sayings and doings of some of the
-French bishops. France had taken the
-hint, and had prevented her ultramontanes
-setting the world on fire merely to vent
-their spite against Germany.… It was,
-perhaps, to be expected under these circumstances
-that, abandoning at last all
-hope of foreign assistance, the German
-ultramontanes would make their peace
-with the government in Prussia, and no
-longer object to laws they willingly obey
-in Baden, Bavaria, Würtemberg, and
-Oldenburg, not to speak of Austria and
-other states. At all events, it was very
-desirable that the ultramontanes should
-yield before the church was thrown into
-worse confusion by their malicious but
-impotent resistance.”</p>
-
-<p>Such was the pleasant prospect held
-out for the Catholics by the official organ
-at the opening of the year. The programme
-sketched in it has been faithfully
-carried out, and Germany has taken
-another step in the path of freedom, internal
-peace, and consolidation by planting
-its foot nearer the throat of the
-church. It is useless to enter into a refutation
-of the falsehoods contained in
-the extract from the official journal. They
-have been refuted in the German Reichstag
-and all the world over. It is needless,
-also, to call attention to the tone of
-the official journal, and the manner, become
-a fashion of late with German
-statesmen and writers at large, of warning
-foreign powers to keep a civil tongue
-in their heads respecting German matters,
-or it may be the worse for them.
-How far the Catholics have yielded to
-the kindly invitation held out to them
-the world has seen. We have before
-this remarked on the strange anxiety
-manifested by a government, convinced
-of the justice of its cause and the means
-it was pursuing towards its end, to stifle
-the expression of public opinion, not
-only at home, but abroad. Moreover, the
-very fact of its being compelled to deprecate
-“any encouragement of the ultramontane
-party by foreign powers”
-says as plainly as words can say it that
-those powers see something in the party
-to encourage.</p>
-
-<p>Here is a sample&mdash;one out of hundreds
-such&mdash;of the manner in which the members
-of the “revolutionary party” have
-been treated during the year, and of the
-crimes, sympathy with which on the part
-of foreign powers is so earnestly deprecated
-by the German government. That
-extremely active agent of Prince Bismarck,
-the Prussian correspondent of
-the London <cite>Times</cite>, tells the story of the
-deposition of the Bishop of Paderborn by
-the “Ecclesiastical” Court thus: “He
-has been sentenced to-day (Jan. 6) to innumerable
-fines, chiefly for appointing
-clergymen without the consent of the secular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[568]</a></span>
-authorities. [Is this a crime, reverend
-and right reverend gentlemen of
-the Protestant churches?] Never paying
-any of these forfeits, he has been repeatedly
-imprisoned and forcibly prevented
-from exercising his functions. [And
-now for the perversity of the man, the
-“malicious but impotent resistance.”]
-Notwithstanding the measures taken
-against him, he has continued his opposition
-to the state. He would not allow
-his clerical training-schools to be visited
-by government inspectors; he has declined
-to reappoint a chaplain he had excommunicated
-without the consent of the
-government [What criminals SS. Peter
-and Paul would be were they living in
-Germany to-day!]; and he has continually
-issued pastorals and made speeches
-to deputations breathing the most hostile
-sentiments against crown and parliament
-[sentiments not quoted]. He
-has received addresses covered with
-more than one hundred thousand signatures,
-and on a single day admitted twelve
-thousand persons to his presence, who
-had come to condole with him on the
-martyr’s fate he was undergoing.” Let
-it be borne in mind that this is not our
-description, but that of an agent of the
-Prussian government. Could words establish
-more clearly the side on which
-the criminality lies?</p>
-
-<p>Only passing mention can be made of
-events which have been already anticipated
-and commented on. The extension
-of the civil registration of births,
-deaths, and marriages from Prussia to the
-whole German Empire passed in January.
-Perhaps no measure yet has so aroused
-the indignation, not only of Catholics, but
-of believing Protestants also. As the correspondent
-already quoted tersely puts
-the matter: “In all Germany this law
-does away with the services of the clergy
-in celebrating the three great domestic
-events of life.” That is to say, there is
-no longer need to baptize Christian children
-in the name of God; there is no
-longer need of God in the marriage service;
-finally, as man comes into the
-world, so he may go out of it, without the
-name or the invocation of God, without
-God’s blessing over his grave or the ceremonies
-of religion attending the last act.
-Like a dog he may come, like a dog he
-may live, like a dog he may go. And
-yet this is an evangelical power! Verily,
-but of a strange evangel. The result of
-it is shown already. Since the Prussian
-Civil Registration Law was passed, only
-twenty-five per cent. of all Berlin marriages
-have been celebrated in churches,
-while only thirty per cent. of the children
-born in the capital have been baptized by
-clergymen.</p>
-
-<p>The passing of the Landsturm Bill converts
-the whole German Empire into an
-armed camp. “Henceforth every German
-sound in wind and limb must be a soldier.
-From the age of seventeen to forty-two,
-every man not belonging to the army or
-the reserve is to be liable to be called
-out in the case of an actual or even a
-threatened invasion,” says the London
-<cite>Times</cite>. “At the word of command Germany
-is arming <i lang="fr">en masse</i>, and the surrounding
-nations&mdash;that is, the best part
-of the world&mdash;cannot but do as she does.”
-They are doing as she does, and all the
-European powers to-day sleep beside
-their arms. In face of this fact, what
-comfort can men take from the meeting
-and hobnobbing of the crowned heads
-of Europe here, there, and everywhere,
-or of their assurances of peace? Who
-is strong enough to keep the peace, who
-too weak to enkindle war? No man
-and no people. It is this arming and incertitude
-of one another that alone prevented
-what locally was so insignificant
-an affair as the outbreak within the year
-of the Bosnian insurrection against Turkey
-from lighting a universal conflagration.
-The eagles of the great powers
-gather around the Turkish carcase.
-England seizes beforehand on the control
-of the Suez Canal by way of preparing
-for eventualities, and the Eastern
-question begins at last to resolve itself
-into this simple form: not, How shall
-we uphold the empire? but, How shall
-we divide the spoils?</p>
-
-<p>The present rulers of Germany profess
-to look upon their Catholic subjects as
-the great foes of the German Empire.
-The mistake is a fatal one; for in binding
-the church they bind the only power that
-can stop the dry-rot which is slowly eating
-into the heart, not alone of Germany,
-but of all nations to-day. That dry-rot
-is socialism, the first-born of infidelity.
-That socialism prevails in Germany the
-rulers of that empire know, and its utterances
-are as dreaded as an encyclical
-of the Pope. Here are the elements of
-socialism as pictured by the Cologne
-<cite>Gazette</cite> at the opening of the year: “In
-1874, although the great bubble schemes
-burst in the summer of 1873, and although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[569]</a></span>
-last year a plentiful harvest of
-corn and wine came to our relief, the
-consequences of the crisis are still felt.
-Numerous undertakings are depreciated,
-and even more lamentable than the losses
-of the promoters are the mischievous
-results of the sudden excessive rise in
-wages, which could not possibly last, the
-luxurious habits, the strikes, and all that
-these involve on the laboring classes and
-the whole industrial life of the German
-nation. Habits of indolence and gluttony
-have been established which it will
-be hard to eradicate,” and much more in
-the same strain.</p>
-
-<p>This is only a straw showing which way
-the wind blows. Persecution of the church
-has not yet exhausted itself, though, beyond
-the actual taking of life, it is hard
-to see what remains to be done. The
-final measure has been resorted to of
-abrogating the articles of the Prussian
-constitution of 1850, which were specially
-drawn up to provide freedom of
-religion and worship in their fullest
-sense. Of the attitude of the German
-Catholics, the prelates, the clergy, and
-the laity, it is needless to speak. The
-world has witnessed it; and the very
-fierceness of the persecution simply
-serves to show forth more gloriously the
-divinity of the church; for no human
-institution could live under it. One
-result of the persecution has been the
-return of a Catholic majority to the
-Bavarian Parliament. We hope for the
-unity of the German Empire, and its
-true consolidation; but it is not in our
-hearts to support tyranny, under whatever
-name, least of all when it attacks
-all that we hold most sacred. The German
-policy must be totally altered before
-it can command the sympathy of
-freemen. It must be totally altered before
-it can command the respect and full
-allegiance of its subjects, so large and
-important a section of whom are Catholics.
-The Catholic majority in Bavaria
-is but one sign of many of opposition to
-the one-sided policy of which Prince
-Bismarck is the author and expounder.
-Who knows but that the threatened dissolution
-of an empire erected on so false
-and narrow a basis has not already begun
-in Bavaria? All the sacrifices made
-to establish the empire&mdash;not the least of
-which were made by Bavaria&mdash;the German
-chancellor, by his determined and
-senseless religious persecution, would
-now seem foolishly to ignore. And these
-Bavarians, of all the Germans, once
-aroused, and their religious rights infringed
-upon, are not the men quietly
-and meekly to subside under opposition.</p>
-
-<p>We have dwelt more at length upon
-Germany because it is the centre of the
-strife that convulses, and threatens to
-convulse, the world. Other topics must
-consequently be hastily dismissed.</p>
-
-<p>Of France there is nothing but good
-to report. After a series of fiery debates
-in the Assembly, the constitution of a
-conservative republic was definitively
-formed and agreed upon towards the end
-of February. The nomination of councillors
-of state was given to the President,
-who resigned the nomination of the
-senators. Of course France is still open
-to surprises, and the various parties seem
-as unable to coalesce as ever. But there
-is no question that the government of
-Marshal MacMahon has deserved well
-of the country, and, could only a true republic
-be established in France, it would
-serve as a safe counter-check to the absolutisms
-that threaten the east of Europe.
-The commerce and industries of the
-country have advanced even on the preceding
-year, though the imports of 1874
-amounted to 3,748,011,000 francs, and the
-exports to 3,877,753,000 francs, these figures
-being in excess of those of any former
-years. The returns for the Paris savings-banks
-in 1874 indicate how the poorer and
-lower middle classes, who chiefly patronize
-these establishments, are recovering
-from the effects of the war and the Commune.
-The deposits amounted to 14,500,000
-francs, while in 1873 they were 13,500,000
-francs, and in 1872 12,629,000
-francs. There is every reason to believe
-that the ratio of the past year will show
-a corresponding increase.</p>
-
-<p>While the tokens of reviving prosperity
-are thus encouraging, those of a revival
-of religious feeling and coming back to
-the old ways and the old faith among the
-people at large are not less so. A noble and
-patriotic work is being accomplished
-in the rapid formation and spread of Catholic
-Working-men’s Clubs&mdash;a direct offset
-to the socialism fostered by the spirit of
-irreligion in other places. The part taken
-by Catholic laymen of standing and ability
-in this work, so full of happy promise,
-is in itself a significant feature, and one
-that may well be recommended to the attention
-of Catholic laymen all the world
-over. The pilgrimages to holy shrines
-and to Rome have continued, spite of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[570]</a></span>
-the laugh of the infidel and the scorn of
-the unbeliever. The solemn consecration
-of the church in Montmartre to the
-Sacred Heart was one in which the whole
-world was interested. But the most encouraging
-measure of all was the obtaining,
-after a fierce battle between religion
-and infidelity, of permission to found free
-universities in France, where students
-who believe in God might, if they chose,
-apply themselves to the study of their
-faith, or at least carry on their studies
-under the divine protection and under
-professors who, lacking nothing in intellect,
-recognize a higher than themselves,
-whose law they have the courage to recognize
-and the sense and piety to obey.</p>
-
-<p>Surely, France was never so worthy of
-the esteem and profound respect of all
-the world as it is to-day. What a wonderful
-vitality is displayed by this Latin-Celtic
-race! What people could so suddenly
-recover from what seemed so fatal a
-blow? What other nation would have
-shown so much wisdom and self-control
-as these Frenchmen, whom the outside
-world stamped as “unstable as water”?
-Is France to be the leader of the Latin-Celtic
-races, to conform itself, consistently
-with its past history and traditions,
-after a century of throes, into a political
-form of society fitted to its present needs,
-its future prosperity, and the renewal of
-religion? God grant that it be so!</p>
-
-<p>England, true to its peace policy, still
-keeps aloof from the troubled current
-of European affairs, beyond its recent
-move Eastward, which has already been
-noticed. It steadily refused to accept
-the invitation of Russia to join the International
-Conference on the Usages
-of War, which in reality resembled a
-consultation among surgeons before beginning
-to operate on an interesting subject.
-Mr. Disraeli’s premiership has
-been marked by some irritating mistakes,
-though the securing control of the Suez
-Canal was undoubtedly a move in the
-present critical state of Eastern affairs
-that compensates for many a blunder&mdash;if
-he can only hold the control. Mr.
-Gladstone finally retired from the leadership
-of the liberal party, and was nominally
-succeeded by the Marquis of Hartington.
-The ex-leader, abandoning a
-position which, take him all in all, he
-undoubtedly adorned, went paddling
-in theology and got shipwrecked. The
-Gladstone fulminations on “Vaticanism”
-are now a thing of the past, and only
-afforded another melancholy instance of
-the facility with which even great men
-can go beyond their depth. The portentous
-charges against the Pope, the <i lang="it">Curia
-Romana</i>, the rusty arsenals, and the rest
-of the papal “properties” were received
-by the English people themselves with
-honest laughter or with passive scorn,
-until finally Mr. Gladstone lost his temper,
-and then the world became tired both
-of him and his “rusty tools.”</p>
-
-<p>Materialism is taking deep root in the
-English mind. The leading organ of
-English opinion, itself highly respectable,
-but by no means religious, complained
-more than once during the year
-of the general apathy with which the
-public regarded the doings of the various
-convocations and general assemblies of
-the Protestant churches in England. And
-the success with which the onslaught by
-such a man as Mr. Gladstone against the
-Catholic Church met with at the hands
-of Englishmen reveals anew the fact
-that religious feeling has fallen to so low
-an ebb in England that even the most
-eloquent of bigots could not arouse an
-anti-Popery cry. And this, for England,
-is the last stage of religious apathy.</p>
-
-<p>Is this again the immediate precursor
-of a reaction in favor of the true church
-in that land for which so many prayers
-have been offered up, and the blood of
-so many martyrs has been shed?</p>
-
-<p>Ireland has been quiet, calm, and
-peaceable, and though, in common with
-England, suffering from the commercial
-depression which spread from this country
-to them, it has shown a strong tendency
-to advance in prosperity. For its
-peace the Catholic clergy, according to
-the testimony of the London <cite>Times</cite>, and,
-as we believe, the Home-Rule party, are
-jointly answerable. Men who believe in
-God and obey the laws of the church
-will, with honest and able representatives,
-seek for no heroic measures of reform,
-while the legislature is fairly open to
-complaints. The London <cite>Times</cite> says
-that the peaceful record of the year reads
-like a fairy tale. Yet the Peace Preservation
-Acts were renewed, for which the
-same journal could find no better reason
-than that “you cannot break off abruptly
-from the past,” and goes on to say: “It
-is possible that, if there never had been
-a resolution to impose upon a conquered
-people a church which they rejected, and
-to endow it with the spoils to which they
-remained attached; if there never had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[571]</a></span>
-been a neglect so little creditable to our
-statesmanship as the conditions under
-which agricultural land was held in Ireland;
-if laws had never been passed to
-deprive Roman Catholics of political
-privileges and the right to possess property;
-if the attempt had never been
-made to rule the inhabitants of the sister-island
-by a hostile garrison, that state of
-feeling would never have been created
-which imposes upon the legislature of
-to-day the sad necessity of maintaining
-an exceptional coercive legislation.” The
-bitterest foe of England could scarcely
-add one iota to the force of this terrible
-indictment of English legislation in Ireland.</p>
-
-<p>But we look with all hope to the
-speedy dispersing of the clouds which
-so long have hovered over this real
-“island of saints,” which has done so
-much in the past and promises so much
-in the future for the spread of faith
-among the peoples of the earth. More
-pleasing topics to touch upon are the
-celebration of the centennial of Daniel
-O’Connell, the fiftieth anniversary of the
-consecration of the venerable Archbishop
-McHale, and, though last, far from least,
-the visit to Ireland of Cardinal McCloskey,
-and his reception by Cardinal Cullen
-and the Irish people. The scene was
-indeed a memorable one; the meeting on
-a soil consecrated with the blood of
-saints and martyrs&mdash;a soil every inch of
-which could tell a tale of a struggle of
-centuries for the faith&mdash;of two cardinals of
-the church that guards the representatives,
-in their own persons, of the newest
-and one of the oldest heritages of the
-church, and the one Irish by birth, the
-other Irish by blood. A meeting no less
-significant was that in England between
-the Cardinal of New York and Cardinal
-Manning, the first convert probably who
-ever wore the title: a man of indomitable
-activity, a fearless asserter of the
-rights of the church, and always foremost
-in every movement which aims at the
-amelioration of the condition of the
-working classes.</p>
-
-<p>Russia continues her strides in the
-East, nearing Hindostan, and with Hindostan
-the sea, at every step. Despite
-occasional reverses, her march against
-the conflicting tribes and peoples that
-lie in her path can only be regarded as
-irresistible. Meanwhile, at home she is
-eaten up by sects and the socialistic spirit
-that pervades other nations, and which
-tyranny may stifle for a time, but cannot
-destroy. Again the mistake occurs of
-regarding the Catholic Church as her
-enemy, and dragooning her Catholic
-subjects with a creed which their consciences
-reject. Austria is engaged in
-the attempt to set her internal affairs in
-order, and to recover from the defeat at
-Sadowa. She finds time, notwithstanding,
-to attack the church, though without
-the persistent brutality of her German
-neighbor, whose offer to procure a joint
-interference among the nations in the
-election of the next pope was politely
-but firmly rejected by Austria. In this
-path Italy also walks. Rejecting the
-rough hempen cord with which Germany
-binds and strives to strangle the church,
-Italy, true to her national character,
-chooses one of silk, which shall do the
-work softly and noiselessly, but none
-the less securely. <i lang="la">Sensim sine sensu.</i>
-Thus the Law of Guarantees of 1871,
-which was founded on Cavour’s maxim
-of “a free church in a free state,” provided
-for the absolute freedom of the
-Pope in spirituals. This Germany resents,
-and early in the year made strong
-remonstrance with Italy, to see, in plain
-English, if some plan could not be devised
-by which the Pope might be muzzled
-and prevented from issuing encyclicals
-and bulls and so forth, save only such as
-might please the mind of present German
-statesmen. Italy refused to alter the
-law. But now in November we find
-Minghetti, the president of the Council,
-stating to his electors at Cologna-Veneta
-that there are defects in the law of
-papal guarantees. The church&mdash;says that
-excellent authority, M. Minghetti&mdash;is the
-congregation of all the faithful, including,
-of course, M. Minghetti himself. But
-the state, on whom with the <i lang="la">jus protegendi</i>
-devolves also the <i lang="la">jus inspiciendi</i>, is
-bound to see that the right of the laity
-and the interest of the lower clergy be
-not sacrificed to the abuse of papal and
-episcopal authority. Wherefore, M.
-Minghetti, urged solely by the desire of
-seeing that no injustice is done, pledges
-his electors that he will bring in a bill
-empowering the laity to reclaim the
-rights to which they are entitled in the
-government of the church. How far
-those rights extend, of course, remains to
-be seen.</p>
-
-<p>The Holy Father is still spared to us
-in the full enjoyment of his health and
-powers of mind. Pilgrims flock to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[572]</a></span>
-in thousands, and the eyes of the world,
-friends and foes alike, look with sympathy
-upon him. Surely now is the real
-triumph of his reign, and in his weakness
-shines forth his true strength. No
-earthly motives, if ever they affected the
-allegiance of Catholics to him, could
-affect it now. Yet what does the world
-witness? As men regard things, a weak
-and powerless old man, ruling, from the
-palace that is his prison, the hearts of
-two hundred millions of people in the
-name and by the power of Jesus Christ,
-whose saintly vicar he is. The Pope,
-lifted above all entanglements by recent
-events with the political policy of so-called
-Catholic countries&mdash;his voice, as
-the head of the church, is heard and respected
-by all nations as perhaps it
-never was at any other period of time.</p>
-
-<p>Spain opened with a new revolution&mdash;the
-re-entering of Alfonso, the son of
-the exiled queen, to the kingdom and
-the throne from which she was driven.
-This being said, the situation remains in
-much the same condition that it has
-done for the past two years; if anything,
-notwithstanding some defections and
-reverses, Don Carlos has gained in
-strength and boldness. The move that
-brought in Don Alfonso was a good one,
-but it came too late.</p>
-
-<p>The customary chronic revolutions
-prevail in South America. The assassination
-of Garcia Moreno, the able and
-good President of Ecuador, by members
-of a secret society, added a unique
-chapter of horrors and dastardly cowardice
-to the records of these societies,
-showing that to accomplish their purpose
-they are ready to stab a nation.
-Garcia Mareno died a martyr to his
-faith. From a far different cause, though
-by the same means, died Sonzogno, the
-editor of the <cite>Capitale</cite>, the trial of whose
-assassins furnished food for thought as
-to the force at work in regenerated Italy.
-An event that might have been of great
-importance was the death of the youthful
-Emperor of China, which was followed
-by that of his wife. He was succeeded
-by a child five years old, and the government
-seems to have passed into the
-hands of the same men who held it before,
-so that a change for the better towards
-Christians is scarcely to be hoped
-for, while Christian residents are still
-exposed at any moment to a repetition
-of the Tien-Tsin massacre.</p>
-
-<p>With the year closes the third quarter
-of the most eventful century, perhaps,
-which the world has yet known, the first
-century of the Christian era alone being
-excepted. It opened on what Lacordaire
-has well called “a wild and stormy
-morning,” and he would be a bold prophet
-who should predict a clear sky at
-the close. A writer of the day describes
-nations within the past year as engaged
-in “a wild war-dance.” The same is true
-of the century. Nations seem to have
-learned nothing, but forgotten much. In
-forgetting the faith that made them whole
-they have forgotten the secret of the elixir
-of national life. Hence, bitter as the struggle
-is, a Catholic cannot but hope much
-in the near future from the present trials
-of the church. The blows of Germany
-have crushed shams to the earth, and
-caused the truth to shine forth resplendent
-and beautiful. Whatever may be this
-faith that the nations have forgotten, that
-has been a mockery among men of the
-world, it is manifest, at least, that there is
-a profound reality in it, and a vitality
-that no power on earth can hope to
-destroy. This testimony of strength in
-weakness, of the purest devotion and
-loftiest sacrifices that this world can
-show, if it do nothing else, at least brings
-men to ponder and look back, and compare
-and inquire, and arrive at some
-conclusions. For the world cannot remain
-an indifferent spectator to a question
-that is wide as the world. The vagaries
-of belief, the churches with fronts
-of brass and feet of clay, the parasites
-and the flatterers who, professing to worship
-and believe in God alone, bow down
-in secret before the prince of this world,
-now slink away in shame or stand abashed
-before the unbeliever.</p>
-
-<p>Again, considering the intensity of the
-activity of the age, induced in a great
-measure by the facilities of expressing
-and communicating our thoughts, of
-reaching the uttermost parts of the earth
-in a flash of time&mdash;all of which enhances
-the responsibility of our free will&mdash;religion,
-in view of these facts, will have to
-keep pace with this activity in order to
-perform the office for which God established
-it upon earth. That she will do
-so is as much a matter of certitude as
-her existence; for that same “Spirit
-which fills the whole earth” finds in her
-bosom his dwelling-place. The general
-tendency to material science, and the
-material interests of nations, which have
-so wonderfully increased within the century,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[573]</a></span>
-tend all to obscure the supernatural.
-But there is nothing to be feared
-from the advocates of material science.
-There is no escaping from God in his
-creation. And these men, in their way,
-in common with the more open persecutors,
-are preparing for the triumph of the
-church, and in the providence of God are
-co-workers in the more complete demonstration
-of his divine truth.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Life of the Apostle S. John.</span> By M.
-L. Baunard. Translated from the first
-French edition. New York: The Catholic
-Publication Society. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The life and character of S. John are
-so beautiful and so closely connected
-with our Saviour that true believers have
-always craved to know more about him.</p>
-
-<p>On the other hand, his testimony is so
-positive and his language so clear that
-all who blaspheme the divinity of our
-Lord have sought to thrust him and his
-gospel out of sight. The distinguished
-French author has a warm personal devotion
-to S. John, and has devoted himself
-with great enthusiasm to the task of
-collecting all the historical facts which
-remain to us as connected with the virgin
-apostle. His style is manifestly infused
-with his spirit, and hence the work
-is one rather of devotion than of cold,
-scientific dissertation.</p>
-
-<p>“It is,” says the author in his preface,
-“a book of doctrine. I address it to all
-those who desire to instruct themselves
-in the truth of God. Truth has no school
-above that of the Gospel, and nowhere
-does it appear fairer or more profound
-than in the gospel of S. John.</p>
-
-<p>“It is a book of piety. I dedicate it to
-Christians: to priests&mdash;the priesthood
-has no higher personification than S.
-John; to virgins&mdash;John was a virgin; to
-mothers&mdash;he merited to be given as a son
-to the Mother of God; to youth&mdash;he was
-the youngest of the apostles; to old men&mdash;it
-is the name he gives himself in his
-epistles. I offer it to suffering souls&mdash;he
-stood beside the cross; to contemplative
-souls&mdash;he was on Mt. Thabor; to all souls
-who wish to devote themselves to their
-brethren, and to love them in God&mdash;charity
-can have no purer ideal than the
-friend of Jesus.”</p>
-
-<p>It goes to fill up a most important gap
-in our English hagiography, and will be
-greeted with much satisfaction by those
-desirous of having a complete series of
-lives of the saints.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Ship in the Desert.</span> By Joaquin
-Miller. Boston: Roberts Brothers.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The <i lang="la">ad captandum</i> title of this work
-leads one to look for an Arabian romance;
-whereas the story has scarcely
-anything to do with it, and is a very slender
-story at that. It is difficult to say
-whether the book is worth reading or
-not; for while, no doubt, it contains
-passages of considerable force and beauty,
-we are quite sure the poet himself
-does not know half the time what he
-means. Now, this kind of thing is “played
-out.” Far be it from us to accuse the
-divine Tennyson of straining and affectation;
-but we do say there are peculiarities
-in his style which it is dangerous to
-imitate. Taken as a model for classic
-and scholarly verse, he has no equal in
-the English language. But the subjectivism
-of his “enchanted reverie” may
-be easily “run into the ground.” Hence
-he has given rise (we suspect he is full
-sore over it) to what may be called the
-“Obscurantist” school of poetry. We
-think this school has had its day. We
-hope the coming poets will happily combine
-the faultless diction of Tennyson
-with the clear, strong thought of such
-masters as Milton, Byron, and Longfellow.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Three Pearls; or, Virginity and
-Martyrdom.</span> By a Daughter of Charity.
-New York: The Catholic Publication
-Society. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>We presume this book is meant for a
-Christmas present. It is admirably fitted
-for that purpose&mdash;beautifully printed and
-tastefully bound. But the contents are
-still better worth having.</p>
-
-<p>These “Three Pearls” were indeed
-“of great price”; three virgin-martyrs&mdash;S.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[574]</a></span>
-Cæcilia, S. Agnes, and S. Catharine
-of Alexandria. No three saints, perhaps,
-could have been more happily
-chosen by the gifted author as models
-for the young Catholic women of the
-day, and particularly here in America.
-If it be objected that such heroines are
-not imitable, the answer is obvious&mdash;that
-the virtues which led them to become
-heroines are imitable by all. And,
-again, the “modern paganism” with
-which we are familiar has many features
-in common with that amid which they
-lived.</p>
-
-<p>There is a prose sketch of each saint,
-followed by a tribute in verse. The
-“Editor’s Preface” is from the pen of a
-learned priest in the Diocese of Boston.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Medulla Theologiæ Moralis.</span> Auctore
-Augustino Rohling, S. Theologiæ et
-Philosophiæ Doctore, Monasterii
-Guestfaliæ in Academia Regia quondam,
-nunc in Seminario Salesiano
-prope Milwaukee S. Theologiæ Professore.
-Cum permissu Superiorum.
-St. Ludovici: Excudebat B. Herder, 19
-South Fifth Street; et B. Herder, Friburgi,
-Brisgoviæ. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The plan of the author in this work, as
-is implied in its title, has not been to
-write a complete treatise on moral theology,
-but to furnish a compendium containing
-the points necessary for confessors
-in the ordinary discharge of their
-duties. Desirable as such a book is,
-there is of course a difficulty in compiling
-it, arising from the variety of sound
-opinions on many questions, which cannot
-all be given without extending it
-beyond the limits which give it its special
-convenience, and which opinions,
-nevertheless, it is at least expedient that
-every priest should know. This difficulty
-is one, therefore, which cannot be
-overcome, and a manual of this kind can
-never entirely supply the place of a
-larger work. But it nevertheless has its
-use, and, when it is well done, cannot
-fail to be a welcome addition to any theological
-library.</p>
-
-<p>And this book is extremely welcome
-for it is extremely well done. It is very
-well arranged; every point of importance
-is, we believe, given; it is clearly written;
-it is adapted to the times and to this
-country, and (which is a great merit) it is
-by no means dry. There is a little danger
-in it on this last account, and that is
-that its superior attractiveness may tend
-to induce neglect of larger works, and
-too great confidence in statements which
-space will not allow the author to modify,
-as we have said above.</p>
-
-<p>One excellent feature of it is the sound
-and practical advice which it contains,
-which is almost as important as the statement
-of theological conclusions or of
-matters of law. It would be worth far
-more than its price on this account alone.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The History of the Protestant Reformation
-in Germany, Switzerland,
-England, Ireland, Scotland,
-the Netherlands, France, and Northern
-Europe.</span> Seventh Edition. By
-the Most Rev. M. J. Spalding, D.D.
-Baltimore: J. Murphy &amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Evidences of Catholicity.</span> Sixth
-Edition. By the Most Rev. M. J.
-Spalding, D.D. Baltimore: J. Murphy
-&amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>In the present editions an article on
-“Rome and Geneva” has been added to
-<cite>The History of the Reformation</cite>, and a
-“Pastoral Letter on the Infallibility of
-the Pope” to <cite>The Evidences of Catholicity</cite>&mdash;both
-having been prepared by the late
-archbishop with a view to publication in
-his collective works.</p>
-
-<p>The same general criticism which we
-passed in our December number on the
-revised edition of the <cite>Miscellanea</cite> will
-apply to these volumes. Archbishop
-Spalding’s works constitute a very complete
-armory from which to select weapons
-to meet the opponents of the church
-in this country; though the writings of
-European Catholics may be more to the
-purpose as answers to the misrepresentations
-urged against her in their respective
-localities. And there is no one
-writer to whom we would with greater
-confidence refer Protestants who are
-willing to learn the truth (and we would
-fain hope there are very many such), as
-his works relate to so many supposed
-stumbling-blocks. Whether conscious
-of it or not, our separated brethren are
-very blind followers of tradition&mdash;accepting
-unhesitatingly the representations of
-writers of the last three centuries, while
-faulting us for adhering to the unbroken
-traditions of all the Christian centuries.
-Hence they are accustomed, when unable
-to reply to our doctrinal arguments
-drawn from their translation of the Holy
-Scriptures, to fall back on their own version
-of the religious revolution of the
-XVIth century, and other historical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[575]</a></span>
-events, the comparative condition of
-Catholic and Protestant countries, etc.,
-etc., all of which are treated of at length
-in these volumes.</p>
-
-<p>At a time when it is sought to revive
-the fell spirit of the defunct Know-Nothing
-party, it is well to refresh our memories
-by a re-perusal of the writings which
-were prompted by the previous manifestation.</p>
-
-<p>The first-named work is at once a history
-of the Reformation and a review of
-the most prominent books on the same
-subject, including D’Aubigné’s popular
-romance. This treatment very much
-augments the interest with which we
-pursue historical inquiries.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gladstone and Maryland Toleration.</span>
-By Richard H. Clarke, LL.D.
-New York: The Catholic Publication
-Society. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This able pamphlet will wear a familiar
-look to our readers, its principal contents
-having appeared as an article in
-our December number. The writer has
-added biographical sketches of the first
-and second Lords Baltimore, the Lawgivers
-of 1649, and of Father Andrew
-White, the historiographer of the expedition
-which founded Maryland, and who
-was intimately associated with the early
-fortunes of the colony.</p>
-
-<p>It was really too bad in Dr. Clarke to
-deny asylum to the ex-premier on our
-(reputed) hospitable shores, after the relentless
-logic to which he was subjected
-at home, when proving so clearly to his
-own satisfaction the disloyalty of Catholics&mdash;to
-spoil, in fact, his nice little story
-that it was the Protestants, and not those
-hateful Catholics, who made Maryland a
-refuge for fugitives from English persecution
-for conscience’ sake. And what
-makes the matter all the more aggravating
-is that our author is in league with
-ever so many Protestants in this design.
-For shame, gentlemen!</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Historical Scenes from the Old Jesuit
-Missions.</span> By the Right Rev.
-William Ingraham Kip, D.D., LL.D.,
-member of the New York Historical
-Society [and Protestant Episcopal Bishop
-of California]. New York: A. D.
-F. Randolph &amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The author of this work had the
-good fortune while in England some
-years since to secure a copy of <cite>Lettres
-Edifiantes et Curieuses écrites des Missions
-Etrangéres</cite>, in forty-seven volumes, “containing
-the letters of the Jesuit missionaries
-from about 1650 to 1750.… He
-selected those letters which relate to the
-labors of the Jesuits within the bounds
-of our own land, and published a translation,
-with notes, under the title of <cite>The
-Early Jesuit Missions in North America</cite>.”
-In the present work he takes a wider
-range, and makes selections, from the
-same source, of letters from parts of the
-world widely remote from each other&mdash;from
-China and California; from Cape
-Horn and the far north; from the shores
-of South America and the Mediterranean;
-from the monasteries of Mount Lebanon
-and the Thebaid Desert.</p>
-
-<p>Bishop Kip and his publishers have
-laid both Protestants and Catholics under
-great obligations by the publication
-of this valuable and beautiful volume.
-We can scarcely commend too highly the
-evident fairness of the translation and
-of the accompanying remarks and notes.
-It could not well be otherwise than that
-a Protestant should have some qualifications
-to offer respecting statements of
-fact and doctrine such as would naturally
-occur in these letters; but the Catholic
-reader will be gratified to find
-much that is laudatory, and scarcely anything
-to which he would object; the
-notes being for the most part historical
-and philological in character. The naïve
-simplicity of these relations constitutes
-one of their chief charms and the best
-answer to any suggestion of guile on the
-part of the writers.</p>
-
-<p>The principles and operations of the
-Jesuits have been, and to a great extent
-are still, believed by our Protestant fellow-citizens
-to constitute a vulnerable
-point in Catholicity, so that we rejoice
-at the facilities offered by such writers as
-Parkman, Shea, and Kip for a better understanding
-of the matter. Nothing can
-give Catholics greater pleasure than that
-their Protestant friends should have full
-opportunities for studying our doctrines
-and history.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Life of S. Benedict</span>, surnamed “The
-Moor,” the Son of a Slave. Canonized
-by Pope Pius VII., May 24,
-1807. From the French of M. Allibert,
-Canon of the Primatial Church of Lyons.
-Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham
-&amp; Son. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This volume is a concise and well-written
-account of a holy life, showing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[576]</a></span>
-what abundant graces are often bestowed
-upon the meek and lowly, and how those
-who humble themselves are exalted by
-Almighty God.</p>
-
-<p>S. Benedict, the child of an enslaved
-negro parent, was born at Sanfratello in
-Sicily, <span class="smcapuc">A.D.</span> 1524. Early instructed in
-religion by his parents, he offered himself
-to God, and became eminent for
-sanctity as a religious. Seeking always
-the lowest and most humiliating employments,
-he served for twenty-seven years
-as a cook in a convent. Already, during
-his lifetime, regarded as a saint, he was
-venerated by all classes. “At the door
-of his humble kitchen,” says his biographer,
-“were to be seen the nobles of
-Palermo, who sought to honor the saint
-and recommend themselves to his prayers,
-the learned who came for advice, the
-afflicted who desired consolation, the
-sick who hoped for the recovery of their
-health, and the indigent who desired assistance.”</p>
-
-<p>Winning by his wisdom and virtues
-the confidence of his brethren, he was
-chosen guardian of the convent, and afterwards
-vicar, and master of novices&mdash;positions
-which he accepted with extreme
-reluctance, and in which he proved his
-great charity and humility.</p>
-
-<p>But the more he sought to abase and
-hide himself, the greater the graces bestowed
-upon him. Though blessed with
-the spirit of prophecy, the power of performing
-miracles, and the gift of ecstasy,
-so great was his humility that he again
-turned to his simple occupation, and
-retained it till his death, which occurred
-in 1589.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Life and Letters of Paul Seigneret</span>,
-Seminarist of S. Sulpice (shot
-at Belleville, Paris, May 26, 1871).
-From the French. New York: P.
-O’Shea. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The title of this work can scarcely fail
-to awaken an interest in the youthful
-hero who gave his life for his faith&mdash;an
-interest which is enhanced by the knowledge
-that this youth, frail as a girl and
-possessed of a highly-cultivated mind
-and rare sensibility, was so filled with
-the spirit of self-sacrifice that he may
-well be classed with those “courtiers of
-martyrdom” whose lives are the glory of
-the church and the wonder of the world.</p>
-
-<p>Paul Seigneret’s is a name that must
-be dear to all Catholics at all familiar
-with his saintly life and death. To a
-heart overflowing with love for all who
-had claims upon his affection and charity
-for all mankind, and to those quick and
-delicate perceptions which retain all that
-is good and instinctively reject all that
-is evil, was added a fervent piety and
-ardent zeal for the glory of God. Animated
-by these sentiments, he sought the
-priesthood, and soon turned his thoughts
-to the cloister&mdash;“‘that pure and shining
-height’ whither he would go to fix his
-dwelling nearer heaven.” While yet a
-student in the Seminary of S. Sulpice, he
-fell a victim to the Commune, and was
-permitted to win the crown of martyrdom,
-which had been the object of his
-most ardent desires.</p>
-
-<p>The volume before us is one which we
-would especially recommend to our
-youthful readers, who will find in it much
-that is edifying and worthy of imitation.
-In an age in which respect for authority
-and filial obedience are so much ignored,
-we cannot place too high a value on
-the example of Paul Seigneret, whose
-devotion and submission to his parents
-were second only to his love of God.</p>
-
-<p>If a work so admirable in most respects
-may be criticised, we would say
-that it would be quite as interesting if
-the author had condensed the valuable
-materials of which it is composed. We
-are aware of the difficulties under which
-many translations from the French are
-made. Innumerable things in that versatile,
-flexible language will bear many
-repetitions and much minutiæ in description,
-which will not admit of more than
-the simple statement in our unyielding
-vernacular. Readers should therefore
-hesitate in pronouncing a book dull because
-some of the aroma escapes in the
-transition from one medium of thought
-to another.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Pastoral Letter of the Right Rev.
-P. N. Lynch, D.D., Bishop of Charleston,
-on the Jubilee of 1875.</span> New
-York: The Catholic Publication Society.
-1875. 8vo, pp. 299.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The reader will rightly infer from the
-size of this pastoral that it differs in
-many respects from other documents of
-the kind. The learned author has taken
-occasion to enter very fully into the doctrinal
-and historical aspects of his subject,
-thereby making the publication a
-valuable reference to all who would understand
-the history and nature of this
-observance.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[577]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2 id="No131"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.<br />
-<span class="smaller">VOL. XXII., No. 131.&mdash;FEBRUARY, 1876.</span></h2>
-
-<p class="center smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. <span class="smcap">I. T. Hecker</span>, in the Office of the
-Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A SEQUEL OF THE GLADSTONE CONTROVERSY.<a name="FNanchor_228" id="FNanchor_228"></a><a href="#Footnote_228" class="fnanchor">[228]</a></h3>
-
-<p>“It is wonderful,” wrote Proudhon,
-“how in all our political questions
-we always stumble on theology.”
-Mr. Gladstone will doubtless
-concur in this sentiment; for
-he cannot take a step without
-stumbling on the Catholic Church.
-She is everywhere, and everywhere
-she is to him a cause of alarm. So
-potent is her influence growing to
-be, so cunningly laid are the plans
-by which her policy is directed, so
-perfect is the organization and discipline
-of her forces, so insidious
-are her methods of procedure, as
-he would have us believe, that it is
-full time all Christendom should be
-warned of the approaching danger.
-She is in his eyes an ever-present
-menace to the civilization of the
-world.</p>
-
-<p>He at least bears testimony to
-her power and vitality. She is not
-a relic of a past age; she lives, and,
-what is more, it does not seem that
-she is willing to die. If we consider
-the various efforts by which
-men are seeking to weaken and destroy
-the church, we shall find in
-them no mean evidence of her divine
-strength. And first of all, in
-an age intellectually most active,
-she is the subject of universal criticism,
-and is cited before every tribunal
-of human knowledge to be
-tried on an hundred different and
-often contradictory counts. Her
-historical relations with the world,
-extending over eighteen hundred
-years and co-extensive with Christendom,
-are minutely examined into
-by men who, shutting their eyes
-to the benefits which she has conferred
-upon the human race, are
-eager to discover charges against
-her. She is made responsible for
-the crimes of those who called
-themselves Catholics, though she
-was the first to condemn their evil
-deeds. The barbarism, the ignorance,
-and the cruelty of the middle
-ages are set to her count, when,
-in fact, she was the chief source of
-civilization, of enlightenment, and
-of mercy during that period. When
-she opposes the tyranny of kings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[578]</a></span>
-she is called the enemy of the
-state; when she seeks to restrain
-the lawlessness of the people, she is
-proclaimed the friend of tyrants.
-Against her dogmas and institutions
-all the sciences are brought
-to bear&mdash;astronomy, geology, ethnology,
-and the others. Not in
-politics alone, but in all the physical
-sciences, men in our day stumble
-on the Catholic Church.</p>
-
-<p>We are told that she is the one
-great spiritual organization which
-is able to resist, and must as a matter
-of life and death resist, the progress
-of science and modern civilization.
-These men profess to find
-innumerable points of collision between
-her dogmas and the conclusions
-of science, and are surprised
-when she claims to understand her
-own teachings better than they,
-and is not prepared to abandon all
-belief in God, the soul, and future
-life because physical research has
-given men a wider knowledge of
-the phenomena of matter. Now
-we hear objections to her moral
-teaching&mdash;that it is too severe, that
-she imposes burdens upon men’s
-shoulders too heavy for human nature
-to bear, that she encourages
-asceticism, celibacy, and all manner
-of self-denial opposed to the spirit
-of the age and of progress; then,
-on the contrary, that her morality
-is lax, that she flatters the passions
-of men, panders to their sensual
-appetites, and grants, for gain, permission
-to commit every excess.</p>
-
-<p>At one time we are told that her
-priests are indolent, immoral, ignorant,
-without faith; at another, that
-they are ceaselessly active, astute,
-learned, and wholly intent upon
-bringing all men to their own way
-of thinking. Now we are informed
-that her children cannot be loyal
-subjects of any government; and
-immediately after we hear that they
-are so subservient, so passively obedient,
-that they willingly submit to
-any master. And here we come more
-immediately upon our subject; for
-whereas Mr. Gladstone has declared
-that the loyalty of Catholics
-is not to be trusted, M. de Laveleye
-asserts that “despotic government
-is the congenial government
-of Catholic populations.”</p>
-
-<p>The pamphlet from which we
-quote these words, and which we
-propose now to examine, has been
-presented to the English-reading
-public by the special request of Mr.
-Gladstone, and has been farther
-honored by him with a prefatory
-letter. The author, it is true, takes
-a fling at the Church of England,
-and plainly intimates that in his
-opinion it is little better than the
-Catholic Church; but the ex-premier
-could not forego the opportunity
-of striking his enemy, though he
-should pierce his dearest friend in
-giving the blow. He takes the precaution,
-indeed, to disclaim any concurrence
-in M. de Laveleye’s “rather
-unfavorable estimate of the Church
-of England in comparison with the
-other reformed communions.” The
-question discussed in the pamphlet
-before us, as its title implies, is the
-relative influence of Catholicism
-and Protestantism on the liberty
-and prosperity of nations; and the
-conclusion which is drawn is that
-the Reformation is favorable to freedom
-and progress, and that the
-Catholic Church is a hindrance to
-both.</p>
-
-<p>This has long been a favorite
-theme with Protestants&mdash;the weapon
-with which they think themselves
-best able to do good battle
-in their cause; and doubtless it is
-employed, in most favorable circumstances,
-in an age like ours, in
-which material progress is so marked
-a feature that its influence may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[579]</a></span>
-be traced in everything, and in
-nothing more than in the thoughts
-and philosophies of the men of our
-day. It is worthy of remark that
-Protestantism, professing to be a
-purer and more spiritual worship,
-should have tended to turn men’s
-thoughts almost exclusively to the
-worldly and temporal view of religion;
-so that it has become the fashion
-to praise Christianity, not because
-it makes men humble, pure,
-self-denying, content with little, but
-rather because its influence is supposed
-to be of almost an opposite
-nature. Much stress is laid upon
-the physical, social, and mental superiority
-of Christian nations to
-those that are still pagan, and the
-inference implied, if not always expressly
-stated, is that these temporal
-advantages are due to the influence
-of Christianity, and prove its truth
-and divine origin. Without stopping
-to consider the question
-whether the material and social superiority
-of Christian nations is to
-be attributed to their religious faith,
-we may ask whether, admitting that
-this is the case, it may with propriety
-be adduced in proof of the
-truth of the religion of Christ?</p>
-
-<p>In the case of individuals no one,
-certainly, would think of arguing
-that prosperity proves a right faith,
-or even consistent practice. To
-hold that wealth and success are
-evidences of religious life, whatever
-it may be, is certainly not Christianity.
-Does the teaching of
-Christ permit the rich to lay the
-unction to their souls that they
-are God’s favored children? Were
-they his friends? Did they flock
-around him? Did they drink in his
-words gladly? If men who claim
-to be his disciples have deified
-worldly success, and made temporal
-prosperity a sufficient test
-of the truth of his religion, they
-cannot plead any word of his in
-excuse.</p>
-
-<p>He certainly never paid court to
-the great, or stooped to flatter the
-rich. Was it not he who said, “Woe
-be to you rich: ye have received
-your reward”? and again, “It is
-harder for a rich man to enter the
-kingdom of heaven than for a
-camel to pass through the eye of a
-needle”? Did he not take Lazarus
-to his bosom when Dives was in
-hell?</p>
-
-<p>“Blessed are ye,” he said, “when
-men shall revile you, and persecute
-you, and shall say all manner of
-evil against you falsely for my sake.
-Rejoice and be exceeding glad;
-for great is your reward in heaven:
-for so persecuted they the prophets
-which were before you.”</p>
-
-<p>The preaching of Christ was
-wholly unworldly. He sternly repressed
-the earthly ambitions of his
-disciples, and declared that, as the
-world hated him, it would also hate
-those who believed in him. They
-would be outcasts for his name’s
-sake; if this life were all, they of
-all men would be most miserable.
-Indeed, he rarely speaks of human
-happiness in the customary sense;
-he passes over what might be said
-in favor of this life, and brings out
-in bold relief its vanity and unsatisfactoriness.
-He draws no pictures
-of domestic bliss, and says
-but little of even innocent pleasures
-or those temporal blessings which
-are so sweet to all; and as he taught
-that worldly prosperity is no evidence
-of God’s favor, he was careful
-to correct the error of those
-who looked upon misfortune as a
-proof of guilt, as in the case of the
-man born blind and of those upon
-whom a tower had fallen.</p>
-
-<p>Christ was poor, his apostles
-were poor, his disciples were poor,
-nearly all the Christians of the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[580]</a></span>
-ages were poor; and yet every day
-we hear men talk as though they
-considered poverty and Christianity
-incompatible. This is manifestly
-the opinion of M. de Laveleye.
-His argument may be stated in this
-way: England and Scotland are
-rich, Ireland is poor. The Protestant
-cantons of Switzerland are
-rich, the Catholic are poor. “In
-the United States,” says De Tocqueville,
-“the greater part of the Catholics
-are poor.” In fact, wherever
-the two religions exist together, the
-Protestants are more active, more
-industrious, and consequently richer
-than the Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>This is the substance of what is
-spread over a dozen pages of the
-pamphlet. The conclusion is not
-difficult to draw: Protestants are
-richer than Catholics, and therefore
-better Christians.</p>
-
-<p>“No man can serve two masters,”
-said Christ: “you cannot serve God
-and Mammon.” On the contrary,
-says M. de Laveleye, the success
-with which you worship Mammon
-is the best proof that you serve God
-truly. Of course it would be foreign
-to M. de Laveleye’s purpose to
-stop to inquire whether the poverty
-of Ireland be due to the Catholic
-faith of her people or to the rapacity
-and misgovernment of England;
-whether that of the Catholic cantons
-of Switzerland might not be
-accounted for by the fact that they
-are mountainous, with an inhospitable
-climate and a barren soil; and
-whether even M. de Tocqueville’s
-assertion that the greater part of the
-Catholics of the United States are
-poor might not be satisfactorily explained
-by stating that the greater
-part of them are emigrants who
-have recently landed upon these
-shores without a superabundance
-of this world’s goods.</p>
-
-<p>He had also good reasons, while
-treating this part of his subject, for
-not looking nearer home. He had
-in Belgium, under his very eye, one
-of the most thrifty, industrious, and
-prosperous peoples of Europe, and
-at the same time one of the most
-Catholic. Why did he not compare
-the wealth of Belgium with that of
-Sweden or Denmark? Why did he
-not say a word about Catholic
-France, whose wealth and thrift cannot
-be denied. He does, indeed,
-make mention of two French manufacturing
-towns, in which, he states,
-on the authority of M. Audiganne,
-the capitalists are for the most part
-Protestants, whilst the operatives
-are Catholics; though what this has
-to do with any debatable question
-between Catholicism and Protestantism
-is not easily seen.</p>
-
-<p>The assertion (p. 14) that “wherever
-the two religions co-exist in
-the same country the Protestants
-are more active, more industrious,
-more economical, and consequently
-richer than the Catholics,” is not
-borne out by facts. A single example
-will suffice to show how rash
-M. de Laveleye has been in making
-so wide an affirmation. The
-Catholics of the Rhine Province are
-universally acknowledged to be
-among the most thrifty and enterprising
-populations of Prussia, and
-are far richer than, for instance, the
-Protestants of Pomerania.</p>
-
-<p>It would not be difficult, by
-adopting M. de Laveleye’s mode
-of reasoning, to turn his whole argument
-on this point against his
-own position. Whether or not national
-wealth, we might say, is evidence
-of orthodox Christian faith,
-there can be no doubt but that the
-Christian religion is favorable to
-even the temporal interests of the
-lowest and most degraded classes
-of society. Its doctrines on the
-brotherhood of the race and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[581]</a></span>
-equality of all before God first inspired
-worthy notions of the dignity
-of man. Then the sympathy which
-it created for the poor, the suffering,
-and the oppressed naturally set men
-to work to devise means for the relief
-of human misery. It is to its
-influence that we must ascribe the
-abolition of slavery, the elevation of
-woman, and the thousand ministries
-which in Christian lands attend
-on the wretched and the weak.</p>
-
-<p>We must infer that those nations
-in which this influence is most powerful&mdash;which,
-in other words, are
-most truly Christian&mdash;will have, in
-proportion to their population, the
-smallest class of human beings
-cursed by the worst plague known
-to modern civilization, bearing with
-it, as it does, a threefold degradation,
-moral, physical, and social. We of
-course refer to pauperism.</p>
-
-<p>Now, in England, from whose
-wealth M. de Laveleye would infer
-the superiority of her religion, we
-find that this pauper class, compared
-with the whole population, is as 1 to
-23; whereas in Ireland, which is
-poor&mdash;and, according to this theory,
-for that reason under the ban of
-a false religion&mdash;there is but 1
-pauper to 90 inhabitants; in other
-words, pauperism is four times
-more common in England than in
-Ireland. Now, whether we refer
-this fact to England’s wealth or to
-England’s religion&mdash;and in M. de
-Laveleye’s opinion they are correlative&mdash;our
-conclusion must be either
-that the influence of the Christian
-religion, which necessarily tends to
-promote the temporal well-being of
-the most degraded classes of society,
-is less felt in England than in Ireland,
-or else that national wealth is
-hurtful to the interests of these same
-classes, and consequently opposed
-to the true Christian spirit; and in
-either case we have Catholic Ireland
-more fairly Christian than
-Protestant England. We would
-not have our readers think for a
-moment that we are seriously of
-the opinion that our argument
-proves anything at all. We give it
-merely as a specimen of the way in
-which the reasoning of this pamphlet
-may be turned against its
-own conclusions, though, in fact, we
-have done the work too respectably.</p>
-
-<p>We cannot forget, if M. de Laveleye
-does, that, of all sciences, the
-social&mdash;if, indeed, it may be said
-as yet to exist at all&mdash;is the most
-complex and the most difficult to
-master. The phenomena which it
-presents for observation are so various,
-so manifold, and so vast, our
-means of observation are so limited,
-our methods so unsatisfactory, and
-our prejudices so fatal, that only
-the thoughtless or the rash will tread
-without suspicion or doubt upon
-ground so uncertain and so little
-explored.</p>
-
-<p>M. de Laveleye himself furnishes
-us an example of how easily we
-may go astray, even when the way
-seems plain.</p>
-
-<p>“Sectarian passions,” he writes
-(p. 11), “or anti religious prejudice
-have been too often imported into
-the study of these questions. It is
-time that we should apply to it the
-method of observation and the
-scientific impartiality of the physiologist
-and the naturalist. When
-the facts are once established irrefragable
-conclusions will follow.
-It is admitted that the Scotch
-and Irish are of the same origin.
-Both have become subject to the
-English yoke. Until the XVIth
-century Ireland was much more
-civilized than Scotland. During
-the first part of the middle ages
-the Emerald Isle was a focus of
-civilization, while Scotland was still
-a den of barbarians. Since the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[582]</a></span>
-Scotch have embraced the Reformation,
-they have outrun even the
-English.… Ireland, on the
-other hand, devoted to ultramontanism,
-is poor, miserable, agitated
-by the spirit of rebellion, and seems
-incapable of raising herself by her
-own strength.” The conclusion
-which is drawn from all this, joined
-with such other facts as the late
-victories of Prussia over Austria
-and France, is that “Protestantism
-is more favorable than Catholicism
-to the development of nations.”</p>
-
-<p>We may as well pause to examine
-this passage, which, both with regard
-to the statement of facts and to
-the interpretation put upon them,
-fairly represents the style and method
-of the pamphlet before us.</p>
-
-<p>“It is admitted that the Scotch
-and Irish are of the same origin.”
-This is true, as here stated, only in
-the sense that both are descended
-of Adam; and hence it would have
-been as much to the point to affirm
-that all the nations of the earth are
-of the same origin. The Scots
-were, indeed, an Irish tribe; but
-when they invaded Caledonia, they
-found it in the possession of the
-Picts, of whom whether they were
-of Celtic or Teutonic race is still
-undecided. The power of the Scots
-themselves declined in the XIIth
-century, when Scotland fell under
-the influence of the Anglo-Norman
-Conquest, and the Celtic population
-either withdrew towards the north,
-or, by intermarriage with the conquerors,
-formed a new type; so that
-the people of that country are even
-yet divided into two great and distinct
-stocks differing from each
-other in language, manners, and
-dress.</p>
-
-<p>“Until the XVIth century,” continues
-M. de Laveleye, “Ireland was
-much more civilized than Scotland.
-During the first part of the middle
-ages the Emerald Isle was a focus
-of civilization, while Scotland was
-still a den of barbarians.” Now, it
-was precisely in those ages in which
-Ireland was “a focus of civilization”
-that the Catholic faith of her
-people shone brightest. It was then
-that convents sprang up over the
-whole island; that the sweet songs
-of sacred psalmody, which so touched
-the soul of Columba, were heard
-in her groves and vales; that the
-sword was sheathed, and all her
-people were smitten with the high
-love of holy life and were eager to
-drink at the fountains of knowledge.
-It was then that she sent her apostles
-to Scotland, to England, to France,
-to Germany, to Switzerland, and to
-far-off Sicily; nor did she remit her
-efforts in behalf of civilization until
-the invading Danes forced her children
-to defend at once their country
-and their faith.</p>
-
-<p>But let us follow M. de Laveleye:
-“Since the Scotch have embraced
-the reformed religion, they have
-outrun even the English.… Ireland,
-on the other hand, devoted to
-ultramontanism, is poor, miserable,
-agitated by the spirit of rebellion,
-and seems incapable of raising herself
-by her own strength.”</p>
-
-<p>We cannot think that Mr. Gladstone
-had read this passage when
-he requested the author to have his
-pamphlet translated into English;
-for we cannot believe that he is
-prepared to lay the misfortunes of
-Ireland to the influence of the
-Catholic faith upon her people, and
-not to the cruelty and misgovernment
-of England.</p>
-
-<p>The Irish Catholics are reproached
-with their poverty, when for two
-hundred years the English government
-made it a crime for them to
-own anything. They are taunted
-with their misery, when for two
-centuries they lived under a code<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[583]</a></span>
-which placed them outside the pale
-of humanity; of which Lord
-Brougham said that it was so ingeniously
-contrived that an Irish
-Catholic could not lift up his hand
-without breaking it; which Edmund
-Burke denounced as the most
-proper machine ever invented by
-the wit of man to disgrace a realm
-and degrade a people; and of which
-Montesquieu wrote that it must
-have been contrived by devils,
-ought to have been written in blood
-and registered in hell!</p>
-
-<p>Ireland is found fault with because
-she is agitated with the spirit
-of rebellion, when even to think of
-the wrongs she has suffered makes
-the blood to boil. Is it astonishing
-that she should be poor when England,
-with set purpose, destroyed her
-commerce and ruined her manufacturing
-interests, fostering at the
-same time a policy fatal to agriculture,
-the aim of which, it would
-seem, was to force the Irish to emigrate,
-that the whole island might
-be turned into a grazing ground for
-the supply of the English markets?</p>
-
-<p>“What a contrast,” further remarks
-M. de Laveleye (p. 12),
-“even in Ireland, between the exclusively
-Catholic Connaught and
-Ulster, where Protestantism prevails!”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone certainly cannot
-be surprised at this contrast, nor
-will he seek its explanation in the
-baneful influence of the Catholic
-Church. He at least knows the
-history of Cromwell’s invasion of
-Ireland; he has read of the massacres
-of Drogheda and Wexford; he
-knows the fate of the eighty thousand
-Catholic Irishmen whom
-Cromwell drove into the ports of
-Munster, and shipped like cattle
-to the sugar plantations of the Barbadoes,
-there to be sold as slaves;
-nor is he ignorant of what was in
-store for those Irish Catholics who
-were still left; of how they were
-driven out of Ulster, Munster, and
-Leinster across the Shannon into
-Connaught&mdash;that is, into the bogs
-and wild wastes of the most desolate
-part of Ireland&mdash;there to die of
-hunger or cold, or to survive as best
-they might. Five-sixths of the
-Catholics had perished; the remainder
-were driven into barren Connaught;
-the Protestants settled on
-the rich lands of Ulster, Munster,
-and Leinster; and now here comes
-good M. de Laveleye to find that
-Connaught is poor because it is
-Catholic, and Ulster is rich because
-it is Protestant. But we must not
-forget Scotland.</p>
-
-<p>“Since the Scotch,” says M. de
-Laveleye, “have embraced the reformed
-religion, they have outrun
-even the English.”</p>
-
-<p>We shall take no pains to discover
-whether or in what respect, or
-how far the Scotch surpass the
-English. The meaning of the
-words which we have just quoted is
-evidently this: The progress which
-the Scotch have made during the
-last three centuries, in wealth and
-the other elements of material
-greatness, must be ascribed to the
-influence of the Protestant religion.</p>
-
-<p>To avoid even the suspicion of
-unfairness in discussing this part of
-the subject, we shall quote the words
-of an author who devoted much time
-and research to the study of the
-character and tendencies of Scotch
-Presbyterianism, and whose deeply-rooted
-dislike of the Catholic
-Church is well known:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[584]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“To be poor,” says Buckle (<cite>History of
-Civilization</cite>, vol. ii. p. 314), describing the
-doctrines of the Scotch divines of the
-XVIIth century&mdash;“to be poor, dirty, and
-hungry; to pass through life in misery and
-to leave it with fear; to be plagued with
-boils and sores and diseases of every kind;
-to be always sighing and groaning; to have
-the face streaming with tears and the chest
-heaving with sobs; in a word, to suffer
-constant affliction and to be tormented in
-all possible ways&mdash;to undergo these
-things was a proof of goodness just as
-the contrary was a proof of evil. It mattered
-not what a man liked, the mere
-fact of his liking it made it sinful. Whatever
-was natural was wrong. The clergy
-deprived the people of their holidays, their
-amusements, their shows, their games,
-and their sports; they repressed every
-appearance of joy, they forbade all merriment,
-they stopped all festivities, they
-choked up every avenue by which pleasure
-could enter, and they spread over the
-country an universal gloom. Then truly
-did darkness sit on the land. Men in
-their daily actions and in their every
-looks became troubled, melancholy, and
-ascetic. Their countenance soured and
-was downcast. Not only their opinions,
-but their gait, their demeanor, their voice,
-their general aspect, were influenced
-by that deadly blight which nipped all
-that was genial and warm. The way of
-life fell into the sere and yellow leaf; its
-tints gradually deepened; its bloom faded
-and passed off; its spring, its freshness,
-and its beauty were gone; joy and love
-either disappeared or were forced to hide
-themselves in obscure corners, until at
-length the fairest and most endearing
-parts of our nature, being constantly repressed,
-ceased to bear fruit and seemed
-to be withered into perpetual sterility.
-Thus it was that the national character
-of the Scotch was in the XVIIth
-century dwarfed and mutilated.…
-They [the Scotch divines] sought to
-destroy not only human pleasures, but
-human affections. They held that our
-affections are necessarily connected with
-our lusts, and that we must therefore wean
-ourselves from them as earthly vanities.
-A Christian had no business with love
-or sympathy. He had his own soul to
-attend to, and that was enough for him.
-Let him look to himself. On Sunday, in
-particular, he must never think of benefiting
-others; and the Scotch clergy did
-not hesitate to teach the people that on
-that day it was sinful to save a vessel in
-distress, and that it was a proof of religion
-to leave ship and crew to perish.
-They might go; none but their wives
-and children would suffer, and that was
-nothing in comparison with breaking the
-Sabbath. So, too did the clergy teach
-that on no occasion must food or shelter
-be given to a starving man, unless his
-opinions were orthodox. What need for
-him to live? Indeed, they taught that it
-was a sin to tolerate his notions at all,
-and that the proper course was to visit
-him with sharp and immediate punishment.
-Going yet farther, they broke the
-domestic ties and set parents against
-their offspring. They taught the father
-to smite the unbelieving child, and to
-slay his own boy sooner than to allow
-him to propagate error. As if this were
-not enough, they tried to extirpate another
-affection, even more sacred and
-more devoted still. They laid their rude
-and merciless hands on the holiest passion
-of which our nature is capable&mdash;the
-love of a mother for her son.…
-To hear of such things is enough to
-make one’s blood surge again, and raise
-a tempest in our inmost nature. But to
-have seen them, to have lived in the
-midst of them, and yet not to have rebelled
-against them, is to us utterly inconceivable,
-and proves in how complete
-a thraldom the Scotch were held, and how
-thoroughly their minds as well as their
-bodies were enslaved.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The XVIIth century, which
-was the golden age of French literature,
-and also of the Catholic
-Church in France, threw almost total
-darkness over Scotland, which
-during that period was most completely
-under the power of Protestantism.
-The clergy governed the
-nation; they were the only men of
-real influence; and yet there was no
-philosophy, no science, no poetry,
-no literature worth reading. “From
-the Restoration,” says Laing, “down
-to the Union the only author of
-any eminence whom Scotland produced
-was Burnet.”</p>
-
-<p>If the thrift and industry of the
-Scotch are due to Protestantism, to
-what shall we ascribe the enterprise
-and commerce of the Catholic republics
-of Venice and Genoa during the
-middle ages?</p>
-
-<p>If England’s wealth to-day comes
-from the Reformation, how shall we
-account for that of Spain in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[585]</a></span>
-XVIth and XVIIth centuries?
-And if the decline of Spain has been
-brought about by the Catholic
-faith, to what cause shall we assign
-that of Holland, who in the XVIIth
-century ruled the seas and did the
-carrying trade of Europe?</p>
-
-<p>M. de Laveleye’s way of accounting
-for the prosperity of nations is
-certainly simple, but we doubt
-whether it would satisfy any respectable
-schoolboy. Unfortunately for
-such as he, there is no rule of three
-by which social problems may be
-solved. Race, climate, soil, political
-organization, and many other causes,
-working through ever-varying combinations,
-must all be considered if
-we would understand the history
-of material progress. As labor is
-the most fruitful cause of wealth,
-there is a necessary relation between
-national wealth and national
-habits, which are the outcome of
-a thousand influences, one of the
-most powerful of which undoubtedly
-is religious faith. But who does
-not know that climate influences
-labor, not only by enervating or invigorating
-the laborer, but also by
-the effect it produces on the regularity
-of his habits? If the Italian
-loves the <i lang="it">dolce far niente</i>, while
-the New Englander makes haste
-to grow rich as though some
-demon whom gold could bribe
-pursued him, shall we find the
-secret of their peculiar characters
-in their religious faith or in the
-climate in which they live, or shall
-we not rather seek it in a combination
-of causes, physical and moral?
-We have assuredly no thought of
-denying the intimate connection
-which exists between faith and
-character or between a nation’s religion
-and its civilization. We
-are willing even to affirm that
-not only the general superiority of
-Christian nations, but their superior
-wealth also, is in great measure
-attributable to their religion. And
-now, bidding adieu to M. de Laveleye
-for a while, we propose to discuss
-this subject, to which we have
-already alluded, somewhat more
-fully.</p>
-
-<p>Christianity certainly does not
-measure either the greatness or the
-happiness of a people by its wealth,
-nor does it take as its ideal that
-state of society in which “the millionaire
-is the one sole god” and
-commerce is all in all; in which
-“only the ledger lives, and only not
-all men lie.”</p>
-
-<p>Whether we consider individuals
-or associations of men, the Catholic
-Church does not hold and cannot
-hold that material interests are
-the highest. To be noble, to be
-true, to be humble, to be pure, is,
-in her view, better than to be rich.
-Man is more than money, which is
-good only in so far as it serves to
-develop his higher nature.</p>
-
-<p>“The whole aim of man is to be
-happy,” says Bossuet. “Place happiness
-where it ought to be, and it is
-the source of all good; but the
-source of all evil is to place it where
-it ought not to be.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is evident,” says S. Thomas,
-“that the happiness of man cannot
-lie in riches. Wealth is sought after
-only as a support of human life. It
-cannot be the end of man; on the
-contrary, man is its end.…
-The longing, moreover, for the highest
-good is infinite. The more it is
-possessed, the more it is loved and
-the more all else is despised; for
-the more it is possessed, the better is
-it known. With riches this is not
-the case. No sooner are they ours
-than they are despised, or used as
-means to some other end; and this,
-as it shows their imperfect nature,
-is proof that in them the highest
-good is not to be found.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[586]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>If wealth is not the highest good
-of individuals, is it of nations?
-What is the ideal of society? The
-study of the laws which govern
-national life must necessarily begin
-with this question, which all
-who have dealt with the subject,
-from Plato to Comte and Mill, have
-sought to answer. It is manifest
-that each one’s attempt to solve
-this problem will be based upon his
-views on the previous question:
-What is the ideal of man? This, in
-turn, will be answered according to
-each one’s notions of the ideal of
-God; and here we have the secret
-of the phenomenon which so surprised
-Proudhon&mdash;the necessary
-connection between religion and
-society, theology and politics.</p>
-
-<p>Is there a God, personal, distinct
-from nature? Or is nature the only
-god, and science her prophet? It
-is right here at this central point
-that men are dividing; it is here we
-must place ourselves, if we would
-view the two great armies that in all
-Christendom are gathering for a supreme
-conflict.</p>
-
-<p>There is a form of infidelity in
-our day&mdash;and it is the one into
-which all unbelief must ultimately
-resolve itself&mdash;which starts with this
-assumption: “Whether or not there
-is a God must for ever remain unknown
-to man.” It reasons in this
-way: “This whole subject belongs
-within the region, not only of the
-unknown, but of the unknowable.
-It is an insoluble riddle, and the
-philosophies and theologies which
-have sought to unravel it, if only
-idle, might deserve nothing more
-than contempt; but they have been
-the bane of human thought, have
-soured all the sweetness of life,
-and therefore ought to be visited
-with the execration of mankind.
-Since religion is a subject about
-which nothing can be known, what
-is so absurd as to spend time upon
-it? What so absurd as to divert the
-thoughts of men from subjects in
-which thinking is fruitful to those
-in which it must for ever remain
-barren of all except evil results?
-What so absurd as to set them working
-for a future life, of which we
-can never know whether it exists at
-all, when we might at least teach
-them how to make the present one
-worth having? The paradise of the
-future, which the prophetic eye of
-science can already descry, is <em>in</em> the
-world, not <em>beyond</em> it; and to seek to
-hasten its approach is the highest
-and only worthy object in life.” As
-we take it, this is the creed of modern
-unbelief, to which as yet few will
-openly subscribe, but toward which
-all its hundred conflicting schools of
-thought are moving. Few men indeed
-are able to perceive the logical
-outcome of their opinions, and
-still fewer have the courage to confess
-what they more than half suspect.</p>
-
-<p>This superstition is a return to the
-nature-worship of paganism, but
-under a different aspect. Of old,
-nature was worshipped as revealed
-to sense, and now as revealed
-to thought; then as beautiful,
-now as true or useful. The
-first was artistic, and form was its
-symbol; the last is scientific, and
-law is its expression. The religion
-of humanity is only a phase of this
-worship; for in it man is considered,
-not as the child of God, but as the
-product of nature.</p>
-
-<p>And now what has this to do
-with the ideal of society or the
-wealth of nations? At the basis
-of all social organization lies morality,
-as it is by conduct that both
-individuals and nations are saved
-or lost. The history of the human
-race shows that religion and morality
-are intimately related. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[587]</a></span>
-there have been good atheists does
-not affect the truth of this proposition
-any more than that there have
-been bad Christians. Men are
-usually better or worse than their
-principles; practice and profession
-rarely accord; and this is remarked
-because it ought not to exist.</p>
-
-<p>Conduct, to be rational, should be
-motived, and consequently referable
-to certain general principles by
-which it is justified. To be particular,
-a man who believes in God,
-the Creator, a Father as just as he
-is good, has fundamental motives
-of action which are wanting to the
-atheist. The one should seek to
-approve himself to his heavenly
-Father; the other cannot go farther
-than conform to the laws of nature.
-To the one this life, as compared
-with that which is to be, is of value
-only as it relates to it; to the other
-it is all in all. And since the ultimate
-end of society is the welfare
-of the associated, the one will regard
-this end from a transcendental
-point of view, taking in time
-and eternity; the other will consider
-it merely with reference to man’s
-present state. Their notions of
-life, of its ends, aims, and proper
-surroundings, will be radically different.</p>
-
-<p>Suppose for a moment that religious
-beliefs are mere dreams, fancies
-of sick brains; is it not at once
-manifest that human life is a much
-poorer and sorrier thing than it is
-commonly thought to be? As the
-light of heaven fades away, do not
-all things grow dark, leaving us in
-the shadow of death, despairing or
-debauched, sullen or frantic? The
-poet’s dream, the mother’s fond
-hope, the heart’s deep yearning, the
-mind’s flight towards the infinite, all
-become flat, meaningless, and unprofitable.
-Men are simply animals
-chained to this clod, too happy
-if the heaven-seeking eye permitted
-them to see it alone. Trouble,
-danger, and physical pain are the
-only evils, and virtue is the sharp-sighted
-prudence which enables us
-to avoid them. Self-denial is not
-only useless, it is irrational. Our
-appetites are good and ought to be
-indulged. Nothing, of its own nature,
-is sinful; excess alone is wrong;
-all indulgence, provided it hurt no
-one, is good&mdash;nay, it is necessary.
-Whoever denies any one of his appetites
-the food it craves cripples
-himself, is maimed and incomplete.
-“He may be a monk; he may be
-a saint; but a man he is not.”</p>
-
-<p>When these views are transferred
-to questions of political economy
-and social organization, they lead
-to materialistic and utilitarian theories.
-Society must be organized
-on the basis of positivism; the
-problem of the future is how to
-give to the greatest number of individuals
-the best opportunities of
-indulgence, the greatest amount of
-comfort, with the least amount of
-pain. This is the greatest-happiness
-principle of Bentham and
-Mill. Culture, of course, intellectual
-and æsthetic, as affording the
-purest pleasure, must form a feature
-of this society; but its distinctive
-characteristic is wealth, which is
-both the means and the opportunity
-of indulgence.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“We constantly hear of the evils of
-wealth,” says Buckle, “and of the sinfulness
-of loving money; although it is
-certain that, after the love of knowledge,
-there is no one passion which has done
-so much good to mankind as the love of
-money.”</p>
-
-<p>“If we open our eyes,” says Strauss,<a name="FNanchor_229" id="FNanchor_229"></a><a href="#Footnote_229" class="fnanchor">[229]</a>
-“and are honest enough to avow what
-they show us, we must acknowledge
-that the entire activity and aspiration of
-the civilized nations of our time is based
-on views of life which run directly counter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[588]</a></span>
-to those entertained by Christ. The
-ratio of value between the here and the
-hereafter is exactly reversed; and this
-is by no means the result of the merely
-luxurious and so-called materialistic tendencies
-of our age, nor even of its marvellous
-progress in technical and industrial
-improvements.… All that is best
-and happiest which has been achieved by
-us has been attainable only on the basis
-of a conception which regarded this present
-world as by no means despicable,
-but rather as man’s proper field of labor,
-as the sum total of the aims to which his
-efforts should be directed. If, from the
-force of habit, a certain proportion of
-workers in this field still carry the belief
-in an hereafter along with them, it is nevertheless
-a mere shadow, which attends
-their footsteps without exercising any
-determining influence on their actions.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is the cosmic religion, which
-is preached as “the new faith,
-the religion of the future.” This
-world is all in all&mdash;let us make the
-most of it; or, as the pagans of old
-put it: “Let us eat and drink, for
-to-morrow we die.”</p>
-
-<p>In its essence it is sensualism; in
-its manifestations it will be refined
-or coarse, according to the dispositions
-of the persons by whom it is
-accepted. Now its worship will be
-accompanied with music and song
-and dance; at other times it will
-sink to those orgies in which man
-becomes only an unnatural animal.</p>
-
-<p>Let us now turn to the Christian
-religion, and consider its teachings
-in their bearing upon the subject
-we are discussing. They are the
-very opposite of those which we
-have just read, and proceed from
-principles which are in direct contradiction
-to the cosmic philosophy.
-God is the highest, the Creator of
-all things, which are of value only
-as they relate to him and are in
-harmony with the laws of his being.
-The earth is but the threshold of
-heaven or of hell, as the case may
-be. This life is a preparation for a
-future one, which is eternal; and all
-human interests, whether individual
-or social, to be rightly understood,
-must be viewed in their relation to
-this truth. Man is essentially a
-moral being, and duty, which is
-often in conflict with pleasure, is his
-supreme law. He is under the action
-of antagonistic forces; seeing
-the better and approving it, he is
-drawn to love the worse and to do
-it. Thus self-denial becomes the
-condition of virtue, and warfare
-with himself his only assurance of
-victory.</p>
-
-<p>“But he said to all: If any one
-wishes to come after me, let him
-deny himself, take up his cross
-every day, and follow me.”</p>
-
-<p>Wealth, which is the world’s great
-slave and idol, and universal procurator
-of the senses, though in itself
-not evil, is yet a hindrance to
-the highest spiritual life. “If thou
-wouldst be perfect, go sell what
-thou hast, and give it to the poor,
-and thou shall have treasure in
-heaven: and come and follow me.”</p>
-
-<p>As duty is the supreme law of the
-individual, it follows that we must
-seek the ideal of society in the
-moral order, to which all other
-social interests should be made
-subservient, or else they will beget
-only an unbounded and lawless
-activity. Even education is valuable
-only in so far as it gives man a
-deeper sense of his responsibility to
-God, and enables him more thoroughly
-to understand and perform
-his duty.</p>
-
-<p>The social problem as between
-Christianity and modern paganism
-may be stated in this way: is it the
-end of society to grow strong in
-virtue through self-denial, or to increase
-indefinitely the means and
-opportunity of indulgence? On
-which side is progress, on which
-decline?</p>
-
-<p>We cannot now go farther into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[589]</a></span>
-this subject, but before leaving it we
-wish to quote the words of Fitzjames
-Stephen, who will hardly be called
-a Christian, on modern progress.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“I suspect,” he says,<a name="FNanchor_230" id="FNanchor_230"></a><a href="#Footnote_230" class="fnanchor">[230]</a> “that in many
-ways it has been a progress from strength
-to weakness; that people are more sensitive,
-less enterprising and ambitious,
-less earnestly desirous to get what they
-want, and more afraid of pain, both for
-themselves and others, than they used to
-be. If this should be so, it appears to
-me that all other gains, whether in wealth,
-knowledge, or humanity, afford no equivalent.
-Strength, in all its forms, is life and
-manhood. To be less strong is to be
-less a man, whatever else you may be.
-This suspicion prevents me, for one, from
-feeling any enthusiasm about progress,
-but I do not undertake to say it is well
-founded.… I do not myself see
-that our mechanical inventions have increased
-the general vigor of men’s characters,
-though they have no doubt increased
-enormously our control over nature.
-The greater part of our humanity appears
-to me to be a mere increase of nervous
-sensibility in which I feel no satisfaction
-at all.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The general superiority, and even
-the greater wealth, of Christian nations
-as compared with others we
-would attribute, in great part at
-least, to the influence of their religious
-faith, to which they owe their
-sentiments on the dignity and sacredness
-of human nature in itself,
-apart from surroundings; on the
-substantial equality of all men before
-God, which tends to produce
-as its counterpart the equality of
-all before the law, thus leading to
-the abolition of slavery, the elevation
-of woman, and the protection
-of childhood. To it also they owe
-their ideas on the family, which, in
-its constitutive Christian elements,
-lies at the very foundation of our
-civilization. To Christianity they
-owe the principles of universal
-charity and compassion, which have
-revolutionized the relations of social
-life; and, finally, to it they are
-indebted for the rehabilitation of
-labor, the chief source of wealth,
-which the pagan nations looked
-upon as degrading.</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot say,” writes Herodotus,
-“whether the Greeks get their
-contempt for labor from the Egyptians;
-for I find the same prejudice
-among the Thracians, the Scythians,
-the Persians, and the Lydians.”</p>
-
-<p>“The Germans,” says Tacitus,
-“cannot bear to remain quiet, but
-they love to be idle; they hold it
-base and unworthy of them to acquire
-by their sweat what they
-can purchase with their blood.”
-In the same way the Gauls looked
-upon labor with contempt.</p>
-
-<p>We shall have to take up M. de
-Laveleye’s pamphlet again; for the
-present we lay it aside with the following
-remark: If we should grant,
-to the fullest, all that is here said
-about the greater wealth and material
-prosperity of Protestant as compared
-with Catholic nations what
-are we thence to conclude? Shall
-we say that the greed of gain which
-is so marked a feature in the populations
-of England and the United
-States is at once the result and proof
-of true Christian faith? May it
-not be barely possible that the value
-of material progress is exaggerated?
-Is there not danger lest, when
-man shall have made matter the
-willing slave of all his passions, he
-should find that he has become the
-creature of this slave? However
-this may be, might not a Catholic
-find some consolation in the words
-of Holy Writ?</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“And the angel that spoke in me, said
-to me: Cry thou, saying, Thus saith the
-Lord of hosts: I am zealous for Jerusalem
-and Sion with a great zeal. <em>And I
-am angry with a great anger with the
-nations that are rich</em>; for I was angry a
-little, but they helped forward the evil.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[590]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ARE YOU MY WIFE?</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,” ETC.</p>
-
-<h4>CHAPTER XII.<br />
-<span class="smaller">THE BARONET IS RELIEVED.&mdash;A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.</span></h4>
-
-<p>The night was wild and stormy.
-The wind had risen to a hurricane,
-and drove the rain in Raymond’s face
-as he walked home through the park.
-It was driving the grass in cold ripples
-over the fields, and tossing the
-trees about as if it would break
-them. Columns of black clouds
-were trooping over the sky, and the
-moon broke through them as if she
-were pursued by the wind and flying
-for her life. Raymond was a long
-time getting to the cottage. Great
-gusts swept up from the valley,
-staggering him, so that he had to
-stand every now and then and cling
-to a tree until it passed. Then the
-rain beat against his face so that he
-could hardly profit by the fitful
-gleams of the moon as she dipped
-in and out of the clouds. He was
-dripping wet when he got to his own
-door and let himself in with his
-latch-key. He took off his coat,
-hanging it in the hall, and lighted
-his candle. Franceline had left it
-close to his hand with a match.</p>
-
-<p>Mechanically he walked up to his
-room and began to divest himself
-of his drenched clothing. He hardly
-noticed that they were soaking
-and that he was wet through; he
-was flushed and heated as if he had
-come straight from a hot room.
-How the blast roared and shrieked,
-beating against the cottage till it
-rocked like a ship at sea, and trying
-the windows till they cracked and
-groaned! It whistled through the
-chinks so that the flimsy red
-curtain fluttered as if the window
-had been open. Raymond pushed
-it aside and opened the shutters,
-and looked out. The night was
-inky black, above and below, except
-when a star flickered in and out like
-a gas-jet swept by the wind, and
-showed the river like a bit of steel,
-as it flashed and quivered under the
-pelting rain and hurried away into
-blacker distance. All this angry
-roar was better than music to Raymond.
-The fury of the elements
-seemed to comfort him. Nature
-was in sympathy with him. It was
-kind of her to be angry and disturbed
-when he was so distraught.
-Nature had more heart than his
-fellow-men. These were talking
-over his despair quietly enough
-now&mdash;mocking him, very likely; but
-the world around was shaken, and
-tossed, and driven in sympathy with
-him. A great gust came swelling
-up from the river, growing louder
-and heavier as it drew near, till,
-gathering itself up like a mountainous
-wave, it burst with a crash
-against the cottage. M. de la
-Bourbonias leaped back, and, with a
-sudden impulse of terror, flew out
-into the landing, and knocked at
-Angélique’s door; but the sonorous
-breathing of the old servant reassured
-him that all was right there
-and in the room beyond. It was
-pitch dark, but the reflection from
-his own open door showed Franceline’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[591]</a></span>
-standing wide open. He
-listened, but everything was silent
-there. He stole noiselessly back to
-his room and closed the door, without
-disturbing either of the sleepers.</p>
-
-<p>The storm had reached its crisis,
-and gradually subsided after this,
-until the wind was spent and died
-away in long, low wails behind the
-woods, and the moon drifted above
-the tattered clouds that were sweeping
-toward the east, leaving a
-portion of the sky stainless, with
-stars flashing out brightly. Raymond
-put out his candle and went
-to bed.</p>
-
-<p>Under ordinary circumstances he
-would probably have paid for the
-night’s adventure by an attack of
-bronchitis or rheumatic fever; but
-the mental fever that had been
-devouring him warded off every
-other, and when he came down
-next morning he was neither ill nor
-ailing.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline, like her <i lang="fr">bonne</i>, had
-slept through the storm, and they
-were quite astonished to hear what
-an awful night it had been, and to
-see the fields strewn with great
-branches in every direction, gates
-torn up, and other evidences of
-the night’s work. But they saw
-no traces of another tempest that
-was raging still in a human soul
-close by them. Nothing betrayed
-its existence, and they guessed
-nothing&mdash;so securely does this living
-wall of flesh screen the secrets
-of the spirit from every outside gaze!
-Passions rise up in hearts whose
-pulses we fondly imagine close and
-familiar to us as our own, and the
-winds blow and the waves run high
-and make wild havoc there, turning
-life into darkness and despair, or, at
-the whisper of the Master’s voice,
-illuminating it as suddenly with a
-flood of sunshine; and we are blind
-and deaf to these things, and remain
-as “a stranger to our brother.” And
-mercifully so. Many a battle is
-won that would have been lost if it
-had not been fought alone. We
-hinder each other by our pity, perhaps,
-as often as we help.</p>
-
-<p class="break">Sir Simon had very little appetite
-for his breakfast when he came
-down next morning, sick at heart
-after a sleepless night, and found
-the pleasant meal thoughtfully
-spread in his favorite room, the
-library, with the table wheeled
-close to his arm-chair on the
-right side of the hearth. It all
-looked the very picture of comfort
-and refinement and elegance. But
-the cup was doubly poisoned to him
-now; last night’s adventure had added
-the last drop of bitterness to it.
-He could not think of Raymond
-without a poignant pang. He
-suspected&mdash;and he was right&mdash;that
-Raymond was thinking of him, wondering
-whether it was really all over
-with him this time, and whether he
-was bankrupt and his estate in the
-fangs of the creditors; and whether
-he was driving away from the
-Court never to see it again; or
-whether once more, for the hundred
-and ninety-ninth time, he had weathered
-the storm and was still afloat&mdash;even
-though on a raft. Raymond
-would have scarcely believed
-it if any one had informed him that
-he had been the instrument of destroying
-Sir Simon’s one chance of
-escape; that he had snatched the
-last plank from him in his shipwreck.
-It may have been an imaginary
-one, and Sir Simon, after the
-fashion of drowning men, may have
-been catching at a straw; but now
-that it was snatched from him, he
-was more than ever convinced that
-it had been a solid plank which
-would have borne him securely to
-shore. He did not ask himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[592]</a></span>
-whether Mr. Plover would have
-entered into his plans, and whether,
-supposing he found it his interest
-to do so, his fortune would have
-been equal to the demand; he only
-considered what might have been,
-and what was not; and thinking of
-this, his indulgent pity for M. de la
-Bourbonais shrank in the bitter reflection
-that he had ruined not
-only himself but his friend irretrievably.
-They were pretty much in
-the same boat now.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon’s self-made delusions
-had cleared away wonderfully within
-the last forty-eight hours. He
-drew no comparison to his own advantage
-between Raymond’s actual
-position and his own. If M. de la
-Bourbonais was a thief in the technical
-sense of the word, he, Sir Simon,
-was a bankrupt; and a bankrupt,
-under certain conditions, may
-mean a swindler. He had been a
-swindler for years; his life had been
-a sham these twenty years, and he
-had not the excuse of circumstances
-to fall back on; he had been
-dishonest from extravagance and
-sheer want of principle. “Take it
-first and afford it afterwards” had
-been his theory, and he had lived
-up to it, and now the day of reckoning
-had arrived. Many a time
-he had said, half in jest, that Raymond
-was the richer man of the
-two. Raymond used to laugh
-mildly at the notion, but it was true.
-An ambitious, extravagant man and
-a contented poor one are pretty
-much on a level: the one possesses
-everything he does not want; the
-other wants everything he does not
-possess. The unprincipled spend-thrift
-and the high-minded, struggling
-man were then on an equality
-of fortune, or rather the latter was
-virtually the wealthier of the two.
-But now the distinction was washed
-out. The proud consciousness of
-unstained honor and innermost self-respect
-which had hitherto sustained
-M. de la Bourbonais and sweetened
-the cup of poverty to him was gone.
-He was a blighted man, who could
-never hold up his head again
-amongst his fellow-men.</p>
-
-<p>“Good God! what delirium
-possessed him? How could he be
-so infatuated, so stupid!” broke
-out Sir Simon, giving vent to what
-was passing through his mind.
-“But,” he added presently, “he
-was not accountable. I believe
-grief and anxiety drove him mad.”
-Then he recalled that answer of
-Raymond’s, that had sounded so untrue
-at the time: “Yes, I can fancy
-myself giving way, if the temptation
-took a certain form, and if
-I were left to my own strength.”
-The words sounded now like a prophecy.</p>
-
-<p>Of course we all know that, according
-to the canons of poetical
-justice, the brave, suffering man
-should have been in some unexpected
-way succored in his extremity;
-that some angel in visible or
-invisible form should have been
-sent to hold him up from slipping
-into the pit that despair had dug
-for him; and that, on the other
-hand, the wicked spendthrift should
-have been left to eat the bread of
-righteous retribution, and suffer the
-just penalty of his evil behavior.
-But poetical justice and the facts
-of real life do not always agree.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon, after walking up and
-down the library, chewing the cud
-of bitter thoughts until he was sick
-of it, bethought himself that as
-breakfast was there he might as
-well try and eat it before it got
-cold. So he sat down and poured
-out his coffee, and then, by mere
-force of habit, and without the
-faintest glimmer of interest, began
-to turn over the bundle of letters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[593]</a></span>
-piled up beside the <cite>Times</cite> on
-the table. One after another was
-tossed away contemptuously. The
-duns might cry till they were hoarse
-now; he need not trouble about
-them; he would be at least that
-much the gainer by his disgrace.
-Suddenly his eye lighted on an envelope
-that was not addressed in
-the well-known hand of the race of
-duns, but in Clide de Winton’s,
-and it bore the London postmark.
-The thought of Clide generally produced
-on Sir Simon the effect of a
-needle run through the left side;
-but he took up this letter with a
-strange thrill of expectation. He
-opened it, and a change came over
-his face; it was not joy&mdash;it was too
-uncertain, too tremulous yet for
-that. He must read it again before
-he trusted to the first impression;
-he must make sure that he was not
-dreaming, and the words that danced
-like a will-o’-the-wisp before
-his eyes were real, written with real
-ink, on real paper. At last he dropped
-the letter, and a heartier prayer
-than he had uttered since his
-childhood came from him: “My
-God, I thank thee! I have not deserved
-this mercy, but I will try
-to deserve it.”</p>
-
-<p>He buried his face in his hands,
-and remained mute and motionless
-for some minutes. Then, starting
-up as if suddenly remembering
-something, he pulled out his watch.
-It wanted five minutes of ten. The
-law officer and the Jew creditor were
-to start by the train that left Charing
-Cross at a quarter past eleven. Sir
-Simon rang the bell sharply.</p>
-
-<p>“Saddle a horse, and ride as fast
-as you can with this to the telegraph,”
-he said to his valet, who
-answered the summons; “and the
-moment you come back, get ready
-to be off with me to London by the
-mid-day train.”</p>
-
-<p>The telegram prepared Mr. Simpson
-to see his client appear at his
-office at two o’clock that afternoon,
-and, in obedience to its directions,
-the Jew was there to meet him.
-Clide de Winton had seen Simpson
-the day before, and given him full
-authority to settle the Dullerton
-debts so as to set Sir Simon Harness
-free. He had only arrived in
-London that very morning, and it
-was the merest accident that led
-him to call on the family lawyer,
-who was also the family’s best
-friend, on his way from the station
-to his hotel. Simpson was discretion
-itself, and one of the attributes
-of that virtue is to know when to
-be indiscreet. Clide’s first inquiry
-was for Sir Simon, with a view&mdash;which
-the astute lawyer did not see
-through&mdash;of leading up to inquiries
-about other friends at Dullerton;
-whereupon Mr. Simpson bolted out
-the whole truth, told him of the baronet’s
-position, the long arrears of
-debt that had come against him, and
-which were to culminate in bankruptcy
-within twenty-four hours.
-It was as if the sky had fallen on
-Clide, or the ground opened under
-his feet.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank goodness I am come in
-time!” he exclaimed; and there and
-then sat down and wrote to Sir Simon,
-telling him that proceedings
-were stopped, and that he, Clide,
-took them in his own hands.</p>
-
-<p>“And this is what you call being
-a friend!” said the young man, as
-he and the baronet left Simpson’s
-office together, the one with a lightened
-purse, the other with a heart
-considerably more so. “To think of
-your letting things go to such
-lengths, and that if I had been a
-day later it would have been all
-over!”</p>
-
-<p>“My dear boy! what can I say to
-you? How can I ever repay you?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[594]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“By forgiving me. I’ve lived
-long enough to find out a secret or
-two. One is that it requires a very
-noble soul to forgive a man a money
-obligation, and that there is a deal
-more generosity in accepting than
-in conferring it. So if you don’t
-pick a quarrel with me after this,
-and turn your back on me, we are
-quits. Is it a bargain?”</p>
-
-<p>He held out his hand, laughing;
-Sir Simon wrung it till the pressure
-made Clide wince. This was his
-only answer, and the only sentimental
-passage the occasion gave
-rise to between them.</p>
-
-<p class="break">It was more than a month since
-Clide had left St. Petersburg, although
-the season was still at its
-height there, and Isabel’s engagement
-was to have lasted until the
-end of it. This had, however, been
-brought to an abrupt and tragic
-close. She had acted for six weeks
-with unprecedented success; every
-night was a fresh triumph, and
-nothing was talked of in the <i lang="fr">salons</i>
-and clubs but the wonders of her
-voice, the intense reality of her
-acting, and her rare beauty. Ophelia
-was considered her grandest
-part. She was playing it one evening
-to a crowded house, in the
-presence of the imperial family
-and the whole court, and seemed
-wrought up to a pitch of power and
-pathos that surpassed her finest
-preceding efforts. She was singing
-the mad scene with melting tenderness;
-the house was breathless,
-hanging enraptured on every note,
-when suddenly the voice ceased,
-the prima donna cast a wild look
-on every side of her, and then,
-with a shriek too terribly real to be
-within the compass of art, she flung
-her arms over her head, and, clasping
-her hands, fell insensible to the
-ground. Never did any opera-house
-witness so dramatic a scene.
-The spectators rose in a body from
-the pit to the gallery, shouting to
-know what had happened, and calling
-for help. Help was near
-enough. A man in plain clothes
-sprang from behind the scenes, and
-lifted the prostrate Ophelia before
-any of the actors could interfere.
-There were several medical men
-among the audience, and they rushed
-in a body to offer their services.
-It was feared for a moment that
-she was dead; but the doctors soon
-pronounced it to be only a swoon,
-though it was impossible to say
-what might follow on the awakening.
-The emperor sent one of his
-chamberlains to hear and see what
-was going on in the green-room, and
-inquire if the piece was to be continued;
-whereupon the luckless
-manager flew out before the footlights,
-and falling on his knees under
-the imperial box, as if he saw the
-knout suspended over his shoulders,
-called heaven to witness that he
-was a loyal subject and an innocent
-man, and flung himself on the imperial
-clemency. The prima donna
-had been seized with illness, and
-the opera could not be finished that
-night. The czar waved his clemency
-to the terrified man, who withdrew,
-invoking all manner of benedictions
-on the mercy of the Father
-of all the Russians, and flew to hear
-what the doctors were now saying of
-Ophelia. They were saying that
-she was acting out her part as it
-had never yet been acted, with the
-perfection of nature&mdash;she was raving
-mad.</p>
-
-<p>This was not proclaimed at once.
-The affair was hushed up for a few
-days, and kept out of the newspapers,
-so that Clide only heard it
-accidentally at the club, where he
-happened to lounge in a week after
-the occurrence. He sent Stanton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[595]</a></span>
-off at once to make inquiries at the
-house where Isabel lodged. But they
-could tell nothing of her there; she
-had been taken away the day after
-her seizure at the opera, and had
-left no address. Clide went straight
-to the lawyer, and asked if there was
-no way of getting access to her
-through the police; of learning at
-least whether she was in an asylum;
-for his first idea on hearing that she
-had been taken away was that they
-had placed her in some such confinement.
-The lawyer agreed with
-him that this was most probable,
-but did not promise much help
-in verifying the supposition. He
-seemed honestly willing to do what
-he could in the matter, but repeated
-the old warning that little could
-be done where imperial favor stood
-in the way. It was highly probable
-that the czar would still show his
-benevolence toward the beautiful
-artist by screening her hiding-place
-and the fact of her being mad, in
-hope of her being able to return
-and complete her engagement after
-rest and medical treatment.</p>
-
-<p>His position now seemed worse
-to Clide than it had ever been.
-The thought of Isabel’s being in a
-mad-house, a prey to the most awful
-visitation that humanity is subject
-to, rudely, perhaps cruelly,
-treated by coarse, pitiless menials,
-was so horrible that at first it
-haunted him till he almost fancied
-he was going mad himself. The
-image of the bright young creature
-who had first stirred the pulses of
-his foolish heart was for ever before
-his eyes as she appeared to him
-that day&mdash;how long ago it seemed!&mdash;in
-the midst of the splendors of
-Niagara, and that he took her for a
-sprite&mdash;some lovely creature of the
-water and the sunlight. He remembered,
-with a new sense of its
-meaning, the strange air she wore,
-walking on as if half unconscious
-he had wondered if she were not
-walking in her sleep. Was it a
-phase of the cruel malady that was
-then showing itself? And if so,
-was she not, perhaps, blameless from
-the beginning? This blight that
-had fallen on her in her brilliant
-maturity might have been germinating
-then, making strange havoc
-in her mind, and impelling her
-character, her destiny, to fearful
-and fantastic issues. Some weeks
-passed while Clide was a prey to
-these harrowing thoughts, when he
-received a letter from the lawyer,
-saying he had something to communicate
-to him of interest.</p>
-
-<p>“It is not good news,” he said,
-as the Englishman entered his office;
-“but it is better than complete
-suspense. The signora is not
-in St. Petersburg. All our researches
-were useless from the
-first, as she was carried off almost
-immediately to a lunatic asylum in
-Saxony.”</p>
-
-<p>“And she is there still?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; and she has been admirably
-treated with the utmost skill
-and care, so much so that it is expected
-she will be quite restored
-after a short period of convalescence.”</p>
-
-<p>“How did you ascertain all
-this?” inquired Clide.</p>
-
-<p>“Through a client of mine who
-has been for some time a patient
-of the establishment. He left it
-very recently, and came to see me
-on his return, and in talking over
-the place and its inmates he described
-one in a way that excited
-my suspicions. I wrote to the director,
-and put a few questions cautiously,
-and the answer leaves me
-no doubt but that the patient whom
-my client saw there a few days before
-his departure was the lady who
-interests you.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[596]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Did you hear who accompanied
-her to Saxony?”</p>
-
-<p>“My client saw a person walking
-in the grounds with her once, and
-from the description it must be the
-same who travelled with her from
-England&mdash;her uncle, in fact: a
-middle-sized man with coal-black
-hair and very white teeth; ‘decidedly
-an unpleasant-looking person’
-my client called him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Strange!” murmured Clide.
-“That description does not tally
-with my recollection of the man
-who called himself her uncle, except
-that he had a forbidding countenance
-and was of medium height.
-He had a quantity of gray, almost
-white, hair, and not a sound tooth
-in his head.”</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! White hair may turn
-black, and new teeth may be made
-to replace lost ones,” observed the
-lawyer. “I would not be put off
-the scent by changes of that sort,
-if the main points coincided.”</p>
-
-<p>“Very true. I must start at once,
-then, for Saxony, and try and see
-for myself. I shall have difficulty
-in gaining the confidence of the directors
-of the place, I dare say.
-Can you help me by a letter of introduction
-to any of them?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; I am well known to the
-principal medical man by name,
-and I will give you a line to him
-with pleasure.”</p>
-
-<p>He wrote it, and shook hands
-with his client and wished him
-good-speed.</p>
-
-<p>Clide travelled without halting
-till he drove up to the door of the
-asylum. His letter procured him
-admittance at once to the private
-room of the medical man, and,
-what was of greater importance, it
-inclined the latter to credit his
-otherwise almost incredible story.
-When Clide had told all he deemed
-necessary, the doctor informed
-him that the patient whom he believed
-to be his wife had already
-left the house and the country altogether;
-she had spent three full
-weeks under his care, and was then
-well enough to be removed, and
-had, by his advice, been taken
-home for the benefit of native air.
-It was just three days since she
-had left Saxony. The doctor could
-give no idea as to where she had
-gone, beyond that she had returned
-to England; he knew nothing of
-the whereabouts of her native place
-there, and her uncle had left no
-clue to his future residence.</p>
-
-<p>Clide was once more baffled by
-fate, and found himself again in a
-dead-lock. In answer to his inquiries
-concerning the nature of
-Isabel’s disease, the medical man
-said that it was hereditary, and
-therefore beyond the likelihood&mdash;not
-to say possibility&mdash;of radical
-cure. This, it seemed, was the third
-attack from which she had suffered.
-The first was in early girlhood, before
-the patient was eighteen; the
-second, somewhat later and of
-much longer duration&mdash;it had
-lasted six years, her uncle said;
-then came the third crisis, which,
-owing, perhaps, to the improved
-general health of the patient, but
-more probably to the more judicious
-and enlightened treatment
-she had met with, had passed off
-very rapidly. It was, however, far
-from being a cure. It was at best
-but a recovery, and the disease
-might at any moment show itself
-again in a more obstinate and dangerous
-form. Perfect quiet, freedom
-from excitement, whether mental
-or physical, were indispensable
-conditions for preserving her against
-another crisis. It was needless to
-add after this that the career of an
-actress was the most fatal one the
-unfortunate young woman could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[597]</a></span>
-have adopted. But in that, no
-doubt, she was more passive than
-active.</p>
-
-<p class="break">With this new light on his path,
-Clide hastened his return to England,
-farther than ever, it seemed,
-from his journey’s end, and laden
-with a heavier burden than when
-he set out. March! march! was
-still the command that sounded in
-his ears, driving him on and on like
-the Wandering Jew, and never letting
-him get nearer the goal.</p>
-
-<p>He had not the faintest idea of
-Isabel’s native place. She had told
-him she was Scotch, and her name
-said so too, though she was perfectly
-free from the native accent
-which marked her uncle’s speech
-so strongly. But what did that
-prove either way? Was Cameron
-her name, or Prendergast his? He
-had taken a new name in his travels,
-and so had she. Still, feeble as the
-thread was, it was the only one he
-had to guide him; so he started for
-Scotland as soon as he landed in
-England, having previously taken
-the precaution to acquaint the police
-in London with his present
-purpose, and what had led him to
-it. If Isabel were sufficiently recovered
-to appear again in public,
-it was probable that the brutal man&mdash;who
-was in reality no more than
-her task-master&mdash;would have made
-some engagement for her with a
-manager, and she might at this
-moment be singing her brain away
-for his benefit in some provincial
-theatre. It was clear he shunned
-the publicity of the London stage.
-Clide thought of these things as he
-tramped over the purple heather of
-the Highlands, following now one
-mirage, now another; and his heart
-swelled within him and smote him
-for his angry and vindictive feelings
-toward Isabel; and tears, that
-were no disgrace to his manhood,
-forced themselves from his eyes.
-Poor child! She was not to blame,
-then, for wrecking his life, and
-coming again like an evil genius to
-thrust him back into the abyss just
-as he had climbed to safety, beckoned
-onwards and upwards by another
-angel form. She was a victim
-herself, and had perhaps never meant
-to deceive or betray him, but had
-loved him with her mad, untutored
-heart as well as she knew how.</p>
-
-<p>The winter days dragged on
-drearily, as he went from place to
-place in Scotland, and found no
-trace of the missing one, heard
-nothing that gave him any hopes
-of finding her. The police were
-equally unsuccessful in London.
-Stanton had gone back there, very
-much against his inclination; but
-Clide insisted that he would be of
-more use in the busy streets, keeping
-his keen eyes open, than following
-his master in his wanderings
-up and down Scotland.</p>
-
-<p>One dark afternoon the valet was
-walking along Regent Street, when
-he stopped to look at some prints
-in a music-shop. The gas was
-lighted, and streamed in a brilliant
-blaze over the gaudily-attired tenors
-and <i lang="it">prime donne</i> that were piling the
-agony on the backs of various operatic
-songs. Stanton was considering
-them, and mentally commenting on
-the manner of ladies and gentlemen
-who found it good to spend their
-lives making faces and throwing
-themselves into contortions that
-appeared to him equally painful and
-ridiculous, when he noticed a lady
-inside the shop engaged in choosing
-some music. She was dressed
-in black, and he only caught a
-glimpse of her side face through her
-veil; but the glimpse made him
-start. He watched her take the
-roll of music from the shopman, secure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[598]</a></span>
-it in a little leathern case, and
-then turn to leave the shop. She
-walked out leisurely, but the moment
-she opened the door she
-quickened her pace almost to a
-run; and before Stanton knew where
-he was, she had rushed into the middle
-of the street. He hastened
-after her, but a string of carriages
-and cabs intervened and blocked
-the street for some moments. As
-soon as it was clear, he saw the
-slight figure in black stepping into
-an omnibus. He hailed it, gesticulating
-and hallooing frantically;
-but the conductor, with the spirit
-of contradiction peculiar to conductors,
-kept his head persistently
-turned the other way. Stanton tore
-after him, waving his umbrella and
-whistling, all to no purpose, until
-at last he stopped for want of
-breath. At the same moment the
-omnibus pulled up to let some travellers
-alight; he overtook it this
-time, and got in. The great machine
-went thundering on its way,
-and there opposite to him sat the
-lady in black, his master’s wife, he
-was ready to swear, if she was in
-the land of the living. He saw the
-features very indistinctly, but well
-enough to be certain of their identity;
-the height and contour were
-the same, and so was the mass of
-jet black hair that escaped in thick
-plaits from under the small black
-bonnet. Then there was the conclusive
-fact of his having seen her
-in a music-shop. This clinched
-the matter for Stanton. The omnibus
-stopped, the lady got out, ran
-to the corner of the street, and
-waited for another to come up, and
-jumped into it; Stanton meanwhile
-following her like her shadow. She
-saw it, and he saw that she saw it,
-and that she was frightened and
-trying to get away from him. Why
-should she do so if she were not
-afraid of being recognized? He
-was not a gentleman, and could see
-no reason for an unprotected young
-woman being frightened at a man
-looking fixedly at her and pursuing
-her, unless she had a guilty conscience.
-He sat as near as he could
-to her in the omnibus, and when it
-pulled up to let her down he got
-down. She hurried up a small,
-quiet street off Tottenham Court
-Road, and on reaching a semi-detached
-small house, flew up the
-steps and pulled violently at the
-bell. Stanton was beside her in
-an instant.</p>
-
-<p>“Excuse me, ma’am, but I know
-you. I don’t mean to do you any
-’arm, only to tell you that I’m
-Stanton, Mr. Clide’s valet; you are
-my master’s wife!”</p>
-
-<p>He was excited, but respectful
-in his manner.</p>
-
-<p>“You are mistaken,” replied the
-lady, shrinking into the doorway.
-“I know nothing about you. I
-never heard of Mr. Clide, and I’m
-not married!”</p>
-
-<p>Stanton was of course prepared
-for the denial, and showed no sign
-of surprise or incredulity; but, in
-spite of himself, her tone of assurance
-staggered him a little. He
-could not say whether the sound of
-the voice resembled that of Mrs.
-de Winton. Its echoes had lingered
-very faintly in his memory, and so
-many other voices and sounds had
-swept over it during the intervening
-years that he could not the least
-affirm whether the voice he had just
-heard was hers or not. Before he
-had found any answer to this question,
-footsteps were audible pattering
-on the tarpauling of the narrow
-entry, and a slip-shod servant-girl
-opened the door. The lady passed
-quickly in; Stanton followed her.</p>
-
-<p>“You must leave me!” she said,
-turning on him. “This is my papa’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[599]</a></span>
-house, and if you give any more
-annoyance he will have you taken
-into custody.” She spoke in a loud
-voice, and as she ceased the parlor
-door was opened, and a gentleman
-in a velveteen coat and slippers
-came forward with a newspaper
-in his hand.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s the matter? What is all
-this about?” he demanded blandly,
-coming forward to reconnoitre
-Stanton, who did not look at all
-bland, but grim and resolute, like
-a man who had conquered his footing
-on the premises, and meant to
-hold it.</p>
-
-<p>“Sir, I am Stanton, Mr. Clide’s
-valet; this lady knows me well, if
-you don’t.”</p>
-
-<p>“Papa! I never saw him in my
-life! I don’t know who Mr. Clide
-is!” protested the young lady in a
-tremor. “This man has annoyed
-me all the way home. Send him
-away!”</p>
-
-<p>“I must speak to you, sir,” said
-Stanton stoutly. “I cannot leave
-the house without.”</p>
-
-<p>“Pray walk in!” said the gentleman,
-waving his newspaper towards
-the open parlor; “and you, my dear,
-go and take off your bonnet.”</p>
-
-<p>“Now, sir, be good enough to
-state your business,” he began
-when the door was closed.</p>
-
-<p>“My business isn’t with you, sir,
-but with your daughter, if she
-is your daughter,” said Stanton.
-“One thing is certain&mdash;she’s my
-master’s wife; there an’t no use in
-her denying it, and the best thing
-she can do is to speak out to her
-’usband penitent-like, and he’ll forgive
-her, poor thing, and do the
-best he can for her, which will
-be better than what that uncle of
-hers ’as been doin’ for her, draggin’
-her about everywhere and driving
-the poor creature crazy. That’s
-what I’ve got to say, sir, and I
-’ope you’ll see as it’s sense and
-reason.”</p>
-
-<p>The occupant of the velveteen
-slippers listened to this speech with
-eyes that grew rounder and rounder
-as it proceeded; then he threw back
-his head and laughed till the tears
-ran down his cheeks.</p>
-
-<p>“My good man, there’s some mistake!
-You’ve mistaken my daughter
-for somebody else; she never
-was married in her life, and she has
-no uncle that ever I heard of. Ha!
-ha! ha! It’s the best joke I ever
-heard in my life!”</p>
-
-<p>“Excuse me; it an’t no joke at
-all!” protested Stanton, nettled,
-and resolved not to be shaken by
-the ring of honesty there was in the
-man’s laugh. “You mayn’t know
-the person that calls himself her
-uncle, but I do, sir. Mayhap you
-are duped by the rascal yourself;
-but it’ll all come out now. I have
-it all in the palm of my hand.” And
-he opened that capacious member
-and closed it again significantly.
-“Your daughter must either come
-away with me quietly, or I’ll call
-the police and have her taken off
-whether she will or no!”</p>
-
-<p>“I tell you, man, you are under
-some preposterous mistake,” said the
-gentleman, his blandness all gone,
-and his choler rising. “My name
-is Honey. I am a clerk in H&mdash;&mdash;
-Bank, and my daughter, Eliza Jane
-Honey, has never left me since
-she was born. She is an artist,
-a singer, and gives lessons in singing
-in some of the first houses in
-London!”</p>
-
-<p>“Singer! Singing lessons! Ha!
-Just so! I know it all,” said Stanton,
-his mouth compressing itself
-in a saturnine smile. “I know it
-all, and I tell you I don’t leave this
-’ouse without her.”</p>
-
-<p>“Confound your insolence! What
-do you mean? You’d better be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[600]</a></span>
-gone this instant, or I’ll call the police
-and give <em>you</em> into custody!</p>
-
-<p>“No, sir, don’t try it; it won’t
-answer,” said Stanton, imperturbable.
-“It ’ud only make more trouble;
-the poor thing has enough on
-her already, and I’m not the one to
-make more for her. If you call in
-the police I’ve something ’ere,”
-slapping his waistcoat pocket, “as
-’ud settle at once which of us was
-to be took up.”</p>
-
-<p>Before Mr. Honey could say
-anything in answer to this, a voice
-came carrolling down the stairs,
-singing some air from an opera,
-rich with trills and <i lang="it">fioriture</i>.</p>
-
-<p>“There it is! The very voice!
-The very tune I’ve ’eard her sing
-in the drawing-room at Lanwold!”
-exclaimed Stanton.</p>
-
-<p>The singer dashed into the room,
-but broke off in her trills on seeing
-him.</p>
-
-<p>“What! you are not gone?
-Papa, who is he?”</p>
-
-<p>“My dear, he is either a madman
-or&mdash;or worse,” said her father.
-“It’s the most extraordinary thing
-I ever heard in my life!”</p>
-
-<p>“Speak out, ma’am, and don’t you
-fear I’ll do you any ’arm; my master
-wouldn’t ’ave it, not for all the
-money he’s worth. Nobody knows
-the sum he’s spent on them detectives
-already to try and catch you;
-and it speaks badly for the lot to
-say they’ve not caught you long
-ago. But don’t you be afraid of me,
-ma’am!” urged Stanton, making his
-voice as mild as he could.</p>
-
-<p>Eliza Jane’s answer was a peal
-of laughter.</p>
-
-<p>“Why should I be afraid of you?
-I never laid my eyes on you before,
-or you on me; you mistake me for
-somebody else, I tell you. I never
-heard of Mr. Clide, and I am certain
-he never heard of me. The
-idea of your insisting that I’m his
-wife!” And she laughed again; but
-there was a nervous twitch about
-her mouth, and Stanton saw it.</p>
-
-<p>“As like as two peas in a pod!”
-was his emphatic remark, as he deliberately
-scanned her face.</p>
-
-<p>There was no denying the resemblance,
-indeed. The face was
-fuller, the features more developed,
-but the interval of years would explain
-that.</p>
-
-<p>“Look at my hand! You see I
-have no wedding-ring? Ask me a
-few questions; you will find out the
-blunder at once, if you only try,”
-she said.</p>
-
-<p>Stanton paused for a moment, as
-if trying to recall something that
-might serve as a test.</p>
-
-<p>“I ’ave it!” he said, looking up
-with a look of triumph. “Open
-your mouth, ma’am, and let me look
-into it!”</p>
-
-<p>He advanced towards her, expecting
-instant compliance. But
-Miss Honey rushed behind her
-father with a cry of terror and disgust.
-The movement was perfectly
-natural under the circumstances,
-but Stanton saw it in the light of
-his own suspicions.</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! I guessed as much,” he
-said, drawing away, and speaking in
-a quiet tone of regret. “I was
-sure of it. Well, you give me no
-choice. I know my dooty to a lady,
-but I know my dooty to my master
-too.” He went toward the window,
-intending to throw it up and call for
-a policeman.</p>
-
-<p>“Stop!” cried Mr. Honey. “What
-do you expect to find in my daughter’s
-mouth?”</p>
-
-<p>“That, sir, is known to her and
-to me,” was the oracular reply.
-“If she has nothing in it as can
-convict her, she needn’t be afraid
-to let me look into it.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Honey turned aside, touched
-his forehead with his forefinger, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[601]</a></span>
-pointed with the thumb toward
-Stanton. After this rapid and significant
-little pantomime, he said
-aloud to his daughter:</p>
-
-<p>“My dear, perhaps it is as well
-to let the man have his way. He
-will see that there is nothing to see.
-Come and gratify his singular curiosity.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl was now too frightened
-to see the ludicrous side of the performance;
-she advanced gravely to
-the table, on which a gas-burner
-threw a strong, clear light, and opened
-her mouth. Stanton came and
-peered into it. “Please to lift the
-left side as wide open as you can,
-ma’am; it was the third tooth from
-the back of her left jaw.”</p>
-
-<p>She did as he desired, but, after
-looking closely all round, he could
-see nothing but two fine, pearly
-rows of teeth, all ivory, without the
-smallest glimmer of gold or silver
-to attest the presence of even an
-unsound one.</p>
-
-<p>“I beg your pardon, ma’am!
-I beg a thousand pardons, sir! I
-find I’ve made a great mistake!
-I’ve behaved shameful rude to you
-and the young lady; but I hope
-you’ll forgive me. I was only doing
-my dooty to my master. I’m
-sorrier than I can say for my mistake!”
-Both father and daughter
-were too thankful to be rid of him
-to withhold their free and unconditional
-pardon. They even went
-the length of regretting that he had
-had so much trouble and such an
-unpleasant adventure all to no purpose,
-and cordially wished him better
-success next time, as he withdrew,
-profusely apologizing.</p>
-
-<p>“Papa, he must be an escaped
-lunatic!” cried the young lady, as
-the hall-door closed on Stanton.</p>
-
-<p>“I dare say they took me for a
-maniac, and indeed no wonder!”
-was Stanton’s reflection, as he
-heard a peal of laughter through
-the window.</p>
-
-<p>The adventure left, nevertheless,
-an uneasy feeling on his mind, and
-the next day he called on Mr.
-Peckitt, the dentist, and related it.
-Mr. Peckitt had not seen the wearer
-of the silver tooth since the time
-he had attended her before her departure
-for Berlin; but he had seen
-her uncle, and made an entire set
-of false teeth for him. He took
-the liberty on first seeing him of inquiring
-for the young lady; but her
-uncle answered curtly that she was
-in no need of dental services at present,
-and turned off the subject by
-some irrelevant remark. Mr. Peckitt,
-of course, took the hint, and never
-reverted to it. This was all he
-had to tell Stanton; but he did not
-confirm the valet’s certainty as to
-the non-identity of Miss Honey on
-the grounds of the absence of the
-silver tooth. It was, he thought,
-improbable that his patient should
-have parted with that odd appendage,
-and that, if so, she should have
-gone to a strange dentist to have it
-replaced by an ordinary tooth; but
-either of these alternatives was possible.</p>
-
-<p>This was all the information that
-Stanton had for his master when
-the latter returned from his bootless
-search in Scotland.</p>
-
-<p>On the following day Sir Simon
-Harness came to London and
-heard of the strange adventure.
-He was inclined to attach more
-importance to it than Clide apparently
-did.</p>
-
-<p>“Suppose this so-called Eliza
-Jane Honey should not have been
-Isabel,” he said, “but some one
-like her&mdash;the same whom you saw
-at Dieppe?” Clide shook his
-head.</p>
-
-<p>“Impossible! <em>I</em> could not be
-deceived, though Stanton might.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[602]</a></span>
-This Miss Honey, too, was fuller in
-the face, and altogether a more robust
-person, than Isabel, as Stanton
-remembers her. Now, after the terrible
-attack that she has suffered
-lately, it is much more likely that
-she is worn and thin, poor child!”</p>
-
-<p>“That is true. Still, there remains
-the coincidence of the splendid
-voice and of her being an artist.
-If I were you, I would not
-rest till I saw her myself.”</p>
-
-<p>“It would only make assurance
-doubly sure. Stanton has startled
-me over and over again for nothing.
-Every pair of black eyes and bright
-complexion that he sees gives him
-a turn, as he says, and sets him off
-on the chase. No; the woman I
-saw at Dieppe was my wife&mdash;I am
-as sure of that as of my own identity.
-I did not get near enough to
-her to say, ‘Are you my wife?’ but
-I am as certain of it as if I had.”
-He promised, however, to satisfy
-Sir Simon, that he would go to
-Tottenham Court and see Miss
-Honey.</p>
-
-<p>While Clide’s tongue was engaged
-on this absorbing topic, he was
-mentally reverting to another subject
-which was scarcely less absorbing,
-and which was closer to his
-heart. His love for Franceline
-had not abated one atom of its ardor
-since absence and a far more
-impassable gulf had parted him from
-her; her image reigned supreme in
-his heart still, and accompanied
-him in his waking and sleeping
-thoughts. He felt no compunction
-for this. His conscience tendered
-full and unflinching allegiance to
-the letter of the moral law, but it
-was in bondage to none of those
-finer spiritual tenets that ruled and
-influenced Franceline. He would
-have cut off his right hand rather
-than outrage her memory by so
-much as an unworthy thought; but
-he gave his heart full freedom to
-retain and foster its love for her.
-He had not her clear spiritual insight
-to discern the sinfulness of
-this, any more than he had her deep
-inward strength to enable him to
-crush the sin out of his heart, even
-if he had tried, which he did not.
-It was his misfortune, not his fault,
-that his love for her was unlawful.
-Nothing could make it guilty; that
-was in his own power, and the
-purity of its object was its best protection.
-She was an angel, and
-could only be worshipped with the
-reverent love that one of her own
-pure kindred spirits might accept
-without offence or contamination.
-Such was Clide’s code, and, if he
-wanted any internal proof of his
-own loyalty to sanction it, he had it
-in the shape of many deep-drawn
-sighs&mdash;prayers, he called them, and
-perhaps they were&mdash;that Franceline
-might not suffer on his account,
-but might forget him, and be happy
-after a time with some worthier
-husband. He had been quite honest
-when he sighed these sighs&mdash;at
-least he thought he was; yet when
-Sir Simon, meaning to console him
-and make things smooth and comfortable,
-assured him emphatically
-that they had been both happily
-mistaken in the nature of Franceline’s
-feelings, and then basely and
-cruelly insinuated that Ponsonby
-Anwyll was in a fair way to make
-her a good husband by and by,
-Clide felt a pang more acute than
-any he had yet experienced. This
-is often the case with us. We never
-know how much insincerity there is
-in the best of our prayers&mdash;the anti-self
-ones&mdash;until we are threatened
-with the grant of them.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Simon said nothing about the
-stolen ring. His friendship for
-Raymond partook of that strong
-personal feeling which made any
-dishonor in its object touch him
-like a personal stain. He could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[603]</a></span>
-not bear even to admit it to himself
-that his ideal was destroyed.
-M. de la Bourbonais had been his
-ideal of truth, of manly independence,
-of everything that was noble,
-simple, and good. There are many
-intervals in the scale that separates
-the ordinary honest man from the
-ideal man of honor. Sir Simon
-could count several of the former
-class; but he knew but one of the
-higher type. He had never known
-any one whom he would have
-placed on the same pinnacle of unsullied,
-impregnable honor with
-Raymond. Now that he had fallen,
-it seemed as if the very stronghold
-of Sir Simon’s own faith had
-surrendered; he could disbelieve
-everything, he could doubt everybody.
-Where was truth to be
-found, who was to be trusted, since
-Raymond de la Bourbonais had
-failed? But meantime he would
-screen him as long as he could.
-He would not be the first to speak
-of his disgrace to any one. He
-told Clide how Raymond had lost,
-for him, a considerable sum of
-money recently, through the dishonesty
-of a bank, and how he had
-borne the loss with the most incredible
-philosophy, because just
-then it so happened he did not
-want the money; but since then
-Franceline’s health had become
-very delicate, and she was ordered
-to a warm climate, and these few
-hundreds would have enabled him
-to take her there, and her father was
-now bitterly lamenting the loss.</p>
-
-<p>Clide was all excitement in a moment.</p>
-
-<p>“But now you can supply them?”
-he cried. “Or rather let me do it
-through you! I must not, of
-course, appear; but it will be
-something to know I am of use to
-her&mdash;to both of them. You can
-easily manage it, can you not? M.
-de la Bourbonais would make no
-difficulty in accepting the service
-from you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! As ill-luck will have
-it, there is a coldness between us at
-present,” said Sir Simon&mdash;“a little
-tiff that will blow off after a while
-but meanwhile Bourbonais is as unapproachable
-as a porcupine. He’s
-as proud as Lucifer at any time,
-and I fear there is no one but myself
-from whom he would accept a
-service of the kind.”</p>
-
-<p>“Could not Langrove manage
-it? They seemed on affectionate
-terms,” said Clide.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! no, oh! no. That would
-never do!” said Sir Simon quickly.
-“I don’t see any one at Dullerton
-but myself who could attempt it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, but some one must, since
-you say you can’t,” argued Clide
-with impatience. “When do you
-return to the Court?”</p>
-
-<p>“I did not mean to return just
-yet a while. You see, I have a
-great deal of business to look to&mdash;of
-a pleasant sort, thanks to you,
-my dear boy, but still imperative
-and admitting of no delay. I can’t
-possibly leave town until it has
-been settled.”</p>
-
-<p>“I should have thought Simpson
-might have attended to it. I suppose
-you mean legal matters?” said
-the young man with some asperity.
-He could not understand Sir Simon’s
-being hindered by mere business
-from sparing a day in a case
-of such emergency, and for such a
-friend. It was unlike him to be
-selfish, and this was downright
-heartlessness.</p>
-
-<p>“Simpson? To be sure!” exclaimed
-the baronet jubilantly,
-starting up and seizing his hat.
-“I will be off and see him this
-minute. Simpson is sure to hit on
-some device; he’s never at a loss
-for anything.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[604]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE STORY OF EVANGELINE IN PROSE.</h3>
-
-<p>I spare you M. Jourdain’s oft-quoted
-saying. Too often, I fear,
-I successfully imitate the “Bourgeois
-Gentilhomme” in speaking
-prose without knowing it&mdash;aye, at
-the very moment when I think to
-woo the Muse most ardently. But
-great is the courage demanded to
-announce a purpose to be prosaic&mdash;prosy,
-it may be&mdash;with premeditation.
-Especially true is this
-when, as in the case before me, the
-subject itself ranks high as poetry.
-Mr. Longfellow, in some of his
-later writings, may seem to aim
-at, or does, perhaps, unconsciously
-catch, that tone, made fashionable
-by the younger Victorian songsters,
-which sets the poet apart as a
-being differing from his kind, and
-makes him, as the English poet-laureate
-does, “born in a golden
-clime”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“With golden stars above.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>But in his “Tale of Acadie” our
-American Wordsworth touches with
-sympathetic finger the chords that
-vibrate with feeling in common
-hearts. This is the lyre he sweeps
-with a magic sweetness not excelled
-by any modern English poet.
-<cite>Evangeline</cite> is a poem of the
-hearth and domestic love. That
-is to say, though it is true the heroine
-and her betrothed never come
-together in one happy home, the
-feelings described are such as might
-without shame beat tenderly in any
-Christian maiden’s breast; such, too,
-as any husband might wish his wife
-to feel. How different is this from
-the fierce passion&mdash;a surrender to
-the lower nature&mdash;which burns and
-writhes and contorts itself in
-Mr. Swinburne’s heroines! One is
-Christian Love, the other the pagan
-brutishness of Juvenal’s Messalina.
-It may be said indeed with truth
-that, in portraying a Catholic maiden
-and a Catholic community, Mr.
-Longfellow has, with the intuition
-of genius, reflected in this poem
-the purity and fidelity blessed by
-the church in the love it sanctions.
-His admirers, therefore, cannot but
-regret that debasing contact with the
-new school of the XIXth-century
-realism which, in such an one of his
-later poems, for example, as that
-entitled “Love,” draws him to the
-worship of the “languors” and
-“kisses” of the Lucretian Venus.
-The love of Evangeline is that
-which is affected by refined women in
-every society&mdash;humble though the
-poet’s heroine be; the other strips
-the veil from woman’s weakness.</p>
-
-<p>The charm of the poem is that it
-transports us to a scene Arcadian,
-idyllic, yet which impresses us with
-its truthfulness to nature. This
-is not Acadia only, but Arcadia.
-The nymphs, and the shepherds
-and shepherdesses, and the god
-Pan with his oaten reed, put off
-the stage costumes worn by them
-in the pages of Virgil or on the
-canvas of Watteau, and, lo! here
-they are in real life in the village
-of Grand Pré&mdash;Evangeline milking
-the kine, Gabriel Lajeunesse, and
-Michael the fiddler, and the level
-Acadian meadows walled in by
-their dykes from the turmoil of
-war that shook the world all around
-them. The picture is truthful; but
-truthful rather by the effect of the
-bold touches that befit the artist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[605]</a></span>
-and poet than in the multitude of
-details&mdash;some more prosaic, some
-not so charming&mdash;which, massed together,
-make up the more faithful
-portrait of the historian. The description
-of scenery in the poem
-confuses the natural features of
-two widely-separated and different
-sections of the country; the Evangeline
-of Grand Pré is not in all
-respects the Acadian girl of Charlevoix
-or Murdock; the history of
-men and manners on the shores of
-the Basin of Mines,<a name="FNanchor_231" id="FNanchor_231"></a><a href="#Footnote_231" class="fnanchor">[231]</a> as depicted
-by the poet, is sadly at variance
-with the angry, tumultuous, suspicious,
-blood-stained annals of those
-settlements. Strange as it may
-seem, the poem is truer of the Acadians
-of to-day, again living in
-Nova Scotia, than of their expatriated
-forefathers. Remoteness of
-time did not mean, in their case, a
-golden age of peace and plenty.
-Far from it! It meant ceaseless
-war on the borders, the threats
-and intrigues of a deadly national
-feud, the ever-present, overhanging
-doom of exile, military tyranny,
-and constant English espionage.
-Now absolute peace reigns within
-the townships still peopled by their
-descendants, and the Acadian peasant
-and village maiden cling in silence
-and undisturbed to the manners
-their fathers brought from Normandy
-nearly three centuries ago.</p>
-
-<p>The first few lines give the coloring
-to the whole poem. They are
-the setting within which are grouped
-the characters.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,</div>
-<div class="verse">Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">stand “like Druids of eld,” or
-“harpers hoar”;</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean</div>
-<div class="verse">Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This is the refrain running through
-the poem like the <i lang="it">aria</i> of the
-“Last Rose of Summer” through
-<cite>Martha</cite>. Yet the picture conveyed
-to the reader’s mind is that
-of the Atlantic coast of Acadia, or
-Nova Scotia, not of the Basin of
-Mines, where Evangeline dwelt with
-her people. The natural features
-of the two sections of country are
-strikingly diverse. On the east
-coast of Nova Scotia rises a line of
-granitic and other cliffs, sterile, vast,
-jagged, opposing their giant shoulders
-to the roaring surges of the
-Atlantic. On the hills behind, the
-pines and hemlocks rustle and murmur
-in answer to the waves. This
-is the “forest primeval” and the
-“loud-voiced neighboring ocean.”
-But on the west coast is quite another
-scene. The Basin of Mines
-is an inland gulf of an inland sea&mdash;the
-Bay of Fundy. Here the granite
-rocks and murmuring pines give
-place to red clay-banks and overflowed
-marshes. And here is Horton,
-or Grand Pré. It is separated
-by the whole breadth of the peninsula
-of Nova Scotia from the
-ocean. The “mists from the mighty
-Atlantic,” which</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er from their station descended,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">are in reality the fogs of the Bay
-of Fundy shut out by the North
-Mountain. Instead of the long
-swell of the Atlantic breaking on a
-rocky coast, we have in the Basin
-of Mines numerous small rivers
-running through an alluvial country,
-with high clay-banks left bare
-by the receding tide. This last
-feature of the scene is correctly
-described by the poet; but it must
-be borne in mind that it is not united
-with the natural features of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[606]</a></span>
-east coast. The Acadians never,
-in fact, affected the Atlantic sea-board.
-They sailed shuddering
-past its frowning and wintry walls,
-and, doubling Cape Sable, beat up
-the Bay of Fundy to where the
-sheltered Basins of Port Royal and
-Mines invited an entrance from
-the west. For over one hundred
-years after the founding of Port
-Royal the Atlantic coast of Acadia
-remained a waste. A fishing-village
-at Canseau on the north&mdash;a
-sort of stepping-stone to and from
-the great fortress of Louisburg&mdash;and
-a few scattered houses and
-clearings near La Tour’s first settlement
-alone broke the monotonous
-silence of the wilderness. The
-Indian hunter tracking the moose
-over the frozen surface of the snow,
-and some half-solitary Irish and
-New England fishermen in Chebucto
-Bay, divided the rest of the
-country between them. It was
-not until 1749 that Cornwallis
-landed his colonists at Halifax, and
-made the first solid footing on the
-Atlantic coast. But for generations
-previously, in the rich valley of the
-River of Port Royal, and along the
-fertile banks of the streams flowing
-into the Basin of Mines&mdash;the Gaspereau,
-the Canard, and the Pereau&mdash;the
-thrifty Acadians spread
-their villages, built their churches,
-and were married and buried by
-the good Recollect Fathers.</p>
-
-<p>I was a lad scarce emancipated
-from college when I first visited
-those scenes. I remember well my
-emotion when I drew my eyes away
-from the landscape, and, turning to
-my companion, Father K&mdash;&mdash;, asked
-him if there were any remains
-of the old village of Grand Pré.
-To my youthful imagination Evangeline
-was as real as the people
-about me. Father K&mdash;&mdash; was the
-priest stationed at Kentville, about
-ten miles distant from Grand Pré
-and the Gaspereau River, which
-were included in his mission. He
-was an old family friend, and I
-was going to spend the summer vacation
-with him. We were driving
-from Windsor through Horton and
-Wolfville to Kentville, passing on
-our road through all the scenes described
-in the poem. I have often
-visited that part of the country
-since then, but never has it made
-such an impression on me. The
-stage-coach then rolled between
-Windsor and Kentville, and something
-of the rural simplicity congenial
-with the poem was still felt to
-be around one. Last year I rode by
-rail over the same ground, and later
-on another line of railroad to
-Truro, and thence around the Basin
-of Mines on the north through
-Cumberland. But my feelings had
-changed, or the whistle of the locomotive
-was a sound alien to the
-memories of those green meadows
-and intersecting dykes. Evangeline
-was no longer a being to be
-loved, but a beautiful figment of
-the poet’s brain.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t know to this day whether
-Father K&mdash;&mdash; was quizzing me, or
-was loath to shatter my boyish
-romance, when he told me that there
-were some old ruins which were
-said to be the home of Evangeline.
-It is probable he was having a
-quiet joke at my expense, as he was
-noted for his fund of humor, which I
-learned better to appreciate in later
-years. Poor Father K&mdash;&mdash;! He
-was a splendid type of the old Irish
-missionary priest&mdash;an admirable
-Latinist; well read in English literature,
-especially the Queen Anne
-poets; hearty, jovial, and could tell
-a story that would set the table in a
-roar. And, withal, no priest worked
-harder than he did in his wide and
-laborious mission, or was a more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[607]</a></span>
-tender-hearted friend of the poor and
-afflicted. He is since dead.</p>
-
-<p>During the month or six weeks
-I spent with Father K&mdash;&mdash;, that
-part of the country became quite
-familiar to me by means of his numerous
-drives on parish duties,
-when I usually accompanied him.
-Often, as the shades of the summer
-evening descended, have I watched
-the mists across the Basin shrouding
-the bluff front of Cape Blomidon&mdash;“Blow-me-down,”
-as it is more
-commonly called by the country-folk.
-At other times we drove up
-the North Mountain, where the</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Sea-fogs pitched their tents,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">and, standing there, I have looked
-down upon the distant glittering
-waters of the Bay of Fundy.</p>
-
-<p>On one occasion we rode over
-from Kentville to Wolfville, and
-then up the Gaspereau, at the
-mouth of which</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“The English ships at their anchors”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">swung with the tide on the morning
-which ushered in the doom
-of Grand Pré. We rode some
-distance up the valley to the house
-of a Catholic farmer, and there put
-up for the day. It was the day on
-which the elections took place for
-the House of Assembly. The contest
-was fiercely conducted amid
-great popular excitement. One of
-those “No-Popery” cries, fomented
-by an artful politician&mdash;which
-sometimes sweep the colonies as
-well as the mother country&mdash;was
-raging in the province. Father
-K&mdash;&mdash; left Kentville, the county
-town, on that day to avoid all appearance
-of interference in the
-election, and also to get away from
-the noise and confusion that pervaded
-the long main street of the
-village. I can remember the news
-coming up the Gaspereau in the
-evening how every one of the four
-candidates opposed to Father
-K&mdash;&mdash; had been returned. But at
-that time I paid little heed to politics,
-and during the day I wandered
-down through the field to the river,
-and strolled along its willow-fringed
-banks. Some of those willows
-were very aged, and might have
-swung their long, slim wands
-and narrow-pointed leaves over an
-Evangeline and a Gabriel a hundred
-years before. Those willows
-were not the natural growth of the
-forest, but were planted there&mdash;by
-whom? No remnant of the people
-that first tilled the valley was
-left to say!</p>
-
-<p>Riding home next day, a laughable
-incident, but doubtless somewhat
-annoying to Father K&mdash;&mdash;,
-occurred. Just as we were about
-to turn a narrow bend of the road,
-suddenly we were confronted by a
-long procession in carriages and
-all sorts of country vehicles, with
-banners flying, men shouting, and
-everything to indicate a triumphal
-parade. It was, in fact, a procession
-escorting two of the “No-Popery”
-members elected the day
-before. The position was truly
-rueful, but Father K&mdash;&mdash; had to
-grin and bear it. There was no
-escape for us; we had to draw up
-at the side of the road, and sit
-quietly in our single wagon until
-the procession passed us. It was
-a very orderly and good-humored
-crowd, but there were a good many
-broad grins, as they rode by, at
-having caught the portly and generally
-popular priest in such a trap.
-Nothing would persuade them, of
-course, but that he had been working
-might and main for the other
-side during the election. Finally,
-as the tail of the procession passed
-us, some one in the rear, more in
-humor than in malice, sang out:
-“To h&mdash;ll with the Pope.” There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[608]</a></span>
-was a roar of laughter at this, during
-which Father K&mdash;&mdash; gathered
-up his reins, and, saying something
-under his breath which I will not
-vouch for as strictly a blessing,
-applied the whip to old Dobbin
-with an energy that that respectable
-quadruped must have thought demanded
-explanation.</p>
-
-<p>Changed indeed was such a
-scene from those daily witnessed
-when Father Felician,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Priest and pedagogue both in the village,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">ruled over his peaceful congregation
-at the mouth of the Gaspereau.</p>
-
-<p>It has been said in the beginning
-of this article that Evangeline, the
-heroine and central figure of the
-poem, is not altogether true to history
-as typical of the Acadian girl
-of that period, as seen in the annals
-of Port Royal; and doubtless
-this assertion can be borne out
-by the records. But, on second
-thoughts, it does appear, as it were,
-a profanation to subject such a
-bright creation of the poet’s mind
-to the analysis of history. As profitably
-might we set about converting
-the diamond into its original
-carbon. The magical chemistry of
-genius, as of nature, has in either
-case fused the dull and common
-atoms into the sparkling and priceless
-jewel.</p>
-
-<p>The stoutest champion of her
-sex will not, upon consideration,
-contend that so absolutely perfect
-a creature as Evangeline is likely
-to be found in any possible phase
-of society. Is not a spice of coquetry
-inseparable from all women?
-Evangeline has none of it.
-She is, too, too unconscious that
-her lover</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Watches for the gleam of her lamp and her shadow”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">under the trees in the orchard.
-She is the heroine of an idyl&mdash;not,
-indeed, of unreal Arthurian
-romance, but of that exalted and
-passionless love which the virgin
-heart seeks, but afterwards consoles
-itself for not finding. That
-ideal star does not shine upon this
-world; but its divine rays fall softly
-upon many an unknown heart in
-the cloister.</p>
-
-<p>But it is incontestable that the
-Acadian maidens of Port Royal
-and Mines shared in some of the
-agreeable frivolities which still, it
-is said, sometimes distinguish their
-sisters in the world. They had an
-eye for a military uniform and
-clanking spurs even in those “primeval”
-days. It is a frequent
-complaint of the French governors
-to the home authorities at
-Paris that their young officers were
-being continually led into marriage
-with girls of the country “without
-birth,” and, worse still, often “without
-money.” In the old parish
-register of Annapolis can be seen
-more than one entry of the union
-of a gallant ensign or captain to a
-village belle from the inland settlements
-whose visit to the Acadian
-metropolis had subjugated the Gallic
-son of Mars. Nor was the
-goddess of fashion altogether without
-a shrine in close contiguity to
-the “murmuring pines and the
-hemlocks.” Some of the naval and
-military officers sent for their wives
-from Paris or Quebec, and these
-fine ladies brought their maids with
-them. This is not a supposition,
-but a fact which can be verified by
-reference to the letters of M. des
-Goutins and others in the correspondence
-of the time. Imagine a
-Parisian soubrette of the XVIIIth
-century in the village of Grand
-Pré! It is a shock to those who
-derive their knowledge of Acadie
-from Mr. Longfellow’s poem; but
-those who are familiar with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[609]</a></span>
-voluminous records of the day, preserved
-in the provincial archives,
-are aware of a good many stranger
-things than that related in them.
-Since <cite>Evangeline</cite> was published
-the Canadian and Nova Scotian
-governments have done much to
-collect and edit their records, and
-they are now accessible to the student.
-Rightly understood, there is
-no reason why the flood of light thus
-thrown upon the lives of the Acadians
-should detract anything from
-our admiration for that simple and
-kindly race. They were not faultless;
-but the very fact that they
-shared in the common interests,
-and even foibles, of the rest of the
-world gives that tone of reality to
-their history which makes us sympathize
-with them more justly in
-the cruel fate that overtook them.
-Yet, in depicting the young Acadian
-girl of that period as he has
-done, the poet has but idealized
-the truth. The march of the history
-of her people aids him in
-making the portrait a faithful one.
-Had he placed the time a little
-earlier&mdash;that is to say, under the
-French-Acadian <i lang="fr">régime</i>&mdash;and his
-heroine at Annapolis, his poem
-could not have borne the criticism
-of later research. But in selecting
-the most dramatic incident of
-Acadian history as the central
-point of interest, he has necessarily
-shifted the scene to one of the Neutral
-French settlements. Here,
-too, he is aided in maintaining the
-truthfulness of his portraiture by
-the fact that the English conquest,
-in depriving the Acadians of the
-right of political action, and cutting
-them off as much as possible
-from intercourse with Canada and
-France, had thrown them back
-upon rural occupations alone, and
-developed their simple virtues.
-Mines and Chignecto had been
-noted for their rustic independence
-and their manners uncorrupted by
-contact with the world, even under
-the old <i lang="fr">régime</i>. One of the military
-governors of Port Royal complains
-of them as “semi-republicans”
-in a letter to the Minister
-of Marine and Colonies at Paris.
-After the conquest of 1710, intercourse
-with Annapolis and its
-English Government House and
-foreign garrison became even more
-restricted. No oath of allegiance
-being taken to the new government,
-the <i lang="fr">curé</i> was recognized
-both by the inhabitants and the
-Annapolis government as their
-virtual ruler. Under the mild
-sway of Fathers Felix, Godalie,
-and Miniac&mdash;in turn <i lang="fr">curés</i> of
-Mines&mdash;the Acadians sought to
-forget in the cultivation of their
-fields the stern military surveillance
-of Annapolis, and, later, Fort
-Edwards and Fort Lawrence. Father
-Miniac comes latest in time,
-and shared the misfortunes of his
-flock in their expulsion. But in
-Father Godalie, the accomplished
-scholar and long-loved friend of
-the people of Grand Pré, we seem
-best to recognize the “Father Felician”
-of Mr. Longfellow’s poem.
-He was a guide well fitted to form
-the lovely character of Evangeline;
-nor do the authentic records
-of the time bear less ample testimony
-to the virtue of his people
-than the glowing imagination of
-the poet.</p>
-
-<p>It is less in the delineation of
-individual character than in its
-description of the undisturbed
-peace reigning at Grand Pré that
-the poem departs most from the
-truth of history. The expulsion of
-1755 was not a thunderbolt in a
-clear sky descending upon a garden
-of Eden. It was a doom known to
-be hanging over them for forty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610">[610]</a></span>
-years. Its shadow, more or less
-threatening for two generations, was
-present in every Acadian household,
-disabling industry and driving
-the young men into service or
-correspondence with their French
-compatriots. Space would not
-permit, in so short a paper, to enter
-into the history of that desperate
-struggle for supremacy on this continent
-ending on the heights of Abraham,
-isolated chapters of which
-have been narrated with a graphic
-pen by Mr. Francis Parkman.
-Acadie was one of its chosen battlegrounds.
-So far from the Acadians
-living in rural peace and content,
-it may be said broadly yet accurately
-that from the date of their first
-settlement to their final expulsion
-from the country, during a period
-extending over one hundred and
-fifty years, five years had never
-passed consecutively without hostilities,
-open or threatened. The
-province changed masters, or was
-wholly or partially conquered, seven
-times in a little over one hundred
-years, and the final English conquest,
-so far from establishing peace,
-left the Acadians in a worse position
-than before. They refused to
-take the oath of allegiance to the
-English government; the French
-government was not able to protect
-them, though it used them to
-harass the English.</p>
-
-<p>They acquired, therefore, by a
-sort of tacit understanding, the title
-and position of the “Neutral
-French,” the English government
-simply waiting from year to year
-until it felt itself strong enough to
-remove them <i lang="fr">en masse</i> from the
-province, and the Acadians yearly
-expecting succor from Quebec or
-Louisburg. Each party regarded
-the other as aliens and enemies.
-Hence it is that no French-Acadian
-would ever have used the words
-“his majesty’s mandate”&mdash;applied
-to George II.&mdash;as spoken by Basil
-the blacksmith in the poem. That
-single expression conveys a radically
-false impression of the feelings
-of the people at the time. The
-church at Mines, or Grand Pré,
-from the belfry of which</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Softly the Angelus sounded,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">had been burned down twice by
-the English and its altar vessels
-stolen by Col. Church in the old
-wars. Nor had permanent conquest,
-as we have said, brought any change
-for the better. The <i lang="fr">curés</i> were
-frequently imprisoned on pretext of
-exciting attacks on the English garrisons,
-and sometimes, as in the
-case of Father Felix and Father
-Charlemagne, were exiled from the
-province. In 1714 the intention
-was first announced of transporting
-all the Acadians from their homes.
-It was proposed to remove them to
-Cape Breton, still held by the
-French. The pathetic remonstrance
-of Father Felix Palm, the <i lang="fr">curé</i> of
-Grand Pré, in a letter and petition
-to the governor, averted this great
-calamity from his people at that
-time. But the project was again
-revived by the English Board of
-Trade, 1720-30. In pursuance of
-its orders, Gov. Philipps issued a
-proclamation commanding the people
-of Mines to come in and take
-the oath of allegiance by a certain
-day, or to depart forthwith out of
-the province, permitting, at the same
-time&mdash;a stretch of generosity which
-will hardly be appreciated at this
-day&mdash;each family to carry away
-with it “two sheep,” but all the
-rest of their property to be confiscated.
-This storm also blew over.
-But the result of this continual harassment
-and threatening was to
-drive the Acadians into closer correspondence
-with the French at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[611]</a></span>
-Louisburg, and to cause their
-young men to enlist in the French-Canadian
-forces on the frontier.
-In view of this aid and comfort
-given to the enemy, and their persistent
-refusal to take the oath of
-allegiance, later English writers
-have not hesitated to declare the
-removal of the Acadians from the
-province a political and military
-necessity. But the otherwise unanimous
-voice of humanity has unequivocally
-denounced their wholesale
-deportation as one of the most
-cruel and tyrannical acts in the colonial
-history of England. We are
-not to suppose, however, that the
-Acadians folded their hands while
-utter ruin was thus threatening
-them. In 1747 they joined in the
-attack on Col. Noble’s force at
-Mines, in which one hundred of
-the English were killed and wounded,
-and the rest of his command
-made prisoners. They were accused,
-not without some show of
-reason, of supporting the Indians
-in their attack on the new settlement
-at Halifax. It is admitted
-that three hundred of them, including
-many of the young men
-from Grand Pré, were among the
-prisoners taken at Fort Beau Sejour
-on the border a few months before
-their expulsion. It is not our purpose
-to enter into any defence or
-condemnation of those hostilities.
-But it is plain that Mr. Longfellow’s
-beautiful lines describing the
-columns of pale blue smoke, like
-clouds of incense, ascending</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“From a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">“free from fear, that reigns with
-the tyrant, or envy, the vice of republics,”
-were not applicable to the
-condition of affairs at Grand Pré in
-1755, nor at any time.</p>
-
-<p>The poem follows with fidelity
-the outlines of the scenes of the expulsion.
-Heart-rending indeed is
-the scene, as described even by those
-who were agents in its execution.
-The poet gives almost <i lang="la">verbatim</i> the
-address of Col. John Winslow in the
-chapel. Nevertheless one important
-clause is omitted. Barbarous as
-were the orders of Gov. Lawrence,
-he was not absolutely devoid of humanity.
-Some attempt was made
-to lessen the pangs of separation
-from their country by the issuing
-of orders to the military commanders
-that “whole families should go
-together on the same transport.”
-These orders were communicated
-with the others to the inhabitants
-by Col. Winslow, and it appears,
-they were faithfully executed as far
-as the haste of embarkation would
-permit. But as the young men
-marched separately to the ships,
-and some of them escaped for a
-time into the woods, there was nothing
-to prevent such an incident
-occurring as the separation of
-Evangeline and Gabriel.</p>
-
-<p>About seven thousand (7,000)
-Acadians, according to Gov. Lawrence’s
-letter to Col. Winslow, were
-transported from their homes. The
-total number of these unfortunate
-people in the province at that time
-has been estimated at eighteen
-thousand. The destruction was
-more complete at Grand Pré than
-elsewhere, that being the oldest settlement,
-with the exception of Annapolis,
-and the most prosperous
-and thickly settled. A few years
-later another attempt was made to
-transfer the remainder of the Acadian
-population to New England;
-but the transports were not permitted
-to land them at Boston, as they
-were completely destitute, and the
-New England commonwealths petitioned
-against being made responsible
-for their support. The Acadian
-exiles were scattered over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_612" id="Page_612">[612]</a></span>
-Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Georgia.
-About four hundred and fifty were
-landed at Philadelphia.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware’s waters,</div>
-<div class="verse">Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn, the apostle,</div>
-<div class="verse">Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.</div>
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-<div class="verse">There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,</div>
-<div class="verse">Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>A few months ago I visited the
-Quaker City. There, where Evangeline
-ended her long pilgrimage, I
-took up the thread of that story
-the early scenes of which had been
-so familiar to me. How different
-those around me! Gone were the
-balsamic odors of the pines and the
-salt spray of the ocean. One can
-conceive how the hearts of the
-poor Acadian exiles must have
-trembled. I sought out the old
-“Swedish church at Wicaco,”
-whence the “sounds of psalms</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Across the meadows were wafted”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">on the Sabbath morning when
-Evangeline went on her way to the
-hospital, and there found her lover
-dying unknown. The quaint little
-church&mdash;not larger than a country
-school-house&mdash;built of red and
-black bricks brought from Sweden,
-is now almost lost in a corner near
-the river’s edge, in the midst of
-huge warehouses and intersecting
-railroad tracks. In the wall near
-the minister’s desk is a tablet in
-memory of the first pastor and his
-wife buried beneath. Fastened to
-the gallery of the choir&mdash;not much
-higher than one’s head&mdash;is the old
-Swedish Bible first used in the
-church, and over it two gilded
-wooden cherubs&mdash;also brought from
-Sweden&mdash;that make one smile at
-their comical features. In the
-churchyard, under the blue and
-faded gray tombstones, repose the
-men and women of the congregation
-of 1755 and years before. But
-no vestiges of the Acadian wanderers
-remain in the Catholic burying-ground.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Side by side in their nameless graves the lovers are sleeping.</div>
-<div class="verse">Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard,</div>
-<div class="verse">In the heart of the city, they lie unknown and unnoticed.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Many of the Acadians succeeded
-in wandering back to their country.
-Others escaped into what is now
-called New Brunswick, which was
-then a part of Acadia, and either
-returned to Nova Scotia in after-years
-when the whole of Canada
-was finally ceded to the English, or
-founded settlements, existing to
-this day in New Brunswick, and
-returning their own members to the
-Provincial Parliaments. The descendants
-of the Acadians, still
-speaking the French language and
-retaining the manners of their forefathers,
-are more numerous than is
-generally supposed in Nova Scotia.
-They number thirty-two thousand
-out of a total population of three
-hundred and eighty-seven thousand
-(387,000), according to the census
-of 1871. The poet says:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic</div>
-<div class="verse">Linger a few Acadian peasants.…</div>
-<div class="verse">Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun,</div>
-<div class="verse">And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline’s story.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This refers, no doubt, to the settlement
-at Chezzetcook, which, from
-its closeness to Halifax, is best
-known. On Saturday mornings, in
-the market at Halifax, the Acadian
-women can be seen standing with
-their baskets of eggs and woollen
-mitts and socks for sale. They are
-at once recognized by their short
-blue woollen outer petticoats or kirtles,
-and their little caps, with their
-black hair drawn tightly up from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[613]</a></span>
-the forehead under them. The
-young girls are often very pretty.
-They have delicate features, an
-oval face, a clear olive complexion,
-and eyes dark and shy, like a
-fawn’s. They soon fade, and get a
-weather-beaten and hard expression
-from exposure to the climate on
-their long journeys on foot and
-from severe toil.</p>
-
-<p>But in Yarmouth County, and on
-the other side of the peninsula in
-the township of Clare, Digby County,
-there are much larger and more
-prosperous settlements. Clare is
-almost exclusively French-Acadian.
-The people generally send their
-own member to the provincial
-House of Assembly. He speaks
-French more fluently than English.
-The priest preaches in French.
-Here at this day is to be found
-the counterpart of the manners
-of Grand Pré. Virtue, peace, and
-happiness reign in more than “a
-hundred homes” under the old customs.
-Maidens as pure and sweet
-as Evangeline can be seen as of
-old walking down the road to the
-church on a Sunday morning with
-their “chaplet of beads and their
-missal.” But the modern dressmaker
-and milliner has made more
-headway than among the poor Chezzetcook
-people. Grand Pré itself,
-and most of the old Acadian settlements,
-are inhabited by a purely
-British race&mdash;descendants of the
-North of Ireland and New England
-settlers who received grants of the
-confiscated lands. By a singular
-turn of fortune’s wheel the descendants
-of another expatriated race&mdash;the
-American loyalists&mdash;now people
-a large part of the province
-once held by the exiled Acadians.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE PATIENT CHURCH.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent6">Bide thou thy time!</div>
-<div class="verse">Watch with meek eyes the race of pride and crime,</div>
-<div class="verse">Sit in the gate, and be the heathen’s jest,</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">Smiling and self-possest.</div>
-<div class="verse">O thou, to whom is pledged a victor’s sway,</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">Bide thou the victor’s day!</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent6">Think on the sin</div>
-<div class="verse">That reap’d the unripe seed, and toil’d to win</div>
-<div class="verse">Foul history-marks at Bethel and at Dan&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">No blessing, but a ban;</div>
-<div class="verse">Whilst the wise Shepherd hid his heaven-told fate,</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">Nor reck’d a tyrant’s hate.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent6">Such loss is gain;</div>
-<div class="verse">Wait the bright Advent that shall loose thy chain!</div>
-<div class="verse">E’en now the shadows break, and gleams divine</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">Edge the dim, distant line.</div>
-<div class="verse">When thrones are trembling, and earth’s fat ones quail,</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">True seed! thou shalt prevail.</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Newman.</span></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[614]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SIR THOMAS MORE.<br />
-<i>A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.</i></h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.</p>
-
-<h4>IV.</h4>
-
-<p>William du Bellay having remained
-in France, M. de Vaux had
-been sent to replace him in England.
-The latter, having but recently returned
-from Rome, where he was
-attached to the embassy of M. de
-Grammont, French ambassador to
-that court, was not yet initiated into
-the state of affairs as they existed
-at the court of Henry VIII.</p>
-
-<p>Du Bellay was not satisfied with
-the change; and the old diplomate,
-finding his new assistant inclined
-to be somewhat dull, undertook to
-enlighten him&mdash;leading him on step
-by step into the intricacies of diplomacy,
-like a mother, or rather a
-governess, a little brusque, who is
-impatient at the slow progress the
-child makes in learning to walk.</p>
-
-<p>“Come!” he exclaimed, “I see
-you understand nothing of this; so
-I shall have to be patient and begin
-it all over again. It is incredible,”
-he added, by way of digression, addressing
-himself to the public (who
-was absent), “what absurd reports
-are circulated outside with regard
-to what we say and do in our secret
-negotiations! It extends even to
-all these harebrains of the court;
-but you who have a foot in diplomacy
-I cannot excuse. Come, let
-us see&mdash;we say:</p>
-
-<p>“When my brother left, he went
-to demand on the part of Henry
-VIII., of the universities of France,
-and above all that of Paris (preponderating
-over all the others)&mdash;remark
-well: to demand, I say&mdash;that
-they should give decisions favorable
-to the divorce. Now, this
-point appeared at first quite insignificant;
-but it is just here we have
-shown our ability (I would say I,
-but I do not wish to vaunt <em>myself</em>
-over a young man just starting out
-in the world like yourself). Then
-our king has replied to the King of
-England that he would ask nothing
-better than to use his influence
-with the universities to induce
-them to give satisfaction on this
-subject; but that (notice this especially)
-the Emperor Charles V. had
-made precisely the same demand in
-an opposite direction, in favor of
-Queen Catherine, his aunt; that if
-he refused the emperor, he would
-be extremely displeased, and that
-he was compelled to reflect a second
-time, because the princes, his children,
-were held as hostages in the
-hands of the emperor, and in spite
-of all his efforts he had not yet
-been able to pay the price of their
-ransom stipulated at the treaty of
-Cambrai.</p>
-
-<p>“It then remained to say that
-we could do nothing for him&mdash;on
-the contrary, must oppose him so
-long as the children were held prisoners,
-or while there was even a
-chance that they would be restored
-to us on condition that we should
-throw our influence on the side of
-Queen Catherine. All of which
-is as clear as day&mdash;is it not? Now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[615]</a></span>
-you are going to see if I have understood
-how to take advantage of
-these considerations with Henry
-VIII.”</p>
-
-<p>Saying this, with a slightly derisive
-smile, Du Bellay took from a
-drawer a casket of green sharkskin,
-which he handed to De Vaux, who
-opened it eagerly.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! how beautiful,” he exclaimed,
-taking from the case and
-holding up in the sunlight a magnificent
-<i lang="fr">fleur de lis</i> composed entirely
-of diamonds. “Oh! this is most
-superb.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, it is beautiful!” replied
-Du Bellay with a satisfied air, “and
-worth one hundred and fifty thousand
-crowns. Philip, the emperor’s
-father, pledged it to the King of
-England for that sum. We are
-obliged by the treaty to redeem it;
-but as we have not the money to
-pay, it has been made a present to
-us. And here is what is better
-still,” he added, displaying a quittance&mdash;“a
-receipt in full for five
-hundred thousand crowns which
-the emperor owed Henry VIII.;
-and he now makes a present of it to
-Francis I., to enable him to pay
-immediately the two millions required
-for the ransom of the
-princes.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is admirable!” cried De
-Vaux. “It must be admitted, my
-lord, that we shall be under great
-obligations to Mlle. Anne.”</p>
-
-<p>“All disorders cost dear, my
-child,” replied Du Bellay; “and if
-this continues, they will ruin England.
-Think of what will have to
-be paid yet to the University of
-Paris!…”</p>
-
-<p>“And do you suppose they will
-consent to this demand?” interrupted
-De Vaux.</p>
-
-<p>“No, truly, I do not believe it,”
-replied Du Bellay. “Except Master
-Gervais, who is always found ready
-to do anything asked of him, I know
-not how they will decide; but, between
-ourselves, I tell you I believe
-they will be against it. But, observe,
-we have not promised a
-favorable decision&mdash;we have only
-left it to be hoped for; which is
-quite a different thing.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is very adroit,” replied De
-Vaux, “assuredly; but it seems to
-me not very honest.”</p>
-
-<p>“How! not honest?” murmured
-Du Bellay, contracting his little
-gray eyebrows, and fixing his greenish
-eyes on the fair face of the
-youth. “Not honest!” he again
-exclaimed in a stentorian voice.
-“Where do you come from, then,
-young man? Know that among
-these people honesty is a thing unheard
-of. Others less candid than
-myself may tell you the contrary,
-knowing very well that such is not
-the truth. They arrange projects
-with the intention of defeating
-them; they sign treaties with the
-studied purpose of violating them;
-they swear to keep the peace in
-order to prepare for war; and a
-state sells her authority and puts
-her influence in the balance of the
-world in favor of the highest bidder.
-Let the price be earth or
-metal, it is of no consequence; I
-make no distinction. When Henry
-devastated our territories and took
-possession of our provinces, was it
-just? No! ‘Might makes right’;
-that is the veritable law of nations&mdash;the
-only one they are willing to acknowledge
-or adopt. In default of
-strength, there remains stratagem;
-and I must use it!”</p>
-
-<p>“Under existing circumstances
-you are right,” replied De Vaux,
-replacing in its case the superb <i lang="fr">fleur
-de lis</i>, and again waving it in the
-sunlight. “It is a pity,” he added,
-“that they may be obliged to return
-this; it would set off wonderfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[616]</a></span>
-well the wedding dress of the
-future Duchess of Orleans.”</p>
-
-<p>“What! are they speaking already
-of the marriage of the young Duke of
-Orleans?” asked Du Bellay in surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! that is a great secret,” replied
-De Vaux confidentially. “You
-know our king has not abandoned
-the idea of subjugating the Milanese,
-and, to ensure the pope’s friendship,
-he offers to marry his second son to
-his niece, the young Catherine de’
-Medici.”</p>
-
-<p>“No!” cried M. du Bellay. “No,
-it is impossible! How can they forget
-that but a short time since the
-Medici family was composed of
-only the simple merchants of Florence?”</p>
-
-<p>“It has all been arranged, notwithstanding,”
-replied De Vaux.
-“In spite of all our precautions, the
-emperor has been apprised of it.
-At first he refused to credit it, and
-would not believe the King of
-France could really think of allying
-his noble blood with that of the
-Medici. In the meantime he has
-been so much frightened, lest the
-hope of this alliance would not
-sufficiently dazzle Clement VIII.,
-that he has made a proposal to break
-off the marriage of his niece, the
-Princess of Denmark, with the Duke
-of Milan, and substitute the young
-Catherine in her place. We have,
-as you may well suppose, promptly
-advised M. de Montmorency of all
-these things, who returned us, on the
-spot, full power to sign the articles.
-M. de Grammont immediately carried
-them to the pope; and he
-was greatly delighted, as Austria, it
-seems, had already got ahead of us,
-and persuaded him that we had no
-other intention than to deceive him
-and gain time. Now everything is
-harmoniously arranged. They promise
-for the marriage portion of
-Catherine Reggio, Pisa, Leghorn,
-Modena, Ribera, the Duchy of
-Urbino; and Francis I. cedes to
-his son his claims to the Duchy
-of Milan.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sad compensation for a bad
-marriage!” replied M. du Bellay
-angrily: “new complications which
-will only result in bringing about interminable
-disputes! Princes can
-never learn to be contented with
-the territory already belonging to
-them. Although they may not possess
-sufficient ability to govern even
-<em>that</em> well, still they are always trying
-to extend it. War must waste
-and ruin a happy and flourishing
-country, in order to put them in possession
-of a few feet of desolated
-earth, all sprinkled with gold and
-watered with blood.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! yes,” interrupted De Vaux
-earnestly, “we have learned this
-cruelly and to our cost. And relentless
-history will record without regret
-the account of our reverses,
-and the captivity of a king so valiant
-and dauntless&mdash;a king who has
-sacrificed everything save his honor.”</p>
-
-<p>“Reflect, my dear, on all this.
-The honor of a king consists not in
-sacrificing the happiness of his people.
-A soldier should be brave&mdash;the
-head of a nation should be wise
-and prudent,” replied Du Bellay, as
-he turned over a great file of papers
-in search of something, “Valor
-without prudence is worthless.
-The intrigues of the cabinet are
-more certain; they are of more
-value than the best generals. They,
-at least, are never entirely defeated;
-the disaster of the evening inspires
-renewed strength for the morrow.
-Cold, hunger, and sickness are not
-able to destroy them.… They
-can only waste a few words or lose
-a sum of money. A dozen well-chosen
-spies spread their toils in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[617]</a></span>
-every direction; we hold them like
-bundles of straw in our hands;
-they glide in the dark, slip through
-your fingers&mdash;an army that cannot
-be captured, which exists not and
-yet never dies; which drags to
-the tribunal of those who pay them,
-without pity as without discrimination,
-without violence as without
-hesitation, the hearts of all mankind.</p>
-
-<p>“Gold, my child, but never blood!
-With bread we can move the world;
-with blood we destroy it. Your
-heart, young man, leaps within you
-at the sound of the shrill trumpet,
-when glittering banners wave and
-the noise of battle inebriates your
-soul. But look behind you, child,
-look behind you: the squadron
-has passed. Hear the shrieks and
-groans of the dying. Behold those
-men dragging themselves over the
-trampled field; their heads gashed
-and bleeding, their bones dislocated,
-their limbs torn; streams of
-blood flow from their wounds; they
-die in an ocean furnished from
-their own lacerated veins. Go there
-to the field of carnage and death;
-pause beside that man with pallid
-face and agonized expression; think
-of the tender care and painful anxiety
-of the mother who reared him
-from his cradle. How often she
-has pressed her lips upon the golden
-curls of her boy, the hope of her
-old age, which must now end in
-despair! Reflect there, upon the
-field of carnage and death, on the
-tender caresses of wives, sisters,
-and friends. Imagine the brother’s
-grief, the deep anguish of the father.
-Alas! all these recollections
-pass in an instant before the half-open
-eyes of the dying. Farewell!
-dream of glory, hateful vision now
-for ever vanished. Life is almost
-extinct, yet with the latest breath
-he thinks but of them! ‘They will
-see me no more! I must die far
-away, without being able to bid
-them a last adieu.’ Such are the
-bitter thoughts murmured by his
-dying lips as the last sigh is breathed
-forth. Tell me, young man,
-have you never reflected when, on
-the field glittering in the bright
-summer sunshine, you have seen
-the heavy, well-drilled battalions
-advance; when the prince rode in
-the midst of them, and they saluted
-him with shouts of enthusiasm and
-love; when that prince, a weak
-man like themselves, elated with
-pride, said to them: ‘March on to
-death; it is for me that you go!’
-For you! And who are you? Their
-executioner, who throws their ashes
-to the wind of your ambition, to
-satisfy the thirst of your covetousness,
-the insolent pride of your
-name, which the century will see
-buried in oblivion! Ah! my son,”
-continued the old diplomate, deeply
-affected, with his hands crossed on
-the packet of papers, that he had
-entirely forgotten, “if you knew
-how much I have seen in my life
-of these horrible calamities, of these
-monstrous follies, which devastate
-the world! If you but knew how
-my heart has groaned within me,
-concealed beneath my gloomy visage,
-my exterior as impassible as
-my garments, you would understand
-how I hate them, these mighty
-conquerors, these vile plagues of
-the earth, and how I count as nothing
-the sack of gold which lies at
-the bottom of the precipice over
-which they push us, the adroit
-fraud that turns them aside from
-their course! But shall I weep like
-an old woman?” he suddenly exclaimed,
-vexed at being betrayed
-into the expression of so much
-emotion.</p>
-
-<p>Hastily brushing the tear from
-his cheek, he began examining the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[618]</a></span>
-package of papers, and, instantly recovering
-his usual composure, became
-M. du Bellay, the diplomate.</p>
-
-<p>Young De Vaux, greatly surprised
-at the excess of feeling into which the
-ambassador had suddenly been betrayed,
-so much at variance with his
-previous manner, as well as his rule
-of conduct and the rather brusque
-reception he had given him, still
-remembered it when all thought of
-the occurrence had passed from the
-mind of his superior.</p>
-
-<p>“Here, sir, read that,” he exclaimed,
-throwing the young man a
-small scrap of paper.</p>
-
-<p>“I will read it, my lord.”</p>
-
-<p>“Read aloud, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“‘Cardinal Wolsey, overcome by
-grief and alarm, has fallen dangerously
-ill. The king has been informed
-of it; he has ordered three
-physicians to Asher, and obliged
-Lady Anne to send him the golden
-tablets in token of his reconciliation.
-Furthermore, it is certainly true
-that the king has said: “I would
-not lose Wolsey for twenty thousand
-pounds.” It is unnecessary
-to impress upon my lord the importance
-of this event. My lord
-will, I hope, approve of the celerity
-with which I have despatched this
-information.’”</p>
-
-<p>“It is without signature!” said
-De Vaux.</p>
-
-<p>“I credit it entirely,” murmured
-Du Bellay.</p>
-
-<p>“By my faith, I am delighted!
-These golden tablets afford me extreme
-pleasure,” said De Vaux.
-“This will revive the hopes of poor
-Cardinal Wolsey.”</p>
-
-<p>“And that is all!… And you,
-content to know that he is happy,
-will remain quietly seated in your
-chair, I suppose,” said M. du Bellay,
-fixing his green eyes, lighted
-with a brilliant gleam, on young De
-Vaux. “Monsieur!” he continued,
-“it is not in this way a man attends
-to the business of his country.
-Since the day the cardinal was exiled,
-I have deliberated whether I
-should go to see him or not. My
-heart prompted me to do so, but it
-was not my heart I had to consult.
-I was persuaded the king would
-not be able to dispense with him,
-and sooner or later he would be recalled
-to the head of affairs. In
-that case I felt inclined to give
-him a proof of my attachment in
-his disgrace. But, on the other
-hand, that intriguing family who
-are constantly buzzing around the
-king induced me constantly to hesitate.
-Now I believe we have almost
-nothing more to fear; we will
-arrive there, perhaps, before the
-physicians, and later we shall know
-how to proceed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Most willingly!” cried De Vaux.
-“I shall be happy indeed to see this
-celebrated man, of whom I have
-heard so many different opinions.”</p>
-
-<p>“Doubtless,” interrupted Du Bellay
-impatiently, “pronounced by
-what is styled ‘public opinion’&mdash;a
-tribunal composed of the ignorant,
-the deluded, and short-sighted, who
-always clamor louder than others,
-and who take great care, in order to
-avoid compromising their stupidity,
-to prefix the ominous ‘they say’ to
-all their statements. As for me, I
-say they invariably display more
-hatred toward the virtues they envy
-than the vices they pretend to
-despise; and they will judge a man
-more severely and criticise him
-more harshly for the good he has
-tried to do than for what he may
-have left undone.… Gossiping,
-prying crowd, pronouncing judgment
-and knowing nothing, who will
-cast popularity like a vile mantle
-over the shoulders of any man who
-will basely stoop low enough before
-them to receive it! He who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[619]</a></span>
-endeavors to please all pleases
-none,” added M. du Bellay, with
-a singularly scornful expression.
-“To live for his king, and above
-all for his country, despising the
-blame or hatred of the vulgar,
-should be the motto of every public
-man; and God grant I may
-never cease to remember it!”</p>
-
-<p>“You believe, then, the cardinal
-will be restored to the head of affairs?”
-asked De Vaux, running his
-fingers through his blonde curls,
-and rising to depart.</p>
-
-<p>“I am not sure of it yet,” replied
-Du Bellay; “we are going to
-find out. If the crowd surrounds
-him, as eager to pay him homage
-to-day as they were yesterday to
-overwhelm him with scorn and
-contempt; if, in a word, the courtiers
-sigh and groan around his
-bed, and pretend to feel the deepest
-concern, it will be a most certain
-indication of his return to favor.
-And, to speak frankly, I believe
-the king already begins to
-discover that no one can replace
-the cardinal near his person as
-private secretary; for that poor Gardiner
-copies a despatch with more
-difficulty than his predecessor dictated
-one.”</p>
-
-<p>M. du Bellay arose and started, followed
-by De Vaux, to the bank of
-the Thames, where they entered a
-large boat already filled with passengers
-awaiting the moment of
-departure to ascend the river either
-to Chelsea, Battersea, or as far as
-Pultney, where the boat stopped.
-Bales of merchandise were piled up
-in the centre, on which were seated
-a number of substantial citizens
-conversing together with their
-hands in their pockets, and wearing
-the self-sufficient air of men
-the extent of whose purse and credit
-were well understood.</p>
-
-<p>They fixed, at first, a scrutinizing
-glance on the new arrivals, and
-then resumed their conversation.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, come, let us be off
-now!” exclaimed a young man, balancing
-himself on one foot. “Here
-is half an hour lost, and I declare
-I must be at Chelsea to dinner.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed, it is already an hour.
-Look here! This cockswain doesn’t
-resemble our parliament at all; <em>that</em>
-does everything it is told to do!”
-he added, as he sauntered into the
-midst of the crowd.</p>
-
-<p>“Hold your tongue, William,”
-immediately replied one of them;
-“you don’t recollect any more, I
-suppose, the assembly at Bridewell,
-where the king, knowing we condemned
-his course in the divorce
-affair, after having seized all the
-arms in the city, told us himself
-there was no head so high but he
-would make it fall if it attempted
-to resist him.”</p>
-
-<p>“What shameful tyranny!” replied
-another, rolling a bundle under
-his foot. “I cannot think of
-it without my blood boiling. Are
-these Englishmen he treats in this
-manner?”</p>
-
-<p>“And that wicked cardinal,”
-continued his neighbor in a loud,
-shrill voice&mdash;“he was standing by
-the king, and looking at us with his
-threatening eyes. He has been
-the cause of all the troubles we
-have had with this affair. But we
-are rid of him, at last.”</p>
-
-<p>“We are rid of him, did you
-say?” interrupted a man about fifty
-or sixty years of age, who appeared
-to be naturally phlegmatic and
-thoughtful. “You are very well
-contented, it seems to me; … but
-it is because you only think
-of the present, and give yourself
-no concern whatever about the future.
-Ah! well, in a few days we
-will see if you are as well satisfied.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[620]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“And why not then?” they all
-exclaimed in the same voice.</p>
-
-<p>“Because, I tell you, because …”</p>
-
-<p>“Explain yourself more clearly,
-Master Wrilliot,” continued young
-William. “You always know what’s
-going to happen better than anybody
-else.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! yes, I know it only too
-well, in fact, my young friend,” he
-replied, shaking his head ominously;
-“and we will very soon learn
-to our sorrow that if the favor of
-the cardinal costs us dear, his disgrace
-will cost us still more. Parliament
-is going to remit all the
-king’s debts.”</p>
-
-<p>“What! all of his debts? But
-Parliament has no right to do
-this!” they all exclaimed.</p>
-
-<p>“No; but it will take the right!”
-replied Master Wrilliot. “William
-will lose half of his wife’s marriage
-portion, which, if I mistake not, his
-father gave him in royal trust; and
-I shall lose fifteen thousand crowns
-for which I was foolish enough to
-accept the deed of conveyance.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! ah! that will be too unjust;
-it ought not to be,” they all
-repeated.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” continued this far-seeing
-interlocutor, shaking his head contemptuously,
-“the king has no
-money to pay us. War has drained
-his private treasury, but he nevertheless
-draws from it abundant
-means to ransom French princes,
-who make him believe they will
-marry him to that lady Boleyn;
-and if you do not believe me, go
-ask these Frenchmen who are here
-present,” he added, raising his voice,
-and casting on MM. du Bellay and
-de Vaux a glance of cold, disdainful
-wrath.</p>
-
-<p>M. du Bellay had lost nothing
-of the conversation; it was held
-too near him, and was too openly
-hostile for him to feign not to remark
-it. Finding himself recognized,
-and neither being able to
-reply to a positive interrogation nor
-to keep silence, he measured in his
-turn, very coolly, and without permitting
-the least indication of
-emotion or anger to appear, the
-face and form of his adversary.</p>
-
-<p>“Sir;” he exclaimed, regarding
-him steadily, “who are you, and
-by what right do you call me to
-account? If it is your curiosity
-that impels you, it will not be
-gratified; if, on the contrary, you
-dare seek to insult me, you should
-know I will not suffer it. Answer
-me!”</p>
-
-<p>“The best you can make of it
-will be worth nothing,” replied, with
-a loud burst of laughter, a Genoese
-merchant who did not recognize
-the ambassador, as he sat by the
-men who directed the boat. “Forget
-your quarrel, gentlemen, and,
-instead of disputing, come look at
-this beautiful vessel we are just
-going to pass. See, she is getting
-ready to sail. A fine ship-load!&mdash;a
-set of adventurers who go to try
-their fortunes in the new world discovered
-by one of my countrymen,”
-he added with an air of intense
-satisfaction.</p>
-
-<p>“Poor Columbus!” replied one
-of the citizens, “he experienced
-throughout his life that glory does
-not give happiness, and envy and
-ingratitude united together to crush
-his genius. Do you not believe, if
-he could have foreseen the cruelties
-Hernando Cortez and Pizarro exercised
-toward the people whom he
-discovered, he would have preferred
-leaving the secret of their existence
-buried for ever in the bosom of the
-stormy sea that bore him to Europe,
-rather than to have announced there
-the success of his voyage?”</p>
-
-<p>“I believe it,” said Wrilliot, “his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[621]</a></span>
-soul was so beautiful! He loved
-humanity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Christopher Columbus!” exclaimed
-young William, full of
-youthful enthusiasm and admiration
-for a man whose home was the
-ocean. “I cannot hear his name
-pronounced without emotion! I always
-imagine I see him in that old
-convent of Salamanca, before those
-learned professors and erudite
-monks assembled to listen to a project
-which in their opinion was as
-rash as it was foolish.</p>
-
-<p>“‘How do you suppose,’ said they,
-‘that your vessel will ever reach the
-extremity of the Indies, since you
-pretend that the earth is round?
-You would never be able to return;
-for what amount of wind do you
-imagine it would require to enable
-your ship to remount the liquid
-mountain which it had so easily
-descended? And do you forget
-that no creature can live under the
-scorching atmosphere of the torrid
-zone?’</p>
-
-<p>“Columbus refuted their arguments;
-but these doctors still insisted,
-nor hesitated to openly
-demand of him how he could be so
-presumptuous as to believe, if the
-thing had been as he said, it could
-have remained undiscovered by so
-many illustrious men, born before
-him, and who had attained the
-highest degree of learning, while for
-him alone should have been reserved
-the development of this
-grand idea.”</p>
-
-<p>“And yet,” said Wrilliot, who
-had listened in silence, “it was permitted,
-some years later, that he
-should go down to the grave wearing
-the chains with which his persecutors
-had loaded him, in order
-to keep him away from the world
-that he alone had been able to
-discover!”</p>
-
-<p>“What perseverance! What obstacles
-he succeeded in overcoming!”
-replied one of those who had
-first spoken. “I shall always, while
-I live, recall with pleasure having
-been of service to his brother Bartholomew
-when he came to this
-country.”</p>
-
-<p>“What! he came here?” repeated
-William.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, and was in my own house,”
-continued the citizen. “Christopher,
-finding the senate of Genoa
-and the King of Portugal refused
-equally to listen or furnish him
-with vessels necessary for the enterprise
-he had so long meditated, sent
-his brother to King Henry VII.
-He was unfortunately captured, in
-coming over, by some pirates, who
-kept him in slavery. Many years
-elapsed before he succeeded in
-escaping and reaching England,
-where he found himself reduced to
-such a state of destitution that he
-was obliged to design charts for a
-living, and to enable him to present
-himself in decent apparel at court.
-The king gave him a favorable
-reception, but Christopher, in the
-meantime, receiving no intelligence
-from his brother, solicited so earnestly
-the court of Spain that he obtained
-two small vessels from Isabella
-of Castile, and very soon after
-Europe learned of the existence
-of another hemisphere. Spain
-planted her standard there, and
-we thus lost the advantages which
-were destined for us.”</p>
-
-<p>“I do not regret it,” replied an
-old man sitting in the midst of the
-crowd, who had until that time
-maintained a profound silence. “Is
-it not better for a nation to be less
-rich and powerful than stained with
-so many crimes? It is now but
-thirty-eight years since Columbus
-founded the colony of San Domingo.
-This island then contained a
-million of inhabitants; to-day there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[622]</a></span>
-scarcely remain forty thousand.
-But,” pursued the old man with a
-bitter smile, “they will not stop
-there. No; they will not confine
-their barbarous exploits to that
-miserable region. They are renewing
-in Peru the carnage they carried
-on in Mexico. It is necessary to
-have a great many places for a man
-to die&mdash;to pass a few moments, and
-then go and hide himself in the grave!
-I have already lived seventy-nine
-years, and yet it seems to me now
-that my left hand still rests on my
-cradle. I can scarcely believe that
-these white locks are scattered upon
-my head; for my life has sped like
-the fleeting dream of a single night
-that has passed. Yes, William,”
-continued the old man, “you look
-at me with astonishment, and your
-eyes, full of youthful fire, are fixed
-upon mine, in which the light has
-long been extinguished. Ah! well,
-you will very soon see it extinguished
-in your own, but not before you
-will have witnessed all their cruelties.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is bad,” replied William.
-“But these Indians are stupid and
-indolent beyond all parallel;<a name="FNanchor_232" id="FNanchor_232"></a><a href="#Footnote_232" class="fnanchor">[232]</a> they
-will neither work nor pay the taxes
-imposed on them.”</p>
-
-<p>“And from whom do the Spaniards
-claim the right of reducing
-these people to a state of servitude,”
-exclaimed the old man indignantly,
-“and to treat them like
-beasts of burden whom they are
-privileged to exterminate with impunity,
-and carry off the gold their
-avarice covets, the dagger in one
-hand, the scourge in the other?
-They ensure them, they say, the
-happiness of knowing the Christian
-religion! How dare they presume
-to instruct these people in that
-Gospel of peace which commands
-us to love our neighbor as ourselves,
-to detach our hearts from
-the things of the world, and, leaving
-our offering before the altar, go and
-be reconciled with our enemy?”</p>
-
-<p>“From that point of view your
-argument would seem just,” replied
-William; “but the fact is, if the
-Spaniards did not force these islanders
-to work them, the mines
-would remain unproductive, the
-fields uncultivated, and the colonies
-would perish.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are mistaken,” replied the
-old man. “In acting as she does
-Spain destroys in her own womb
-the source from whence she would
-draw an immense revenue. If she
-had been satisfied to establish an
-honest and peaceable commerce
-with these countries, her industry,
-excited to the highest degree by
-the rich commodities of exchange,
-would have conferred an incalculable
-benefit on an entire people
-whom her blind cupidity has induced
-her to crush and destroy.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you suppose these isolated
-negroes they buy at such enormous
-prices will ever be able to replace
-the native inhabitants who live and
-die in their own country? This
-strange and ferocious population
-will remain among the colonies, enemies
-always ready to revolt; a
-yoke of iron and blood will alone
-be sufficient to keep them in subjection.
-But let these masters
-tremble if ever the power falls into
-the hands of their slaves!”</p>
-
-<p>MM. du Bellay and de Vaux listened
-to this conversation in silence,
-and the diversion was at first agreeable;
-but they were soon convinced
-that they were suddenly becoming
-again the objects of general attention.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[623]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“I tell you,” exclaimed one,
-“they are going to look for the
-cardinal and bring him back to
-court.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well!” replied another, “I
-would like to see M. du Bellay in
-the place of the legate Campeggio.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! and what have they done
-with him, then?” they all eagerly
-demanded.</p>
-
-<p>“He was arrested at Dover, where
-he had gone to embark. He was
-dreadfully alarmed, believing they
-came to assassinate him. His baggage
-was searched, in order to find
-Wolsey’s treasures, with which he
-was entrusted, they said, for safe
-keeping.”</p>
-
-<p>“And did they find them?” asked
-the Genoese merchant, eagerly
-leaning forward at the sound of the
-word treasure.</p>
-
-<p>“It seems they did not find
-them,” was the reply.</p>
-
-<p>“Hear what they say!” whispered
-young De Vaux in the ear of
-M. du Bellay.</p>
-
-<p>“I presume they were in search
-of the legal documents, but they
-were too late. They have long
-ago arrived in Italy. Campeggio
-was careful enough to send them
-secretly by his <em>son</em> Rudolph.<a name="FNanchor_233" id="FNanchor_233"></a><a href="#Footnote_233" class="fnanchor">[233]</a> I
-often saw this young man in Rome,
-and heard him say his father had
-entrusted him with all his correspondence
-and despatches,<a name="FNanchor_234" id="FNanchor_234"></a><a href="#Footnote_234" class="fnanchor">[234]</a> as he
-was not certain what fate Henry
-had in store for him.”</p>
-
-<p>“You say,” replied young William,
-elevating his voice in order
-that M. du Bellay might hear him,
-“that the king has sent the Earl
-of Wiltshire to Rome to solicit his
-divorce. He had better make all
-these strangers leave who come
-into our country only to sow discord,
-and then gather the fruits of
-their villany.”</p>
-
-<p>This speech, although spoken indirectly,
-was evidently intended
-for the two Frenchmen; but the
-Genoese merchant, always inclined
-to be suspicious, immediately applied
-it to himself.</p>
-
-<p>“Master William,” he exclaimed,
-reddening with anger, “have you
-forgotten that for twenty years I
-have been a commercial friend of
-your father. And if he has made his
-fortune with our velvets and silks,
-to whom does he owe it, if not to
-those who, by their honesty and
-promptness in fulfilling their engagements,
-were the first cause of
-his success? Now, because you
-are able to live without work, you
-take on this insulting manner&mdash;very
-insulting indeed. However,
-I give you to understand that, if it
-suited me to do it, I could make as
-great a display of luxury and wealth
-as yourself, and can count on my
-dresser as many dishes and flagons
-of silver as you have; and if it
-suited me to remain at home, there
-is no necessity for me to travel any
-more on business.”</p>
-
-<p>The merchant continued to boast
-of his fortune, and William began
-to explain that his remarks were
-by no means intended for him,
-when the passengers began to cry
-out: “Land! land! Here is Chelsea;
-we land at Chelsea.”</p>
-
-<p>The rowers halted immediately,
-and the little boats sent from the
-shore came to take off the passengers
-who wished to land.</p>
-
-<p>Almost all of them went; none
-remaining on the boat except the
-ambassador, the Genoese merchant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[624]</a></span>
-and two citizens whose retiring
-and prudent character could
-be read in the quiet, thoughtful expression
-of their faces. They gazed
-for a long time on the surrounding
-country; at last one of them hazarded
-the question:</p>
-
-<p>“Do you know who owns that
-white house with the terraced garden
-extending down to the bank
-of the Thames?”</p>
-
-<p>“That is the residence of Sir
-Thomas More, the new chancellor,”
-replied his companion methodically.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! it does not make much
-show. Do you know this new
-chancellor?”</p>
-
-<p>“By my faith, no! However, I
-saw him the other day on the square
-at Westminster, as I was passing; the
-Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk were
-conducting him with great ceremony
-to the Star Chamber (at least that
-is what they told me). I stopped
-to look at him. There was an immense
-crowd filling all the square.
-In crossing it the Duke of Norfolk
-stopped, and, turning to the crowd
-before him, said the king had instructed
-him to publicly proclaim
-what great and important services
-Sir Thomas had rendered him in
-every position he had confided to
-his care, and it was on that account
-he esteemed him so highly, and
-had appointed him now to the
-highest position in the kingdom
-because of his virtues and the rare
-talents he possessed. Everybody
-listened and said nothing (because
-you know the last is always the
-best).” The citizen said this in a
-very low tone.</p>
-
-<p>“More replied very well,” he
-continued. “He said that, while
-deeply grateful for his majesty’s
-goodness and favors, he felt no less
-deeply convinced that the king had
-rewarded him far beyond his merits;
-in all he had accomplished he
-had but done his duty, and he
-greatly feared now that he might
-not possess the ability necessary
-for acquitting himself of the duties
-of so high and important an office.
-And&mdash;a very singular thing (for they
-do not usually speak of their predecessors)&mdash;he
-declared that he could
-not rejoice in the honor conferred
-on him, as it recalled the name of
-the wise and honorable prelate
-whom he had superseded. On
-hearing that I supposed they would
-hiss; but not at all. He said everything
-so well, with so much sincerity,
-dignity, and firmness, that they
-applauded him with an indescribable
-enthusiasm. It seemed those who
-knew him were never satisfied with
-praising him. Nobody, they said,
-rendered justice so scrupulously as
-he; none were so wise, so disinterested;
-in fact, they never ended
-the recital of his perfections.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” said the other, in a voice
-scarcely audible, while he looked
-round to discover if any one could
-hear him, “we will see later if he
-performs all these wonderful things,
-and if any one will be able to get
-near him without paying even his
-doorkeeper, as was the case with
-the other.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, we will see,” replied his
-companion. “None of these great
-lords are worth much&mdash;any amount
-of <em>promises</em>; but of <em>deeds</em>&mdash;nothing!”</p>
-
-<p>“But this is not a great lord,”
-answered the citizen.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! well, it is all the same; as
-soon as they rise, they grow proud,
-and despise and scorn the people.
-You may believe if ever I obtain a
-patent of nobility, and become still
-richer than I am now, I will crush
-them beautifully; there will not be
-one who will dare contradict me.
-By my faith! it is a great pity I
-had not been born a count or a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[625]</a></span>
-baron; I should have been so well
-up to all their impertinences and
-want of feeling.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is not very difficult,” replied
-his companion; “you are, I think,
-sufficiently so now for the good of
-that poor youth who wants to marry
-your daughter. He will lose his
-senses, I am afraid, poor fellow.”</p>
-
-<p>“What did you say, neighbor?”
-replied the citizen, feeling the blood
-mount to his face. “Do you think
-I will give my daughter to a wretch
-who has not a cent in the world&mdash;I
-who have held in my family the
-right of citizenship from time immemorial?
-My grandmother also
-told me we have had two aldermen
-of our name. All that
-counts, you see, Master Allicot;
-and if you wish to remain my
-friend, I advise you not to meddle
-yourself with the tattle of my wife
-and daughter on the subject of
-that little wretch they are putting
-it into her head to marry; because,
-in truth, the mother is as bad as
-the daughter. Ah! neighbor, these
-women, these women are the
-plagues of our lives! Don’t say
-any more to me about it. They
-will run me distracted; but they
-will make nothing by it, I swear it,
-neighbor. The silly jades! to dare
-speak to me of such a match!
-Hush! don’t say any more to me
-about it, neighbor; for it will drive
-me mad!”</p>
-
-<p>The neighbor <em>did</em> reply, however,
-because he had been commissioned
-to use his influence in softening
-the husband and father in favor of
-a young mechanic full of life and
-health, who had no other fault than
-that of belonging to a class less
-elevated than that of the proud
-citizen who rejected his humble
-supplications with scorn.</p>
-
-<p>But the <i lang="fr">dénouement</i> of this embassy,
-and the termination of this
-romance of the warehouse, have
-been for ever lost to history; for M.
-du Bellay, seeing they were almost
-in sight of Asher, made them land
-him, and the two honorable citizens
-doubtless continued their journey
-and their conversation.</p>
-
-<p>At Asher M. du Bellay found
-everything just as he expected.
-The physicians surrounded Wolsey’s
-bed, watching his slightest
-movement. The golden tablets of
-young Anne Boleyn were thrown
-open upon the coarse woollen bedspread
-that covered the sick man.
-Cromwell walked the floor with
-folded arms. He approached the
-bed from time to time, looked at
-Wolsey, whose closed eyes and labored
-breathing betokened nothing
-favorable, then at the golden
-tablets, then at the physicians
-around him. He seemed to say,
-“Is he going to die, and just when
-he might be so useful to me?”</p>
-
-<p>On seeing M. du Bellay enter,
-his countenance lighted up; he ran
-on before him, and endeavored to
-arouse Wolsey from his stupor.</p>
-
-<p>“My lord, the ambassador of
-France!” he cried in the ear of the
-dying man.</p>
-
-<p>But he received no reply.</p>
-
-<p>“It is singular,” said the doctors,
-“nothing can arouse him.” And
-they looked gravely at each other.</p>
-
-<p>“He will not die! I tell you he
-will not die!” replied Cromwell,
-evincing the most impatient anxiety.</p>
-
-<p>He approached the cardinal and
-shook his head.</p>
-
-<p>“Crom&mdash;well,” murmured the
-sick man.</p>
-
-<p>“Monsieur du Bellay!” shouted
-Cromwell a second time.</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey’s eyes remained closed.</p>
-
-<p>“Let him alone,” cried the physicians;
-“he must not be excited.”</p>
-
-<p>“So I think,” said M. du Bellay.
-“You can tell him I have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[626]</a></span>
-here,” continued the ambassador,
-turning towards Cromwell, “but
-did not wish to disturb him.”</p>
-
-<p>M. du Bellay then took his leave,
-and returned by the land route to
-London. He encountered, not far
-from Asher, a party of the cardinal’s
-old domestics, whom the king had
-sent to carry him several wagon-loads
-of furniture and other effects.
-At the head of this convoy rode
-Cavendish, one of the cardinal’s
-most faithful servants.</p>
-
-<p>Seeing M. du Bellay, they collected
-around him, and hastily inquired
-about their master.</p>
-
-<p>Du Bellay advised them to quicken
-their speed, and, taking leave,
-went on his way, thinking that the
-cardinal would not be restored to
-favor, and already arranging in his
-mind another course in which to
-direct his diplomatic steps for the
-future.</p>
-
-<p>He was not mistaken: Wolsey
-escaped death, but only to find himself
-surrounded by misery and
-abandoned to despair.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>PRIMITIVE CIVILIZATION.<a name="FNanchor_235" id="FNanchor_235"></a><a href="#Footnote_235" class="fnanchor">[235]</a></h3>
-
-<p>If our modern men of science
-would not travel out of their sphere,
-there would be no war between
-them and the church. In the name
-of the Catholic religion we invite
-them to push onward in the path
-of scientific discovery with the utmost
-energy and ardor of which
-they are capable. But if their discoveries
-are to have any bearing on
-the truths of the Christian revelation,
-we can accept nothing less
-than demonstration, and they must
-not credit science, as does Mr. Tyndall,
-with mere theories of speculative
-philosophy. With this reservation,
-we wish their labors all possible
-success. But if poor fallible reason&mdash;whose
-discoveries, after whole
-millenniums of toil, are little better
-than a record of the blunders of one
-generation corrected by the blunders
-of another; and, even on the
-supposition that they are all correct, are, by comparison with what
-is unknown, as a drop of water
-compared with the limitless ocean&mdash;ventures
-to deny the existence of
-the soul because it has no lens
-powerful enough to bring it within
-the cognizance of the senses, its
-conclusion is no longer scientific.
-The doctor has become a quack,
-the philosopher a fool. If the torch
-which the Creator has placed at the
-service of his creature, to help him
-to grope his way amidst the objects
-of sense, and to illuminate his faith,
-is to be flung in his face because it
-does not reveal the whole infinitude
-of the majesty of his beauty,
-we can only compassionate so
-childish a misuse of a noble gift.
-If natural philosophy is to rob the
-sensible creation of a motive and
-end, and to proclaim it to be merely
-the result of an unintelligent atomic
-attraction and evolution of forces,
-a more intelligent and a more logical
-philosophy, in harmony with
-the unquenchable instinct of immortality<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[627]</a></span>
-within the human soul,
-casts from it such pitiful trifling
-with indignation and a holy disdain.
-If, in short, the science of
-nature would dethrone nature’s
-Creator and God, we address to it
-the word which He to whom all
-true science leads addressed to the
-ocean he placed in the deep hollows
-of the earth: “Hitherto thou shalt
-come, and thou shalt go no farther:
-and here thou shalt break
-thy swelling waves.”</p>
-
-<p>Physical science cannot contradict
-the divine revelation. No
-discovery hitherto made has done
-so; and until one such presents
-itself we are entitled to assume its
-impossibility as a philosophical
-axiom. For this reason we are of
-those who would give full rein to
-even the speculations of experimental
-philosophy, so long as they
-are confined strictly within the domain
-of secondary causes or natural
-law, and do not venture into a
-sphere of thought beyond the reach
-of experimental science, where they
-are immediately confronted with
-the dogmas of the faith.</p>
-
-<p>We have never thought that the
-theory of the evolution of species
-must of necessity transgress that
-limit. It has been made to do so
-by <i lang="la">philosophuli</i>, if we may invent a
-name for them&mdash;speculative bigots,
-who are bent on extorting from
-natural phenomena any plausible
-support of the infidel prejudices of
-which they were previously possessed.
-A more intelligent observation
-of scientific facts would
-have saved them from a ridiculous
-extravagance which makes them
-resemble those afflicted creatures,
-whom we so often meet with in asylums
-for the insane, who suppose
-themselves to be God.</p>
-
-<p>We must never lose sight of the
-fact that God can only communicate
-with his creature in such a
-way as he can understand. If he
-were to reveal himself to any of us
-as he is, we should die, unless he
-supplied us with a miraculous capacity
-for supporting the vision.
-If he had inspired the historian of
-those primitive ages to describe the
-astronomical phenomenon which
-happened in the time of Joshua in
-the exact language of physical
-science, what meaning would it
-have conveyed to people who did
-not know that the earth revolves
-around its own axis and around the
-sun? If it be objected, Why did
-not the Holy Spirit use language
-consistent with scientific truth, and
-leave it to be understood afterwards
-in the progress of science? we reply,
-Because it would have thwarted his
-own designs to have done so. The
-Bible is a book of instruction in
-truth out of the reach of human intelligence,
-not a book of natural
-science; and it appeals to the obedience
-of faith rather than to reason.
-The mental toil of scientific
-discovery was a part of the punishment
-inflicted on the original transgression.
-To anticipate the result
-of that toil by thousands of years
-would have been to contradict His
-own dispensation.</p>
-
-<p>In the same manner the sublime
-record of the genesis of the illimitable
-universe which weaves its
-dance of light in space is told in a
-few sentences: The fiat of Him
-with whom one day is as a thousand
-years, and a thousand years as one
-day, and the successive order of the
-creation&mdash;that is all. Time was
-not then, for it was the creation
-of time. Man can conceive no
-ideas independent of time, and
-so days are named; but it is evident
-that the word may stand for
-indeterminate periods of time. The
-creation of light was, it cannot be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[628]</a></span>
-doubted, instantaneous. But that
-creation was a law&mdash;limitation, relation,
-succession&mdash;whose working
-was an evolution in successive orders
-or stages, over which presided the
-Creator, and still presides. “My
-Father worketh hitherto, and I
-work.” Each of these was a
-distinct creation, perfect in itself,
-not an evolution of species. The
-creation was progressive, but not
-in the sense of the creation of every
-one of its six cycles evolving out of
-the preceding one; for in that
-case either the lower would have
-disappeared or the evolution would
-be still in operation. The firmament
-did not develop out of light,
-nor the ocean and the dry land out
-of the firmament; nor were the
-fishes an evolution from the sea-weed,
-nor the birds from the trees
-and shrubs, nor the wild beasts from
-the reeds of the jungle, nor man from
-the lower animals. But they were
-all to be made before his creation
-who was the sum and end of all;
-and the atmosphere must be created
-before the birds, the ocean before
-the fishes, the dry land before vegetable
-life.</p>
-
-<p>And not only was there never
-any evolution of species into other
-species, but the creation of every
-separate species was complete, so
-that there has never been an evolution
-of any species into a higher
-state or condition. There has
-never been any progress in that
-sense. Every species, including
-the human being, remains precisely
-as it issued from the hand of God,
-when it has not degenerated or disappeared.
-Indeed, the tendency of
-all living things around us is to
-degeneracy and decay. Whatever
-progress can be predicated of man is
-of his moral nature only, and of his
-knowledge, through the divine revelation.
-But even that is not a race
-progress, an evolution of species,
-but an individual one. If this be
-conceded&mdash;and we think it scarcely
-admits of dispute&mdash;we see no danger
-to the dogmas of the faith in allowing
-to the natural philosophers any
-length of ages they may claim for
-the creation of the home of man
-before he was called into being for
-whom it was destined.</p>
-
-<p>Whatever period of time was
-covered by those cycles of creation,
-throughout them it may be said
-that he was being made. If all was
-for him and to end in him, it was
-in effect he who all along was being
-made. Yet the whole was only a
-preparatory creation. It was only
-his body in which all resulted. “A
-body thou hast prepared for me.”
-It was when “God breathed into
-his nostrils the breath of life” that
-man was created. It was then he
-became “a living soul.”</p>
-
-<p>The error of the physicists
-who reject revelation is threefold.
-They make the body the man;
-they thus assign to his body and
-the inner principle which animates
-it a simultaneous beginning and
-joint development, some of them
-going so far as to make the spirit
-itself, or soul, or whatever they call
-the animating principle, the spontaneous
-product of material forces.
-And, throwing back the beginning
-of the evolution process into untold
-ages, by comparison with
-which the life of an individual is a
-scarcely appreciable moment, they
-suppose the process to be still going
-on as it begun. All this obviously
-contradicts the direct statements
-of revelation. It is, indeed,
-shocking to mere human reason.
-The work of the natural creation ended
-with the sixth day. Up to that
-time, whether the periods were
-long or short, the work was going
-on. But it was complete when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[629]</a></span>
-body which had been prepared for
-him was animated with the spirit of
-life. After that there was no farther
-development. It is contrary to reason
-to suppose it. It is contrary to
-the whole analogy of nature. Not
-an instance can be adduced, throughout
-the entire creation, of one
-species developing into another&mdash;not
-an instance even of any species
-developing within itself into a higher
-order of being. But up to that
-period, of which it is thus written,
-<i lang="la">Igitur <span class="smcapuc">PERFECTI SUNT</span> cœli et terra, et
-omnis ornatus eorum: <span class="smcapuc">COMPLEVITQUE</span>
-Deus die septimo opus suum quod
-fecerat; et requievit die septimo ab
-uni verso opere quod patrarat</i>, we may
-admit, without risk of heterodoxy,
-any doctrine of evolution of which
-the physicists may give us a satisfactory
-evidence.</p>
-
-<p>The physicists, in support of their
-irrational theory of evolution, maintain
-that the earliest developments
-of human consciousness were of the
-lowest order, and that man has ever
-since been gradually progressing
-towards a higher morality and loftier
-spheres of thought. In this
-able and interesting work Father
-Thébaud demonstrates, by an exhaustive
-induction from the history
-and literature of all the nations,
-that the history of mankind up to
-the coming of Christ, instead of a
-progress, was a continual retrogression.</p>
-
-<p>In his introductory chapter he
-establishes, by proofs which should
-be conclusive to all minds unprepossessed
-by an arrogant perversity,
-that primitive man was in possession
-of a primitive revelation. In
-the morning twilight of the ages, as
-far back as we can see across the
-Flood, up to the very cherubim-guarded
-entrance to the seats of
-innocence from which the erring
-creature had been driven, he traces
-everywhere those rites and dogmas,
-in their elemental form, which, in
-their complete development and
-full significance, made known to us
-by the revelation of the fulness of
-time, are still of faith and observance
-amongst the sons of God
-from end to end of the habitable
-globe. This revelation did not go
-beyond monotheism, because the
-fallen immortal had to be prepared,
-through long ages of discipline, for
-the revelation of the triune nature
-of the Godhead, and of his restoration
-to the forfeited favor of his
-Father by the incarnation and atoning
-sacrifice of the Eternal Son.
-We do not remember to have met
-before with the ingenious hypothesis<a name="FNanchor_236" id="FNanchor_236"></a><a href="#Footnote_236" class="fnanchor">[236]</a>
-that the configuration of the
-earth, consisting of an all-embracing
-ocean, in the midst of which
-vast continents are islands, evidences
-the design of the Creator to
-have been that “men should have
-intercourse of some kind with one
-another,” and that on the land.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The oceans and rivers, instead of being
-primarily dividing lines, intended to
-separate men from one another, had precisely
-for their first object to become
-highways and common channels of intercourse
-between the various nations of
-mankind.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>But our author considers that
-the social intercommunion to which
-the configuration of the earth was
-to administer was not to develop
-in the form of “an universal republic,”
-but that “men were to consent
-to exist in larger or smaller groups,
-each of them surrounded with well-defined
-limits determining numerous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[630]</a></span>
-nationalities,” united in the bond of
-religious uniformity which he terms
-patriarchal Catholicity.</p>
-
-<p>The design of the Creator of
-universal brotherhood amongst his
-creatures was not to be fulfilled before
-the lapse of ages, and throughout
-that dismal period it has the
-appearance of being perpetually
-thwarted by their perverseness. The
-memories of Paradise rapidly faded
-away amongst them. After what
-period of time we are not told, the
-sons of God committed a second
-infidelity by intermarrying with the
-daughters of men. The result was
-a race of giants&mdash;giants in capacity
-and crime as well as in bodily form&mdash;whose
-existence universal tradition
-attests. In almost open alliance
-with the powers of darkness,
-they sank with such fearful rapidity
-down the abyss of depravation,
-dragging with them the better portion
-of the race, that, to avert the
-triumph of hell and the utter reprobation
-of his creature, the offended
-Creator buried the guilty memories
-of colossal crime beneath an universal
-deluge, at whose subsidence the
-first civilization reappeared on the
-mountains of Asia in all its earliest
-purity, brought across the forty
-days’ extinction of life upon the
-earth by the eight souls who alone
-had turned a deaf ear to the universal
-seduction. “This idea of a
-gradual and deeper degradation of
-human kind,” says Frederick Schlegel,
-“in each succeeding age, appears
-at first sight not to accord
-very well with the testimony which
-sacred tradition furnishes on man’s
-primitive state, for it represents
-the two races of the primitive
-world as contemporary; and, indeed,
-Seth, the progenitor of the better
-and nobler race of virtuous patriarchs,
-was much younger than
-Cain. However, this contradiction
-is only apparent, if we reflect that
-it was the wicked and violent race
-which drew the other into its disorders,
-and that it was from this
-contamination a giant corruption
-sprang, which continually increased,
-till, with a trifling exception, it
-pervaded the whole mass of mankind,
-and till the justice of God required
-the extirpation of degenerate
-humanity by one universal
-flood.”</p>
-
-<p>It does not admit of a moment’s
-doubt, as our author argues, that
-with this terrible judgment began
-the dissolution of that fraternal
-unity which God had intended
-should be the happy lot of the human
-family, and for which the configuration
-of the earth was adapted.
-The gigantic unity of crime was
-smitten to pieces in the helplessness
-of division. They who had been
-brothers looked in one another’s
-faces and found them strange.
-They opened their lips, and, lo!
-their speech was to others a jargon
-of unintelligible sounds. The one
-could no more understand the
-other than they could the wolf or
-the jackal with whom they both
-began to be mutually classed. The
-intercommunion of families of men
-with one another was rudely snapped
-asunder. There were no means
-of common action, there was no
-medium of common thought. The
-fragments into which the human
-family were smitten went off in
-different directions, to post themselves,
-in attitudes of mutual distrust
-and defiance, behind mountains
-or morasses, on the skirts
-of forests, the borders of torrents,
-or in the security of measureless
-deserts, where their practised eyes
-swept the horizon. Intercommunion
-was rendered still more impossible
-by the mutual antagonism,
-fear, and hatred that prevailed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[631]</a></span>
-And the very ocean, instead of being
-a pathway for the interchange of
-social life, became a formidable
-barrier between man and man.
-The dangers to be encountered on
-the lands to which the winds might
-bear them were more to be dreaded
-than the terrible phantoms which,
-issuing ever and anon from the
-home of the storms, raged across
-the ocean, and lashed into merciless
-fury its roaring waves. Memory
-had lost, in the primeval language,
-the key of its treasure-house. As
-years went on, amidst the exacting
-preoccupations of new ways of life,
-new surroundings, new ways of expressing
-their thoughts, and their
-increasing tribal or race isolation,
-the ideas upon which their primeval
-civilization had been based grew
-dimmer and dimmer, until they
-finally disappeared.</p>
-
-<p>“To establish this in detail,”
-says the author of <cite>Gentilism</cite>, “is the
-purpose of this work.” And this
-purpose appears to us to have been
-accomplished in the most convincing
-manner.</p>
-
-<p>The scientists maintain, and it is
-necessary to their evolution theory,
-that man began with barbarism, and
-moved slowly onwards in the gradual
-stages of their tedious evolution
-process towards what they call
-civilization, which is to lead, we
-believe, in the future developments
-of the ever-continuing evolution, to
-some loftier state and condition,
-of the nature of which they supply
-us with not the faintest idea.</p>
-
-<p>This notion of the original barbarism
-of man is one of those fallacies
-which get imbedded in the
-general belief of mankind one
-knows not how. Strange to say, it
-has been very generally acquiesced
-in for no manner of reason; and
-it is only of late years that thoughtful
-men, outside of the faith, have
-come to suspect that it is not quite
-the truism they had imagined.</p>
-
-<p>There is a reason for this: The
-attenuation of the claims of another
-world on the every-day life and on
-the conduct of men effected by the
-great revolt of the XVIth century,
-and the keener relish for the things
-of this life which consequently ensued,
-have infected the sentiments
-of mankind with an exaggerated
-sense of the importance of material
-objects and pursuits. Thus the idea
-of civilization, instead of being that
-of the highest development of the
-moral and whole inner being of social
-man, is limited to the discovery
-of all the unnumbered ways and
-means of administering to the embellishment
-and luxury of his actual
-life. His very mental progress, as
-they term it with extraordinary incorrectness,
-is only regarded in this
-light.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The speculators on the stone, bronze,
-and iron ages,” writes our author, “place
-civilization almost exclusively in the enjoyment
-by man of a multitude of little
-inventions of his own, many of which
-certainly are derived from the knowledge
-and use of metals. Any nation deprived
-of them cannot be called civilized in their
-opinion, because reduced to a very simple
-state of life, which, they say unhesitatingly,
-is barbarism.… Barbarism,
-in fact, depends much more on moral
-degradation than on physical want of
-comfort. And when we come to describe
-patriarchal society, our readers will understand
-how a tribe or nation may deserve
-to be placed on an exalted round
-of the social ladder, although living exclusively
-on the fruits of the earth, and
-cultivating it with a simple wooden
-plough.”<a name="FNanchor_237" id="FNanchor_237"></a><a href="#Footnote_237" class="fnanchor">[237]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Father Thébaud next proceeds,
-with convincing force, to demolish
-the argument in behalf of the gradual
-evolution of the entire race from
-a state of barbarism, which the evolutionists
-allege to have been inevitably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[632]</a></span>
-its first stage of intellectual consciousness
-drawn from the discovery
-of human skeletons in caves, and in
-the drift of long past ages, in juxtaposition
-with instruments of rude
-construction belonging to the palæolithic
-age and fossil remains of
-extinct animals. This argument
-has always appeared to us so feeble
-as to seem a mystery how it could
-be employed by learned men, unless
-in support of some preconceived
-opinion which they would maintain
-at all hazards. The occasional
-outbreaks of the Mississippi, the
-terrible devastation effected by the
-mere overflow of the Garonne in the
-South of France, give but a faint
-idea of what changes must have
-been effected upon the crust of the
-earth by the subsidence of the huge
-mass of water, which must have
-been at least eight or nine times as
-ponderous as all the oceans which
-have since lain at peace in its hollows.
-As the prodigious volumes
-of water, sucked and drawn hither
-and thither, as they hurried to
-their mountain-bed, rushed in furious
-tides and vast whirlpools of terrific
-force, they must have torn up the
-earth’s crust like a rotten rag.
-Whole valleys must have been
-scooped out down to the very root
-of the mountains, and <i lang="fr">débris</i> of all
-kinds deposited everywhere in all
-kinds of confusion, so as to afford
-no secure data whatever for chronological,
-or zoölogical, or geological
-deductions.</p>
-
-<p>Still more conclusive is Father
-Thébaud’s refutation of the argument
-in behalf of the evolution
-theory drawn from the discovery of
-stone implements of rude construction
-in what is asserted to be the
-earliest drift deposit of iron in the later
-strata, and bronze in the latest.
-To make this argument of any force
-it must be proved that these periods
-evolved regularly and invariably
-from one another throughout the
-whole race of mankind. Their
-<em>periodicity</em>, as Father Thébaud has
-it, must be indisputably proved.
-But this is just what it cannot be.
-On the contrary,</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“In this last age in which we live; in
-the previous ages, which we can know
-by clear and unobjectionable history;
-finally, in the dimmest ages of antiquity
-of which we possess any sufficiently reliable
-records, the three ‘periods’ of stone,
-bronze, and iron have always subsisted
-simultaneously, and consequently are no
-more ‘periods’ when we speak of the
-aggregate of mankind, but they are only
-three co-existing aspects of the same specific
-individual.”<a name="FNanchor_238" id="FNanchor_238"></a><a href="#Footnote_238" class="fnanchor">[238]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>To the same effect is the argument
-that</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The artistic distance between the
-rough palæolithic flints and the polished
-stones of the neolithic period exhibits a
-gap which tells but indifferently in favor
-of the believers in continuous progress.
-Either there has been a strange severment
-of continuity, or the men of the
-first period were better artists, and not
-such rough barbarians as the remains we
-possess of them seem to attest.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The scientific arguments, however,
-of Father Thébaud, in disproof
-of the alleged original barbarism
-of the human race, satisfactory
-as they are, as far as they go, are little
-more than introductory to the more
-conclusive historical argument which
-constitutes the body of his valuable
-and very opportune work.
-“The best efforts to ascertain the
-origin of man,” he justly remarks,
-“or primeval religion, by the facts of
-geology or zoölogy, can at best only
-result in more or less probable conjectures.”</p>
-
-<p>In an argument of this nature
-our author begins, as was to have
-been expected, from that philosophical,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[633]</a></span>
-impassive, and ancient people
-who inhabit the triangular peninsula
-which stretches out from no
-vast distance from the original seat
-of the renewed race of man into
-the Southeastern Atlantic. There
-they have dwelt from times beyond
-which history does not reach. Inheriting
-a civilization which dates
-from the subsiding Deluge, whose
-gradual decadence can be distinctly
-traced, they are in possession of
-the earliest writings that exist, unless
-the books of Moses or the
-book of Job are older, which, we do
-not think it is rash to say, is, at
-least, doubtful. We find ourselves
-in the presence of the noblest truths
-of even supernatural religion, mingled,
-it is true, with the gross pantheistical
-absurdities which had already
-begun to deface the primitive
-revelation and to deteriorate
-the primitive civilization.</p>
-
-<p>The general process throughout
-the world was, no doubt, as Father
-Thébaud describes&mdash;</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“After a period of universal monotheism,
-the nations began to worship ‘the
-works of God,’ and fell generally into a
-broad pantheism. They took subsequently
-a second step, perfectly well
-marked, later on, in Hindostan, Central
-Asia, Egypt, Greece, etc.&mdash;a step originating
-everywhere in the imagination of
-poets, materializing God, bringing him
-down to human nature and weakness,
-and finally idealizing and deifying his
-supposed representations in statuary
-and painting.”<a name="FNanchor_239" id="FNanchor_239"></a><a href="#Footnote_239" class="fnanchor">[239]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>But we must venture to differ
-from Father Thébaud as to the
-religion of the Hindoos having ever
-taken the latter step. The form
-its pantheism took, in consequence
-of its tenets of the incarnations of
-Vishnu&mdash;the second god of the triad&mdash;and
-of metempsychosis, was a
-worship of animals, and especially of
-the cow&mdash;a worship which prevails
-to this day. But this was not the
-gross idolatry of the Greeks and
-Romans, but rather a respect, a
-<i lang="la">cultus</i>, in consequence of the supposed
-<em>possible</em> presence in the former
-of departed friends, and of the
-incarnation of the divinity in the
-latter. Their idols are huge material
-representations of the might
-and repose which are the chief attributes
-of the Hindoo deity, or of
-animals with which the above-named
-ideas were especially associated;
-but we do not think they ever were
-worshipped as was, for example
-Diana by the Ephesians.</p>
-
-<p>Be this as it may, it in no way
-affects the incontrovertible testimony
-which Father Thébaud adduces
-to the high state of civilization of
-this remarkable people fifteen hundred
-years, at all events, before
-Christ. He proves it from their
-social institutions, which issued
-from a kind of tribal municipality
-closely resembling the Celtic clans,
-but without the principle of superseding
-the rightful heir to a deceased
-<i lang="ga">canfinny</i> by another son in consequence
-of certain disqualifications,
-and that of the ever-recurring
-redistribution of land, which were
-the bane of Celtic institutions. The
-caste restrictions, our author shows
-from the laws of Menu, were not
-nearly so rigorous in those primitive
-ages; and from the same source he
-exhibits undeniable proof of that
-purity of morals which evidences the
-highest stage of civilization, and
-which has sunk gradually down to
-the vicious barbarism of the present
-day. We suspect, however, that
-this latter has been somewhat exaggerated.
-It is certainly our impression,
-taken from works written
-by those who have lived for years
-in familiar intercourse with the
-people, that amongst the Hindoo
-women there still lingers conspicuous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[634]</a></span>
-evidence of the purity of morals
-which was universal amongst them
-in the beginning of their history.</p>
-
-<p>It might have been added, moreover,
-that the laws of Menu, in addition
-to their high morality, display
-a knowledge of finance and
-political economy, of the science
-of government, and of the art of
-developing the resources of a people
-which indicate a very high state of
-civilization indeed.</p>
-
-<p>It is impossible for us, within the
-limits assigned us, to follow Father
-Thébaud through an argument consisting
-exclusively of learned detail.
-Our readers, if they would
-have any proper appreciation of it,
-must consult the work itself. We
-remark merely that, starting from
-the admitted fact that the Vedas
-contain the doctrine of plain and
-pure monotheism, and that in those
-distant ages “doctrines were promulgated
-and believed in” “which
-far transcend all the most solemn
-teaching of the greatest philosophers
-who flourished in the following
-ages, and which yield only to the
-sublime and exquisitely refined
-teachings of Incarnate Wisdom,”<a name="FNanchor_240" id="FNanchor_240"></a><a href="#Footnote_240" class="fnanchor">[240]</a>
-our author traces the inroads of pantheism
-from the time when the doctrine,
-recently revived by men once
-Christians, of an “universal soul”
-was openly proclaimed, and “when
-it was asserted that our own is a
-‘spark’ from the ‘blazing fire,’
-that God is ‘all beings,’ and ‘all
-beings are God.’”<a name="FNanchor_241" id="FNanchor_241"></a><a href="#Footnote_241" class="fnanchor">[241]</a> And he traces
-elaborately the change through the
-several mystical works of the philosophical
-Brahmins subsequent to
-the Vedas. Buddhism is a comparatively
-modern development.
-We doubt its being any form of
-Hindooism whatever. It appears
-to us to be rather the earliest development
-of that spirit of hostility
-to the life-giving truths of the Christian
-revelation which began its
-work almost at their very cradle&mdash;that
-abject principle of materialism
-which, after having dragged down
-the vast populations of China and
-of North and Western India to the
-lowest depths of mental and moral
-degradation of which human nature
-is susceptible, is now sweeping over
-Christendom, and threatening to
-“deceive,” if it were possible,
-“even the very elect.”</p>
-
-<p>Father Thébaud’s next chapter
-is devoted to a historical review of
-the primeval religion and its decline
-in Central Asia and Africa.
-And here the proof is more overwhelming,
-if possible, than in the
-case of India. As to the monotheism
-of the great Doctor&mdash;if we
-may give him such a title&mdash;of the
-ancient East, and of the Zends,
-there can be no manner of doubt.
-Nay, “even the doctrine of the resurrection
-of the body is clearly
-contained in the most authentic
-part of the Zend-Avesta.” There
-is also that august personage, apart
-from all superior beings under God,
-“who stands between God and
-man; shows the way to heaven,
-and pronounces judgment upon
-human actions after death; guards
-with his drawn sword the whole
-world against the demons; has his
-own light from inside, and from
-outside is decorated with stars.”
-Our author makes Zoroaster, at the
-latest, a contemporary of Moses,
-and justly observes that the Zend-Avesta
-“represents the thoughts of
-men very near the origin of our
-species.” Now, the magnificent
-eloquence and profound truth of
-the thoughts we meet, rivalling at
-times the Book of Job, the beauty
-of the prayers, and the elaborate
-splendor of the ritual, testify to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[635]</a></span>
-very different state of things in
-those earliest days from that alleged
-by the evolutionists. Father
-Thébaud decides the Zends to be
-Vedic, and not Persian. And no
-doubt in the remarkable form and
-construction of the poems&mdash;dramatic,
-and mostly in the form of
-dialogue&mdash;in the tone of thought
-and leading religious ideas, they
-closely resemble the Hindoo Vedas.
-But it is our impression that
-we do not find in the writings of
-Zoroaster that perpetual insistence
-on the necessity of absorption into
-the deity which characterizes the
-Hindoo poems&mdash;the <cite>Bhagavât-Gita</cite>,
-for example. It would appear that
-the Persians occupied a special
-place in the dispensation of God
-in the ancient world. The Holy
-Spirit, in the prophecies, speaks of
-“my servant Cyrus whom I have
-chosen,” and it is certain that
-the pure monotheistic worship
-was preserved longer in Persia
-than in any nation of antiquity,
-except the Jewish. Its corruption
-was into dualism, by which
-the spirit of evil, as in the Indian
-<cite>Trimourti</cite>, was invested with almost
-co-ordinate power with the
-spirit of good. But for full information
-on this important and interesting
-subject we must refer the
-reader to Father Thébaud himself.</p>
-
-<p>Our limits do not admit of our
-giving scarcely the faintest outline
-of our author’s argument in proof
-of the monotheism of Pelasgic
-Greece, and its gradual degradation
-to a sensual and idolatrous anthropomorphism
-in Hellenic and
-Heroic Greece. The substantial
-genuineness of the Orphic literature
-he successfully establishes, as well
-as the similarity of its doctrines to
-those of the Vedas; from which
-he draws the obvious inference that
-the two came from the same
-source, and that that branch of
-the Aryan family carried with them
-to their more distant settlements
-traditions of the primitive revelation
-so conspicuous in the Persian
-and Hindoo mystic epics, but much
-defaced and distorted in the course
-of their long and toilsome migrations.
-If <em>pure</em> monotheism ever
-prevailed in Pelasgic Greece, its
-reign was short. Indeed, to Orpheus
-himself are ascribed pantheistic
-doctrines. It was the poets
-who ushered in that special form
-of idolatry which took possession
-of Greece, the worship of the human
-being deified with all his infirmities&mdash;the
-<em>anthropomorphism</em> of
-the gods, as Father Thébaud calls
-it. And the chief sinner, on this
-score, was Homer, the first and
-greatest of them all. Yet did that
-densely-populated, unseen world of
-the Greeks&mdash;that sensuous, nay vicious,
-idolatry&mdash;which peopled the
-ocean and the mountains and the
-forests with gods, and imagined a
-divinity for every fountain, and
-every grove, and every valley, and
-every rill, with its superior deities,
-up to the supreme father of Olympus,
-himself subject to that forlorn
-solution of the riddle of “evil”&mdash;fate&mdash;bear
-witness from Olympus,
-and from Hades, and from the
-realms of the sea, to the primitive revelation.
-It bore witness to a civilization
-from which that degradation
-of the ideas of God to the level of
-humanity, in spite of its artistic grace
-and poetic feeling, deformed, however,
-by a filthy lasciviousness, with
-its short period of literary splendor
-and of exalted philosophy, ending
-with the sophistical negations of
-scepticism, was a fall, and not a
-progress.</p>
-
-<p>For all this, “the precious fragments
-of a primitive revelation are
-found,” as Father Thébaud truly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[636]</a></span>
-observes, “scattered through the
-writings of nearly all ancient Greek
-and Latin philosophers and poets.”
-His two chapters on this subject&mdash;chapter
-vii. on “Hellenic Philosophy
-as a Channel of Tradition,”
-and chapter viii. on “The Greek
-and Latin Poets as Guardians of
-Truth”&mdash;are perhaps the most interesting
-part of his most interesting
-and instructive work. They embrace
-a subject which has always
-appeared to us as more worthy of
-learned labor than any other which
-could be named. That life would
-be well spent which should devote
-itself to collecting all these fragments
-of traditionary truth from all
-ante-Christian literatures. Such a
-work would not turn back the flood
-of rationalism, whose first risings
-we owe to Greece&mdash;for it is rather
-moral than intellectual&mdash;but it would
-materially obstruct it, and would
-rescue from it many souls which
-might otherwise be lured to their
-destruction by the feeble echoes
-of the sophists and Aristophanes,
-which, beginning with Voltaire, are
-now multiplying through all the
-rationalistic press of the world.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, we cordially commend
-Father Thébaud’s work on
-<cite>Gentilism</cite> to the attentive study of
-all who wish for solid information
-and sagacious criticism on a subject
-which appears to us, without
-wishing in the least to underrate
-scientific investigation, to be more
-interesting and more important
-than all or any of the discoveries
-of physical science. These, as has
-been proved of late years, may be
-turned against the truth, and become
-thus a means of darkening
-instead of enlightening the soul.
-At the best, be they correct or erroneous,
-great or small, many or few,
-they cannot add an inch to our
-stature or a day to our lives.
-They do not even add to our happiness.</p>
-
-<p>But a false science&mdash;one which
-would assign to each of us an insignificant
-phenomenal existence,
-whose individuality will disappear,
-at the end of its few days of living
-consciousness, in an universal whole
-in an eternal state of progress&mdash;is
-as fatal to human happiness as anything
-can be short of the abyss of
-reprobation. More consoling, as
-it is more in accordance with right
-reason, is the testimony which
-comes to us trumpet-tongued, in
-one vast unison, from all the ages,
-that the history of the race is one
-of decadence, not of progress. The
-sentence passed was death. The
-road to death is decadence. The
-way is rounded; there is a movement
-onward and a growth of life
-until the descent begins which
-lands us in dissolution. But every
-moment from the first cry of infancy
-is a step nearer to death; we
-are every one of us dying every
-day; and a movement towards
-death is not progress. Individual
-experience joins its voice to that
-of universal history in testimony
-of this. The revelation of Christ
-has put us in possession of the
-highest and certain truth; it has
-given us a more exalted moral, and
-has recast our nature in a higher,
-nay, in a divine, mould. We are
-still dying every day; but the certain
-hope of a joyful resurrection
-has deprived death of its agonizing
-sting, and made it, like sleep, a
-source of happiness instead of despair.
-But this is nothing like the
-progress of which the sceptics prate.
-It is a supernatural stage in the dispensation
-of God for the renewal
-of his fallen creature, predetermined
-before all time. His own part in
-it&mdash;the natural order&mdash;is one long
-history of decadence. There has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[637]</a></span>
-been the ebb and flow, the rising to
-fall, of all movement. But decadence
-has all along triumphed over
-progress. Amidst what a decadence
-are we now living from the
-promising progress of the middle
-ages! And we are bid to expect
-so terrific a retrogression before the
-consummation of all things, that
-“even the elect shall scarcely be
-saved.”</p>
-
-<p>It is the witness of all the ages&mdash;human
-progress ebbing and flowing&mdash;but,
-on the whole, the flow does
-not overtake the ebb. The ocean
-of life has been ever ebbing into its
-eternal abysses, and will ebb, leaving
-behind it a dry and barren waste,
-until the morning of eternity shall
-break over the withdrawing night of
-time, chaos shall be for ever sealed
-in the confusion and sadness of its
-darkness, and the final word shall
-go forth, of which the sublime physical
-law was only a type and a
-shadow: “Let there be light!”</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>MADAME’S EXPERIMENT.<br />
-<span class="smaller">A SAINT AGNES’ EVE STORY.</span></h3>
-
-<p class="center">“MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT YOUR THOUGHTS, NOR YOUR WAYS MY WAYS, SAITH THE LORD.”</p>
-
-<p>Madame the Countess of Hohenstein
-stood at the window of the
-great hall of her palace, waiting for
-the coach which was to take her
-to a <i lang="fr">château</i> some leagues distant,
-where she was to grace a grand entertainment,
-and to be kept for a
-whole night by her hosts as an especial
-treasure. For Madame the
-Countess of Hohenstein, spite of
-her sixty years and her three grown
-sons, was a famous beauty still and
-a brilliant conversationist, and few
-were her rivals, young or old,
-throughout the kingdom. But her
-face was clouded as she waited in
-her stately hall that January afternoon,
-and she listened with a pained
-expression to the sound of a footstep
-overhead pacing steadily up
-and down. She touched a bell presently.</p>
-
-<p>“Tell your master,” she said to
-the servant who answered it, “that
-I wish to see him again before I
-leave.” And soon down the winding
-stairway she watched a young man
-come with the same steady pace
-which might have been heard overhead
-for a half-hour past.</p>
-
-<p>No need to ask the relationship
-between the two. Black, waving
-hair, broad brow, set lips, firm chin,
-the perfect contour of the handsome
-face&mdash;all these were the son’s
-heritage of remarkable beauty from
-his queenly mother; but the headstrong
-pride and excessive love
-which shone from her eyes as he
-came in sight met eyes very different
-from them. Large and black
-indeed they were, but their intense
-look, however deep the passion it
-bespoke, told of an unearthly passion
-and a fire that is divine.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! Heinrich love,” his mother
-said, “once more, come with me.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, little mother,” he answered&mdash;the
-caressing diminutive sounding
-strangely as addressed to her
-in her pomp of attire and stately
-presence&mdash;“you said I need not
-go; that you did not care for me
-at the baron’s.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[638]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Not so, Heinrich. I care for
-you everywhere, everywhere. I
-am lost without you, love of my
-soul. But I know you hate it, and,
-if you must stay from any place,
-better that than some others. There
-are no maidens there I care for,
-my son.”</p>
-
-<p>She watched the calm forehead
-contract as she spoke. “There!
-as ever,” she exclaimed. “Wilt
-never hear woman mentioned without
-a frown? You are no monk
-yet, child, at your twentieth year;
-nor ever shall be, if I can help it.
-It is enough for me, surely, to have
-given two sons to the priesthood,
-without yielding up my last one, my
-hope and my pride.”</p>
-
-<p>Heinrich made no answer, for
-the sound of the carriage-wheels
-was heard, and he offered his mother
-his hand, led her down the
-steps, and placed her in the coach.
-She drew him towards her, and
-kissed him passionately. “Farewell,
-my dearest,” she said. “I
-count the minutes till we meet
-again.” And she never ceased to
-watch him as long as the mansion
-was visible.</p>
-
-<p>He was a sight of which many a
-mother might have been proud, as he
-stood there bare headed, the winter
-sun lighting his face, the winter
-wind lifting his dark locks, the fresh
-bloom of youth enhancing his peculiar
-beauty. His mother sighed
-deeply as the coach turned a corner
-which hid him from her view&mdash;a
-sigh often repeated during the
-course of her journey.</p>
-
-<p>It was a full hour before she was
-out of her own domains, though
-the horses sped swiftly over the
-frozen ground. All those broad
-acres, all that noble woodland, all
-those peasant homes, were hers;
-and for miles behind her the land
-stretching north and west belonged
-with it, for she had married the
-owner of the next estate, and, widowed,
-held it for her son. But at
-her death all these possessions must
-be divided among distant unknown
-kinsmen, if Heinrich persisted in
-the desire, which had been his from
-early boyhood, to become a monk.
-His mother’s whole heart was set
-against it. Her aim in life was to
-find for him a wife whom he would
-love, and whom he would bring to
-their home; she longed to hold before
-her death her son’s son on her
-knee.</p>
-
-<p>The coach stopped as the sun
-was setting; and at the palace
-door, too eager for a sight of her
-to wait in courtly etiquette within,
-host and hostess stood ready to
-greet this friend of a lifetime.</p>
-
-<p>“No Heinrich?” they cried,
-laughing. “A truant always. And
-we have that with us to-day which
-will make you wish him here. No
-matter what! You will see in
-time.”</p>
-
-<p>And in time she saw indeed.
-Going slowly up the marble stairs
-a half-hour later, a vision of magnificent
-beauty, with her ermine
-mantle wrapped about her, the
-hood fallen back from her regal
-head, the eyes with the pained look
-of disappointment and longing still
-lingering in them in spite of the
-loving welcomes lavished upon her,
-she came, in a turn of the stairs,
-upon another vision of beauty radiant
-as her own, and extremely
-opposite.</p>
-
-<p>Coming slowly down towards her
-was a young girl, tall and slight,
-with a skin of dazzling fairness,
-where the blue veins in temple and
-neck were plain to see; a delicate
-tint like blush-roses upon the
-cheek; great waves of fair hair
-sending back a glint of gold to the
-torches just lighted in the hall;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[639]</a></span>
-eyes very large, and so deeply set
-that at first their violet blue seemed
-black&mdash;eyes meek and downcast,
-and tender as a dove’s, but in
-them, too, a look of pain and yearning.
-The face at first view was
-like that of an innocent child, but
-beneath its youthfulness lay an expression
-which bespoke a wealth
-of love and strength and patience,
-unawakened as yet, but of unusual
-force. Skilled to read character
-by years of experience in kings’
-palaces, madame the countess read
-her well&mdash;so far as she could read
-at all.</p>
-
-<p>Evidently the maiden saw nothing
-that was before her; but madame
-held her breath in surprise and
-delight, and stood still, waiting her
-approach. Not till she came close
-to her did the girl look up, then she
-too stopped with a startled “Pardon
-madame”; and at sight of the timid,
-lovely eyes, at the sound of the
-voice&mdash;like a flute, like water rippling
-softly, like a south wind sighing
-in the seaside pines&mdash;madame
-opened her arms, and caught the
-stranger to her heart. “My child,
-my child,” she cried, “how beautiful
-you are!”</p>
-
-<p>“Madame, madame,” the girl
-panted in amazement, carried away
-in her turn at the sudden sight of
-this lovely lady, who, she thought,
-could be, in her regal beauty and
-attire, no less than a princess&mdash;“Madame
-sees herself surely!”</p>
-
-<p>The countess laughed outright
-at the artless, undesigned compliment.
-“And as charming as beautiful,”
-she said. “I must see more of
-you, my love.”</p>
-
-<p>Then, kissing the cheek, red now
-as damask roses, she passed on.
-In the hall above her hostess stood
-with an arch smile on her lips.
-“Ah! Gertrude, we planned it well,”
-she said. “Fritz and I have been
-watching for that meeting. It was
-a brilliant tableau.”</p>
-
-<p>“But who is she, Wilhelmina?
-Tell me quickly. She is loveliness
-itself.”</p>
-
-<p>“’Tis but a short story, dear. We
-found her in Halle. Her name is
-Elizabeth Wessenberg. She is well-born,
-but her family are strict
-Lutherans. She&mdash;timid, precious
-little dove!&mdash;became a Catholic by
-some good grace of the good God.
-But it was a lonely life, and I begged
-her off from it for a while.
-Oh! but her parents winced to see
-her go. They hate the name even
-of Catholic. That is all&mdash;only she
-sings like a lark, and she hardly
-knows what to make of her new life
-and faith, it is so strange to her.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is all! Thanks, Wilhelmina.
-I will be with you soon.
-I long to see her once again.”</p>
-
-<p>All that evening the countess
-kept Elizabeth near her, and every
-hour her admiration increased.
-A maiden so beautiful, yet so ignorant
-of her own charms, so unworldly,
-so innocent, she had never seen.
-Alone in her room that night
-she fell trembling upon her knees&mdash;poor,
-passionate, self-willed mother!&mdash;before
-the statue of the Holy
-Mother bearing the divine Son
-in her arms, and she held up her
-hands and prayed aloud.</p>
-
-<p>“I have found her at last,” she
-cried&mdash;“a child who has won her
-way into my heart at once with no
-effort of her own; a pearl among
-all pearls; one whom my boy
-<em>must</em> love. Lord Jesus, have I not
-given thee two sons? Give me now
-one son to keep for my own, and
-not for thee. Grant that he may
-love this precious creature, fit for
-him as though thou thyself hadst
-made her for him, even as Eve was
-made for Adam.” And then she
-covered her face, and sobbed and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[640]</a></span>
-pleaded with long, wordless prayers.</p>
-
-<p>The next day saw her on her
-homeward way, but not alone.
-She had coaxed in her irresistible
-fashion till she had obtained for
-herself from her friend a part of
-Elizabeth’s visit; and Elizabeth
-felt as if she were living in a
-dream, there in the costly coach,
-wrapped in furs and watched by
-those beautiful eyes. Constantly
-the countess talked with her, leading
-the conversation delicately in
-such a manner that she found out
-much in regard to Elizabeth’s home,
-and penetrated into her hidden
-sorrows in regard to the coldness
-and lack of sympathy there. And it
-needed no words to tell that this
-was a heart which craved sympathy
-and love most keenly; which
-longed for something higher and
-stronger than itself to lean upon.
-Every time she looked at the
-sensitive face, endowed with such
-exquisite refinement of beauty;
-every time the childlike yet longing,
-unsatisfied eyes met hers;
-every time the musical voice fell
-upon her ears, fearing ever an
-echo of that same craving for something
-more and better than the
-girl had yet known, madame’s mother-heart
-throbbed towards her,
-and it seemed to her that she
-could hardly wait for the blessing
-which, she had persuaded herself,
-was surely coming to her at last.</p>
-
-<p>Now and then she spoke of the
-country through which they passed:
-and to Elizabeth it was almost
-incredible that such wealth could
-belong to one person only. Now
-and then she spoke of “my son”
-in a tone of exultant love, and
-then Elizabeth trembled a little;
-for she dreaded to meet this
-stranger. Very grand and proud
-she fancied him; one who would
-hardly notice at all a person so insignificant
-as herself.</p>
-
-<p>“Here is the village chapel,
-Elizabeth,” madame said, as the
-coach stopped suddenly. “Will
-you scold, my little one, if I go
-in for a minute to the priest’s
-house? Or perhaps you would
-like to visit the Blessed Sacrament
-while I am gone?”</p>
-
-<p>Yes, that was what Elizabeth
-would like indeed; and there she
-knelt and prayed, never dreaming
-how much was being said about
-her only next door.</p>
-
-<p>“Father!” madame exclaimed
-impetuously to the gray-haired
-priest who rose to greet her, “I
-must have Mass said for my intention
-every morning for a week.
-See, here is a part only of my
-offering.” And she laid a heavy
-purse upon the table. “If God
-grant my prayer, it shall be doubled,
-tripled.”</p>
-
-<p>“God’s answers cannot be
-bought, madame,” the priest said
-sadly, “nor can they be forced.”</p>
-
-<p>“They must be this time, then,
-father. You must make my intention
-your own. Will you not?
-Will you not for this once, father?”</p>
-
-<p>“What is it, then, my daughter?”</p>
-
-<p>“Father, do not be angry. It is
-the old hunger wrought up to desperation.
-I cannot give my boy
-to be a monk!”</p>
-
-<p>The priest’s face darkened.</p>
-
-<p>“No! no!” madame hurried on.
-“It is too much to ask of me.
-And now I have found a bride for
-him at last. She waits for me in
-the chapel, fair and pure as the
-lilies. I am taking her home in
-triumph.”</p>
-
-<p>“Does Heinrich know of this?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not one word. He cannot
-fail to love her when he sees her.
-It is for this I ask your prayers.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_641" id="Page_641">[641]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>The priest pushed away the
-purse. “I will have none of this,”
-he said. “It is far better to see
-my poor suffer than that this unrighteous
-deed should be done.
-You call yourself a Catholic, and
-pride yourself because your house
-was always Catholic; and yet you
-dare say that anything is too much
-for God to ask of you! I am an
-old man, madame, and have had
-many souls to deal with, but I
-never yet saw one whose vocation
-was more plain than Heinrich’s to
-the entire service of God’s church.
-Will you dare run counter to God’s
-will?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, father, it cannot be his
-will. Our very name would die
-out&mdash;our heritage pass from us!”</p>
-
-<p>“And suppose it does! Who
-shall promise you that if Heinrich
-marries there shall ever be child
-of his to fill his place? And what
-<em>are</em> place, and name, and heritage,
-madame? That which death,
-or war, or a king’s caprice may
-snatch away in a moment. But
-your spiritual heritage shall never
-die. What mother on earth but
-might envy you if you give your
-three sons&mdash;your all&mdash;to God!
-Many are the children of the desolate,
-more than of her that hath
-an husband, saith the Lord. <em>He</em>
-maketh a barren woman to dwell
-in a house the joyful mother of
-children. There is a place and a
-name within his walls better than
-sons and daughters. Do you dream
-what risk you run, what part you
-play, when you would tempt from
-his calling one who, if you leave
-God to work his own pleasure,
-shall hereafter shine as the stars
-through all eternity?”</p>
-
-<p>She did not answer back with
-pride. Instead, her whole face
-grew soft, and the large tears filled
-her eyes and ran slowly down her
-cheeks. “I want to do right,” she
-said humbly; “but I cannot feel
-that it is right. Father, see: I will
-not ask you to make my intention
-yours. But I promise you one
-thing: I <em>must</em> ask God to grant
-me this blessing, but it shall be the
-last time. If I fail now, let his will
-be done. And do you, father, ask
-him to make it plain to me what
-his will is.”</p>
-
-<p>“God bless you, daughter!” the
-old priest answered, much moved
-by her humility. “I will pray that
-indeed. But still I warn you that
-I think you are doing wrong in so
-much as trying such an experiment
-as this which you have undertaken.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no,” she cried again.
-“No, no, father. This once I must
-try, or my heart will break.”</p>
-
-<p>Again in the carriage, she pressed
-Elizabeth to her closely, and
-kissed her, and said words of passionate
-love, finding relief thus for
-the pent-up feelings of her heart;
-but Elizabeth knew not how to
-reply. It troubled and perplexed
-her&mdash;this lavish affection; for she
-could not repay it in kind. It only
-served to waken a suffering which
-she had known from childhood, a
-strange, unsatisfied yearning within
-her, which came at the sight of a
-lovely landscape, or the sound of
-exquisite music, or the caresses of
-some friend. She wanted <em>more</em>;
-and where and what was that
-“more,” which seemed to lie beyond
-everything, and which she
-could never grasp?</p>
-
-<p>She felt it often during her visit&mdash;that
-visit where attention was
-constantly bestowed on her, and
-she lived in the midst of such luxury
-as she had never known before.
-Something in Heinrich’s face seemed
-to her to promise an answer to
-her questionings&mdash;it was so at rest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642">[642]</a></span>
-so settled; and this, more than anything
-else about him, interested and
-attracted her. Madame saw the interest,
-without guessing the cause.
-She felt also that Heinrich was not
-wholly insensible to Elizabeth’s
-presence; and though she asked
-him no direct questions, she contrived
-to turn conversation into the
-channels which could not fail to
-engage him, and which the young
-convert also cared for most.</p>
-
-<p>Elizabeth decided that Heinrich
-knew more than any one else, but
-even he tired her sometimes. “He
-knows <em>too</em> much,” she thought,
-“and he is so cold and indifferent.
-Yet he would not be himself
-if he were more like madame; and
-she is too tender. Oh! what does
-it all mean? There is nothing
-that makes one content except
-church, and one cannot be always
-there.”</p>
-
-<p>So passed the time till S. Agnes’
-Eve. That night, when the young
-people entered the dining-hall,
-madame was absent. She sent a
-message that they must dine without
-her, as she had a severe headache,
-and Elizabeth might come
-to her an hour after dinner.</p>
-
-<p>The meal was a silent one. When
-it was over, and they went into the
-library, Heinrich seated himself at
-the organ. Grand chorals, funeral
-marches full of mourning and
-awe and hope, Mass music welcoming
-the coming of the Lord of
-Sabaoth, filled the lofty room.
-When he ceased, Elizabeth was
-sobbing irrepressibly.</p>
-
-<p>“Forgive me, forgive me!” she
-said. “I cannot help it. O monsieur!
-I know not what it means.
-Love and hate, beauty and deformity,
-joy and suffering&mdash;I cannot understand.
-Nothing satisfies, and
-to be a Catholic makes the craving
-worse. Is it because I am only
-just beginning, and that I shall
-understand better by and by?”</p>
-
-<p>He stood at a little distance from
-her, looking not at her at all, but
-upward and far away.</p>
-
-<p>“I will tell mademoiselle a story,
-if she will permit it,” he said.
-“Many years ago there was a princess,
-very beautiful, very wise, and
-very wealthy. Her councillors begged
-that she would marry, and at
-last she told them that she would
-do so, if they would find for her
-the prince she should describe,
-he should be so rich that he should
-esteem all the treasures of the Indies
-as a little dust; so wise that
-no man could ever mention in his
-presence aught that he did not already
-know; so fair that no child
-of man should compare with him
-in beauty; so spotless in his soul
-that the very heavens should not
-be pure in his sight. They knew
-not where to find that prince, but
-their lady knew.”</p>
-
-<p>He paused, though not as for an
-answer. He had guessed well his
-mother’s plans and hopes; he fathomed
-as truly Elizabeth’s nature;
-and when he spoke again, it was as
-no one except the priest of God
-had ever heard him speak:</p>
-
-<p>“There are some souls whom
-no one and nothing on earth can
-possibly satisfy. Beauty, and learning,
-and friendship, and home, and
-love, each alike wearies them. God
-only can content them, and he is
-enough&mdash;<em>God alone</em>. To such souls
-he gives himself, if they sincerely
-desire it. It is a love beyond all
-imaginable earthly love. It satisfies,
-yet leaves a constant craving
-which we have no wish should
-cease. He understands everything:
-even those things which we cannot
-explain to ourselves. It is he finding
-whom the soul loveth him, and
-will not let him go.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_643" id="Page_643">[643]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>After saying this, he sat down
-once more at the organ, and played
-again till the hour named by
-madame arrived. Elizabeth found
-her pale and suffering, but with a
-glad look in her eyes.</p>
-
-<p>“You have had talk together,
-then,” she cried. “I heard the
-music cease for a while. And is
-he not charming and good, my
-Heinrich?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” Elizabeth said dreamily.
-“He made me understand a little
-to-night&mdash;better than any one has
-ever done before.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is that so, my little one? And
-how then?”</p>
-
-<p>“Here,” Elizabeth said innocently,
-laying her hand on her heart,
-and with no suspicion of the meaning
-which the countess attached to
-the act. “If I could only understand
-more&mdash;more.”</p>
-
-<p>“You will in time, most dear one&mdash;in
-time, in time.” And oh! the
-exulting ring in madame’s voice.
-“But see, my precious, what I have
-to show you.”</p>
-
-<p>A chest was drawn up beside
-madame’s easy-chair. She opened
-it, and before Elizabeth’s dazzled
-eyes lay jewels of wondrous lustre
-and value&mdash;long strings of pearls,
-changing opals with the fire-spark
-trembling in them, sapphires blue
-as the sky, emeralds green as the
-sea, and glittering diamonds. Madame
-drew out the costly things,
-and adorned Elizabeth with one set
-after another by turn, watching the
-effect. Last of all, she touched a
-spring, and took from a secret
-drawer a set of pearls, large and
-round, with a soft amber tint in
-them. These she held caressingly
-and sighed.</p>
-
-<p>“Look, Elizabeth,” she said.
-“Forty years ago this very night I
-wore them, when I was a girl like
-you. There was a great ball here.
-Some one&mdash;ah! but how grand and
-beautiful he looked; my poor
-heart remembers well, and is sore
-with the memory now&mdash;some one
-begged me to try the charm of S.
-Agnes’ Eve. Dost know it, dear?
-Nay? Then you shall try it too.
-Go supperless to rest; look not to
-left or right, nor yet behind you,
-but pray God to show you that
-which shall satisfy your heart of
-hearts.”</p>
-
-<p>“Did he show you, madame?”</p>
-
-<p>Madame sighed heavily. “Alas!
-love, alas! What contents us here?
-I had it for a time, and then God
-took it from me. No prouder wife
-than I, no prouder mother; but
-husband and sons are gone, all except
-my Heinrich. Pray God to
-keep him for me, Elizabeth, Elizabeth.”</p>
-
-<p>“And who, then, was S. Agnes,
-madame? And shall I pray to her
-that prayer?”</p>
-
-<p>Madame looked aghast, then
-smiled an amused yet troubled
-smile. “Nay, child, I thought not
-of that. S. Agnes was one who
-loved our blessed Lord alone,
-not man. She died rather than
-yield to earthly love and joy.”</p>
-
-<p>“But why, madame?”</p>
-
-<p>“O child, child! But I forget,
-You have only just begun the Catholic
-life, my sweet. God’s love,
-then, is enough for some people;
-but they are monks and nuns, not
-common Christians like you and
-me and Heinrich. We could not
-live in that way, could we, Elizabeth&mdash;you
-and Heinrich and I?”</p>
-
-<p>“And God would never grow tired
-of us, madame! Nor ever die!
-Nor ever misunderstand! O madame!
-I think we could not live
-with less.” And Elizabeth stood up
-suddenly, as if too agitated to remain
-quiet.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! love, you are only just a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_644" id="Page_644">[644]</a></span>
-convert. In one’s first excitement
-one fancies many things. You are
-meant to serve God in the world,
-my dear, for many years to come&mdash;you
-and my Heinrich. Pray for
-him to-night.”</p>
-
-<p>But hurrying along the hall to
-her own room, Elizabeth whispered
-passionately in her heart: “I do
-not want to pray for him. Let him
-pray for himself. His saints pray
-for him too, and God loves him,
-and he does not need me. Does
-madame, then, suppose that he
-could ever care for me, or I for
-him? I want more than he can
-give&mdash;more&mdash;more! <em>Show</em> me my
-heart’s desire, O God, my God!”</p>
-
-<p>In her excitement and in the
-darkness she laid her hand on the
-wrong door, and, opening it, found
-herself in an old gallery, at the end
-of which a light was glimmering.
-Scarcely heeding what she did, she
-moved toward it, and found that
-she was in the choir of the castle
-chapel. The door fell gently to behind
-her, but did not close, and
-Elizabeth was alone. Alone? The
-aisles were empty, the organ was
-still, the priest was gone; but before
-the sacred shrine the steady ray of
-the lamp told that He who filleth
-the heaven of heavens was dwelling
-in his earthly temple, and that unseen
-angels guarded all the place.</p>
-
-<p>But of angels or men Elizabeth
-thought not. Silently, slowly she
-moved onward, her hands pressed
-upon her heart, whose passionate
-beating grew still as she came nearer
-to the Sacred Heart which alone
-could fully comfort, fully strengthen,
-fully understand. Slowly she
-moved, as one who knows that
-some great joy is coming surely,
-and who lengthens willingly the
-bliss of expectation.</p>
-
-<p>And so she reached a narrow
-flight of steps, and made her way
-gently down, and knelt. Outside,
-in the clear night, a great wind rose,
-and rocked the castle-tower, but
-Elizabeth knew it not. She was
-conscious only of the intense stillness
-of that unseen Presence; of
-peace flooding her whole soul like
-a river; of the nearness of One who
-is strength and love and truth, infinite
-and eternal.</p>
-
-<p>“Show me my heart’s desire, O
-God, my God!” she sighed.</p>
-
-<p>God, <em>my</em> God! She lifted up her
-eyes, and there, above the shrine,
-beheld the great crucifix of Hohenstein,
-brought from the far-off East
-by a Crusader knight. She lifted
-up her eyes, and saw the haggard
-face full of unceasing prayer, the
-sunken cheeks, the pierced hands
-and feet, the bones, easy to number,
-in the worn and tortured body, the
-side with its deep wound where a
-spear had passed.</p>
-
-<p>Yet, looking upward steadily, all
-her excitement gone, a sacred calm
-upon her inmost soul, Elizabeth
-knew that her prayer was answered,
-her lifelong hunger satisfied. God
-had given her her heart’s desire.</p>
-
-<p>God, <em>my</em> God! No love but his
-could satisfy; and his could with
-an eternal content. To that Heart,
-pierced for her, broken for her, she
-could offer no less than her whole
-heart; and that she <em>must</em> offer, not
-by constraint, but simply because
-she loved him beyond all, above
-all, and knew that in him, and in
-him only, she was sure of an unfailing,
-an everlasting love.</p>
-
-<p>Madame, seeking her in the early
-morning, found her room unoccupied,
-then noticed the gallery-door
-ajar, and, trembling, sought her
-there. Elizabeth had kept S. Agnes’
-Eve indeed, but it was before the
-shrine of S. Agnes’ Spouse and
-Lord.</p>
-
-<p>“My daughter,” the countess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_645" id="Page_645">[645]</a></span>
-said, using the word for the first
-time, and with oh! how sad a tone&mdash;“what
-have you done this night,
-my daughter?”</p>
-
-<p>Elizabeth lifted hand and face
-toward the shrine. “Madame,”
-she answered slowly, as one who
-speaks unconsciously in sleep, “I
-have found Him whom my soul
-loveth. I hold him, and I will not
-let him go.”</p>
-
-<p>God himself had made his way
-plain indeed before Madame the
-Countess of Hohenstein in this her
-last struggle with his will. The
-very plan which she had chosen to
-gain her cherished hopes had crushed
-them. Not priest or son, but
-the girl whom she herself had named
-for her final trial, had shown her
-that God’s purposes were far aside
-from hers.</p>
-
-<p>“Take all, O Lord!” she cried,
-while her tears fell like rain. “Take
-all I have. I dare not struggle
-longer.”</p>
-
-<p>One son gave up his life a martyr
-in the blood-stained church in
-Japan. Another endured a lifelong
-martyrdom among the lepers
-of the Levant, winning souls yet
-more tainted than the bodies home
-again to God. And one, the youngest,
-and the fairest, and the dearest,
-was seen in China and in India, in
-Peru and in Mexico, going without
-question wherever he was sent, for
-the greater glory of God; but he
-was never seen in his German
-home again. After they once left
-her, their mother never beheld their
-faces. And she who had been
-taken to her heart as a daughter
-entered an order in a distant land.</p>
-
-<p>Yet none ever heard madame
-the last Countess of Hohenstein
-murmur against her lot. Clearly,
-tenderly, patiently, more and more
-did God vouchsafe to make his way
-plain to her. In chapel, day by
-day, she watched the decaying banners
-which told of the fields her fathers
-won; saw the monuments to
-men of her race who had fought
-and died for their king and their
-land; read the names once proudly
-vaunted, now almost forgotten.
-What was fame like this to the
-honor God had showered on her?
-Souls east and west brought safe
-to him; life laid down for the Lord
-of lords; a seed not to be reckoned;
-a lineage which could never fail;
-sons and daughters to stand at last
-in that multitude which no one
-can number, who have come out
-of great tribulation, with fadeless
-palms of victory in their hands&mdash;such
-was her place and name in the
-house of God.</p>
-
-<p>The quaint German text upon
-her tombstone puzzled travellers
-greatly, and those who could decipher
-it wondered but the more. It
-ran thus:</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i lang="la">Requiescat in Pace.</i><br />
-GERTRUDE,<br />
-<i>Twenty-ninth and Last Countess of Hohenstein</i>.</p>
-
-<p>The children of thy barrenness shall
-still say in thy ears: The place is too
-strait for me; make me room to dwell
-in. And thou shalt say in thy heart:
-Who hath begotten me these? I was
-barren, and brought not forth, led away,
-and captive; and who hath brought up
-these? I was destitute and alone; and
-these, where were they?</p>
-
-<p>Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I
-will lift up my hand to the Gentiles, and
-will set up my standard to the people.
-And they shall bring thy sons in their
-arms, and carry thy daughters upon their
-shoulders. And thou shalt know that I
-am the Lord; for they shall not be confounded
-that wait for him.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_646" id="Page_646">[646]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE BASQUES.</h3>
-
-<p>We are all Basques. Nay, reader,
-be not startled at having your supposed
-nationality thus suddenly set
-aside. An author of far more learning
-than we can lay claim to&mdash;Señor
-Erro, a Spanish Basque&mdash;gravely
-asserts that all the inhabitants of
-Europe and Asia, if not of America
-also, sprang from the Basques.
-In short, they&mdash;that is, <em>we</em>&mdash;are the
-primitive race. And this fearless
-writer, with a due sense of national
-superiority, goes boldly on to prove
-that Adam and Eve spoke the
-Basque language in the terrestrial
-Paradise, of which he gives a detailed
-description according to the
-Biscayan interpretation of the Biblical
-account.</p>
-
-<p>We remember how, in search of
-Adam&mdash;great progenitor!&mdash;whose
-said-to-be-fine statue is among the
-army of saints on the glorious roof
-of Milan cathedral, we got bewildered
-on that celestial height, so
-that we do not to this day feel
-sure of having discovered the true
-Adam, and might never have found
-our way down to earth again had it
-not been for the kind offices of one
-of Victor Emanuel’s soldiers. So
-it is with many a <i lang="fr">savant</i> in tracing
-the origin of the human species.
-Lost in threading the way back to
-our first parents, they need some
-rough, uncultured soul to lead them
-out of the bewildering maze&mdash;back
-to the point whence they started.</p>
-
-<p>But let us hope in this instance
-filial instinct has not mistaken the
-genuine Adam&mdash;the first speaker, it
-is possible, of Basque. Señor Erro
-finds in this language the origin of
-all civilization and science. It
-must be confessed we have wofully
-forgotten our mother-tongue; for it
-is said to be impossible to learn to
-speak it unless one goes very young
-among the Basques. It is a common
-saying of theirs that the devil
-once came into their country to
-learn the language, but gave it up
-in despair after three hundred
-years’ application! It may be inferred
-he had lost the knowledge
-he had made such successful use
-of a few thousand years before in
-the Garden of Eden.</p>
-
-<p>M. Astarloa, likewise a Biscayan,
-maintains that the extraordinary
-perfection of this language is a
-proof it is the only one that could
-have been conferred on the first
-man by his Creator, but in another
-place says it was formed by God
-himself at the confusion of tongues
-in the tower of Babel&mdash;which assertions
-rather lack harmony.</p>
-
-<p>Max Müller, the eminent philologist,
-pretends a serious discussion
-took place about two hundred
-years ago in the metropolitan chapter
-of Pampeluna as to the following
-knotty points:</p>
-
-<p><i>First.</i> Was Basque the primitive
-language of mankind? The learned
-members confessed that, however
-strong might be their private
-convictions, they did not dare give
-an affirmative reply.</p>
-
-<p><i>Secondly.</i> Was Basque the only
-language spoken by Adam and Eve
-in the garden of Eden?</p>
-
-<p>As to this, the whole chapter declared
-there could be no doubt
-whatever that it was “impossible to
-bring a reasonable objection against
-such an opinion.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_647" id="Page_647">[647]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>This is extremely amusing; but,
-of course, too absurd to be true.
-Besides, the archives of Pampeluna
-do not afford the slightest hint of
-so singular a record.</p>
-
-<p>Southwestern France, however,
-has many traditions of the Oriental
-origin of its inhabitants. Tarbes
-and Lourdes are said to have been
-founded by Abyssinian princesses.
-Belleforest, in his <cite>Cosmography</cite>,
-says Japhet himself came into
-Gaul and built the city of Périgueux,
-which for several ages bore
-his name. Père Bajole, of Condom,
-a Jesuit of the XVIIth century,
-is less precise in his suppositions,
-but thinks the country was peopled
-soon after the Deluge, and therefore
-by those who had correct notions
-of the true God. Moreover
-as Noah, of course, would not have
-allowed his descendants to depart
-without suitable advice as to the
-way of salvation, especially to the
-head of the colony, he concludes
-that many of the ancient Aquitanians
-were saved. The Sire Dupleix
-cites the epistle of S. Martial
-to show they had retained some
-proper notions of theology, which
-accounts for the rapid success of
-the first Christian apostles of the
-country.</p>
-
-<p>But to return to the Basques in
-particular: In the <cite>Leyenda Pendadola</cite>&mdash;an
-old book of the XIth
-century&mdash;we read that “the first
-settlement in Spain was made by
-the patriarch Tubal, whose people
-spoke the language still used in
-the provinces of Biscay”&mdash;that is,
-the Basque. William von Humboldt
-likewise attributed to the
-Basques an Asiatic origin, and was
-decidedly of the school of MM.
-Erro and Astarloa, though he rejected
-their exaggerations. The
-Basque language, so rich, harmonious,
-and expressive, is now generally
-believed to be one of the Turanian
-tongues. Prince Lucian Bonaparte
-shows the analogy between it and
-the Hungarian, Georgian, etc.</p>
-
-<p>The word Basque is derived
-from the Latin <i lang="la">Vasco</i>; for in Southwestern
-France it is quite common
-to pronounce the letter <em>v</em> like <em>b</em>&mdash;a
-habit which made Scaliger wittily
-say: <i lang="la">Felices populi, quibus Vivere
-est Bibere</i>.</p>
-
-<p>The Basque country consists of
-several provinces on both sides of the
-Pyrenees bordering on the Bay of
-Biscay. Labourd, Soule, and Lower
-Navarre are now in the department
-of the Basses-Pyrenees, on the
-French side. The two provinces of
-Biscay and Guipuzcoa&mdash;a part of
-Alava and of Upper Navarre&mdash;belong
-to Spain. The whole Basque
-population cannot be more than
-500,000. The people, as we have
-had a proof of, are proud of their
-ancient nationality; and though
-there is a difference of manners,
-physiognomy, and even of idiom in
-these sections, they all recognize
-each other as brethren. They are
-a noble race, and have accomplished
-great deeds in their day.
-Entrenched behind their mountains,
-they long kept the Romans at
-bay, drove back the Moors, and
-crushed the rear-guard of Charlemagne.</p>
-
-<p>The Basques have always been
-famous navigators. The first suggestion
-that led to the discovery
-of America is said to have been
-given Christopher Columbus by
-Sanchez de Huelva, a Basque pilot.
-The Basques of Labourd certainly
-discovered Cape Breton. They
-were the first to go on whale-fisheries,
-which, in 1412, extended as
-far as Iceland. And Newfoundland
-seems to have been known to them
-in the middle of the XVth century.
-The first name of Cape Breton&mdash;isle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648">[648]</a></span>
-des Bacaloas or Bacaloac&mdash;is a
-Basque name.</p>
-
-<p>In the middle ages the Basques
-maintained a certain independence
-by means of their <i lang="es">fueros</i>, or special
-privileges, which had been handed
-down from time immemorial and
-confirmed by several of the kings
-of France. The wood of Haïtze is
-still pointed out as the place where
-the assemblies of the elders, or <i lang="es">bilçars</i>,
-were formerly held in the district
-of Labourd. Here came together
-the proprietors of the different
-communes to regulate their
-administrative affairs. The most
-of the assembly leaned on their
-staves or against the venerable oaks
-of the forest. But the presiding
-member sat on a huge stone, the
-secretary on another, while a third
-was used for recording the decrees
-of the assembly, to which the kings
-of France and Navarre were often
-forced to yield by virtue of their
-<i lang="es">fueros</i>.</p>
-
-<p>And this country was never over-ruled
-by oppressive lords who held
-it in subjection by means of their
-fortified castles. The device of Bayonne&mdash;<i lang="la">Nunquam
-polluta</i>&mdash;seems
-to express the unstained independence
-that had never been subjected
-to feudal dominion. It doubtless
-had great families who distinguished
-themselves by their bravery
-and military services, and were
-noted for their wealth, like the
-<i lang="es">casas de parientes majores</i>&mdash;the twenty-four
-families of great antiquity&mdash;in
-Guypuzcoa, among which was
-the family of Loyola of Aspeïtia, to
-which the immortal founder of the
-Jesuits belonged, as well as that of
-Balda, his mother’s family; but they
-never pretended to the feudal authority
-of the great nobles of France
-and Spain. It was only in the
-XVth century that several Basque
-families, who had become wealthy,
-ventured to erect some inoffensive
-towers like those of Uturbi near St.
-Jean de Luz, occupied by Louis
-XI. while on the frontier arranging
-the treaty between the kings of Castile
-and Arragon.</p>
-
-<p>It is said of the Basques of Spain:
-As many Basques, as many nobles.
-Many of their villages have coats
-of arms on all the houses, which
-contrast with the decayed lattices
-and crumbling roofs. The owners
-point to their emblazonry with the
-air of a Montmorency. When the
-Moors invaded the North of Spain,
-thousands of mountaineers rose to
-drive them out. As they made
-war at their own expense, those
-who returned alive to their cottages
-received the reward of gentlemen&mdash;the
-right of assuming some heraldic
-sign and graving it on their walls
-as a perpetual memorial of their
-deeds. In the valley of Roncal
-the inhabitants were all ennobled
-for having distinguished themselves
-at the battle of Olaso, in the reign
-of Fortunio Garcia. In the village
-of Santa Lucia, not far from Toledo,
-an old house of the XIIIth century
-is still to be seen with double lancet
-windows, which has its record
-over the door proving the part a
-former owner had taken at the
-bridge of Olaso&mdash;an azure field
-traversed by a river, which is spanned
-by a bridge with three golden
-arches surmounted by the bleeding
-head of a Moor.</p>
-
-<p>In a faubourg of Tolosa is a
-modest house stating that Juan
-Perez having borne arms for more
-than fifty years in Italy, Spain,
-Portugal, Flanders, etc., and taken
-part in the great naval victory over
-the Turks at Lepanto under Don
-Juan of Austria, the emperor created
-him knight and gave him for
-his arms the imperial eagle.</p>
-
-<p>But most of these armorial bearings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_649" id="Page_649">[649]</a></span>
-have reference to the chase, to
-which the people were so addicted.
-The trophies they brought home,
-instead of being nailed up over the
-door, were now graven there in
-stone&mdash;sometimes a wolf, or a hare,
-or even a favorite hound. Two
-dogs are on the arms inherited by
-the Prince of Viana, the donor of
-the fine bells to the basilica of
-Notre Dame de Lourdes.</p>
-
-<p>In the commune of Bardos is a
-château which bears the name of
-Salla from the founder of the family.
-It was he who, fighting under
-Alphonse the Chaste, King of Navarre,
-had his legs broken by the
-explosion of a rock, from which
-time the house of Salla has had for
-its arms three <i lang="fr">chevrons brisés, d’or,
-sur un champ d’azur</i>. The most illustrious
-member of this family is
-Jean Baptiste de la Salle, who
-founded the admirable order of the
-Brothers of the Christian Schools,
-with a special mission for instructing
-the poor.</p>
-
-<p>Mgr. de Belsunce, the celebrated
-bishop of Marseilles, was also of
-Basque origin. The Château de
-Belsunce is still to be seen&mdash;an
-old manor-house with Gothic turrets
-bespeaking the antiquity of
-the family. The name is associated
-with the legends of the country.
-Tradition relates that a winged
-monster having terrified the
-whole region, a knight of this
-house armed himself with a lance
-and went forth to attack the
-monster in his den. The dragon,
-having received a mortal wound,
-sprang with a dying effort upon his
-enemy, seized him, and rolled with
-him into the Nive. From that
-time the family of Belsunce bore
-on its shield a dragon sable on a
-field gules.</p>
-
-<p>The arms of Fontarabia is a
-siren on the waves bearing a mirror
-and a comb&mdash;symbol of this
-enchanting region. This historic
-place, once the rival of St. Jean de
-Luz, now wears a touching aspect
-of desolation and mourning which
-only adds to its attractions. Its
-ruins have a hue of antiquity that
-must delight a painter’s eye. The
-long street that leads to the principal
-square carries one back three
-hundred years, most of the houses
-being in the Spanish style of the
-XVIth century. There are coats
-of arms over every door, and balconies
-projecting from every story,
-with complicated trellises or lattices
-that must almost madden the
-moon-struck serenader. Nothing
-could be more picturesque than
-this truly Spanish place. Many of
-the houses bear the imposing name
-of <i lang="es">palacios</i>, which testify to the ancient
-splendor of this <i lang="es">ciudad muy
-noble, muy leal, y muy valerosa</i>.
-Overlooking the whole place is the
-château of Jeanne la Folle, massive,
-heavy, its walls three yards
-thick, its towers round&mdash;a genuine
-fortress founded in the Xth century,
-but mostly rebuilt by Charles
-V. Its chronicles are full of historic
-interest. Here took place
-the interview between Louis XI.
-and Henri IV. of Castille, whose
-arrogant favorite, Beltram de la
-Cueva, in his mantle broidered
-with gold and pearls and diamonds,
-and his boat with its awning
-of cloth of gold, must have offered
-a striking contrast to the extreme
-simplicity of the King of
-France.</p>
-
-<p>The fine, imposing church of
-Fontarabia, in the transition style,
-is a marked exception to the Basque
-churches generally, which are of
-simple primitive architecture, with
-but few ornaments; and these, at
-least on the French side of the frontier,
-mostly confined to the sanctuary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_650" id="Page_650">[650]</a></span>
-which is rich in color and gilding.
-Perhaps over the main altar
-is a painting, but by no means by
-Murillo or Velasquez. If on the
-Spanish side, it may be a S. Iago
-on a white steed, sword in hand,
-with a red mantle over his pilgrim’s
-dress, looking like a genuine <i lang="es">matamore</i>,
-breathing destruction against
-the Moors. The Madonna, too, is
-always there, perhaps with a wheel
-of silver swords, as if in her bosom
-were centred all the sorrows of the
-human race.</p>
-
-<p>The galleries around the nave in
-the Basque churches gives them the
-appearance of a <i lang="fr">salle de spectacle</i>;
-but the clergy think the separation
-of the sexes promotes the respect
-due in the sanctuary, and the people
-themselves cling to the practice.
-The men occupy the galleries.
-They all have rosaries in their
-hands. From time to time you
-can see them kiss their thumbs,
-placed in the form of a cross, perhaps
-to set a seal on their vows to
-God, as people in the middle ages
-used to seal their letters with their
-thumbs to give them a sacred inviolability.
-Licking the thumb
-was, we know, an ancient form of
-giving a solemn pledge; and, till a
-recent period, the legal form of
-completing a bargain in Scotland
-was to join the thumbs and lick
-them. “What say ye, man? There’s
-my thumb; I’ll ne’er beguile ye,”
-said Rob Roy to Bailie Nicol
-Jarvie.</p>
-
-<p>When Mass is over, every man in
-the galleries respectfully salutes his
-next neighbor. This is considered
-obligatory. Were it even his deadliest
-enemy, he must bow his head
-before him. Mass heard with devotion
-brings the Truce of God to
-the heart.</p>
-
-<p>The women occupy the nave, sitting
-or kneeling on the black,
-funereal-looking carpet that covers
-the stone above the tomb of their
-beloved dead. For every family
-has a slab of wood or marble with
-an inscription in large characters,
-which covers the family vault below,
-and their notions of pious respect
-oblige the living to kneel on the
-stone that covers the bones of their
-forefathers. Or this <em>was</em> the case;
-for of late years burial in churches
-has been forbidden, and these slabs
-now only serve to designate the inalienable
-right of the families to occupy
-them during the divine service.
-It is curious and interesting to examine
-these sepulchral slabs; for
-they are like the archives of a town
-inscribed with the names of the
-principal inhabitants, with their
-rank and occupation. In some
-places the women, by turns, bring
-every morning an offering for their
-pastor, which they deposit on these
-stones like an expiatory libation.
-Several of them are daily garnished
-with fruit, wine, eggs, beeswax,
-yarn, and linen thread, and the
-<i lang="fr">curé</i>, accompanied by his servant
-or the sacristan, goes around after
-Mass to collect this tribute of rural
-piety in a basket, and give his blessing
-to the families. These offerings
-of the first-fruits of the earth are
-still continued, though the dead are
-buried elsewhere.</p>
-
-<p>The seat of that mighty potentate,
-the village mayor, is in the
-choir, as befits his dignity, which
-he fully sustains by his majestic deportment
-in sight of the whole congregation.
-Sometimes he chants
-at the lectern, like Charlemagne.
-The square peristyle of the church
-is often divided between him and
-the village school-master for their
-respective functions, as if to invest
-them with a kind of sanctity.</p>
-
-<p>In Soule the belfry is formed by
-extending upwards the western<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_651" id="Page_651">[651]</a></span>
-wall of the church in the form of
-three gables, looking like three
-obelisks. The bell is hung in the
-central one. The origin of this
-custom is thus explained by M.
-Cénac Montaut:</p>
-
-<p>“In former times, when the
-Basques had some difficulty about
-accepting all the truths of the Gospel,
-the clergy were unable to make
-them comprehend the doctrine of
-the Holy Trinity. One of the
-priests, like S. Patrick with the
-shamrock, saw he must appeal to
-the senses in order to reach the
-mind and heart. Entering his
-rude pulpit one day, he addressed
-his flock something after the following
-manner: ‘Some of you,
-my dear brethren, recently objected
-that the God of the Old Testament,
-in the tables of the law,
-wished to be worshipped as one
-God, and that to add now the
-Son and Holy Spirit to the Deity
-is to overthrow the law of Sinai
-and affect the divine Essence itself.…
-My dear brethren, hitherto
-we have had but one gable on our
-belfry, directing towards heaven the
-innermost prayer of the heart, and
-bearing the bell by which God
-seems to speak to us in return. If,
-now, two other gables were added
-to this, would not this triple tower,
-standing on one base, and pointing
-to the same heaven, still constitute
-one belfry?’”</p>
-
-<p>This appeal was effective. Those
-who had been unable to accept the
-abstract doctrine of the Trinity
-perfectly comprehended this material
-unity. The other priests of
-Soule hastened to make use of so
-happy an oratorical figure, and all
-through the valley of the Gave
-rose the three-gabled, dogmatic
-belfries, such as we see at the present
-day.</p>
-
-<p>Near the church is often a modest
-white house with a small garden
-containing a few trees and flowers,
-where the Daughters of the Cross
-devote themselves to the instruction
-of children, planting the seeds of
-piety in their youthful hearts.</p>
-
-<p>The Basque houses, with their
-triangular, tile-covered roofs, often
-project like a <i lang="fr">châlet</i>, and are painted
-white, green, and even pink.
-The casements are made in the
-form of a cross, and stained red.
-The doorway is arched like a
-church-portal, and has over it a
-Virgin, or crucifix, or some pious
-inscription. There is no bolt on
-the door; for a Basque roof is too
-inviolable to need a fastening. At
-the entrance is a <i lang="fr">bénitier</i> (for holy
-water), as if the house were to the
-owner a kind of sanctuary to be
-entered with purification and a
-holy thought. You enter a large
-hall that divides the house into two
-parts, and contains all the farming
-utensils. It is here the husbandman
-husks his corn and thrashes
-his wheat. The uncolored walls
-of the rooms are hung with a few
-rude pictures, as of the Last Judgment,
-the Wandering Jew, or Napoleon.
-There are some large
-presses, a few wooden chairs, a
-shelf in the corner with a lace-edged
-covering for the statue of
-the Virgin, who wears a crown
-of <i lang="fr">immortelles</i> on her head and a
-rosary around her neck. At one
-end of the room is a bed large
-enough for a whole family, and so
-high as almost to need a ladder to
-ascend it. The open pink curtains
-show the holy-water font, the
-crucifix, and faded palm branch annually
-renewed. There is no house
-without some religious symbol.
-The Basque has great faith in prayer.
-He stops his plough or wild
-native dance to say the Angelus.
-He never forgets to arm himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_652" id="Page_652">[652]</a></span>
-with the sign of the cross in a
-moment of danger. He makes it
-over the loaf of bread before he
-divides it among the family. The
-mother makes it on the foreheads of
-her children at night. At Candlemas
-a blessed candle burns under
-every roof in honor of the true
-Light which lighteth every man
-that cometh into the world. It is
-the boast of the country that
-Protestantism never found entrance
-therein, even during its prevalence
-in Béarn at the time of Joan of
-Navarre, though that princess took
-pains to have the Huguenot version
-of the New Testament translated
-into Basque and published at La
-Rochelle in 1591 for their benefit.
-The whole Bible is now translated,
-M. Duvoisin having devoted six
-years to the work, and Prince Lucian
-Bonaparte a still longer time
-in settling the orthography and
-superintending the edition.</p>
-
-<p>It must not be supposed, however,
-that the Basques are an austere
-race. They are very fond of
-their national dances, and excel in
-the <i lang="fr">jeu de paume</i>. Among their
-other amusements is the <i lang="fr">pastorale</i>,
-acted in the open air with a <i lang="fr">chirula</i>
-(a kind of flute) and a tambourine
-for the orchestra. The subject is
-borrowed from the Bible, the legend
-of Roland, the wars with the
-Moors, etc. They are composed
-by native poets, and have a certain
-antique simplicity not without its
-charm. The people flock to these
-representations, as to their Cantabrian
-dances, in their gayest attire.
-The old man wears a <i lang="fr">béret</i> drawn
-over his forehead, while his long
-hair floats behind in token of the
-nobility of his ancient race. He
-wears short breeches, long woollen
-stockings, and leather shoes with
-handsome silver buckles.</p>
-
-<p>The young Basque, straight, well
-formed, and proud in his bearing,
-wears his blue <i lang="fr">béret</i> jauntily perched
-on one side of his head. His
-jacket is short. Silver clasps fasten
-his collar and wristbands. He
-wears sandals on his feet, with red
-bars across the instep. A bright
-red sash girdles his waist&mdash;as of all
-mountaineers, enabling them to endure
-fatigue the better, like the
-surcingle of a horse. “Beware of
-that young man with the loose
-girdle,” said Sulla, speaking of
-Cæsar. For among the Romans
-the word <i lang="la">discinctus</i> was applied to
-the indolent, cowardly soldier, as
-<i lang="la">alte cinctus</i> (high-girdled) meant a
-prompt, courageous man.</p>
-
-<p>The girls, slender in form, with
-regular, expressive features, are veiled
-in a black mantilla, or else carry
-it on their arms. A gay kerchief
-is wound around the back of their
-heads like a turban, leaving visible
-the shining bands of their beautiful
-black hair.</p>
-
-<p>The old women wear white muslin
-kerchiefs on their heads, with
-one corner falling on the shoulder.
-On the breast is suspended a golden
-heart or <i lang="fr">Saint-Esprit</i>. Sometimes
-they are enveloped from head
-to foot in a great black cloak,
-which is absolutely requisite when
-they attend a funeral. This mantle
-forms part of the <i lang="fr">trousseau</i> of
-every bride of any substance, and
-she wears it on her wedding-day,
-as if to show herself prepared to
-pay due honor to all the friends
-who should depart this life before
-her. It must be a great comfort
-for them to see this mourning garment
-prepared in advance, and the
-sight of the bride veiled in her
-long black capuchin must diffuse a
-rather subdued gayety over the wedding
-party.</p>
-
-<p>The Basques pay great respect
-to the dead. When a man dies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_653" id="Page_653">[653]</a></span>
-his next neighbor on the right carries
-the crucifix before his bier in the
-funeral procession, and his nearest
-neighbor on the left walks at its
-side. And the whole neighborhood
-assembles around it in church, with
-lighted candles in their hands, to
-hear the Mass for the Dead. They
-adorn their graveyards with shrubs
-and flowers. And they never omit
-the month’s-mind, or anniversary
-service.</p>
-
-<p>Of course no one goes to the
-Basque country without visiting the
-famous Pas de Roland. The whole
-region is singularly wild and
-picturesque. We pass through a
-deep gorge encumbered with rocks,
-over which the Nive plunges and
-foams in the maddest possible
-way. Twin mountains of granite
-rise to the very heavens, their sides
-covered with the golden broom, or
-furrowed with deep gullies that tell
-of mountain torrents. The overhanging
-cliffs, and the dizzy, winding
-road along the edge of the abyss,
-create a feeling of awe; and by the
-time we arrive, breathless and fatigued,
-at the Pas de Roland, we
-are quite prepared to believe anything
-marvellous.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent5">“I lie reclined</div>
-<div class="verse">Against some trunk the husbandman has felled;</div>
-<div class="verse">Old legendary poems fill my mind,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">And Parables of Eld:</div>
-<div class="verse">I wander with Orlando through the wood,</div>
-<div class="verse">Or muse with Jaques in his solitude.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This archway was produced by a
-mere blow from the heel of the
-great Paladin, who did not consider
-the mountain worthy the use of
-his mighty sword. Everything is
-bathed in the golden light of the
-wondrous legend, which harmonizes
-with the spot. We even
-fancy we can hear the powerful
-horn of Orlando&mdash;the greatest
-trumpeter on record. We can see
-Carloman, with his black plumes
-and red mantle&mdash;opera-like&mdash;as he
-is described in the <i lang="fr">Chant d’Altabisçar</i>!
-The natives, <i lang="fr">pur sang</i>,
-do not call this pass by the name
-of Roland, but <i lang="es">Utheca gaiz</i>&mdash;a bad,
-dangerous passage, as in truth it
-is. It is the only means of communication
-with the opposite side
-of the mountain. After going
-through it, the mountains recede,
-the horizon expands, a country full
-of bucolic delights is revealed to
-the eye, the exaltation of the soul
-subsides, and the mind settles down
-to its normal state of incredulity.</p>
-
-<p>Just below the Pas de Roland,
-on the French side, are the thermal
-springs of Cambo, in a lovely little
-valley watered by the Nive. The
-air here is pure, the climate mild,
-the meadows fresh and sprinkled
-with flowers, the encircling hills
-are crowned with verdure. Never
-did Nature put on an aspect of
-more grace and beauty than in
-this delicious spot. One of the
-springs is sulphurous, the other
-ferruginous. They became popular
-among the Spanish and Basques during
-the last century when patronized
-by Queen Marie Anne de Neuberg,
-the second wife of Don Carlos
-II. of Spain. Some of her royal
-gifts to the church of Cambo are
-still shown with pride. These
-springs were visited as early as
-1585, among others, by François de
-Nouailles, Bishop of Dax, who is
-often referred to in proof of their
-efficacy; but as that eminent diplomatist
-died a few weeks after he
-tried the waters, the less said of his
-cure the better for their reputation.
-Napoleon I., however, had faith in
-their virtues. He visited Cambo,
-and was only prevented by his
-downfall from building a military
-hospital here.</p>
-
-<p>Not two miles from Cambo is the
-busy town of Hasparren. The way
-thither is through a delightful country,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654">[654]</a></span>
-with some fresh beauty bursting
-on the eye at every step. On all
-sides are to be seen the neat white
-cottages of the laborers in the midst
-of orchards, meadows, and vineyards;
-sometimes in the hollows of
-a valley like a nest among the green
-leaves; sometimes on the hills commanding
-the most delicious of landscapes.
-Hasparren has about six
-thousand inhabitants, mostly farmers,
-but who try to increase their
-income by some trade. Twelve
-hundred of them are shoemakers;
-seven or eight hundred are weavers,
-curriers, or chocolate-makers. The
-spacious church is hardly able to
-contain the crowd of worshippers
-on festivals. A curious history is
-connected with the belfry.</p>
-
-<p>The government having imposed
-a tax on salt in 1784, the people
-around Hasparren, who had hitherto
-been exempted, resolved to resist
-so heavy an impost. They rang the
-bell with violence to call together
-the inhabitants. Even the women
-assembled in bands with spits,
-pitchforks, and sickles, to the sound
-of a drum, which one of their number
-beat before them. The mob,
-amounting to two thousand, entrenched
-themselves in the public
-cemetery, where they received with
-howls of rage the five brigades the
-governor of Bayonne was obliged to
-send for the enforcement of the
-law. Bloodshed was prevented by
-the venerable <i lang="fr">curé</i>, who rose from
-his sick-bed and appeared in their
-midst. By his mild, persuasive
-words he calmed the excited crowd,
-induced the troops to retire and the
-mob to disperse. The leaders being
-afterwards arrested, he also effected
-their pardon&mdash;on humiliating
-conditions, however, to the town.
-The hardest was, perhaps, the destruction
-of the belfry, from which
-they had rung the alarm; and it was
-not till some time in the present
-century they were allowed to rebuild
-it.</p>
-
-<p>It is remarkable that the ancient
-Basques left no poems, no war-songs
-to celebrate their valorous
-deeds, no epic in which some adventurous
-mariner recites his wanderings;
-for the language is flexible
-and easily bends to rhythm. But
-the people seem better musicians
-than poets. There are, to be sure,
-some rude plaints of love, a few
-smugglers’ or fishermen’s songs, sung
-to bold airs full of wild harmony
-that perhaps used to animate their
-forefathers to fight against the
-Moors; but these songs have no literary
-merit. Only two poems in
-the language have acquired a certain
-celebrity, because published by
-prominent men who ascribed to
-them a great antiquity. One of
-these is the <i lang="fr">Chant des Cantabres</i>,
-published by Wilhelm von Humboldt
-in 1817 in connection with
-an essay on the Basque language.
-Ushered into the world by so distinguished
-a linguist, it was eagerly
-welcomed by German <i lang="fr">savants</i>, and
-regarded as a precious memorial
-of past ages. M. von Humboldt
-took it from the MSS. of a Spaniard
-employed in 1590 to explore
-the archives of Simancas and Biscay.
-He pretended to have found
-it written on an old, worm-eaten
-parchment, as well it might be if
-done soon after the invasion of the
-country by the Romans. We wonder
-he did not also find the history
-of the conquest of Cantabria in five
-books composed by the Emperor
-Augustus himself, said to have
-been in existence in the XVIIth
-century!</p>
-
-<p>The <i lang="fr">Chant d’Altabisçar</i> is said to
-have been discovered by M. La
-Tour d’Auvergne in an old convent
-at St. Sebastian, in 1821, written<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_655" id="Page_655">[655]</a></span>
-on parchment in characters
-of the XIIIth or XIVth century.
-It is unfortunate so valuable a MS.,
-like the original poems of Ossian,
-should have been lost! The contents,
-however, were preserved and
-published in 1835, and, though now
-considered spurious, merit a certain
-attention because formerly regarded
-as genuine by such men as
-Victor Hugo, who, in his <cite>Légende
-des Siècles</cite>, speaks of Charlemagne
-as “plein de douleur” to think</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Qu’on fera des chansons dans toutes ces montagnes</div>
-<div class="verse">Sur ses guerriers tombés devant des paysans,</div>
-<div class="verse">Et qu’on en parlera plus que quatre cents ans!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>M. Olivier, in his <cite>Dictionnaire de
-la Conversation</cite>, enthusiastically exclaims:
-“What shall I say of the
-Basque chants, and where did this
-people, on their inaccessible heights,
-obtain such boldness of rhythm and
-intonation? Every Basque air I
-know is grand and decided in tone,
-but none more strikingly so than
-the national chant of the Escualdunacs,
-as they call themselves in
-their language. And yet this fine
-poem has for some of its lines only
-the cardinal numbers up to twenty,
-and then repeated in reverse order.
-Often, while listening to the pure,
-fresh melody of this air, I have
-wondered what meaning was concealed
-beneath these singular lines.
-From one hypothesis to another I
-have gone back to the time when
-the Vascon race, hedged in at the
-foot of the Pyrenees by the Celtic
-invaders, sought refuge among the
-inaccessible mountains. Then, it
-seemed to me, this <cite>Chant</cite> was composed
-as a war-song in which, after
-recounting, one by one, their years
-of exile, they numbered with the
-same regularity, but in a contrary
-direction, their deeds of vengeance!”</p>
-
-<p>Such is the power of imagination.
-It is the</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent4">“Père Tournamine</div>
-<div class="verse">Qui croit tout ce qu’il s’imagine.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Let us give the literal translation
-of the lines in which M. Olivier
-finds such an expression of sublime
-vengeance:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“They come! they come! What a forest of lances!</div>
-<div class="verse">With many-colored banners floating in the midst.</div>
-<div class="verse">How the lightning flashes from their arms!</div>
-<div class="verse">How many are there? Boy, count them well!</div>
-<div class="verse">One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve,</div>
-<div class="verse">Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.</div>
-<div class="verse center">…</div>
-<div class="verse">They fly! they fly! Where, then, is the forest of lances?</div>
-<div class="verse">Where the many-colored banners floating in the midst?</div>
-<div class="verse">The lightning no longer flashes from their blood-stained arms.</div>
-<div class="verse">How many left? Boy, count them well!</div>
-<div class="verse">Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen,</div>
-<div class="verse">Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The first book in the Basque language
-was printed in the XVIth century,
-in the same year Rabelais published
-his <cite>Pantagruel</cite>, in which he
-makes Panurge ask in the Basque language
-for an <i lang="es">erremedio</i> against poverty,
-that he might escape the penalty
-of Adam which brought sweat to his
-brow&mdash;a question many are still asking
-in far more intelligible language.</p>
-
-<p>The most ancient specimens of
-genuine Basque literature show
-what changes the language has undergone
-within four or five centuries,
-which is a proof against the
-authenticity of these <cite>Chants</cite>. M.
-Bladé, a French critic, says his butter-man
-readily translated every
-word of the <cite>Chant des Cantabres</cite>, so
-admired by the Baron von Humboldt.
-Fortunately, it is not needed
-to prove the valor of the Cantabrians
-when their country was invaded
-by the Romans, nor that of
-<cite>Altabisçar</cite> to show the part they
-took in Roncesvalles’ fearful fight.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_656" id="Page_656">[656]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>THE ETERNAL YEARS.</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE DIVINE SEQUENCE.”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Tranquil Hope still trims her lamp</div>
-<div class="verse">At the Eternal Years.”&mdash;<cite>Faber.</cite></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<h4>CHAPTER I.<br />
-<span class="smaller">OUR IMPRESSIONS.</span></h4>
-
-<p>It is probable that most of us
-have been, at some time in our
-intellectual and spiritual life, conscious
-of a divergence between our
-mental impressions and our received
-belief respecting the nature and
-characteristics of the divine Being.
-Outside the closed-in boundaries
-of our faith there has been, as it
-were, a margin of waste land which
-we seldom explore, but the undefined,
-uncultivated products of which
-flit athwart our imagination with
-something like an uncomfortable
-misgiving. We do not go far into it,
-because we have our certain landmarks
-to stand by; and while the
-sun of faith shines bright on these,
-we can say to ourselves that we
-have nothing really to do with the
-sort of fog-land which surrounds
-our own happy enclosure. Our
-allotment is one of peace within
-the true fold of the church.</p>
-
-<p>We know where we are; we
-know what we have got to do; and
-we refuse to be seriously troubled
-by the dubious questions which
-may possibly never disturb us, unless
-we deliberately turn to them.</p>
-
-<p>To us, as Catholics, this is a safe
-resolve. We know the Church
-cannot err. We believe, and are
-ready, absolutely and unreservedly
-ready, to believe, all she puts before
-us as claiming our belief.
-And this is no childish superstition.
-It is no unmanly laying down of
-our inalienable right to know good
-from evil; it is no wilful deafness
-or deliberate closing of our eyes.
-It is the absolutely necessary and
-perfectly inevitable result of the
-one primary foundation of all our
-belief&mdash;namely, that the church is
-the organ of the Holy Ghost, the
-infallible utterance of an infallible
-voice, which voice is none other
-and no less than the voice of God,
-speaking through and by the divinely-instituted
-kingdom which
-comprises the church of God.
-With this once firmly fixed in our
-hearts and intellects, nothing, can
-disturb us. Even supposing something
-to be defined by the church
-for which we were unprepared&mdash;as
-was the case with some on the definition
-of the Infallibility of the
-Sovereign Pontiff&mdash;still these surprises,
-if surprises they be, can be
-no otherwise than sweet and welcome.
-To us there cannot be a
-jarring note in that voice which is
-the voice of the Holy Ghost. The
-trumpet cannot give a false sound.
-It is our fault&mdash;either intellectually
-our fault (which is rather a misfortune
-than a fault) or spiritually
-(which is from our negligence and
-lukewarmness)&mdash;if the blast of that
-trumpet painfully startle us from
-our slumbers. To all who are
-waking and watching the sound
-can only be cheering and encouraging.
-The good soldier is ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_657" id="Page_657">[657]</a></span>
-ready to hear it and prompt to
-obey. The slumberer is among
-those to whom our Lord says:
-“You know how to discern the face
-of the sky, and can you not know
-the signs of the times?”<a name="FNanchor_242" id="FNanchor_242"></a><a href="#Footnote_242" class="fnanchor">[242]</a></p>
-
-<p>He evidently expects us to know
-the signs of the times. The Lord
-is not in the strong wind, nor is he
-in the earthquake or the fire. He
-is in the gentle air.<a name="FNanchor_243" id="FNanchor_243"></a><a href="#Footnote_243" class="fnanchor">[243]</a> But the wind
-and the earthquake and the fire are
-his precursors, and those who have
-experienced, and heard, and witnessed
-these warnings should be
-all attention for the softer sound
-which is the utterance of the divine
-Voice in the church.</p>
-
-<p>There should be no surprise save
-the surprise of a great joy, the admiring
-astonishment of finding out
-how good our God is, and what
-marvellous treasures of things new
-and old our great mother, the
-church, lays before us from time to
-time, as the Spirit of God moves
-over the ocean of divine love, as
-it were incubating the creations of
-the world of grace. We lie down
-in our certainty as the infant lies
-down in its mother’s lap, and we
-rise on the wings of hope and faith
-as the lark rises in the morning
-light, without the shadow of a
-doubt that the lambient air will uphold
-the little fluttering wings with
-which it carries its joyous song to
-the gates of heaven. Underneath
-us are the “everlasting arms,”<a name="FNanchor_244" id="FNanchor_244"></a><a href="#Footnote_244" class="fnanchor">[244]</a> and
-therefore we “dwell in safety and
-alone”&mdash;alone as regards those outside
-the church, who cannot understand
-our security, because they
-have never grasped the idea that,
-the voice of the church being the
-voice of the third Person of the
-ever-blessed Trinity to doubt the
-church is the same as to say that
-God is a liar.</p>
-
-<p>If we have dwelt thus at length
-upon our certitude, and upon the
-intellectual and spiritual repose it
-gives us, we have done so for the
-purpose of making it absolutely
-impossible for our readers to suppose
-that when we speak of a divergence
-between some of our mental
-impressions and our received
-belief, we are in any degree insinuating
-that we have not got all we
-require in the absolute and definite
-teaching of the church; or that we
-have any cause to feel troubled
-about any question which the
-church has left as an open question,
-and respecting which any one
-of us individually may have been
-unable to arrive at a conclusion.
-All we mean is this: that there are
-certain feelings, impressions, and
-imaginings which we find it hard to
-silence and extinguish, difficult to
-classify in accordance with our
-substantial belief, and which hang
-about us like a sail on the mast of
-a vessel which the unwary crew
-have left flapping in a dangerous
-gale.</p>
-
-<p>The points in question may be
-various as the minds that contemplate
-them. They may embrace a
-variety of subjects, and may assume
-different shapes and aspects,
-according to the external circumstances
-under which they present
-themselves, or to the color of our
-own thoughts and feelings at the
-moment they are before us. Their
-field is so vast and their possible
-variety so great that it would be
-vain for us to attempt to give even
-a glance at them all. Indeed, the
-doing so is beyond our capacity,
-and would be beyond the capacity
-of any one man. For who shall
-tell what is fermenting in the
-thoughts of one even of his fellow-beings?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_658" id="Page_658">[658]</a></span>
-He can merely guess
-blindly at the souls of others from
-having dwelt in the depths of his
-own, and knowing, as the one great
-fact, that all men are brothers.</p>
-
-<p>We are far, therefore, from intending
-to take up all the possible questions
-not hedged in and limited
-and defined by dogmatic teaching,
-or to try and help others to come
-to a conclusion on each. We
-might as well attempt to count the
-sands of the sea-shore. All we are
-proposing to ourselves for our own
-consolation, and, if possible, for that
-of our readers, is to lay hold of
-certain facts which will give a clew
-to other less certain facts, and, in
-short&mdash;if we may be allowed to resort
-to a chemical term&mdash;to indicate
-certain solvents which will hold in
-solution the little pebbles that lie
-in our path, and which might grow
-into great stumbling-blocks had we
-not a strong dissolving power always
-at our command.</p>
-
-<p>It is self-evident that there is one
-knowledge which contains all other
-knowledge, and that is the knowledge
-of God. As all things flow
-from him, therefore all things are in
-him; and if we could see or know
-him, we should know all the rest.
-That knowledge, that seeing, is the
-“light of glory.” Its perfection
-is only compatible with the Beatific
-Vision, which vision is impossible to
-mere man in his condition of <i lang="la">viator</i>,
-or pilgrim.<a name="FNanchor_245" id="FNanchor_245"></a><a href="#Footnote_245" class="fnanchor">[245]</a> It is the conclusion of
-faith just as broad noon is the
-termination of darkness. But as
-faith is the leading up to the
-Beatific Vision, to the light of
-glory, and to the knowledge of all
-things, therefore in its degree is it
-the best substitute for sight&mdash;the
-dawning of a more perfect day, and
-the beginning of knowledge. Consequently,
-“faith is the evidence of
-things that appear not.” And as
-it is some of the things “that
-appear not” which are puzzling and
-bewildering many of us, let us lay
-hold of our faith and go whither it
-shall lead us.</p>
-
-<p>We can in this life only know
-God mediately and obscurely by
-reason and faith. But as the direct
-and clear intuition of God in
-the Beatific Vision will include
-the knowledge of all else, so even
-our present imperfect knowledge
-of him comprises in a certain
-sense all other and lesser science,
-and is necessary to the highest
-knowledge of created things.</p>
-
-<p>To do this thoroughly we will investigate
-the occasional divergence
-between our mental impressions,
-as we sometimes experience them,
-and our received belief of the
-Divine Nature and characteristics.</p>
-
-<p>In a burst of holy exultation S.
-Paul asks, “Who hath known the
-mind of the Lord?”<a name="FNanchor_246" id="FNanchor_246"></a><a href="#Footnote_246" class="fnanchor">[246]</a>&mdash;not as though
-regretting his ignorance, but rather
-with the feelings of one who, having
-suddenly come upon an evidently
-priceless treasure, exclaims, Who
-can tell what wealth now lies before
-us?</p>
-
-<p>Yes, indeed! we know him well
-while we know him but imperfectly.
-There is more to know than we can
-guess at, but our hearts are too
-narrow to hold it. And yet sometimes
-how full to overflowing has
-that knowledge seemed! Have we
-not followed him from the cradle
-to the grave, in that sweet brotherhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_659" id="Page_659">[659]</a></span>
-which he has established
-with each one of us? Have we
-not lost ourselves in far-reaching
-thoughts of how, and where he
-was when his brotherhood with
-us was not an accomplished fact,
-but only an ever-enduring divine
-intention co-equal with his own
-eternal existence&mdash;a phase of that
-very existence, for ever present to
-the Divine Idea, though not yet
-subjected to the conditions of time?
-We have thought of him as in the
-bosom of the Father in a way in
-which, wonderful to relate, he never
-can be again in the bosom of the
-Father. A something has passed in
-respect to the existence of God
-himself, and actually made a difference
-in the extrinsic relations of
-the divine Being.</p>
-
-<p>There was an eternity in which
-the Son of God&mdash;he whom we most
-seem to know of the three Persons
-of the ever-blessed Trinity&mdash;dwelt
-in the bosom of the Father unconnected
-with his sacred humanity.
-There was an eternity when his
-name was not Jesus, when he was
-the Son of God only, and not the
-Son of man.</p>
-
-<p>We are expressing what everybody
-knows who is a Christian&mdash;a
-platitude almost, and yet so full
-of wonder that, unless we have thoroughly
-gone into it and sifted it,
-we have not ransacked half the
-riches of what we can and may
-know of the “mind of the Lord.”</p>
-
-<p>In truth, we are very apt to be
-repelled by this contemplation.
-There is something dreary to us in
-the eternity when the Brother of
-our race and the Spouse of our
-souls was only the everlasting Begotten
-of the Father, dwelling in
-that inscrutable eternity to which
-we, as the creatures of time, seem
-to have no link. Our thoughts
-and imaginations are shackled by
-the conditions of our own being.
-Yesterday we were not. And so
-all before yesterday seems like a
-blank to us. To-morrow we know
-will be&mdash;if not for us in this identical
-state, yet certainly for us in
-some other state. But that dim
-yesterday, which never began and
-of which no history can be written,
-no details given, only the great,
-grand, inarticulated statement made
-that the <span class="smcap">Qui Est</span>, the “I am,” filled
-it&mdash;this appalls us. Can nothing be
-done to mitigate this stupendous
-though beautiful horror? Is there
-no corner into which our insignificance
-can creep, that so we may
-look out upon those unknown
-depths without feeling that we are
-plunging into a fathomless ocean,
-there to sink in blank darkness and
-inanition? Surely the God of the
-past (as from our point of view we
-reckon the past) should not be so
-appallingly unknown to us who
-have our beloved Jesus in the present,
-and who look forward to the
-Beatific Vision of the whole blessed
-Trinity with trembling hope in the
-future. But before we can in any
-degree overcome the stupor with
-which we think of the backward-flowing
-ages of eternity, we must endeavor
-more fully to realize the nature
-of time.</p>
-
-<p>We are all apt to speak of time
-as a period; whereas it is more
-properly a state.</p>
-
-<p>The generality of persons, in
-thinking of time in relation to eternity,
-represent to themselves a long,
-long ago, blind past, and then an
-interminable but partially appreciable
-future, and time lying as a
-sort of sliced-out period between
-the two, which slice is attached to
-the eternity behind and the eternity
-in front, and about which we have
-the comfort and satisfaction of being
-able to write history and chronicle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_660" id="Page_660">[660]</a></span>
-events, either on a large or a
-small scale. We treat it as we
-should do a mountain of gold,
-which we coin into money, and we
-conveniently cut it up into ages,
-years, months, days, and hours. It
-is our nature so to do, and we cannot
-do otherwise. It is the condition
-of our being. But as it will
-not be always the condition of our
-being, there are few things we are
-more constantly exhorted to than
-the attempt to raise our imagination,
-or rather our faith, as much
-as possible out of these conventional
-and arbitrary trammels, and
-dispose ourselves for that other
-state which is our ultimate end,
-and where there are no years and
-no days.</p>
-
-<p>In point of fact, time is only an
-imperfection of our being&mdash;an absolutely
-necessary imperfection, because
-our being is finite, and our
-state is a probationary state; and
-probation implies not only that
-succession which is necessary in
-every finite being, but change and
-movement in respect to things
-which are permanent in a more perfect
-state. Our condition in time
-has not inaptly been compared to
-that of a man looking through the
-small aperture of a camera-obscura,
-which only permits him to behold
-a section of what is passing. The
-figures appear and vanish. But
-the window is thrown wide open in
-eternity, and he sees the whole at
-once. He is, therefore, under a
-disadvantage so long as he is in the
-camera-obscura, viewing the landscape
-through a small hole. And
-this is our position, judging of
-eternity through the aperture of
-time. Even now we have a wonderful
-power of adding to our time,
-or of shortening it, without any reference
-to clocks or sun-dials, and
-which, if we think about it, will
-help to show us that time is a plastic
-accident of our being.</p>
-
-<p>When we have been very much
-absorbed, we have taken no note
-of time, and the hours have flown
-like minutes. During that interval
-we have, as it were, made our own
-time, and modified our condition
-with reference to time by our own
-act. Time, therefore, is plastic.
-Were we by some extraordinary
-and exceptional power to accomplish
-in one day all that actually
-we now take a year to effect, but at
-the same time intellectually to retain
-our present perception of the
-succession of events, our life would
-not really have been shorter for the
-want of those three hundred and
-sixty-four days which we had been
-able to do without. Life is shorter
-now than it was in the days of the
-patriarchs. But possibly the perception
-of life is not shortened.
-Nay, rather, from the rapidity with
-which events are now permitted to
-succeed each other, partially owing
-to the progress of science and to
-man’s increased dominion over material
-force, the probability is that
-our lives are not abstractedly much,
-if at all, more brief than Adam’s
-nine hundred and thirty years. All
-things now are hastening to the
-end. They have always been hastening.
-But there is the added
-impetus of the past; and that increases
-with every age in the world’s
-history.</p>
-
-<p>Now, let us imagine life, or a
-portion of life, without thought&mdash;that
-is, without the act of thinking.
-Immediately we find that it is next
-door to <em>no thing</em>, to no time, and
-no life. We can only measure life
-with any accuracy by the amount
-of thought which has filled it&mdash;that
-is, by the quantity of our intellectual
-and spiritual power which we
-have been able to bring to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_661" id="Page_661">[661]</a></span>
-small aperture in the camera-obscura,
-by which to contemplate the
-ever-flowing eternity which lies beyond,
-and cut it up into the sections
-we call time.</p>
-
-<p>Another example will show us
-how plastic is the nature of time.
-Take the life of an animal. We are
-inclined to give the largest reasonable
-and possible importance to the
-brute creation. It is an open question,
-in which we see great seeds of
-future development, all tending to
-increased glory to the Creator and
-to further elucidation of creative
-love. Nevertheless, it is obvious
-that brutes perceive only or chiefly
-by moments. There is, as compared
-with ourselves, little or no sequence
-in their perceptions. There
-is no cumulative knowledge. They
-are without deliberate reflection,
-even where they are not without
-perception of relations and circumstances,
-past or future. Consequently,
-they are more rigorously
-subjects to time than ourselves.
-Therefore, when we deprive an animal
-of life, we deprive him of a remainder
-of time that is equal to little
-more than no time, in proportion
-to the degree in which his power of
-filling time with perception is less
-than our own.<a name="FNanchor_247" id="FNanchor_247"></a><a href="#Footnote_247" class="fnanchor">[247]</a> All we have said
-tends to prove that the existence of
-time is a relative existence; it is
-the form or phase of our own finite
-being. It is an aspect of eternity&mdash;the
-aspect which is consistent with
-our present condition. For time is
-the measure of successive existence
-in created and finite beings. As
-finite spirits we cannot escape from
-this limit of successive existence,
-any more than a body can escape
-from the limit of locality and finite
-movement in grace. Eternal existence
-is the entire possession of life,
-which is illimitable, in such a perfect
-manner that all succession in
-duration is excluded. This is possible
-only in God himself, who is
-alone most pure and perfect act,
-and therefore is at once all he can
-be, without change or movement.
-But the created spirit must ever
-live by a perpetual movement of increase
-in its duration, because it is
-on every side finite. Time, therefore,
-will continue to exist while
-creatures continue to exist.</p>
-
-<p>Having arrived at this conclusion
-we cannot refuse ourselves the satisfaction
-of pointing out one obvious
-deduction&mdash;namely, that if
-time has, in itself, only a relative
-existence, it is impossible it can
-ever put an end to the existence
-of anything else. It is inconceivable
-that the <i lang="la">non est</i> can absorb, exterminate,
-annihilate, or obliterate
-any one single thing that has ever
-had one second of real existence,
-of permitted being, of sentient, or
-even of insentient, life. God can
-annihilate, if he so will (and we do
-not think he will), but time cannot.
-Time can hide and put away. It
-can slip between us and the only
-reality, which is eternity; that is
-the condition of God, the <span class="smcap">Qui Est</span>.
-Wait awhile, and time will have, as
-it were, spread or overflowed into
-eternity. It will hide nothing from
-our view. It will be “rent in two
-from the top to the bottom,” from
-the beginning to the end, like the
-veil of the Temple, which is its symbol.
-And then will appear all that
-it has hitherto seemed, but only
-seemed, to distinguish. We shall
-find it all in the inner recesses of
-eternity. What cause, in point of
-fact, have we for supposing that
-anything which <em>is</em> shall cease to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_662" id="Page_662">[662]</a></span>
-exist? Why, because we no longer
-behold certain objects, do we imagine
-them to be really lost for ever?
-Is this a reasonable supposition on
-the part of beings who are conscious
-that once they themselves
-were not, and yet believe that they
-always shall be? Why should the
-mere diversity in other existences
-make us apprehend that the missing
-is also the lost, and that we
-have any substantial cause for
-doubting that all which exists will go
-on existing? Do we anywhere see
-symptoms of annihilation? It is
-true we see endless mutations, but
-those very mutations are a guarantee
-to us of the continuousness of
-being. All material things change:
-but they only change. They do
-not ever in any case go out and
-cease to be. If this be true of
-merely material things, how absolutely
-true must it be of the immaterial;
-and how more than probable
-of that which is partly one
-and partly the other, of that far
-lower nature of the brutes, which
-have a principle of life in them inferior
-to ours and superior to the
-plants, and of which, since we do
-not believe their sensations to be
-the result of certain fortuitous
-atoms that have fashioned themselves
-blindly after an inexorable
-law, and independently of an intelligent
-Lawgiver, we may reasonably
-predicate that they too will
-have a future and, in its proper
-inferior order, an advanced existence.
-Everywhere there is growth&mdash;through
-the phases of time into
-the portals of eternity.</p>
-
-<p>The idea in the eternal Mind, of
-all essences, the least as well as the
-greatest, was, like the Mind that
-held it, eternal&mdash;that is, exempt from
-all limit of succession. The past,
-present, and future are the progressive
-modes of existence and of
-our own perceptions rather than
-the properties of the essences themselves.
-Those essences had a place
-in the Eternal Idea; they occupy an
-actual place as an actual existence
-in the phases of time, and they go
-on in all probability&mdash;may we not
-say in all certainty?&mdash;in the endlessness
-of the Creator’s intention.
-Let no one misunderstand this as
-implying that matter was eternal in
-any other sense than its essence
-being an object of the idea of the
-eternal God, it was always clearly
-present to the eternal Mind. Its
-actuality, as we know it, dates from
-this creation of the crude, chaotic
-mass. But once formed, and then
-fashioned, and finally animated, we
-can have no pretence for supposing
-that any part of it will ever
-cease to be. Nor can we have any
-solid reason for supposing that what
-has once been endowed with sentient
-life will ever be condemned to
-fall back into the all but infinitely
-lower form of mere organic matter,
-any more than we have reason to
-suppose that at some future period
-organic matter will be reduced to
-inorganic matter, and that out of
-this beautiful creation it will please
-God to resolve chaos back again,
-either the whole or in any one the
-smallest part. We have nothing to
-do with the difficulties of the question.
-They are difficulties entirely
-of detail, and not of principle;
-and they concern us no more than
-it concerns us to be able to state
-how many animalcula it took to
-heave up the vast sierras of the
-western hemisphere. The details
-may well puzzle us, and we cannot
-venture on the merest suggestion.
-But the principle is full of hope,
-joy, and security, which in itself
-is a presumption in its favor. If
-we would but believe how God
-values the work of his own hands;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_663" id="Page_663">[663]</a></span>
-if we would but try to realize how
-intense is creative love, what much
-larger and deeper views we should
-have of the future of all creation,
-and of the glory that is prepared
-for us! Even the old heathen religions
-began by taking larger and
-more accurate measure of these
-questions (though they necessarily
-ended in error) than too many of
-us do with all the light of the Gospel
-thrown upon them. The animism
-of the heathens, which makes
-no distinction between animate and
-inanimate existence, but lends a
-soul to each alike, had in it a sort
-of loving and hopeful reverence
-for creation which is often wanting
-to us who alone truly know the
-Creator. In their blind groping
-after faith it led them to fetichism,
-and further on, as a fuller development
-of the same notion, to pantheism,
-and then to the ever-renewed
-and quite endless incarnations
-of Buddha. But these errors took
-their rise originally from a respectful
-and tender love of that beautiful
-though awful nature which man
-found lying all around him; external
-to himself, yet linked to himself,
-and beneath the folds of
-which he hoped to find the hidden
-deity.</p>
-
-<p>If these reflections have at all
-enabled us to understand the nature
-of time, and to shake off some
-of the unreasonable importance we
-lend to it in our imaginations&mdash;making
-of it a sort of lesser rival to
-eternity, fashioning it into an actual,
-existing thing, as if it were an
-attribute of God himself, instead
-of being, what it is, a state or
-phase imposed upon us, and not
-in any way affecting him&mdash;we shall
-have done much to facilitate the
-considerations we wish to enlarge
-upon. Eternity is “perpetually
-instantaneous.” It is the <i lang="la">nunc stans</i>
-of theology. Time, on the contrary,
-is the past, present, and future
-of our human condition&mdash;the
-<i lang="la">nunc fluens</i> of theology.</p>
-
-<p>With this truth well rooted in
-our minds, we will now turn to the
-investigation of some of those impressions
-to which we referred at
-the beginning of this section, and
-endeavor to throw light upon them
-from out of the additional knowledge
-we acquire of the nature and
-characteristics of the divine Being
-through the simple process of clearing
-away some of our false impressions
-with respect to time. We had
-in our modes of thought more or
-less hemmed in the Eternal, with
-our human sense of time, and subjected
-even him to the narrowing
-process of a past, present, and future.
-Now we are about to think
-of ourselves only in that position,
-and to contemplate him in eternity,
-dealing with us through the
-medium of time, but distinctly with
-a reference to eternity, and only
-apparently imposing on himself the
-conditions of time in order to bring
-himself, as it were, on a level with
-us in his dealings with us.</p>
-
-<p>Strange as it may appear, out of
-the depths of our stupidity we have
-fabricated a difficulty to ourselves
-in his very condescensions, and,
-looking back from our present to
-the past, we find ourselves puzzled
-at certain divers revelations of God
-made to mankind in gone-by times;
-just as, in the weakness of our faith,
-we are sometimes troubled with
-doubts about our own condition,
-and that of those about us, in that
-future which must come, and which
-may not be far off to any one of us.</p>
-
-<p>The God of Abraham, and Isaac,
-and Jacob&mdash;is he really quite the
-same as our own God? our God
-of the womb of Mary, of the manger,
-of the wayside places in Palestine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_664" id="Page_664">[664]</a></span>
-and Mount Calvary, and now,
-of the silken-curtained Tabernacle,
-and the Blessed Eucharist, and the
-dear, ineffable moments of silent
-prayer&mdash;is he the same?</p>
-
-<p>Of course we know that, literally
-and absolutely, he is the same yesterday,
-to-day, and for ever. Nevertheless,
-he appears to us under
-such different aspects that we find
-ourselves unintentionally contemplating
-the Old Testament as a
-revelation of the divine Being with
-very different emotions from those
-with which we contemplate him in
-the New Testament, and this, again,
-differing widely from our view of
-him in the church. It may be a mere
-matter of feeling, perhaps; but it is
-nevertheless a feeling which materially
-influences our form of devotion,
-the vigor of our faith, and the
-power of our hope and love.</p>
-
-<p>If we could take in all these different
-impressions and amalgamate
-them; if we could group them together,
-or make them like the several
-rays of light directed into one
-focus, we should obtain a more
-complete and a more influential
-knowledge of God than we can do
-while we seem rather to be wandering
-out of one view of him into another,
-as if we walked from chamber
-to chamber and closed each
-door behind us.</p>
-
-<p>Now, the only way we can arrive
-at this is by bearing in mind that
-the acts of God in governing the
-world are not momentary and solitary
-facts, but continuous acts, or
-rather one continuous act.</p>
-
-<p>Our difficulty lies in producing a
-visibly satisfactory harmony in our
-own minds as regards the acts of
-God, and thus (though for our
-own appreciation of them, they are
-to us broken up into fragments, or,
-in other terms, into separate facts)
-arriving at the same mental attitude
-towards them as though we saw
-them as one continuous act.</p>
-
-<p>It will aid us in our search if we,
-first of all, endeavor to qualify that
-act.</p>
-
-<p>Its very continuity, its perpetual
-instantaneousness, must essentially
-affect its character and make the
-definition no complex matter. It
-is an act of love, and it is revealed
-as such in the whole creation, and
-in the way God has let himself down
-to us and is drawing us up unto
-himself. There have been many
-apparent modifications, but there
-have been no actual contradictions,
-in this characteristic; for even the
-existence of evil works round to
-greater good, to a degree sufficiently
-obvious to us for us to know that
-where it is less obvious it must
-nevertheless follow the same law.
-For law is everywhere; because
-God is law, though law is not God.</p>
-
-<p>Modern unbelief substitutes law
-for God, and then thinks it has
-done away with him. To us who
-believe it makes no difference how
-far back in the long continuous line
-of active forces we may find the
-original and divine Author of all
-force. It is nothing but the weakness
-of our imagination which
-makes it more difficult to count by
-millions than by units.</p>
-
-<p>What does it matter to our faith
-through how many developments
-the condition of creation, as we
-now see it all around us, may
-have passed, when we know that
-the first idea sprang from the great
-Source of all law, and that with him
-the present state is as much one
-continuous act as the past state
-and the future state? You may
-trace back the whole material universe,
-if you will, to the one first
-molecule of chaotic matter; but
-so long as I find that first molecule
-in the hand of my Creator (and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_665" id="Page_665">[665]</a></span>
-defy you to put it anywhere else),
-it is enough for my faith.</p>
-
-<p>You do not make him one whit
-the less my Creator and my God
-because an initial law or force,
-with which he then stamped it, has
-worked it out to what I now see it.
-You may increase the apparent distance
-between the world as it is
-actually and the divine Fount from
-whence it sprang; you may seem
-to remove the creative love which
-called the universe into existence
-further off, by thus lengthening the
-chain of what you call developments;
-but, after all, these developments
-are for ever bridged over by
-the ulterior intentions of the Triune
-Deity when he said,“Let us make
-man in our image,” and by the fact
-that space and time are mere accidents
-as viewed in relation to the
-<span class="smcap">Qui Est</span>. They are, so to speak,
-divinely-constituted conventionalities,
-through which the Divinity
-touches upon our human condition,
-but which in no way affect the
-Divine Essence as it is in itself. On
-the contrary, in the broken-up developments
-and evolutions which
-you believe you trace, and which
-you want to make into a blind law
-which shall supersede a divine
-Creator, I see only the pulsations
-of time breaking up the perpetually
-instantaneous act of God, just as I
-see the pulsations of light in the
-one unbroken ray. The act of
-God passes through the medium of
-time before it reaches our ken;
-and the ray of light passes through
-the medium of air before it strikes
-our senses; but both are continuous
-and instantaneous.</p>
-
-<p>If we have in any degree succeeded
-in establishing this to our
-satisfaction, it will become easier
-for us to estimate the acts of God
-as they come to us through the
-pulsations of Time; because we
-shall be able to bear in mind that
-they must be in a measure interpreted
-to us by the time through
-which they reach us. They were
-modified by the time in which they
-were revealed, much as the ray is
-modified by the substance through
-which it forces its way to us.</p>
-
-<p>Now, we arrive at the causes of
-the different impressions we receive
-of the nature and characteristics of
-the divine Being. They are a consequence
-of the different epochs in
-which we contemplate him. They
-are the pulsations appropriate to
-that epoch. Other pulsations belong
-to our portion of time, and to
-our consequent view of the divine
-Being; and so on and on, till
-time shall be swallowed up in Eternity,
-and the Beatific Vision burst
-upon us.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_666" id="Page_666">[666]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>MISSIONS IN MAINE FROM 1613 TO 1854.</h3>
-
-<p class="center smaller">“THE BLOOD OF THE MARTYRS IS THE SEED OF THE CHURCH.”</p>
-
-<p>To the historical student the following
-paper can have but trifling
-value, as the writer makes no pretension
-to originality of matter,
-and seeks but to bring within the
-grasp of the general reader, in a
-condensed form, the gist of many
-books, a large number of which are
-rare, and almost inaccessible.</p>
-
-<p>It is hoped, however, that there
-are many persons who will read
-with interest a paper thus compiled
-from undoubted authorities, who
-have neither the time nor the inclination
-to consult these authorities for
-themselves. These persons will
-learn with wonder of the self-abnegation
-of the French priests who
-went forth among the savages with
-their lives in their hands, with but
-one thought in their brains, one
-wish in their hearts, one prayer on
-their lips&mdash;the evangelization of the
-Indians.</p>
-
-<p>As Shea says: “The word Christianity
-was, in those days, identical
-with Catholicity. The religion to
-be offered to the New World was
-that of the Church of Rome, which
-church was free from any distinct
-national feeling, and in extending
-her boundaries carried her own language
-and rites, not those of any
-particular state.”</p>
-
-<p>The Franciscan, Dominican, and
-Jesuit bore the heat and burden of
-the day, and reaped the most bountiful
-harvest in that part of North
-America now known as the State of
-Maine; and the first mission in that
-neighborhood was planted at Mt.
-Desert, and called St. Sauveur.
-A hotel at Bar Harbor is so named,
-but not one in a hundred of the numerous
-guests who cross its threshold
-knows the reason of the French
-name of their temporary abiding-place.</p>
-
-<p>This reason, and the facts connected
-therewith, we shall now proceed
-to give to our readers. In
-1610 Marie de Médicis was Regent
-of France. The king had been
-assassinated in the streets of Paris
-in the previous month of May.
-Sully was dismissed from court.
-All was confusion and dissension.
-Twelve years of peace and the judicious
-rule of the king had paid
-the national debt and filled the
-treasury.</p>
-
-<p>The famous Father Cotton, confessor
-of the late king, was still
-powerful at court. He laid before
-the queen the facts that Henri IV.
-had been deeply interested in the
-establishment of the Jesuit order in
-Acadia, and had evinced a tangible
-proof of that interest in the
-bestowal of a grant of two thousand
-livres per annum.</p>
-
-<p>The ambitious queen listened indulgently,
-with a heart softened,
-possibly, by recent sorrows, and
-consented to receive the son of the
-Baron Poutrincourt, who had just
-returned from the New World, where
-he had left his father with Champlain.
-Father Cotton ushered the
-handsome stripling into the presence
-of the stately queen and her
-attendant ladies. Young Biencourt
-at first stood silent and abashed,
-but, as the ladies gathered about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_667" id="Page_667">[667]</a></span>
-him and plied him with questions,
-soon forgot himself and told wondrous
-tales of the dusky savages&mdash;of
-their strange customs and of their
-eagerness for instruction in the true
-faith. He displayed the baptismal
-register of the converts of Father
-Fléche, and implored the sympathy
-and aid of these glittering dames,
-and not in vain; for, fired with
-pious emulation, they tore the flashing
-jewels from their ears and
-throats. Among these ladies was
-one whose history and influence
-were so remarkable that we must
-translate for our readers some account
-of her from the Abbé de
-Choisy.</p>
-
-<p>Antoinette de Pons, Marquise de
-Guercheville had been famed
-throughout France, not only for
-her grace and beauty, but for qualities
-more rare at the court where
-her youth had been passed.</p>
-
-<p>When Antoinette was La Duchesse
-de Rochefoucauld, the king begged
-her to accept a position near the
-queen. “Madame,” he said, as he
-presented her to Marie de Médicis,
-“I give you a Lady of Honor who is
-a lady of honor indeed.”</p>
-
-<p>Twenty years had come and gone.
-The youthful beauty of the <i lang="fr">marquise</i>
-had faded, but she was fair
-and stately still, and one of the
-most brilliant ornaments of the
-brilliant court; and yet she was not
-altogether worldly. Again a widow
-and without children, she had become
-sincerely religious, and threw
-herself heart and soul into the
-American missions, and was restrained
-only by the positive commands
-of her mistress the queen
-from herself seeking the New
-World.</p>
-
-<p>Day and night she thought of
-these perishing souls. On her knees
-in her oratory she prayed for the
-Indians, and contented herself
-not with this alone. From the
-queen and from the ladies of the
-court she obtained money, and
-jewels that could be converted
-into money. Charlevoix tells us
-that the only difficulty was to restrain
-her ardor within reasonable
-bounds.</p>
-
-<p>Two French priests, Paul Biard
-and Enémond Massé, were sent to
-Dieppe, there to take passage for
-the colonies. The vessel was engaged
-by Poutrincourt and his associates,
-and was partially owned by
-two Huguenot merchants, who persistently
-and with indignation refused
-to permit the embarkation
-of the priests. No entreaties or
-representations availed, and finally
-La Marquise bought out the interest
-of the two merchants in the
-vessel and cargo, and transferred
-it to the priests as a fund for their
-support.</p>
-
-<p>At last the fathers set sail, on
-the 26th of January, 1611. Their
-troubles, however, were by no means
-over; for Biencourt, a mere lad,
-clothed in a little brief authority&mdash;manly,
-it is true, beyond his years&mdash;hampered
-them at every turn.
-They arrived at Port Royal in June,
-after a hazardous and tempestuous
-voyage, having seen, as Father Biard
-writes, icebergs taller and larger
-than the Church of Notre Dame.
-The fathers became discouraged
-by the constant interference of
-young Biencourt, and determined
-to return to Europe, unless they
-could, with Mme. de Guercheville’s
-aid, found a mission colony in some
-other spot.</p>
-
-<p>Their zealous protectress obtained
-from De Monts&mdash;who, though
-a Protestant, had erected six years
-before the first cross in Maine at the
-mouth of the Kennebec&mdash;a transfer
-of all his claims to the lands of
-Acadia, and soon sent out a small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[668]</a></span>
-vessel with forty colonists, commanded
-by La Saussaye, a nobleman,
-and having on board two Jesuit
-priests, Fathers du Thet and Quentin.</p>
-
-<p>It was on the 1st of March, 1613,
-that this vessel left Honfleur, laden
-with supplies, and followed by
-prayers and benedictions.</p>
-
-<p>On the 16th of May La Saussaye
-reached Port Royal, and there
-took on board Fathers Massé and
-Biard, and then set sail for the
-Penobscot. A heavy fog arose and
-encompassed them about; if it lifted
-for a moment, it was but to
-show them a white gleam of distant
-breakers or a dark, overhanging
-cliff.</p>
-
-<p>“Our prayers were heard,” wrote
-Biard, “and at night the stars
-came out, and the morning sun
-devoured the fogs, and we found
-ourselves lying in Frenchmans
-Bay opposite Mt. Desert.”</p>
-
-<p>L’Isle des Monts Déserts had
-been visited and so named by
-Champlain in 1604, and Frenchman’s
-Bay gained its title from a
-singular incident that had there
-taken place in the same spring.</p>
-
-<p>De Monts had broken up his
-winter encampment at St. Croix.
-Among his company was a young
-French ecclesiastic, Nicholas d’Aubri,
-who, to gratify his curiosity in
-regard to the products of the soil
-in this new and strange country,
-insisted on being set ashore for a
-ramble of a few hours. He lost his
-way, and the boatmen, after an
-anxious search, were compelled to
-leave him. For eighteen days the
-young student wandered through
-woods, subsisting on berries and
-the roots of the plant known as
-Solomon’s Seal. He, however,
-kept carefully near the shore, and
-at the end of this time he distinguished
-a sail in the distance. Signalling
-this, he was fortunate enough
-to be taken off by the same crew
-that had landed him. On these
-bleak shores the colonists decided
-to make their future home, and, with
-singular infelicity, selected them as
-the site of the new colony. It is
-inconceivable how Father Biard,
-who had already spent some time
-in the New World, could have failed
-to suggest to La Saussaye and
-to their patroness that a colony, to
-be a success, must be not only in
-a spot easily accessible to France,
-but that a small force of armed
-men was imperative; for, to Biard’s
-own knowledge, the English had already
-seized several French vessels
-in that vicinity.</p>
-
-<p>On these frowning shores La
-Saussaye landed, and erected a
-cross, and displayed the escutcheon
-of Mme. de Guercheville; the
-fathers offered the Holy Sacrifice
-of the Mass, and gave to the little
-settlement the name of St. Sauveur.</p>
-
-<p>Four tents&mdash;the gift of the queen&mdash;shone
-white in the soft spring
-sunshine. The largest of these was
-used as a chapel, the decorations
-of which, with the silver vessels for
-the celebration of the Mass and
-the rich vestments, were presented
-by Henriette d’Entraigues, Marquise
-de Verneuil.</p>
-
-<p>The colonists labored night and
-day to raise their little fort and to
-land their supplies. Their toil
-was nearly over, the vessel, ready
-for sea, rode at anchor, when a sudden
-and violent storm arose.</p>
-
-<p>This storm had been felt twenty-four
-hours earlier off the Isles of
-Shoals by a fishing vessel commanded
-by one Samuel Argall. Thick
-fogs bewildered him, and a strong
-wind drove him to the northeast;
-and when the weather cleared,
-Argall found himself off the coast
-of Maine. Canoes came out like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_669" id="Page_669">[669]</a></span>
-flocks of birds from each small bay.
-The Indians climbed the ship’s
-side, and greeted the new-comers
-with such amazing bows and flourishes
-that Argall, with his native
-acuteness, felt certain that they
-could have learned them only from
-the French, who could not be far
-away. Argall plied the Indians
-with cunning questions, and soon
-learned of the new settlement. He
-resolved to investigate farther, and
-set sail for the wild heights of Mt.
-Desert. With infinite patience he
-crept along through the many
-islands, and, rounding the Porcupines,
-saw a small ship anchored in
-the bay. At the same moment the
-French saw the English ship bearing
-down upon them “swifter than
-an arrow,” writes Father Biard,
-“with every sail set, and the English
-flags streaming from mast-head
-and stern.”</p>
-
-<p>La Saussaye was within the fort,
-Lieut. la Motte on board with Father
-du Thet, an ensign, and a
-sergeant. Argall bore down amid
-a bewildering din of drums and
-trumpets. “Fire!” cried La Motte.
-Alas! the gunner was on shore.
-Father du Thet seized and applied
-the match.</p>
-
-<p>Another scathing discharge of
-musketry, and the brave priest lay
-dead. He had his wish; for the
-day before he left France he prayed
-with uplifted hands that he
-might not return, but perish on that
-holy enterprise. He was buried
-the following day at the foot of the
-rough cross he had helped to erect.</p>
-
-<p>La Motte, clear-sighted enough
-to see the utter uselessness of any
-farther attempt at defence, surrendered,
-and Argall took possession
-of the vessel and of La Saussaye’s
-papers, from among which he abstracted
-the royal commission. On
-La Saussaye’s return from the
-woods, where he had retreated with
-the colonists, he was met by Argall,
-who informed him that the country
-belonged to his master, King James,
-and finally asked to see his commission.
-In vain did the French
-nobleman search for it. Argall’s
-courtesy changed to wrath; he accused
-the officer of piracy, and ordered
-the settlement to be given up
-to pillage, but offered to take any
-of the settlers who had a trade back
-to Virginia with him, promising them
-protection. Argall counted, however,
-without his host; for on reaching
-Jamestown the governor swore
-that the French priests should be
-hung. Useless were Argall’s remonstrances,
-and finally, seeing no
-other way to save the lives of the
-fathers, he produced the commission
-and acknowledged his stratagem.</p>
-
-<p>The wrath of Sir Thomas Dale
-was unappeased, but the lives of
-the priests were, of course, safe.
-He despatched Argall with two additional
-ships back to Mt. Desert,
-with orders to cut down the cross
-and level the defences.</p>
-
-<p>Father Biard was on board, as
-well as Father Massé; they, with refined
-cruelty, being sent to witness
-the destruction of their hopes.</p>
-
-<p>This work of destruction completed,
-Argall set sail for Virginia.
-Again a storm arose, and the vessel
-on which were the ecclesiastics was
-driven to the Azores. Here the
-Jesuits, who had been so grossly
-ill-treated, had but a few words to
-say to be avenged. The captain
-of the vessel was not without uneasiness,
-and entreated the priests
-to remain in concealment when the
-vessel was visited by the authorities.
-This visit over, the English
-purchased all they needed, and
-weighed anchor for England. Arrived
-there, a new difficulty occurred;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_670" id="Page_670">[670]</a></span>
-for there was no commission
-to show. The captain was treated
-as a pirate, thrown into prison, and
-released only on the testimony of
-the Jesuit Fathers, who thus returned
-good for evil.</p>
-
-<p>Father Biard hastened to France,
-where he became professor of theology
-at Lyons, and died at Avignon
-on the 17th of November,
-1622. Father Massé returned to
-Canada, where he labored without
-ceasing until his death, in 1646.</p>
-
-<p>With the destruction of St. Sauveur,
-the pious designs of Mme. de
-Guercheville seem to have perished.
-At any rate, the most diligent
-research fails to find her name
-again in the annals of that time.
-Probably the troubled state of
-France made it impossible for her
-to provide the sinews of war, or of
-evangelization. Nevertheless, the
-good seed was planted, and zeal
-for the mission cause again revived
-in Europe, particularly in the Society
-of Jesus. Young men left
-court and camp to share the privations
-and life of self-denial of the
-missionaries. Even the convents
-partook of the general enthusiasm,
-and Ursuline Nuns came to show
-the Indians Christianity in daily
-life, ministering to the sick and
-instructing the young.</p>
-
-<p>Many years after the melancholy
-failure of the mission at Mt. Desert,
-an apparent accident recalled
-the Jesuit Fathers to the coast
-of Maine.</p>
-
-<p>In 1642 there was a mission at
-Sillery, on the St. Lawrence, where
-had been gathered together a large
-number of Indian converts, who
-lived, with their families about them,
-in peace and harmony under the
-watchful care of the kind fathers.
-Among these converts was a chief
-who, to rescue some of his tribe
-who had been taken prisoners, started
-off through the pathless wilderness,
-and finally reached the English
-at Coussinoe, now known as
-Augusta, on the Kennebec.</p>
-
-<p>There the Indian convert so extolled
-the Christian faith and its
-mighty promises that he took back
-with him several of the tribe.
-These were baptized at Sillery, and
-became faithful servants of our
-Lord Jesus Christ. In consequence
-of the entreaties of these
-converts, Father Gabriel Drouillettes
-was sent to the lonely Kennebec.</p>
-
-<p>Here he built a chapel of fir-trees
-in a place now known as
-Norridgewock, a lovely, secluded
-spot. Some years before Father
-Biard had been there for a few
-weeks, so that the Indians were not
-totally unprepared to receive religious
-instruction. Father Drouillettes
-was greatly blessed in his
-teaching, and converted a large
-number, inspiring them with a profound
-love for the Catholic faith,
-which the English, twenty years
-before, had failed to do for the Protestant
-religion. He taught them
-simple prayers, and translated for
-their use, into their own dialect,
-several hymns. The savages even
-learned to sing, and it was not long
-before the solemn strains of the
-<cite>Dies Iræ</cite> awakened strange echoes
-in the primeval forests.</p>
-
-<p>Even the English, biassed as they
-were against the Catholics, watched
-the good accomplished by the faithful
-servant of the great Master,
-and learned to regard his coming
-as a great blessing, though at this
-very time the stern Puritans at
-Plymouth were enacting cruel laws
-against his order.</p>
-
-<p>When the Indians went to Moosehead
-Lake to hunt and fish, Father
-Drouillettes went with them, watching
-over his flock with unswerving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_671" id="Page_671">[671]</a></span>
-solicitude. But the day of his
-summons to Quebec came, and a
-general feeling of despair overwhelmed
-his converts. He went,
-and the Assumption Mission was
-deserted; for by that name, as it
-was asked for on that day, was
-this mission always designated.</p>
-
-<p>Year after year the Abnakis&mdash;for
-so were called the aborigines of
-Maine&mdash;sent deputations to Quebec
-to entreat the return of their beloved
-priest, but in vain; for the
-number of missionaries was at that
-time very limited. Finally, in 1650,
-Father Drouillettes set out with a
-party on the last day of August for
-the tiresome eight days’ march
-through the wilderness; the party
-lost their way, their provisions were
-gone, and it was not until twenty-four
-days afterwards that they reached
-Norridgewock.</p>
-
-<p>From a letter written at this time
-by Father Drouillettes we transcribe
-the following: “In spite of all that
-is painful and crucifying to nature
-in these missions, there are also
-great joys and consolations. More
-plenteous than I can describe are
-those I feel, to see that the seed of
-the Gospel I scattered here four
-years ago, in land which for so
-many centuries has lain fallow, or
-produced only thorns and brambles,
-already bears fruit so worthy of the
-Lord.” Nothing could exceed the
-veneration and affection of the
-Indians for their missionary; and
-when an Englishman vehemently
-accused the French priest of slandering
-his nation, the chiefs hurried
-to Augusta, and warned the authorities
-to take heed and not attack
-their father even in words.</p>
-
-<p>The following spring Father
-Drouillettes was sent to a far-distant
-station, and years elapsed before he
-returned to Quebec, where he died
-in 1681, at the age of eighty-eight.</p>
-
-<p>About this time two brothers,
-Vincent and Jacques Bigot, men
-of rank and fortune, left their homes
-in sunny France to share the toil
-and privations of life in the New
-World. They placed themselves
-and their fortunes in the hands of
-the superior at Quebec, and were
-sent to labor in the footprints of
-Father Drouillettes. During their
-faithful ministrations at Norridgewock,
-the chapel built by their predecessor
-was burned by the English,
-but was rebuilt in 1687 by English
-workmen sent from Boston,
-according to treaty stipulations.
-And now appears upon the scene
-the stately form of one of the greatest
-men of that age; but before we
-attempt to bring before our readers
-the character and acts of Sebastian
-Râle, we must beg them to turn from
-Norridgewock, the scene of his
-labors and martyrdom, to the little
-village of Castine. For in 1688
-Father Thury, a priest of the
-diocese of Quebec, a man of tact
-and ability, had gathered about
-him a band of converts at Panawauski,
-on the Penobscot. This
-settlement was protected by the
-Baron Saint-Castine. This Saint-Castine
-was a French nobleman
-and a soldier who originally went to
-Canada in command of a regiment.
-The regiment was disbanded, and
-Saint-Castine’s disappointed ambition
-and a heart sore from domestic
-trials decided him, rather
-than return to France, to plunge
-into the wilderness, and there, far
-from kindred and nation, create for
-himself a new home.</p>
-
-<p>After a while the baron married a
-daughter of one of the sachems of the
-Penobscot Indians, and became himself
-a sagamore of the tribe. The
-descendants of this marriage hold at
-the present day some portion of the
-Saint-Castine lands in Normandy.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_672" id="Page_672">[672]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Twice was the French baron
-driven from his home by the
-Dutch; twice was the simple chapel
-burned by them. In 1687 Sir
-Edmund Andros was appointed
-governor of New England, and in
-the following year, sailing eastward
-in the frigate <i>Rose</i>, he anchored
-opposite the little fort and primitive
-home of Saint-Castine. The
-baron retreated with the small
-band of settlers to the woods.
-Andros, being a Catholic, touched
-nothing in the chapel, but carried
-off everything else in the village.
-In 1703 the war known as Queen
-Anne’s war broke out. Again
-Saint-Castine was attacked by the
-English, and his wife and children
-carried off as prisoners, but were
-soon after exchanged. From this
-time the name of Baron Saint-Castine
-appears in all the annals of the
-time, as the courageous defender of
-his faith and of its priests. Father
-Râle, at Norridgewock, turned to
-him for counsel and aid, and never
-turned in vain. From Castine on
-to Mt. Desert the shores are full of
-historical interest; for there were
-many French settlements thereabouts,
-the attention of that nation
-having been drawn to that especial
-locality by a grant of land which
-M. Cardillac obtained of Louis
-XIV. in April, 1691. This grant
-was evidently made to confirm possession.
-A certain Mme. de Grégoire
-proved herself to be a lineal
-descendant of Cardillac, and in
-1787 acquired a partial confirmation
-of the original grant.</p>
-
-<p>Relics of the French settlers are
-constantly turned up by the plough
-in the vicinity of Castine, and in
-1840 a quantity of French gold
-pieces were found; but of infinitely
-more interest was the discovery
-there, in 1863, of a copper plate
-ten inches in length and eight in
-width. The finder, knowing nothing
-of the value of this piece of
-metal, cut off a portion to repair his
-boat. This fragment was, however,
-subsequently recovered. The letters
-on the plate are unquestionably
-abbreviations of the following
-inscription: “1648, 8 Junii, S. Frater
-Leo Parisiensis, in Capuccinorum
-Missione, posuit hoc fundamentum
-in honorem nostræ Dominæ Sanctæ
-Spei”&mdash;1648, 8th of June, Holy Friar
-Leo of Paris, Capuchin missionary,
-laid this foundation in honor of
-Our Lady of Holy Hope.</p>
-
-<p>In regard to this Father Leo the
-most diligent research fails to find
-any other trace. The plate, however,
-was without doubt placed in
-the foundation of a Catholic chapel&mdash;probably
-the one within the walls
-of the old French fort. Father
-Sebastian Râle sailed in 1689 for
-America. After remaining for nearly
-two years in Quebec, he went
-thence to Norridgewock. He found
-the Abnakis nearly all converted,
-and at once applied himself to
-learning their dialect. To this
-work he brought his marvellous patience
-and energy, and all his wondrous
-insight into human nature.
-He began his dictionary, and erected
-a chapel on the spot known now
-as Indian Old Point. This chapel
-he supplied with all the decorations
-calculated to engage the imagination
-and fix the wandering attention
-of the untutored savage. The women
-contended with holy emulation
-in the embellishment of the sanctuary.
-They made mats of the soft
-and brightly-tinted plumage of the
-forest birds and of the white-breasted
-sea-gulls. They brought offerings
-of huge candles, manufactured
-from the fragrant wax of the bay-berry,
-with which the chapel was
-illuminated. A couple of nuns
-from Montreal made a brief sojourn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_673" id="Page_673">[673]</a></span>
-at Norridgewock, that they might
-teach the Indian women to sew and
-to make a kind of lace with which
-to adorn the altar. Busied with his
-dictionary and with his flock, Father
-Râle thus passed the most
-peaceful days of his life; but this
-blessed quiet ended only too soon.</p>
-
-<p>In 1705 a party of English, under
-the command of a Capt. Hilton,
-burst from out the forest, attacking
-the little village from all sides
-at once, finishing by burning the
-chapel and every hut.</p>
-
-<p>About the same time the governor-general
-of New England sent
-to the lower part of the Kennebec
-the ablest of the Boston divines to
-instruct the Indian children. As
-Baxter’s (the missionary) salary depended
-on his success, he neglected
-no means that could attract.</p>
-
-<p>For two months he labored in
-vain. His caresses and little gifts
-were thrown away; for he made not
-one convert.</p>
-
-<p>Father Râle wrote to Baxter that
-his neophytes were good Christians,
-but far from able in disputes.</p>
-
-<p>This same letter, which was of some
-length, challenged the Protestant
-clergyman to a discussion. Baxter,
-after a long delay, sent a brief reply,
-in Latin so bad that the learned
-priest says it was impossible to understand
-it.</p>
-
-<p>In 1717 the Indian chiefs held a
-council. The governor of New
-England offered them an English
-and an Indian Bible, and Mr. Baxter
-as their expounder.</p>
-
-<p>The Abnakis refused them one
-and all, and elected to adhere to
-their Catholic faith, saying: “All
-people love their own priests!
-Your Bibles we do not care for, and
-God has already sent us teachers.”</p>
-
-<p>Thus years passed on in monotonous
-labor. The only relaxation
-permitted to himself by Father Râle
-was the work on his dictionary.
-The converts venerated their priest;
-their keen eyes and quick instincts
-saw the sincerity of his life, the
-reality of his affection for them,
-and recognized his self-denial and
-generosity. They went to him
-with their cares and their sorrows,
-with their simple griefs and simpler
-pleasures. He listened with unaffected
-sympathy and interest. No
-envious rival, no jealous competitor,
-no heretical teacher, disturbed
-the relations between pastor and
-flock. So, too, was it but natural
-that they should look to him for
-advice when they gathered about
-their council-fires.</p>
-
-<p>The wrongs which the Eastern
-Indians were constantly enduring
-at the hands of the English settlers
-kindled to a living flame the smouldering
-hatred in their hearts, which
-they sought every opportunity of
-wreaking in vengeance on their
-foe. Thus, like lightning on the
-edge of the horizon, they hovered
-on the frontier, making daring
-forays on the farms of the settlers.</p>
-
-<p>It was not unnatural that the
-English, bristling with prejudices
-against the French, and still more
-against Catholics, should have seen
-fit to look on Father Râle as the
-instigator of all these attacks, forgetting&mdash;what
-is undeniably true&mdash;that
-Father Râle’s converts were
-milder and kinder and more Christian-like
-than any of their Indian
-neighbors. The good father was
-full of concern when he heard that
-a fierce and warlike tribe, who had
-steadily resisted all elevating influences,
-were about settling within a
-day’s journey of Norridgewock.
-He feared lest his children should
-be led away by pernicious examples;
-so he with difficulty persuaded
-some of the strangers to enter
-the chapel, and to be present at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_674" id="Page_674">[674]</a></span>
-some of the imposing ceremonies
-of the mother church. At the
-close of the service he addressed
-them in simple words, and thus concluded:</p>
-
-<p>“Let us not separate, that some
-may go one way and some another.
-Let us all go to heaven. It is our
-country, and the place to which
-we are invited by the sole Master
-of life, of whom I am but the interpreter.”
-The reply of the Indians
-was evasive; but it was evident
-that an impression was made,
-and in the autumn they sent to
-him to say that if he would come
-to them they would receive his
-teachings.</p>
-
-<p>Father Râle gladly went at this
-bidding, erected a cross and a
-chapel, and finally baptized nearly
-the whole tribe.</p>
-
-<p>At this time Father Râle wrote
-to his nephew a letter, in which he
-says: “My new church is neat, and
-its elegantly-ornamented vestments,
-chasubles, copes, and holy vessels
-would be esteemed highly appropriate
-in almost any church in Europe.
-A choir of young Indians,
-forty in number, assist at the Holy
-Sacrifice of the Mass, and chant the
-divine Offices for the consecration
-of the Holy Sacrament; and you
-would be edified by the beautiful
-order they preserve and the devotion
-they manifest. After the Mass
-I teach the young children, and the
-remainder of the morning is devoted
-to seeing those who come to consult
-me on affairs of importance.
-Thus, you see, I teach some, console
-others, seek to re-establish peace in
-families at variance, and to calm
-troubled consciences.”</p>
-
-<p>Another letter still later, in speaking
-of the attachment of the converts
-to their faith, says: “And
-when they go to the sea-shore in
-summer to fish, I accompany them;
-and when they reach the place
-where they intend to pass the night,
-they erect stakes at intervals in the
-form of a chapel, and spread a tent
-made of ticking. All is complete
-in fifteen minutes. I always carry
-with me a beautiful board of cedar,
-with the necessary supports. This
-serves for an altar, and I ornament
-the interior with silken hangings.
-A huge bear-skin serves as a carpet,
-and divine service is held within an
-hour.”</p>
-
-<p>While away on one of the excursions
-which Father Râle thus describes,
-the village was attacked by
-the English; and again, in 1722, by
-a party of two hundred under Col.
-Westbrook. New England had
-passed a law imposing imprisonment
-for life on Catholic priests, and a
-reward was offered for the head of
-Father Râle. The party was seen,
-as they entered the valley of the
-Kennebec, by two braves, who hurried
-on to give the alarm; the
-priest having barely time to escape
-to the woods with the altar vessels
-and vestments, leaving behind him
-all his papers and his precious Abnaki
-dictionary, which was enclosed
-in a strong box of peculiar construction.
-It had two rude pictures on
-the lid, one of the scourging of our
-Blessed Lord, and the other of the
-Crowning of Thorns. This box is
-now in the possession of the Massachusetts
-Historical Society, while
-the dictionary itself is at Harvard.</p>
-
-<p>Father Râle saved himself by
-taking refuge in a hollow tree,
-where he remained for thirty-six
-hours, suffering from hunger and a
-broken leg.</p>
-
-<p>With wonderful courage Father
-Râle built up another chapel, and
-writes thus, after recounting the
-efforts of the English to take him
-prisoner: “In the words of the
-apostle, I conclude: I do not fear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_675" id="Page_675">[675]</a></span>
-the threats of those who hate me
-without a cause, and I count not
-my life dear unto myself, so that I
-might finish my course and the
-ministry which I have received of
-the Lord Jesus.”</p>
-
-<p>Again, over the council-fires, the
-Indian chiefs assembled. They
-decided to send an embassy to Boston,
-to demand that their chapel,
-which had been destroyed by the
-English, should be rebuilt.</p>
-
-<p>The governor, anxious to secure
-the alliance of the tribe, listened
-patiently, and told them in reply
-that it belonged properly to the
-governor of Canada to rebuild their
-church; still, that he would do it,
-provided they would agree to receive
-the clergy he would choose,
-and would send back to Quebec
-the French priest who was then
-with them. We cannot forbear repeating
-here the unequalled satire
-of the Indian’s reply:</p>
-
-<p>“When you came here,” answered
-the chief, “we were unknown to
-the French governor, but no one
-of you spoke of prayer or of the
-Great Spirit. You thought only
-of my skins and furs. But one day
-I met a French black-coat in the
-forest. He did not look at the
-skins with which I was loaded, but
-he said words to me of the Great
-Spirit, of Paradise and of hell,
-and of prayer, by which is the only
-path to heaven.</p>
-
-<p>“I listened with pleasure, and at
-last begged him to teach and to
-baptize me.</p>
-
-<p>“If, when you saw me, you had
-spoken to me of prayer, I should
-have had the misfortune to pray as
-you do; for I was not then able to
-know if your prayers were good.
-So, I tell you, I will hold fast to
-the prayers of the French. I will
-keep them until the earth burn up
-and perish.”</p>
-
-<p>At last the final and fatal effort
-on the life of Father Râle was
-made, in 1724.</p>
-
-<p>All was quiet in the little village.
-The tall corn lay yellow in the
-slanting rays of an August sun,
-when suddenly from the adjacent
-woods burst forth a band of English
-with their Mohawk allies. The
-devoted priest, knowing that they
-were in hot pursuit of him, sallied
-forth to meet them, hoping, by the
-sacrifice of his own life, to save his
-flock. Hardly had he reached the
-mission cross in the centre of the
-village than he fell at its foot,
-pierced by a dozen bullets. Seven
-Indians, who had sought to shield
-him with their bodies, lay dead beside
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Then followed a scene that beggars
-description. Women and children
-were killed indiscriminately;
-and it ill became those who shot
-women as they swam across the
-river to bring a charge of cruelty
-against the French fathers.</p>
-
-<p>The chapel was robbed and then
-fired; the bell was not melted, but
-was probably afterward buried by
-the Indians, for it was revealed
-only a few years since by the blowing
-down of a huge oak-tree, and
-was presented to Bowdoin College.</p>
-
-<p>The soft, dewy night closed on
-the scene of devastation, and in
-the morning, as one by one the survivors
-crept back to their ruined
-homes with their hearts full of consternation
-and sorrow, they found
-the body of their beloved priest,
-not only pierced by a hundred
-balls, but with the skull crushed by
-hatchets, arms and legs broken,
-and mouth and eyes filled with dirt.
-They buried him where the day
-before had stood the altar of the
-little chapel, and sent his tattered
-habits to Quebec.</p>
-
-<p>It was by so precious a death<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_676" id="Page_676">[676]</a></span>
-that this apostolical man closed a
-career of nearly forty years of painful
-missionary toil. His fasts and
-vigils had greatly enfeebled his constitution,
-and, when entreated to
-take precautions for his safety, he
-answered: “My measures are taken.
-God has committed this flock to
-my charge, and I will share their
-fate, being too happy if permitted
-to sacrifice myself for them.”</p>
-
-<p>Well did his superior in Canada,
-M. de Bellemont, reply, when requested
-to offer Masses for his
-soul: “In the words of S. Augustine,
-I say it would be wronging a
-martyr to pray for him.”</p>
-
-<p>There can be no question that
-Sebastian Râle was one of the most
-remarkable men of his day. A
-devoted Christian and finished
-scholar, commanding in manners
-and elegant in address, of persuasive
-eloquence and great administrative
-ability, he courted death
-and starvation, for the sole end of
-salvation for the Indian.</p>
-
-<p>From the death of Father Râle
-until 1730 the mission at Norridgewock
-was without a priest. In
-that year, however, the superior at
-Quebec sent Father James de
-Sirenne to that station. The account
-given by this father, of the
-warmth with which he was received,
-and of the manner in which the
-Indians had sought to keep their
-faith, is very touching. The women
-with tears and sobs hastened with
-their unbaptized babes to the
-priest.</p>
-
-<p>In all these years no Protestant
-clergyman had visited them, for
-Eliot was almost the only one who
-devoted himself to the conversion
-of the Indians, though even he, as
-affirmed by Bancroft, had never
-approached the Indian tribe that
-dwelt within six miles of Boston
-Harbor until five years after the
-cross had been borne, by the religious
-zeal of the French, from
-Lake Superior to the valley of the
-Mississippi.</p>
-
-<p>But Father Sirenne could not
-be permitted to remain any length
-of time with the Abnakis. Again
-were they deserted, having a priest
-with them only at long intervals.</p>
-
-<p>Then came the peace of 1763, in
-which France surrendered Canada.
-This step struck a most terrible
-blow at the missions; for although
-the English government guaranteed
-to the Canadians absolute religious
-freedom, they yet took quiet steps
-to rid themselves of the Jesuit
-Fathers.</p>
-
-<p>A short breathing space, and another
-war swept over the land, and
-with this perished the last mission
-in Maine. In 1775 deputies from
-the various tribes in Maine and
-Nova Scotia met the Massachusetts
-council. The Indians announced
-their intention of adhering to the
-Americans, but begged, at the same
-time, for a French priest. The
-council expressed their regret at not
-being able to find one.</p>
-
-<p>“Strange indeed was it,” says
-Shea, “that the very body which,
-less than a century before, had
-made it felony for a Catholic priest
-to visit the Abnakis, now regretted
-their inability to send these Christian
-Indians a missionary of the
-same faith and nation.”</p>
-
-<p>Years after, when peace was declared,
-and the few Catholics in
-Maryland had chosen the Rev.
-John Carroll&mdash;a member of the proscribed
-Society of Jesus&mdash;as bishop,
-the Abnakis of Maine sent a deputation
-bearing the crucifix of Father
-Râle. This they presented to the
-bishop, with earnest supplications
-for a priest.</p>
-
-<p>Bishop Carroll promised that one
-should be sent, and Father Ciquard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_677" id="Page_677">[677]</a></span>
-was speedily despatched to Norridgewock,
-where he remained for
-ten years. Then ensued another
-interval during which the flock was
-without a shepherd.</p>
-
-<p>At last a missionary priest at Boston,
-Father (afterward Cardinal)
-Cheverus, turned his attention to
-the study of the Abnaki dialect, and
-then visited the Penobscot tribe.</p>
-
-<p>Desolate, poor, and forsaken as
-they had been, the Indians still
-clung to their faith. The old
-taught the young, and all gathered
-on Sundays to chant the music of
-the Mass and Vespers, though their
-altar had no priest and no sacrifice.</p>
-
-<p>Father Cheverus, after a few
-months, was succeeded by Father
-Romagné, who for twenty years
-consecrated every moment and
-every thought to the evangelization
-of the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy
-tribes. In July, 1827,
-Bishop Fenwick visited this portion
-of his diocese, and in 1831
-sent them a resident missionary.
-A beautiful church stood at last in
-the place of Romagné’s hut, and
-two years later Bishop Fenwick,
-once a father in the Society of
-Jesus, erected a monument to Father
-Râle on the spot where he
-was slain a hundred and nine years
-before. From far and near gathered
-the crowd, Protestant as well as
-Catholic, to witness the ceremony.
-The monument stands in a green,
-secluded spot, a simple shaft of
-granite surmounted by a cross, and
-an inscription in Latin tells the
-traveller that there died a faithful
-priest and servant of the Lord.
-Bishop Fenwick became extremely
-anxious to induce some French
-priest to go to that ancient mission,
-and a year later the Society of Picpus,
-in Switzerland, sent out Fathers
-Demilier and Petithomme to restore
-the Franciscan missions in
-Maine. They conquered the difficulties
-of the Abnaki dialect with
-the aid of a prayer-book which the
-bishop had caused to be printed,
-and in this small and insignificant
-mission Father Demilier toiled until
-his death, in 1843.</p>
-
-<p>The successor of Bishop Fenwick
-resolved to restore the Abnaki
-mission to the Fathers of the
-Society of Jesus, by whom it had
-been originally founded. Therefore,
-since 1848, the Penobscots and
-Passamaquoddys have been under
-the care of the Jesuits, who in that
-year sent out from Switzerland Father
-John Bapst to Old Town, on
-the Penobscot&mdash;a short distance
-from Bangor&mdash;where he ministered
-faithfully to the Abnakis until he
-nearly lost his life in a disgraceful
-Know-Nothing riot in 1854.</p>
-
-<p>As we find ourselves thus at the
-conclusion of our narration, incidents
-crowd upon our memory of
-the wondrous sacrifices made by the
-Catholic clergy in the old missions
-of Maine; but we are admonished
-that our space is limited.</p>
-
-<p>Little attention, however, has been
-paid to the fact that to these Catholic
-priests alone under God is due
-the evangelization of the many Indian
-tribes which formerly haunted
-our grand old forests. Of these
-tribes, only a few of the Penobscots
-are left, and these cling
-still to the cross as the blessed
-symbol of the faith first brought to
-them, “as a voice crying in the
-wilderness,” by Fathers Biard and
-Du Thet at St. Sauveur in 1613.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_678" id="Page_678">[678]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>PRUSSIA AND THE CHURCH.</h3>
-
-<p>The first attempts to introduce
-the Christian religion into Prussia
-were unsuccessful. S. Adalbert, in
-997, and S. Bruno, in 1009, suffered
-martyrdom whilst preaching the
-Gospel there, and the efforts of Poland
-to force the conquered Prussians
-to receive the faith only increased
-the bitterness of their anti-Christian
-prejudices. Early in the
-XIIth century Bishop Otto, of Bamberg,
-made many conversions in
-Pomerania; and finally, in the beginning
-of the XIIIth, the Cistercian
-monk Christian, with the approval
-and encouragement of Pope Innocent
-III., set to work to convert the
-Prussians, and met with such success
-that in 1215 he was made bishop
-of the country. The greater
-part of the people, however, still
-remained heathens, and the progress
-of Christianity aroused in
-them such indignation that they
-determined to oppose its farther
-advance with the sword. To
-protect his flock Bishop Christian
-called to his aid the knights of the
-Teutonic Order; in furtherance
-of his designs, the Emperor Frederic
-II. turned the whole country
-over to them, and Pope Gregory
-IX. took measures to increase their
-number, so that they might be able
-to hold possession of this field, now
-first opened to the Gospel. Pope
-Innocent IV. also manifested special
-interest in the welfare of the
-church in Prussia; he urged priests
-and monks to devote themselves
-to this mission, supported and encouraged
-the bishops in their trials
-and difficulties, and exhorted the
-convents throughout Germany to
-contribute books for the education
-of the people. But circumstances
-were not wanting which made the
-position of the church in Prussia
-very unsatisfactory. The people
-had for the most part been brought
-under the church’s influence by the
-power of arms, and consequently
-to a great extent remained strangers
-to her true spirit. The Teutonic
-Order, moreover, gave ecclesiastical
-positions only to German priests, so
-as to hold out inducements to the
-people to learn German; though, as
-a consequence, the priests were unable
-to communicate with their
-flocks, except by the aid of interpreters.</p>
-
-<p>The grand master, too, had almost
-unlimited control over the election
-of bishops, which was the cause of
-many evils, especially as the Order
-gradually grew lax in the observance
-of the rule, and lost much of its
-Christian character. Unworthy
-men were thrust into ecclesiastical
-offices, the standard of morality
-among the clergy was lowered, and
-the people lost respect for the priesthood.
-It is not surprising, in view
-of all this, that the religious sectaries
-of the XIIIth and XIVth centuries
-should have found favor in
-Prussia, and made converts among
-her still half-pagan populations.</p>
-
-<p>In 1466 the Teutonic Order became
-a dependency of the crown
-of Poland. There was no hope of
-its freeing itself from this humiliating
-subjection without foreign aid;
-and with a view to obtain this, the
-knights resolved to choose their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_679" id="Page_679">[679]</a></span>
-grand master from one or other of
-the most powerful German families.
-First, in 1498, they elected Frederic,
-Duke of Saxony; and upon
-his death, in 1510, Albrecht, Margrave
-of Brandenburg, was chosen
-to succeed him.</p>
-
-<p>Albrecht refused the oath of supremacy
-to Sigismund, King of
-Poland, who thereupon, in 1519, declared
-war upon him.</p>
-
-<p>To meet the expenses of the war,
-Albrecht had the sacred vessels of
-the church melted down and minted;
-but he was unable to stand
-against the arms of Poland, and
-therefore sought the mediation of
-the Emperor of Germany, through
-whose good offices he was able to
-conclude, in 1521, a four years’
-truce. He now went into Germany,
-where Luther was already
-preaching the Protestant rebellion,
-and asked aid from the Imperial
-Parliament, which was holding its
-sessions at Nuremberg; and as this
-was denied him, he turned with favor
-to the teachers of the new doctrines.
-The Teutonic Order had
-become thoroughly corrupt, and
-Leo X. urged Albrecht to begin a
-reformation <i lang="la">in capite et membris</i>;
-but the grand master sought the
-advice of Luther, from whom he
-received the not unwelcome counsel
-to throw away the “stupid, unnatural
-rule of his Order, take a
-wife, and turn Prussia into a temporal
-hereditary principality.” Albrecht
-accordingly asked for preachers
-of the new doctrines, and in
-1526 announced his abandonment of
-the Order and the Catholic Church
-by his marriage with the daughter
-of the King of Denmark. Acting
-upon the Protestant principle, <i lang="la">cujus
-regio illius religio</i>&mdash;the ruler of the
-land makes its religion&mdash;he forced
-the Prussians to quit the church
-from which they had received whatever
-culture and civilization they
-had.</p>
-
-<p>At his death, in 1568, Lutheranism
-had gained complete possession of
-the country.</p>
-
-<p>A few Catholics, however, remained,
-for whom, early in the XVIIth
-century, King Sigismund of Poland
-succeeded in obtaining liberty
-of conscience, which, however, was
-denied to those of Brandenburg
-Frederic William, the second
-king of Prussia, and the first to
-form the design of placing her
-among the great powers of Europe
-by the aid of a strong military
-organization, in giving directions
-in 1718 for the education of his
-son, afterwards Frederic the Great,
-insisted that the boy should be inspired
-with a horror of the Catholic
-Church, “the groundlessness and
-absurdity of whose teachings should
-be placed before his eyes and well
-impressed upon his mind.”</p>
-
-<p>Frederic William was a rigid
-Calvinist; and if he tolerated a few
-Catholics in his dominions, it was
-only that he might vent his ill-humor
-or exercise his proselytizing
-zeal upon them. He indeed granted
-Father Raymundus Bruns permission
-to say Mass in the garrisons
-at Berlin and Potsdam, but
-only after he had been assured that
-it would tend to prevent desertions
-among his Catholic soldiers, and
-that, as Raymundus was a monk,
-bound by a vow of poverty, he
-would ask no pay from his majesty.</p>
-
-<p>In 1746 permission was granted
-the Catholics to hold public worship
-in Berlin, and the S. Hedwig’s
-church was built; in Pomerania,
-however, this privilege was denied
-them, except in the Polish districts.</p>
-
-<p>During the XVIIIth century
-congregations were formed at Stettin
-and Stralsund. In the principality
-of Halberstadt the Catholics<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_680" id="Page_680">[680]</a></span>
-were allowed to retain possession
-of a church and several monasteries,
-in which public worship was permitted;
-and in what had been
-the archbishopric of Magdeburg
-there were left to them one Benedictine
-monastery and four convents
-of Cistercian Nuns. These latter,
-however, were placed under the
-supervision of Protestant ministers.</p>
-
-<p>Frederic the Great early in life
-fell under the influence of Voltaire
-and his disciples, from whom he
-learned to despise all religion, and
-especially the rigid Calvinism of
-his father. He became a religious
-sceptic, and, satisfied with his contempt
-for all forms of faith, did
-not take the trouble to persecute
-any. He asked of his subjects,
-whether Protestant or Catholic, nothing
-but money and recruits; for
-the rest, he allowed every one in
-his dominions “to save his soul after
-his own fashion.” He provided
-chaplains for his Catholic soldiers,
-and forbade the Calvinist and Lutheran
-ministers to interfere with
-their religious freedom, for reasons
-similar to those which had induced
-his father to permit Raymundus
-Bruns to say Mass in the
-garrison at Berlin. He had certainly
-no thought of showing any
-favor to the church, except so far
-as it might promote his own ambitious
-projects. His great need of
-soldiers made him throw every obstacle
-in the way of those who
-wished to enter the priesthood, and
-his fear of foreign influence caused
-him to forbid priests to leave the
-country. His mistrust of priests
-was so great that he gave instructions
-to Count Hoym, his Minister
-of State, to place them under a system
-of espionage. Catholics were
-carefully excluded from all influential
-and lucrative positions. They
-were taxed more heavily than Protestants,
-and professors in the universities
-were required to take an
-oath to uphold the Reformation.</p>
-
-<p>Notwithstanding, it was in the
-reign of Frederic the Great that
-the Catholic Church in Prussia may
-be said to have entered upon a new
-life. For more than two hundred
-years it had had no recognized
-status there; but through the conquest
-of Silesia and the division
-of Poland, a large Catholic population
-was incorporated into the kingdom
-of Prussia, and thus a new element,
-which was formally recognized
-in the constitution promulgated
-by Frederic’s immediate successor,
-was introduced into the
-Prussian state. Together with the
-toleration of all who believed in
-God and were loyal to the king,
-the law of the land placed the
-Catholic and Protestant churches
-on an equal footing. To understand
-how far this was favorable to
-the church we must go back and
-consider the relations of Prussia to
-Protestantism.</p>
-
-<p>What is known as the Territorial
-System, by which the faith of the
-people is delivered into the hands
-of the temporal ruler, has existed
-in Prussia from the time Albrecht of
-Brandenburg went over to the Reformers.
-Protestantism and absolutism
-triumphed simultaneously
-throughout Europe, and this must
-undoubtedly be in a great measure
-attributed to the fact that the Protestants,
-whether willingly or not,
-yielded up their faith into the keeping
-of kings and princes, and thus
-practically abandoned the distinction
-of the spiritual and temporal
-powers which lies at the foundation
-of Christian civilization, and is also
-the strongest bulwark against the
-encroachments of governments upon
-the rights of citizens. Duke
-Albrecht had hardly become a Protestant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_681" id="Page_681">[681]</a></span>
-when he felt that it was his
-duty (“<i lang="la">coacti sumus</i>” are his words)
-to take upon himself the episcopal
-office. This was in 1530; in 1550
-he treated the urgent request of
-the Assembly to have the bishopric
-of Samland restored as an attack
-upon his princely prerogative.</p>
-
-<p>His successor diverted to other
-uses the fund destined for the
-maintenance of the bishops, and
-instituted two consistories, to which
-he entrusted the ecclesiastical affairs
-of the duchy.</p>
-
-<p>During the XVIIth century
-Calvinism gained a firm foothold
-in Prussia. It became the religion
-of the ruling family, and Frederic
-William, called the Great Elector,
-to whose policy his successors
-have agreed to ascribe their greatness,
-sought in every way to promote
-its interests, though he strenuously
-exercised his <i lang="la">jus episcopale</i>,
-his spiritual supremacy over both
-the Lutherans and the Calvinists.</p>
-
-<p>His son, Frederic, who first took
-the title of King of Prussia (1700),
-continued the policy of his father
-with regard to ecclesiastical affairs.
-“To us alone,” he declared to the
-Landstand, “belongs the <i lang="la">jus supremum
-episcopale</i>, the highest and
-sovereign right in ecclesiastical
-matters.”</p>
-
-<p>The Lutherans wished to retain
-the exorcism as a part of the ceremony
-of baptism; but Frederic
-published an edict by which he
-forbade the appointment of any
-minister who would refuse to confer
-the sacrament without making
-use of this ceremony. In the
-same way he meddled with the
-Lutheran practice of auricular confession;
-and by an order issued in
-1703 prohibited the publication of
-theological writings which had not
-received his imprimatur.</p>
-
-<p>His successor, Frederic William,
-the father of Frederic the Great,
-looked upon himself as the absolute
-and irresponsible master of the
-subjects whom God had given him.
-“I am king and master,” he was
-wont to say, “and can do what I
-please.” He was a rigid Calvinist,
-and made his absolutism felt more
-especially in religious matters. It
-seems that preachers then, as since,
-were sometimes in the habit of
-preaching long sermons; so King
-Frederic William put a fine of two
-thalers upon any one who should
-preach longer than one hour. He
-required his preachers to insist in
-<em>all their sermons</em> upon the duty of
-obedience and loyalty to the king,
-and the government officials were
-charged to report any failure to
-make special mention of this duty.
-Both Lutherans and Calvinists were
-forbidden to touch in their sermons
-upon any points controverted between
-the two confessions. No
-detail of religious worship was insignificant
-enough to escape his
-meddlesome tyranny. The length
-of the service, the altar, the vestments
-of the minister, the sign of
-the cross, the giving or singing the
-blessing, all fell under his “high
-episcopal supervision.”</p>
-
-<p>This unlovely old king was
-followed by Frederic the Great,
-who, though an infidel and a scoffer,
-held as firmly as his father to his
-sovereign episcopal prerogatives,
-and who, if less meddlesome, was
-not less arbitrary. And now we
-have got back to the constitution
-which, after Silesia and a part of
-Poland had been united to the
-crown of Prussia, was partially
-drawn up under Frederic the
-Great, and completed and promulgated
-during the reign of his successor;
-and which, as we have
-already said, placed the three principal
-confessions of the Christian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_682" id="Page_682">[682]</a></span>
-faith in the Prussian states&mdash;viz.,
-the Lutheran, the Reformed, and
-the Catholic&mdash;on a footing of equality
-before the law. Now, it must
-be noticed, this constitution left
-intact the absolute authority of the
-king over the Reformed and Lutheran
-churches, and therefore what
-might seem to be a great gain for
-the Catholic Church was really
-none at all, since it was simply
-placed under the supreme jurisdiction
-of the king. There was no
-express recognition of the organic
-union of the church in Prussia with
-the pope, nor of the right of the
-bishops to govern their dioceses
-according to the ecclesiastical canons,
-but rather the tacit assumption
-that the king was head of
-the Catholic as of the Protestant
-churches in Prussia. The constitution
-was drawn up by Suarez, a
-bitter enemy of the church, and in
-many of its details was characterized
-by an anti-Catholic spirit.
-It annulled, for instance, the contract
-made by parents of different
-faith concerning the religious education
-of their children, and manifested
-in many other ways that
-petty and tyrannical spirit which
-has led Prussia to interfere habitually
-with the internal discipline
-and working of the church.</p>
-
-<p>As the Catholic population of
-Prussia increased through the annexation
-of different German states,
-this constitution, which gave the
-king supreme control of spiritual
-matters, was extended to the newly-acquired
-territories. Thus all
-through the XVIIIth century the
-church in Prussia, though not
-openly persecuted, was fettered.
-No progress was made, abuses
-could not be reformed, the appointment
-of bishops was not free, the
-training of the priesthood was very
-imperfect; and it is not surprising
-that this slavery should have been
-productive of many and serious
-evils.</p>
-
-<p>The French Revolution and the
-wars of Napoleon, which caused
-social and political upheavals
-throughout Europe, toppled down
-thrones, overthrew empires, and
-broke up and reformed the boundaries
-of nations, mark a new epoch
-in the history of Prussia, and indeed
-of all Germany, whose people
-had been taught by these disastrous
-wars that they had common interests
-which could not be protected
-without national unity, the want
-of which had never before been
-made so painfully manifest.</p>
-
-<p>After the downfall of Napoleon,
-the ambassadors of the Allied
-Powers met in Vienna to settle the
-affairs of all Europe. Nations,
-provinces, and cities were given
-away in the most reckless manner,
-without any thought of the interests
-or wishes of the people, to the
-kings and rulers who could command
-the greatest influence in the
-congress or whose displeasure was
-most feared. Germany demanded
-the restoration of Alsace and
-Lorraine, but was thwarted in her
-designs by Great Britain and
-Russia, who feared the restoration
-of her ancient power.</p>
-
-<p>Prussia received from the congress,
-as some compensation for its
-sufferings and sacrifices during the
-Napoleonic wars, the duchies of Jülich
-and Berg, the former possessions
-of the episcopal sees of Cologne
-and Treves, and several other
-territories, which were formed into
-the Rhine province. On the other
-hand, it lost a portion of the Sclavonic
-population which it had held
-on the east; so that, though it gained
-nothing in territory, it became
-more strictly a German state, and
-was consequently better fitted gradually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_683" id="Page_683">[683]</a></span>
-to take the lead in the irrepressible
-movement toward the
-unification of Germany.</p>
-
-<p>In the Congress of Vienna it was
-stipulated that Catholics and Protestants
-should have equal rights
-before the law. The constitutional
-law of Prussia was extended to the
-newly-acquired provinces and “all
-ecclesiastical matters, whether of
-Roman Catholics or of Protestants,
-together with the supervision and
-administration of all charitable
-funds, the confirming of all persons
-appointed to spiritual offices,
-and the supervision over the administration
-of ecclesiastics as far as it
-may have any relation to civil affairs,
-were reserved to the government.”</p>
-
-<p>In 1817, upon the occasion of
-the reorganization of the government,
-we perceive to what practical
-purposes these principles were to
-be applied. The church was debased
-to a function of the state, her
-interests were placed in the hands
-of the ministry for spiritual affairs,
-and the education of even clerical
-students was put under the control
-of government.</p>
-
-<p>It was in this same year, 1817,
-that the tercentennial anniversary
-of the birth of Protestantism was
-celebrated. For two centuries Protestant
-faith in Germany had been
-dying out. Eager and bitter controversies,
-the religious wars and
-the plunder of church property
-during the XVIth and early part
-of the XVIIth centuries, had given
-it an unnatural and artificial vigor.
-It was a mighty and radical revolution,
-social, political, and religious,
-and therefore gave birth to fanaticism
-and intense partisan zeal, and
-was in turn helped on by them.</p>
-
-<p>There is a natural strength in a
-new faith, and when it is tried by
-war and persecution it seems to rise
-to a divine power. Protestantism
-burst upon Europe with irresistible
-force. Fifty years had not passed
-since Luther had burned the bull
-of Pope Leo, and the Catholic
-Church, beaten almost everywhere
-in the North of Europe, seemed
-hardly able to hold her own on the
-shores of the Mediterranean; fifty
-years later, and Protestantism was
-saved in Germany itself only by the
-arms of Catholic France. The
-peace of Westphalia, in 1648, put an
-end to the religious wars of Germany,
-and from that date the decay
-of the Protestant faith was rapid.
-Many causes helped on the work
-of ruin; the inherent weakness of
-the Protestant system from its purely
-negative character, the growing
-and bitter dissensions among Protestants,
-the hopeless slavery to
-which the sects had been reduced
-by the civil power, all tended to undermine
-faith. In the Palatinate,
-within a period of sixty years, the
-rulers had forced the people to
-change their religion four times.
-In Prussia, whose king, as we have
-seen, was supreme head of the
-church, the ruling house till 1539
-was Catholic; then, till 1613, Lutheran;
-from that date to 1740, Calvinistic;
-from 1740 to 1786, infidel,
-the avowed ally of Voltaire and
-D’Alembert; then, till 1817, Calvinistic;
-and finally again evangelical.</p>
-
-<p>During the long reign of Frederic
-the Great unbelief made steady
-progress. Men no longer attacked
-this or that article of faith, but
-Christianity itself. The quickest
-way, it was openly said by many, to
-get rid of superstition and priest-craft,
-would be to abolish preaching
-altogether, and thus remove the
-ghost of religion from the eyes of
-the people. It seems strange that
-such license of thought and expression<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_684" id="Page_684">[684]</a></span>
-should have been tolerated,
-and even encouraged, in a country
-where religion itself has never
-been free; but it is a peculiarity
-of the Prussian system of government
-that while it hampers and
-fetters the church and all religious
-organizations, it leaves the widest
-liberty of conscience to the individual.
-Its policy appears to be to
-foster indifference and infidelity, in
-order to use them against what it
-considers religious fanaticism. Another
-circumstance which favored
-infidelity may be found in the political
-thraldom in which Prussia
-held her people. As men were forbidden
-to speak or write on subjects
-relating to the government
-or the public welfare, they took refuge
-in theological and philosophical
-discussions, which in Protestant
-lands have never failed to lead to
-unbelief. This same state of things
-tended to promote the introduction
-and increase of secret societies,
-which, in the latter half of the
-XVIIIth century, sprang up in
-great numbers throughout Germany,
-bearing a hundred different
-names, but always having anti-Christian
-tendencies.</p>
-
-<p>To stop the spread of infidelity,
-Frederic William II., the successor
-of Frederic the Great, issued, in
-1788, an “edict, embracing the
-constitution of religion in the
-Prussian states.” The king declared
-that he could no longer suffer
-in his dominions that men
-should openly seek to undermine
-religion, to make the Bible ridiculous
-in the eyes of the people, and
-to raise in public the banner of unbelief,
-deism, and naturalism. He
-would in future permit no farther
-change in the creed, whether of the
-Lutheran or the Reformed Church.
-This was the more necessary as he
-had himself noticed with sorrow,
-years before he ascended the throne,
-that the Protestant ministers allowed
-themselves boundless license
-with regard to the articles of faith,
-and indeed altogether rejected several
-essential parts and fundamental
-verities of the Protestant Church
-and the Christian religion. They
-blushed not to revive the long-since-refuted
-errors of the Socinians, the
-deists, and the naturalists, and to
-scatter them among the people under
-the false name of enlightenment
-(<i lang="de">Aufklärung</i>), whilst they
-treated God’s Word with disdain,
-and strove to throw suspicion upon
-the mysteries of revelation. Since
-this was intolerable, he, therefore, as
-ruler of the land and only law-giver
-in his states, commanded and ordered
-that in future no clergyman,
-preacher, or school-teacher of the
-Protestant religion should presume,
-under pain of perpetual loss of office
-and of even severer punishment,
-to disseminate the errors already
-named; for, as it was his
-duty to preserve intact the law of
-the land, so was it incumbent upon
-him to see that religion should be
-kept free from taint; and he could
-not, consequently, allow its ministers
-to substitute their whims and fancies
-for the truths of Christianity.
-They must teach what had been
-agreed upon in the symbols of faith
-of the denomination to which they
-belonged; to this they were bound
-by their office and the contract under
-which they had received their
-positions. Nevertheless, out of his
-great love for freedom of conscience,
-the king was willing that those who
-were known to disbelieve in the
-articles of faith might retain their
-offices, provided they consented to
-teach their flocks what they were
-themselves unable to believe.</p>
-
-<p>In this royal edict we have at
-once the fullest confession of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_685" id="Page_685">[685]</a></span>
-general unbelief that was destroying
-Protestantism in Prussia, and of the
-hopelessness of any attempt to arrest
-its progress. What could be
-more pitiable than the condition
-of a church powerless to control its
-ministers, and publicly recognizing
-their right to be hypocrites? How
-could men who had no faith teach
-others to believe? Moreover, what
-could be more absurd, from a Protestant
-point of view, than to seek
-to force the acceptance of symbols
-of faith when the whole Reformation
-rested upon the assumed right of
-the individual to decide for himself
-what should or should not be believed?
-Or was it to be supposed
-that men could invest the conflicting
-creeds of the sects with a sacredness
-which they had denied to
-that of the universal church? It is
-not surprising, therefore, that the
-only effect of the edict should have
-been to increase the energy and activity
-of the infidels and free-thinkers.</p>
-
-<p>Frederic William III., who ascended
-the throne in 1797, recognizing
-the futility of his father’s attempt
-to keep alive faith in Protestantism,
-stopped the enforcement of
-the edict, with the express declaration
-that its effect had been to lessen
-religion and increase hypocrisy.
-Abandoning all hope of controlling
-the faith of the preachers, he turned
-his attention to their morals. A
-decree of the Oberconsistorium of
-Berlin, in 1798, ordered that the
-conduct of the ministers should
-be closely watched and every
-means employed to stop the daily-increasing
-immorality of the servants
-of the church, which was having
-the most injurious effects upon
-their congregations. Parents had
-almost ceased having their children
-baptized, or had them christened in
-the “name of Frederic the Great,”
-or in the “name of the good and
-the fair,” sometimes with rose-water.</p>
-
-<p>But the calamities which befell
-Germany during the wars of the
-French Revolution and the empire
-seemed to have turned the thoughts
-of many to religion. The frightful
-humiliations of the fatherland were
-looked upon as a visitation from
-heaven upon the people for their
-sins and unbelief; and therefore,
-when the tercentennial anniversary
-of Protestantism came around (in
-1817), they were prepared to enter
-upon its celebration with earnest
-enthusiasm. The celebration took
-the form of an anti-Catholic demonstration.
-For many years controversy
-between Protestants and
-Catholics had ceased; but now a
-wholly unprovoked but bitter and
-grossly insulting attack was made
-upon the church from all the Protestant
-pulpits of Germany and in
-numberless writings. The result
-of this wanton aggression was a
-reawakening of Catholic faith and
-life; whilst the attempt to take advantage
-of the Protestant enthusiasm
-to bring about a union between
-the Lutheran and Reformed
-churches in Prussia ended in causing
-fresh dissensions and divisions.
-The sect of the Old Lutherans was
-formed, which, in spite of persecution,
-finally succeeded in obtaining
-toleration, though not till many of
-its adherents had been driven
-across the ocean into exile.</p>
-
-<p>As the Congress of Vienna had
-decided that Catholics and Protestants
-should be placed upon a footing
-of equality, and as Prussia had
-received a large portion of the <em>secularized</em>
-lands of the church, with the
-stipulation that she should provide
-for the maintenance of Catholic
-worship, the government, in 1816,
-sent Niebuhr, the historian, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_686" id="Page_686">[686]</a></span>
-Rome, to treat with the Pope concerning
-the reorganization of the
-Catholic religion in the Prussian
-states. Finally, in 1821, an agreement
-was signed, which received
-the sanction of the king, and was
-published as a fundamental law
-of the state.</p>
-
-<p>In this Concordat with the Holy
-See there is at least a tacit recognition
-of the true nature of the
-church, of her organic unity&mdash;a beginning
-of respect for her freedom,
-and a seeming promise of a better
-future. In point of fact, however,
-in spite of Niebuhr’s assurance to
-the Holy Father that he might rely
-upon the honest intentions of the
-government, Prussia began almost
-at once to meddle with the rights of
-Catholics. A silent and slow persecution
-was inaugurated, by which
-it was hoped their patience would
-be exhausted and their strength
-wasted. And now we shall examine
-more closely the artful and heartless
-policy by which, with but slight variations,
-for more than two centuries
-Prussia has sought to undermine
-the Catholic religion. In 1827 the
-Protestants of all communions in
-Prussia amounted to 6,370,380, and
-the Catholics to 4,023,513. These
-populations are, to only a very limited
-extent, intermingled; certain
-provinces being almost entirely
-Catholic, and others nearly wholly
-Protestant. By law the same rights
-are granted to both Catholics and
-Protestants; and both, therefore,
-should receive like treatment at the
-hands of the government.</p>
-
-<p>This is the theory; what are the
-facts? We will take the religious
-policy of Prussia from the reorganization
-of the church after the
-Congress of Vienna down to the
-revolution of 1848, and we will begin
-with the subject of education.
-For the six millions of Protestants
-there were four exclusively
-Protestant universities, at Berlin,
-Halle, Königsberg, and Greifswalde;
-for the four millions of Catholics
-there were but two <em>half universities</em>,
-at Bonn and Breslau, in each of
-which there was a double faculty,
-the one Protestant, the other Catholic;
-though the professors in all the
-faculties, except that of theology,
-were for the most part Protestants.
-Thus, out of six universities, to the
-Catholics was left only a little corner
-in two, though they were forced
-to bear nearly one-half of the public
-burdens by which all six were
-supported. But this is not the
-worst. The bishops had no voice
-in the nomination of the professors,
-not even those of theology. They
-were simply asked whether they had
-any objections to make, <em>on proof</em>.
-The candidate might be a stranger,
-he might be wholly unfitted to teach
-theology, he might be free from open
-immorality or heresy; and therefore,
-because the bishops could <em>prove</em>
-nothing against him, he was appointed
-to instruct the aspirants to the
-priesthood.</p>
-
-<p>At Breslau a foreign professor
-was appointed, who began to teach
-the most scandalous and heretical
-doctrines. Complaints were useless.
-During many years his pupils
-drank in the poison, and at length,
-after he had done his work of destruction,
-he was, as in mockery, removed.
-Nor is this an isolated
-instance of the ruin to Catholic
-faith wrought by this system. The
-bishops had hardly any influence
-over the education of their clergy,
-who, young and ignorant of the
-world, were thrown almost without
-restraint into the pagan corruptions
-of a German university, in order to
-acquire a knowledge of theology.
-At Cologne a Catholic college
-was made over to the Protestants,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_687" id="Page_687">[687]</a></span>
-at Erfurt and Düsseldorf Catholic
-<i lang="de">gymnasia</i> were turned into mixed
-establishments with all the professors,
-save one, Protestants.</p>
-
-<p>Elementary education was under
-the control of provincial boards
-consisting of a Protestant president
-and three councillors, <em>one</em> of whom
-might be a Catholic in Catholic
-districts. In the Catholic provinces
-of the Rhine and Westphalia,
-the place of Catholic councillor
-was left vacant for several years
-till the schools were all reorganized.
-Indeed, the real superintendent
-of Catholic elementary education
-was generally a Protestant
-minister.</p>
-
-<p>There was a government <i lang="de">Censur</i>
-for books of religious instruction,
-the headquarters of which were
-in Berlin, but its agents were scattered
-throughout all the provinces.
-All who were employed in this department,
-to which even the pastorals
-of the bishops had to be submitted
-before being read to their
-flocks, were Protestants. The widest
-liberty was given to Protestants
-to attack the church; but
-when the Catholics sought to defend
-themselves, their writings were suppressed.
-Professor Freudenfeld was
-obliged to quit Bonn because he had
-spoken of Luther without becoming
-respect.</p>
-
-<p>Permission to start religious
-journals was denied to Catholics,
-but granted to Protestants; and in
-the pulpit the priests were put
-under strict restraint, while the
-preachers were given full liberty
-of speech. Whenever a community
-of Protestants was found in
-a Catholic district, a church, a
-clergyman, and a school were immediately
-provided for them; indeed,
-richer provision for the
-Protestant worship was made in
-the Catholic provinces than elsewhere;
-but when a congregation of
-Catholics grew up amongst Protestants,
-the government almost invariably
-rejected their application
-for permission to have a place of
-worship. At various times and
-places churches and schools were
-taken from the Catholics and turned
-over to the Protestants; and
-though Prussia had received an
-enormous amount of the confiscated
-property of the church, she did not
-provide for the support of the
-priests as for that of the ministers.</p>
-
-<p>At court there was not a single
-Catholic who held office; the
-heads of all the departments of
-government were Protestants; the
-Post-Office department, down to
-the local postmasters, was exclusively
-Protestant; all ambassadors
-and other representatives of the
-government, though sent to Catholic
-courts, were Protestants.</p>
-
-<p>In Prussia the state is divided
-into provinces, and at the head of
-each province is a high-president
-(Ober-Präsident). This official, to
-whom the religious interests of the
-Catholics were committed, was always
-a Protestant. The provinces
-are divided into districts, and at
-the head of each district was a
-Protestant president, and almost
-all the inferior officers, even in Catholic
-provinces, were Protestants.</p>
-
-<p>Again, in the courts of justice
-and in the army all the principal
-positions were given to Protestants.
-In the two <i lang="fr">corps d’armées</i> of Prussia
-and Silesia, one-half was Catholic;
-in the army division of Posen,
-two-thirds; in that of Westphalia
-and Cleves, three-fifths; and, finally,
-in that of the Rhine, seven-eighths;
-yet there was not one Catholic
-field-officer, not a general or major.
-In 1832 a royal order was issued
-to provide for the religious wants
-of the army, and every care was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_688" id="Page_688">[688]</a></span>
-taken for the spiritual needs of the
-Protestant soldiers; but not even
-one Catholic chaplain was appointed.
-All persons in active service,
-from superior officers down to private
-soldiers, were declared to be
-members of the military parish, and
-were placed under the authority
-of the Protestant chaplains. If a
-Catholic soldier wished to get married
-or to have his child baptized
-by a priest, he had first to obtain
-the permission of his Protestant
-curate. What was still more intolerable,
-the law regulating military
-worship was so contrived as to
-force the Catholic soldiers to be
-present at Protestant service.</p>
-
-<p>Let us now turn to the relations
-of the church in Prussia with the
-Holy See. All direct communications
-between the Catholics and
-the Pope were expressly forbidden.
-Whenever the bishops wished to
-consult the Holy Father concerning
-the administration of their dioceses,
-their inquiries had to pass
-through the hands of the Protestant
-ministry, to be forwarded or
-not at its discretion, and the answer
-of the Pope had to pass
-through the same channel. It was
-not safe to write; for the government
-had no respect for the mails,
-and letters were habitually opened
-by order of Von Nagler, the postmaster-general,
-who boasted that
-he had never had any idiotic scruples
-about such matters; that
-Prince Constantine was his model,
-who had once entertained him with
-narrating how he had managed to
-get the choicest selection of intercepted
-letters in existence; he had
-had them bound in morocco, and
-they formed thirty-three volumes
-of the most interesting reading in
-his private library. Thus the
-church was ruled by a system of
-espionage and bureaucracy which
-hesitated not to violate all the
-sanctities of life to accomplish its
-ends. The bishops were reduced
-to a state of abject dependence;
-not being allowed to publish any
-new regulation or to make any appointment
-without the permission
-and approval of the Protestant
-high-president, from whom they
-constantly received the most annoying
-and vexatious despatches.</p>
-
-<p>The election of bishops was reduced
-to a mere form. When a
-see became vacant, the royal commissary
-visited the chapter and
-announced the person whom the
-king had selected to fill the office,
-declaring at the same time that no
-other would receive his approval.</p>
-
-<p>The minutest details of Catholic
-worship were placed under the
-supervision and control of Protestant
-laymen, who had to decide
-how much wine and how many
-hosts might be used during the
-year in the different churches.</p>
-
-<p>We come now to a matter, vexed
-and often discussed, in which the
-trials of the church in Prussia,
-prior to the recent persecutions,
-finally culminated; we allude to
-the subject of marriages between
-Catholics and Protestants.</p>
-
-<p>When, in 1803, Prussia got possession
-of the greater part of her
-Catholic provinces, the following
-order was at once issued: “His
-majesty enacts that children born
-in wedlock shall all be educated
-in the religion of the father, and
-that, in opposition to this law,
-neither party shall bind the other.”
-Apart from the odious meddling
-of the state with the rights of individuals
-and the agreements of
-parties so closely and sacredly related
-as man and wife, there was
-in this enactment a special injustice
-to Catholics, from the fact that nearly
-all the mixed marriages in Prussia
-were contracted by Protestant
-government officials and Catholic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_689" id="Page_689">[689]</a></span>
-women of the provinces to which
-these agents had been sent. As
-these men held lucrative offices,
-they found no difficulty in making
-matrimonial alliances; and as the
-children had to be brought up in
-the religion of the father, the government
-was by this means gradually
-establishing Protestant congregations
-throughout its Catholic provinces.
-In 1825 this law was extended
-to the Rhenish province, and
-in 1831 a document was brought to
-light which explained the object of
-the extension&mdash;viz., that it might
-prove an effectual measure against
-the proselyting system of Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>The condition of the church was
-indeed deplorable. With the name
-of being free, she was, in truth, enslaved;
-and while the state professed
-to respect her rights, it was using
-all the power of the most thoroughly
-organized and most heartless
-system of bureaucracy and espionage
-to weaken and fetter her action,
-and even to destroy her life. This
-was the state of affairs when, in the
-end of 1835, Von Droste Vischering,
-one of the greatest and noblest men
-of this century, worthy to be named
-with Athanasius and with Ambrose,
-was made archbishop of Cologne.</p>
-
-<p>The Catholic people of Prussia
-had long since lost all faith in the
-good intentions of the government,
-of whose acts and aims they had full
-knowledge; and it was in order to
-restore confidence that a man so
-trusted and loved by them as Von
-Droste Vischering was promoted to
-the see of Cologne. The doctrines
-of Hermes, professor of theology in
-the University of Bonn, had just
-been condemned at Rome, but the
-government ignored the papal brief,
-and continued to give its support
-to the Hermesians; the archbishop,
-nevertheless, condemned their writings,
-and especially their organ, the
-<cite>Bonner Theologische Zeitschrift</cite>, forbade
-his students to attend their
-lectures at the university, and finally
-withdrew his approbation altogether
-from the Hermesian professors,
-refusing to ordain students unless
-they formally renounced the
-proscribed doctrines.</p>
-
-<p>By a ministerial order issued in
-1825, priests were forbidden, under
-pain of deposition from office, to
-exact in mixed marriages any
-promise concerning the education
-of the offspring. A like penalty was
-threatened for refusing to marry
-parties who were unwilling to make
-such promises, or for withholding absolution
-from those who were bringing
-up their children in the Protestant
-religion. To avert as far as
-possible any conflict between the
-church and the government, Pius
-VIII., in 1830, addressed a brief to
-the bishops of Cologne, Treves,
-Münster, and Paderborn, in which
-he made every allowable concession
-to the authority of the state in the
-matter of mixed marriages. The
-court of Berlin withheld the papal
-brief, and, taking advantage of the
-yielding disposition of Archbishop
-Spiegel of Cologne, entered, without
-the knowledge of the Holy See,
-into a secret agreement with him,
-in which still farther concessions
-were made, and in violation of
-Catholic principle. Von Droste
-Vischering took as his guide the
-papal brief, and paid no attention to
-such provisions of the secret agreement
-as conflicted with the instructions
-of the Holy Father.</p>
-
-<p>The government took alarm, and
-offered to let fall the Hermesians, if
-the archbishop would yield in the
-affair of mixed marriages; and as
-this expedient failed, measures of
-violence were threatened, which
-were soon carried into effect; for
-on the evening of the 20th of November,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_690" id="Page_690">[690]</a></span>
-1837, the archbishop was secretly
-arrested and carried off to
-the fortress of Minden, where he
-was placed in close confinement, all
-communication with him being cut
-off. The next morning the government
-issued a “Publicandum,” in
-which it entered its accusations
-against the archbishop, in order to
-justify its arbitrary act and to appease
-the anger of the people.
-Notwithstanding, a cry of indignation
-and grief was heard in all the
-Catholic provinces of Prussia, which
-was re-echoed throughout Germany
-and extended to all Europe. Lukewarm
-Catholics grew fervent, and
-the very Hermesians gathered with
-their sympathies to uphold the
-cause of the archbishop.</p>
-
-<p>The Archbishop of Posen and the
-Bishops of Paderborn and Münster
-announced their withdrawal from
-the secret convention, which the
-Bishop of Treves had already done
-upon his death-bed; and henceforward
-the priests throughout the
-kingdom held firm to the ecclesiastical
-law on mixed marriages, so
-that in 1838 Frederic William III.
-was forced to make a declaration
-recognizing the rights for which
-they contended. But the Archbishop
-of Cologne was still a prisoner
-in the fortress of Minden.
-Early, however, in 1839, health
-began to fail; and as the government
-feared lest his death in prison
-might produce unfavorable comment,
-he received permission to
-withdraw to Münster. The next
-year the king died, and his successor,
-Frederic William IV., showed
-himself ready to settle the dispute
-amicably, and in other ways to do
-justice to the Catholics. A great
-victory had been gained&mdash;the secret
-convention was destroyed&mdash;a
-certain liberty of communication
-with the Pope was granted to the
-bishops. The election of bishops
-was made comparatively free, the
-control of the schools of theology
-was restored to them, the Hermesians
-either submitted or were removed,
-and the Catholics of Germany
-awoke from a deathlike sleep
-to new and vigorous life.</p>
-
-<p>An evidence of the awakening
-of faith was given in the fall of
-1844, when a million and a half of
-German Catholics went in pilgrimage,
-with song and prayer, to Treves.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, many grievances remained
-unredressed. The <i lang="de">Censur</i>
-was still used against the church;
-and when the Catholics asked permission
-to publish journals in
-which they could defend themselves
-and their religious interests,
-they were told that such publications
-were not needed; but when
-Ronge, the suspended priest, sought
-to found his sect of “German Catholics,”
-he received every encouragement
-from the government, and the
-earnest support of the officials and
-nearly the entire press of Prussia;
-though, at this very time, every effort
-was being made to crush the
-“Old Lutherans.”</p>
-
-<p>The government continued to
-find pretexts for meddling with the
-affairs of the bishops, and the newspapers
-attacked the church in the
-most insulting manner, going so far
-as to demand that the religious exercises
-for priests should be placed
-under police supervision. We have
-now reached a memorable epoch in
-the history of the Catholic Church
-in Prussia&mdash;the revolution of 1848,
-which convulsed Germany to its
-centre, spread dismay among all
-classes, and filled its cities with riot
-and bloodshed. When order was
-re-established, the liberties of the
-church were recognized more fully
-than they had been for three centuries.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_691" id="Page_691">[691]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>GARCIA MORENO.</h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE CIVILTA CATTOLICA.</p>
-
-<h4>I.</h4>
-
-<p>The atrocious assassination of
-Garcia Moreno, the President of
-the republic of Ecuador, has filled
-the minds of all good people with
-the deepest grief and horror. The
-liberals are the only ones who have
-mentioned it in their journals with
-indifference. One of them headed
-his announcement of it, “A victim
-of the Sacred Heart”&mdash;alluding,
-with blasphemous irony, to the act
-of consecration of his people to the
-Adorable Heart of our Lord which
-this truly pious ruler had made.
-But with the exception of these
-reprobates&mdash;who, hating God, cannot
-love mankind&mdash;no one who has
-any admiration of moral greatness
-can help deploring the death of
-this extraordinary man&mdash;a death the
-more deplorable on account of its
-coming, not from a natural cause,
-but from a detestable conspiracy
-concocted by the enemies of all
-that is good, who abhorred equally
-the wisdom of his government and
-the soundness of his faith. The
-London <cite>Times</cite> has a despatch from
-Paris of October 5 with the following
-communication: “It appears,
-from authentic information which
-we have received, that Garcia Moreno,
-lately President of the republic
-of Ecuador, has been assassinated
-by a secret society which extends
-through all South America, as well
-as Europe. The assassin was selected
-by lot, and obtained admission
-to the palace at Quito. One
-of his accomplices, an official, who
-was arrested after the murder, was
-assured by the president of the
-court-martial, before his trial, that
-he would be pardoned if he turned
-state’s evidence. ‘Be pardoned?’
-said he. ‘That would be of no use
-to me; if you pardon me, my comrades
-will not. I would rather be
-shot than stabbed.’” This decision
-of the society to kill him was known
-to Moreno, and he informed the
-Pope of it in a letter, which we
-will shortly give.</p>
-
-<p>This illustrious man had governed
-the republic of Ecuador for
-about fifteen years&mdash;first as dictator,
-and afterwards, for two consecutive
-terms, as president; and to
-this office he had just been re-elected
-for a third term by an
-unanimous vote. He had taken
-charge of the state when it was in
-an exceedingly miserable condition,
-and by his lofty genius, practical
-tact, and perseverance, but above
-all by his piety and confidence in
-God, had completely renovated
-and restored not only the morals
-of the people, but also the whole
-political administration, and made
-the country a perfect model of a
-Christian nation. He was intending
-to complete the work which he
-had begun, and was able to rely
-confidently on the co-operation of
-his people, whose reverence and
-love for him were unbounded. But
-all this was intolerable to the
-liberals of our day; they could not
-bear that in a corner of the New
-World the problem should be
-solved, which they are trying to
-make so perplexing, of harmony
-between the state and the church;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_692" id="Page_692">[692]</a></span>
-of the combination of temporal
-prosperity and Catholic piety; of
-obedience to the civil law and perfect
-submission to ecclesiastical authority.
-This was an insufferable
-scandal for modern liberalism,<a name="FNanchor_248" id="FNanchor_248"></a><a href="#Footnote_248" class="fnanchor">[248]</a>
-especially because such a good
-example might do much to frustrate
-the plans of this perverse sect
-in other countries.</p>
-
-<p>The Masons, therefore, resolved
-to murder this man, whom they had
-found to be too brave and determined
-to be checked in any other
-way; for all the attempts they had
-made to intimidate him or to diminish
-his popularity had been entirely
-without effect. Moreno anticipated
-the blow, but, far from
-fearing it, was only the more persuaded
-to persevere in his undertaking,
-regarding it as the greatest
-happiness to be able to give his life
-for so holy a cause. In the last
-letter which he wrote to the Supreme
-Pontiff before his assassination
-are these words: “I implore
-your apostolic benediction, Most
-Holy Father, having been re-elected
-(though I did not deserve it) to
-the office of president of this Catholic
-republic for another six years.
-Although the new term does not
-begin till the 30th of August, the
-day on which I take the oath required
-by the constitution, so that
-then only shall I need to give your
-Holiness an official notification of
-my re-election, nevertheless I wish
-not to delay in informing you of it,
-in order that I may obtain from
-Heaven the strength and light
-which I more than any other one
-shall need, to keep me a child of
-our Redeemer and loyal and obedient
-to his infallible Vicar. And
-now that the lodges of neighboring
-countries, inspired by Germany,
-vomit out against me all sorts of
-atrocious insults and horrible calumnies,
-and even secretly lay plans
-for my assassination, I require
-more than ever the divine assistance
-and protection to live and die in
-defence of our holy religion and of
-this beloved republic which God
-has given me to govern. How
-fortunate I am, Most Holy Father,
-to be hated and calumniated for the
-sake of our divine Saviour; and
-what unspeakable happiness would
-it be for me if your benediction
-should obtain for me the grace to
-shed my blood for him who,
-though he was God, yet shed his
-own on the cross for us!” This
-heroic desire of the fervent Christian
-was granted. He was murdered by
-the enemies of Christ, in hatred of
-his zeal for the restoration of the
-Christian state and of his fervent
-love for the church. He is truly a
-martyr of Christ. Are not S. Wenceslaus
-of Bohemia and S. Canute
-of Denmark numbered among the
-holy martyrs, for the same cause?
-Both of them were killed in the
-precincts of the temple of God;
-and Moreno was carried back to
-the church from which he had only
-just departed, to breathe out his
-noble soul into the bosom of his
-Creator.</p>
-
-<h4>II.</h4>
-
-<p>The object of Masonic civilization
-is society without God. The results
-which it has succeeded in
-achieving, and which it deems of
-such importance, are the separation
-of the state from the church, liberty
-of worship, the withdrawal of public
-charities from religious objects, the
-exclusion of the clergy from the
-work of education, the suppression
-of religious orders, the supremacy
-of the civil law, and the setting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_693" id="Page_693">[693]</a></span>
-aside of the law of the Gospel.
-Only by these means, according to
-the Masons, can the happiness of
-the people, the prosperity of the
-state, and the increase of morality
-and learning be attained. These
-are their fundamental maxims.
-Now, the difficulty was that Moreno
-had practically shown, and was
-continuing to show more completely
-every day, that the peace, prosperity,
-and greatness of a nation will
-be in proportion to its devotion to
-God and its obedience to the
-church; that subjection to God
-and his church, far from diminishing,
-ensures and increases, the true
-liberty of man; that the influence
-of the clergy promotes not only the
-cause of morality, but also that of
-letters and science; that man’s
-temporal interests are never better
-cared for than when they are subordinated
-to those which are eternal;
-and that love of country is
-never so powerful as when it is
-consecrated by love of the church.</p>
-
-<p>A man of the most distinguished
-talents, which had been most fully
-cultivated at the University of
-Paris, Moreno had in his own
-country occupied the most conspicuous
-positions. He had been
-a professor of the natural sciences,
-rector of the university, representative,
-senator, commander-in-chief
-of the army, dictator, and president
-of the republic. In this last
-office, in which he would probably
-have been retained by the nation
-through life, he showed what genius
-sanctified by religion can accomplish.
-His first care was to establish
-peace throughout the country,
-without which there can be no
-civil progress; and he succeeded
-in doing so, not by compromises,
-as is now the fashion&mdash;not by making
-a monstrous and abnormal
-amalgamation of parties and principles&mdash;but
-by the consistent and
-firm assertion of the principles of
-morality and justice, and by the
-open and unhesitating profession
-of Catholicity. His success was
-so marked that Ecuador very soon
-arrived at such a perfect state of
-tranquillity and concord as to seem
-a prodigy among the agitated and
-turbulent republics in its neighborhood.</p>
-
-<p>With the exception of some local
-and ineffectual attempts at revolution
-during his first presidency,
-which were quelled by placing
-some of the southern provinces in
-a state of siege for fifty days, Ecuador
-was undisturbed by sedition
-during the whole of his long government.
-This was partly due to
-the splendor of his private and
-public virtues, which dissipated the
-clouds of envy and hatred, and
-gained for him the esteem even of
-his political opponents. He was
-chaste, magnanimous, just, impartial,
-and so well known for clearheadedness
-that the people often
-stopped him on the streets to decide
-their disputes on the spot, and
-accepted his opinion as final. His
-disinterestedness seems fabulous
-when we think of the immoderate
-cupidity prevailing among modern
-politicians. In his first six years
-he would not even draw his salary,
-being content to live on the income
-of his own moderate fortune. In
-his second term he accepted it, but
-spent it almost entirely in works of
-public utility. And in such works
-he employed the whole of his time.
-When any one endeavored to persuade
-him not to shorten his life
-by such continual labor, he used to
-say: “If God wants me to rest, he
-will send me illness or death.”</p>
-
-<p>Owing to this unwearying assiduity
-and his ardent love for the
-good of his people, he was able to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_694" id="Page_694">[694]</a></span>
-undertake and finish an amount of
-business that would appear incredible,
-were not the evidence too
-strong to admit of doubt. In No.
-1,875 of the <cite>Univers</cite> there is a catalogue
-of the principal enterprises
-which he carried through in a brief
-period. They are as follows:</p>
-
-<p>A revision of the constitution.</p>
-
-<p>The paying of the customs to
-the national treasury, instead of to
-the provincial ones, as formerly.</p>
-
-<p>National representation for the
-country as well as the cities.</p>
-
-<p>The establishment of a fiscal
-court, and the organization of the
-courts of justice.</p>
-
-<p>The foundation of a great polytechnic
-school, which was partially
-entrusted to the Jesuits.</p>
-
-<p>The construction and equipment
-of an astronomical observatory,
-which was built and directed by
-the Jesuits. On account of the
-equatorial position of Quito, Garcia
-Moreno, who was well versed in
-the mathematical sciences, wished
-to make this observatory equal to
-any in the world. He bought most
-of the instruments with his own
-private funds.</p>
-
-<p>Roads connecting different parts
-of the country. Garcia Moreno
-laid out and nearly completed five
-great national roads. The principal
-one, that from Guayaquil to Quito,
-is eighty leagues in length. It is
-paved, and has one hundred and
-twenty bridges. It is a solid and
-stupendous work, constructed in
-the face of almost insuperable difficulties.</p>
-
-<p>The establishment of four new
-dioceses.</p>
-
-<p>A concordat with the Holy See.</p>
-
-<p>The reformation of the regular
-clergy; the restoration among them
-of a common and monastic life.</p>
-
-<p>The reconstruction of the army.
-The army had been a mere horde,
-without organization, discipline, or
-uniform; the men hardly had shoes.
-Moreno organized them on the
-French system, clothed, shod, and
-disciplined them; now they are
-the model as well as the defence
-of the people.</p>
-
-<p>The building of a light-house at
-Guayaquil. Previously there had
-been none on the whole coast.</p>
-
-<p>Reforms in the collection of the
-customs. Frauds put an end to,
-and the revenues trebled.</p>
-
-<p>Colleges in all the cities; schools
-in even the smallest villages&mdash;all
-conducted by the Christian Brothers.</p>
-
-<p>Schools for girls; Sisters of Charity,
-Ladies of the Sacred Heart,
-Sisters of the Good Shepherd, of
-Providence, and Little Sisters of
-the Poor.</p>
-
-<p>Public hospitals. During his first
-presidency Moreno turned out the
-director of the hospital at Quito,
-who had refused to receive a poor
-man and was very negligent of his
-duties, and made himself director
-in his stead. He visited the hospital
-every day, improved its arrangements,
-and put it in good working
-order. He performed in it many
-acts of heroic charity.</p>
-
-<p>The maintenance and increase
-of lay congregations and orders.
-He was an active member of the
-Congregation of the Poor.</p>
-
-<p>The establishment of four museums.</p>
-
-<p>The Catholic Protectory, a vast
-and magnificent school of arts and
-trades, on the plan of S. Michele
-at Rome, and conducted by the
-Christian Brothers.</p>
-
-<p>Postal conventions with various
-foreign states.</p>
-
-<p>The embellishment and restoration
-of the cities. Guayaquil, and
-especially Quito, seemed as if they
-had been rebuilt.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_695" id="Page_695">[695]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>And he accomplished all this,
-not only without increasing the
-taxes, but even diminishing some
-of them. This is the reason why
-he was so much beloved by the
-people; why they called him father
-of his country and saviour of the
-republic. But it was also this
-which was his unpardonable sin,
-which had to promptly receive a
-chastisement which should serve as
-a warning for his successors, that
-they might not dare to imitate his
-manner of government. For such
-a course as his was sure to ruin the
-credit of Masonry in the popular
-mind.</p>
-
-<h4>III.</h4>
-
-<p>Moreno loved his country, and
-worked so hard for its good, because
-he was truly and thoroughly
-religious. Every one who really
-loves God loves his neighbor also;
-and he who loves God intensely
-loves his neighbor in the same way,
-because he sees in him the image
-of God and the price of his blood.</p>
-
-<p>When he was a student in Paris
-he was admired for his piety. In
-his own country, amid the continual
-cares and heavy responsibilities
-of his office, he always found time
-to hear Mass every morning and
-say the rosary every night. In his
-familiar conversation he spoke frequently
-of God, of religion, of virtue,
-and with such fervor that all
-who heard felt their hearts touched
-and moved by his words. Before
-beginning the business of the day,
-he always made a visit to the church
-to implore light from the Source
-of all wisdom; and he had just left
-it, as we have said, when he met the
-ambuscade which was prepared for
-him. This religious spirit produced
-in him a great zeal for the glory
-of God, and that devotion to the
-Vicar of Christ which in him so
-much resembled the affection of a
-child for his father. Let it suffice
-to say that when he had to arrange
-the concordat with the Holy See,
-he sent his ambassador to Rome
-with a blank sheet signed by himself,
-telling him to ask his Holiness
-to write on it whatever seemed to
-him right and conducive to the
-good of the church and the true
-welfare of the nation. Such was
-the confidence which he reposed in
-the Pope, with whom politicians
-are accustomed to treat as if he
-were an ambitious and designing
-foreign prince, instead of being the
-father of all the faithful. When the
-revolution entered Rome in triumph
-through the breach of Porta Pia,
-Garcia Moreno was the only ruler
-in the world who dared to enter a
-solemn protest against that sacrilegious
-invasion; and he obtained
-from his Congress a considerable
-sum as a monthly subsidy and tribute
-of affection to his Holiness.</p>
-
-<p>But his piety toward God and
-his filial love to the church can
-best be seen from the message to
-Congress which he finished a few
-hours before his death, and which
-was found on his dead body, steeped
-in his blood. Although it is
-somewhat long for the limits of an
-article, we think that we ought to
-present it to our readers as an imperishable
-monument of true piety
-and enlightened policy, and as a
-lesson for the false politicians of
-the present day and of days to
-come.</p>
-
-<p>The message is as follows:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Senators and Deputies</span>: I
-count among the greatest of the
-great blessings which God has, in
-the inexhaustible abundance of his
-mercy, granted to our republic, that
-of seeing you here assembled under
-his protection, in the shadow of his
-peace, which he has granted and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_696" id="Page_696">[696]</a></span>
-still grants to us, while we are
-nothing and can do nothing, and
-only give in return for his paternal
-goodness inexcusable and shameful
-ingratitude.</p>
-
-<p>“It is only a few years since
-Ecuador had to repeat daily these
-sad words which the liberator Bolivar
-addressed in his last message to
-the Congress of 1830: ‘I blush to
-have to acknowledge that independence
-is the only good which we
-have acquired, and that we have
-lost all the rest in acquiring it.’</p>
-
-<p>“But since the time when, placing
-all our hope in God, we escaped
-from the torrent of impiety and
-apostasy which overwhelms the
-world in this age of blindness;
-since 1869, when we reformed ourselves
-into a truly Catholic nation,
-everything has been on a course of
-steady and daily improvement, and
-the prosperity of our dear country
-has been continually increasing.</p>
-
-<p>“Ecuador was not long ago a
-body from which the life-blood was
-ebbing, and which was even, like
-a corpse, already a prey to a horrible
-swarm of vermin which the liberty
-of putrefaction engendered in
-the darkness of the tomb. But
-to-day, at the command of that sovereign
-voice which called Lazarus
-from the sepulchre, it has returned
-to life, though it still has not entirely
-cast off the winding-sheet and
-bandages&mdash;that is to say, the remains
-and effects of the misery and corruption
-in which it had been buried.</p>
-
-<p>“To justify what I have said, it
-will suffice for me to give a short
-sketch of the progress which has
-been made in these last two years,
-referring you to the various departments
-of the government for documentary
-and detailed information.
-And that you may see exactly how
-far we have advanced in this period
-of regeneration, I shall compare
-our present condition with that
-from which we started; not for our
-own glory and self-gratulation, but
-to glorify Him to whom we owe
-everything, and whom we adore as
-our Redeemer and our Father, our
-Protector and our God.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Here follows an enumeration of
-all the improvements which had
-been made. He continues:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“We owe to the perfect liberty
-which the church has among us,
-and to the apostolic zeal of its excellent
-prelates, the reformation of
-the clergy, the amendment of
-morals, and the reduction of
-crimes; which is so great that in
-our population of a million there
-are not enough criminals to fill the
-penitentiary.</p>
-
-<p>“To the church also we owe
-those religious corporations which
-produce such an abundance of excellent
-results by the instruction of
-childhood and youth, and by the
-succor which they give so liberally
-to the sick and to the destitute.
-We are also debtors to these religious
-for the renewal of the spirit
-of piety in this year of jubilee and
-of sanctification, and for the conversion
-to Christianity and civilization
-of nine thousand savages in the
-eastern province, in which, on account
-of its vast extent, there are
-good reasons for establishing a
-second vicariate. If you authorize
-me to ask the Holy See for this
-foundation, we will then consult as
-to what measures to take to promote
-the commerce of this province,
-and to put an end to the
-selfish speculations and the violent
-exactions to which its poor inhabitants
-have been a prey by reason
-of the cruelty of inhuman merchants.
-The laborers, however, for
-this field are not now to be had;
-and that those which we shall have
-may be properly trained, it is right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_697" id="Page_697">[697]</a></span>
-that you should give a yearly
-subsidy to our venerable and
-zealous archbishop, to assist him in
-building the great seminary which
-he has not hesitated to begin, trusting
-in the protection of Heaven and
-in our co-operation.</p>
-
-<p>“Do not forget, legislators, that
-our little successes would be ephemeral
-and without fruit if we had not
-founded the social order of our republic
-upon the rock, always resisted
-and always victorious, of the
-Catholic Church. Its divine teaching,
-which neither men nor nations
-can neglect and be saved, is the
-rule of our institutions, the law of
-our laws. Docile and faithful
-children of our venerable, august,
-and infallible Pontiff, whom all the
-great ones of the earth are abandoning,
-and who is being oppressed by
-vile, cowardly, and impious men, we
-have continued to send him monthly
-the little contribution which you
-voted in 1873. Though our weakness
-obliges us to remain passive
-spectators of his slow martyrdom,
-let us hope that this poor gift may
-at least be a proof of our sympathy
-and affection, and a pledge of our
-obedience and fidelity.</p>
-
-<p>“In a few days the term for
-which I was elected in 1869 will expire.
-The republic has enjoyed
-six years of peace, interrupted only
-by a revolt of a few days in 1872 at
-Riobamba, of the natives against
-the whites; and in these six years
-it has advanced rapidly on the path
-of true progress under the visible
-protection of divine Providence.
-The results achieved would certainly
-have been greater if I had possessed
-the abilities for government
-which unfortunately I lack, or if
-all that was needed to accomplish
-good was ardently to desire it.</p>
-
-<p>“If I have committed faults, I
-ask pardon for them a thousand
-times, and beg it with tears from
-all my countrymen, feeling confident
-that they have been unintentional.
-If, on the contrary, you
-think that in any respect I have
-succeeded, give the honor of the
-success, in the first place, to God
-and to his Immaculate Mother, to
-whom are committed the inexhaustible
-treasures of his mercy; and, in
-the second place, to yourselves, to
-the people, to the army, and to all
-those who, in the different branches
-of the government, have assisted me
-with intelligence and fidelity in the
-fulfilment of my difficult duties.</p>
-
-<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Gabriel Garcia Moreno.</span></p>
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Quito</span>, August, 1875.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>That is the way that a really
-Catholic ruler can speak, even in
-this XIXth century. It seems,
-while we read his words, as if we
-were listening to Ferdinand of Castile
-or some other one of the saintly
-kings of the most prosperous days
-of Christianity. With great justice,
-then, did the government of Ecuador,
-when it published this message&mdash;which
-was found, as we have said,
-on Moreno’s dead body&mdash;append
-to it the following note:</p>
-
-<p>“The message which we have just
-given is the solemn voice of one who
-is dead; or, better, it is his last will
-and testament actually sealed with
-his own blood; for our noble president
-had just written it with his own
-hand when he was assailed by his
-murderers. Its last words are
-those of a dying father who, blessing
-his children, turns for the last
-time toward them his eyes, darkened
-by the shadow of death, and
-asks pardon of them, as if he had
-been doing anything during all
-their lives but loading them with
-benefits. Deeply moved and distressed
-by grief, we seek in vain for
-words adequate to express our love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_698" id="Page_698">[698]</a></span>
-and veneration for him. Posterity
-no doubt will honor the undying
-memory of the great ruler, the wise
-politician, the noble patriot, and
-the saintly defender of the faith
-who has been so basely assassinated.
-His country, worthily represented
-by their present legislators, will
-shed tears over this tomb which
-contains such great virtues and such
-great hopes, and will gratefully record
-on imperishable tablets the
-glorious name of this her son, who,
-regardless of his own blood and
-life, lived and died only for her.”</p>
-
-<p>This splendid eulogy is an echo
-of the eternal benediction and a reflection
-of the brilliant crown which
-we cannot doubt that God has given
-to this his latest martyr.</p>
-
-<h4>IV.</h4>
-
-<p>The reader will see that this message
-of Garcia Moreno contains a
-true and genuine scheme of Christian
-government which he applied
-in the republic of Ecuador, in direct
-opposition to the ideas and
-aspirations of modern liberalism.
-Every point of it is in most marked
-contrast to the liberalist programme.
-At some risk of repetition,
-we will here make a short
-comparison between the two, on
-account of the importance of the
-conclusions which all prudent men
-can draw from it.</p>
-
-<p>Moreno begins with God, and
-puts him at the head of the government
-of his people; liberalism
-would have the state atheistic, and
-is ashamed even to mention the
-name of God in its public documents.
-Moreno desires an intimate
-union between the state and
-the Catholic Church, declaring that
-the social order must be founded
-on the church, and that her divine
-teaching must be the rule of human
-institutions and the law of civil
-laws; liberalism, on the other hand,
-not only separates the state from
-the church, but even raises it above
-her, and makes the civil laws the
-standard in harmony with which
-the ecclesiastical laws must be
-framed. It even would subject the
-most essential institutions of the
-church to the caprice of man.
-Moreno desires full liberty for the
-bishops, and ascribes to this liberty
-the reform of the clergy and the
-good morals of the people; liberalism
-wants to fetter episcopal action,
-excites the inferior clergy to
-rebellion against their prelates, and
-endeavors to withdraw the people
-from the influence of either. Moreno
-not only supports but multiplies
-religious communities; liberalism
-suppresses them. Moreno respects
-ecclesiastical property, and
-promotes by the resources of the
-state the foundation of new seminaries,
-saying that without them it will
-not be possible worthily to fill the
-ranks of the sacred ministry; liberalism
-confiscates the goods of the
-church, closes the seminaries, and
-sends the young Levites to the barracks,
-to be educated in the dissipation
-and license of military life.
-Moreno confides to the clergy and
-to the religious orders the training
-and instruction of youth; liberalism
-secularizes education, and insists
-on the entire exclusion of the
-religious element. Moreno removes
-from his Catholic nation the wiles
-and scandals of false religion; liberalism
-promulgates freedom of
-worship, and opens the door to
-every heresy in faith and to every
-corruption in morals. Moreno,
-finally, sees in himself the weakness
-inherent in man, and gives God
-credit for all the good which he accomplishes;
-while liberalism, full
-of satanic pride, believes itself capable
-of everything, and places all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_699" id="Page_699">[699]</a></span>
-its confidence in the natural powers
-of man. The antagonism between
-the two systems is, in short, universal
-and absolute.</p>
-
-<p>Now, what is the verdict of experience?
-It is that the application
-of Moreno’s system has resulted
-in peace, prosperity, the moral
-and material welfare of the people&mdash;in
-a word, social happiness. On
-the contrary, the application of the
-liberalist system has produced discord,
-general misery, enormous taxation,
-immorality among the people,
-and public scandals, and has
-driven society to the verge of destruction
-and dissolution. The liberty
-which it has given has been
-well defined by Moreno; it is the
-liberty of a corpse, the liberty to
-rot.</p>
-
-<p>And at this juncture the infamous
-wickedness and the despicable
-logic of the liberalist party can
-no longer be concealed. It has
-laid it down as certain that the
-principles of the middle ages, as it
-calls them&mdash;which are the true Catholic
-principles, the principles affirmed
-by our Holy Father Pius
-IX. in his Syllabus&mdash;are not applicable
-to modern times, and can no
-longer give happiness to nations.
-But here is a ruler, Garcia Moreno
-by name, who gives the lie to this
-grovelling falsehood, and shows, by
-the irresistible evidence of facts,
-that the happiness of his people
-has actually come simply from the
-application of these principles.
-What is the answer of the liberalist
-sect to this manifest confutation
-of their theory? First, it endeavors
-to cry down its formidable
-adversary by invective and calumny;
-and then, finding that this does
-not suffice to remove him from
-public life, it murders him. This
-is the only means it has to prove
-its thesis; and, having made use
-of it, it begins to shriek louder
-than before that Catholic principles
-cannot be adapted to the progress
-of this age. No, we agree
-that they cannot, if you are going
-to kill every one who adapts them.
-What use is it to argue with a sect
-so malicious and perverse? O patience
-of God and of men, how
-basely are you abused!</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A REVIVAL IN FROGTOWN.</h3>
-
-<p>There was quite an excitement
-in Frogtown. The Rev. Eliphalet
-Notext, “The Great Revivalist,
-who had made more converts than
-any other man in England, Ireland,
-Scotland, Wales, the United States
-and Territories, and the British
-Provinces of North America,” was
-to “open a three weeks’ campaign”
-in the town.</p>
-
-<p>Now, Frogtown prided itself on
-being the wickedest little town in
-the West. Its inhabitants claimed
-for it the enviable distinction of
-being “the fastest little village of
-its size in the United States”&mdash;a
-weakness common to most small
-towns. This pride in vice is a widespread
-weakness. The lean and
-slippered pantaloon will wag his
-fallen chaps and give evident signs
-of pleasant titillation when some
-shank-shrunken contemporary tells
-“what a rascal the dog was in his
-youth.”</p>
-
-<p>Well, the Frogtowners flattered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_700" id="Page_700">[700]</a></span>
-themselves that Brother Notext
-would find their burgh a very hard
-nut to crack. Brother Notext was
-not a theologian. He was not a
-scholar. He was not a preacher.
-In truth, he was almost illiterate.
-But he understood the “business”
-of getting up revivals. He knew
-how to create a sensation. He
-could, at least, achieve a success of
-curiosity, as the French say.</p>
-
-<p>He began with the newspapers,
-of course. He contrived to have
-them say something about him and
-his “work” in every issue. He
-was not particular whether what
-they said of him was favorable or
-unfavorable. Indeed, he rather
-preferred that some of them should
-abuse him roundly. Abuse sometimes
-helped him more than praise.
-It made some people his friends
-through a spirit of contradiction.
-It appealed to the pugnacious instincts
-of some “professors of religion.”
-It enabled him to hint that
-the inimical editors were papal
-myrmidons, Jesuit emissaries, etc.,
-etc.</p>
-
-<p>The Rev. Eliphalet was really
-an excellent organizer. He had
-been originally the business manager
-of a circus. His advertisements,
-his posters, his hand-bills, in
-his old occupation, were prepared
-with all the gorgeous imagery of
-the East. He did not forget his
-old tactics in his new profession.
-Immediately on his arrival in Frogtown
-he grappled the newspapers.
-He begged, bullied, or badgered the
-editors until they noticed him. He
-set the Christian Juveniles and the
-kindred societies to work, with
-whom, of course, there was no difficulty.
-In a couple of days he succeeded
-in drawing around him the
-clergymen of every denomination,
-except the Episcopalian and Unitarian.
-Some of these, however,
-went much against their will. The
-Episcopalian minister&mdash;a gentle,
-amiable man&mdash;was very loath at
-first; but the pressure brought to
-bear upon him was too strong. He
-finally succumbed and joined in
-what was called a Union Christian
-Meeting of all the Protestant congregations.
-This important point
-achieved, Mr. Notext had three of
-the “best workers” in each congregation
-selected. These he sent
-among the people to raise the
-sinews of war, without which no
-campaign, whether sacred or profane,
-can be conducted to a successful
-issue. Mr. Notext’s terms were
-reasonable&mdash;only three hundred
-dollars a week and found. A man
-must live; and when a man works
-hard&mdash;as Mr. Notext undoubtedly
-did&mdash;he must live well, or he cannot
-stand the strain on his physical
-and mental strength. Then,
-there were blank weeks when he
-had no revival in hand, and probably
-a hotel bill to pay. Taking
-these things into consideration, any
-reasonable person will allow that
-three hundred dollars a week and
-found was not an exorbitant price.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Notext had a large tent
-which the profane said had been
-formerly used in his old business.
-It was pitched in a vacant lot within
-the city limits, and could accommodate
-about fifteen hundred
-persons. Mr. Notext prevailed on
-the clergymen who united with him
-to close their churches on the first
-Sunday of his revival. On the previous
-Friday he gathered around
-him a number of male and female
-enthusiasts. Accompanied by these
-people, organized in squads and
-led by the regular revival practitioners
-who did what is profanely
-termed the “side-show”
-business in all Mr. Notext’s tours,
-he sang hymns in front of every
-drinking-saloon in the town. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_701" id="Page_701">[701]</a></span>
-instrumental accompaniment to
-the singing was furnished by a
-melodeon, which was carried about
-in a one-horse cart.</p>
-
-<p>On Sunday the union meetings
-began, and, notwithstanding a heavy
-rain, the tent was full. A large platform
-had been erected inside, and
-near the door was a table on which
-were exposed for sale a great variety
-of contributions to religious
-literature, all by one author, who
-had evidently tried every string of
-the religious lyre. There were collections
-of hymns by the Rev. Mr.
-Notext; tracts by the Rev. Mr.
-Notext; sermons by the Rev. Mr.
-Notext; tales for the young by the
-Rev. Mr. Notext; appeals to the
-old by the Rev. Mr. Notext; reasons
-for the middle-aged by the
-Rev. Mr. Notext, etc., etc. There
-were photographs, in every style, of
-the Rev. Mr. Notext, as well as
-likenesses of remarkable converts
-who had been remarkable rascals
-until they “got religion” through
-the efforts of the Rev. Mr. Notext.</p>
-
-<p>On the platform were seated the
-shepherds of most of the flocks in
-Frogtown. Some among them, it
-is true, did not seem quite at home
-in that situation, but they had to be
-there. In the centre of the platform
-was an organ, which furnished the
-instrumental music. On each side
-of the organ seats were arranged
-for a volunteer choir. Fully half
-those present were children.</p>
-
-<p>The Rev. Eliphalet Notext was
-introduced to the audience by the
-minister of the Methodist church.
-The revivalist was a stout, fair-haired,
-fresh-colored, rather pleasant-looking
-man, inclined to corpulency,
-evidently not an ascetic,
-and gifted with no inconsiderable
-share of physical energy and magnetism.</p>
-
-<p>“I wish all persons who can sing
-to come on the platform and occupy
-the seats to the right and left
-of the organ,” he began.</p>
-
-<p>No movement was made in response
-to this call. It was repeated
-with a better result. A dozen
-young ladies summoned up enough
-courage to mount the platform.</p>
-
-<p>“This will never do!” cried Mr.
-Notext. “I want every person
-present who can sing right here on
-this stand. We can’t get along
-without music and plenty of it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Brethren,” he continued, turning
-toward the clergymen on the
-platform, “you know the singers
-in your congregations; go among
-them and send them up here.
-Everybody must put his shoulder
-to the wheel in the great work of
-bringing souls to Jesus.”</p>
-
-<p>The brethren meekly did as they
-were bid. They soon succeeded
-in filling the seats reserved for the
-singers. These numbered about
-one hundred.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s more like it,” said Mr.
-Notext approvingly. “Now, my
-friends, we will begin by singing a
-hymn. I want everybody to join
-in.” (A nod to the organist, who
-began to play.)</p>
-
-<p>The singing was rather timid at
-first, but, led by Mr. Notext, the
-singers rapidly gained confidence,
-and soon rolled forth in full chorus.
-Having fairly launched them, their
-leader, after the first verse, left
-them to take care of themselves.
-The singing was really good. The
-rich volume of harmony drowned
-the commonplace melody and the
-vulgar words. Thus Brother Notext
-was successful in the production
-of his first effect. It was
-evident that he depended much on
-the singing. There is nothing like
-a grand mass of choral music to
-excite the sensibilities. After two
-or three hymns, the revivalist had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_702" id="Page_702">[702]</a></span>
-his audience in a highly emotional
-condition. “I want all the children
-together in front!” shouted Mr.
-Notext. “<em>Ad</em>ults [the accent on
-the first syllable] will retire to the
-back seats. Don’t stop the music!
-Keep up the singing! Go on! go
-on!” Then he ran to the organ,
-whispered something to the organist,
-and led off with</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Oh! you must be a lover of the Lord,</div>
-<div class="verse">Or you won’t go to heaven when you die,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">leaving the singers to sing it out
-for themselves after the first two or
-three lines.</p>
-
-<p>It took some time to get all the
-children to the front. If the music
-flagged, Mr. Notext shouted to
-the singers to “keep it up.” From
-time to time he would rush to the
-organ, pick up a hymn-book in a
-frantic manner, and lead off with a
-new hymn, waving his hands in cadence,
-but, with a due regard for
-his lungs, not singing a note more
-than was absolutely necessary to
-start the other singers afresh.</p>
-
-<p>The fathers and mothers of the
-little ones, softened by the music,
-looked with moistened eyes on their
-children as the latter took their
-seats. The American people are
-very fond of children when they
-are old enough to walk and talk
-and be interesting. Mr. Notext
-was alive to this fact. Even the
-worst criminal or the most cynical
-man of the world cannot help being
-touched while music charms
-his ears and his eyes look on the
-beautiful spectacle of childish innocence.
-Mr. Notext evidently
-knew the more amiable weaknesses
-of human nature. He appealed
-to the senses and the affections,
-and won over the fathers and mothers
-through the children.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, my little friends,” said
-Mr. Notext, “I wish you all to
-keep perfectly silent while I am
-talking to you. This first meeting
-is especially for you.”</p>
-
-<p>There was considerable buzzing
-among the little ones.</p>
-
-<p>“I must have silence, if I am to
-do anything with these children,”
-said Mr. Notext rather testily, and
-in a tone which showed that he
-would not scruple to apply the birch
-to his little friends if they did not
-keep quiet. “The slightest noise
-distracts their attention. There are
-some boys to the right there who are
-still talking! I wish some one
-would stop them.”</p>
-
-<p>A softly-stepping gentleman with
-long hair and green goggles went
-to the designated group, remonstrated
-with, and finally succeeded
-in silencing, them. Then Mr. Notext
-began his sermon to the children.
-He told the story of the Passion
-in a manner which, though it
-inexpressibly shocked Christians of
-the old-fashioned kind who happened
-to be present, was exceedingly
-dramatic&mdash;“realistic” in the
-highest degree, to borrow a word
-from the modern play-bill. Suddenly
-he broke off and said rather
-excitedly:</p>
-
-<p>“There is a boy on the fourth
-bench who persists in talking. I
-must have absolute silence, or I
-cannot hold the attention of these
-children. The slightest noise distracts
-them and takes their minds
-away from the picture I am endeavoring
-to present to them. It
-is that red-haired boy! Will somebody
-please to take him away?”
-Several pious gentlemen bore
-down on the poor little red-haired
-urchin, and all chance of “getting
-religion” was taken away from him
-for the nonce by his summary removal.
-When silence was restored, Mr.
-Notext resumed the story. When
-describing how the divine Victim
-was buffeted and spat upon, he a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_703" id="Page_703">[703]</a></span>dministered
-to himself sounding
-slaps on the face, now with the
-left hand, now with the right.
-He placed an imaginary crown of
-thorns on his head, pressed the
-sharp points into his forehead, and,
-passing the open fingers of both
-hands over his closed eyes and
-down his face, traced the streams
-of blood trickling from the cruel
-wounds. Tears already rolled
-down the cheeks of the little ones.
-When he reached the nailing to the
-cross, he produced a large spike,
-exhibited it to the children, and
-went through the semblance of
-driving it into his flesh. An outburst
-of sobs interrupted him.
-Some of the children screamed in
-very terror. The desired effect
-was produced. Many fathers and
-mothers, touched by the emotion
-and terror of their children, wept
-in sympathy with them.</p>
-
-<p>“Now the music!” shouted Mr.
-Notext, stamping with impatience,
-as if he wanted a tardy patient to
-swallow a Sedlitz-powder in the
-proper moment of effervescence.
-“Now the music!” And he led
-off with</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Oh! you must be a lover of the Lord,</div>
-<div class="verse">Or you won’t go to heaven when you die!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>He shouted to the “workers” to
-go among the people and ask them
-to “come to Jesus.” A crowd of
-“workers,” some professional, some
-enthusiastic volunteers, broke loose
-upon the audience. They seized
-people by the hands. They
-embraced them. They inquired:
-“How do you feel now? Do you
-not feel that Jesus is calling you?”
-They begged them to come to Jesus
-at once. They asked them if they
-were “Ker-istians.”</p>
-
-<p>One of the workers met two gentlemen
-who entered together and
-were evidently present through
-curiosity. Of the first, who seemed
-to be a cool, keen, self-poised business
-man, the worker asked the
-stereotyped question:</p>
-
-<p>“Are you a Ker-istian?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course, of course,” said the
-self-possessed business man.</p>
-
-<p>The worker passed on, perfectly
-satisfied with the off-hand declaration.
-He repeated the question to
-the gentleman’s companion, who,
-possessed of less assurance, hesitated
-and humbly replied:</p>
-
-<p>“I trust so.”</p>
-
-<p>The worker immediately grappled
-the sensitive gentleman, much to
-his mortification, and it was some
-time before he succeeded in effecting
-his escape, regretting, doubtless,
-that he had not made as prompt
-and satisfactory a profession of
-faith as that of his companion.</p>
-
-<p>The “inquiry meeting,” as the
-exercises toward the close were
-named, was continued until late in
-the afternoon. When the children
-were dismissed, they were instructed
-to beg their parents to come to
-Jesus&mdash;to entreat them, with tears
-if necessary, until they consented.
-A Presbyterian gentleman of the
-old school, describing his sensations
-after the meeting was over, said:</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot deny that I was affected.
-I felt tears coming to my eyes&mdash;why,
-I could not tell. The effect,
-however, was entirely physical.
-My reason had nothing to do with
-it. It condemned the whole thing
-as merely calculated to get up an
-unhealthy excitement, which, even
-if not injurious, would be fleeting
-in its effect. I noticed some nervous
-women almost worked up into
-spasms. As to the children, they
-were goaded into a state of nervousness
-and terror which was pitiable
-to see. I can only compare
-my own condition to that of a man
-who had drunk freely. While the effect
-lasted I was capable of making<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_704" id="Page_704">[704]</a></span>
-a fool of myself, being all the while
-aware that I was doing so. Sunlight
-and air have dispelled the intoxication,
-and now nothing remains
-but nausea.</p>
-
-<p>“I am disgusted with such claptrap,
-and ashamed of myself for
-having been affected by it, however
-temporarily and slightly.”</p>
-
-<p>The progress made on the first
-Sunday of the revival was duly
-chronicled in the newspapers of
-the day following. It was announced
-that hundreds of children
-had been awakened to a sense of
-their sinful condition. A little
-girl&mdash;four years old&mdash;had recognized
-that she was thoroughly
-steeped in sin. She had had no
-idea of the condition of her soul
-until she was roused to it by Mr.
-Notext’s preaching. She was now
-perfectly happy. She had experienced
-religion. She knew she was
-forgiven. She had gone to Jesus,
-and Jesus had come to her. She
-had sought Mr. Notext’s lodgings,
-leading her father with one hand
-and her mother with the other.</p>
-
-<p>Charley Biggs&mdash;the well-known
-drunken alderman&mdash;was among the
-converted. He had “got religion,”
-and was resolved henceforth to
-touch the time-honored toddy
-nevermore.</p>
-
-<p>A belated “local” of one of
-the newspapers, while returning to
-his lodgings on the previous evening,
-had his coat-tail pulled, much
-to his surprise, by a little girl
-about six years old.</p>
-
-<p>“Please, sir,” she asked, “do
-you know Jesus?”</p>
-
-<p>The “local” was struck dumb.</p>
-
-<p>“O sir!” she continued, “won’t
-you please come to Jesus?”</p>
-
-<p>This was enough. The hard
-heart-of the “local” was touched.
-He sobbed, he wept, he cried
-aloud. He fell upon his knees.
-The little girl fell on hers. They
-sang:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Come to Jesus,</div>
-<div class="verse">Come to Jesus,</div>
-<div class="verse">Come to Jesus just now,” etc.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>When the “local” rose, after the
-conclusion of the singing, he took
-the little girl’s hand and went
-whither she led him. He, too, had
-“got religion”&mdash;somewhat as one
-gets a <i lang="fr">coup de soleil</i> or a stroke of
-paralysis.</p>
-
-<p>The opposition dailies mildly
-called attention to the purely emotional
-character of the effects produced.
-They expressed their fears
-that the moral and physical result
-of factitious excitement on minds
-of tender years might be the reverse
-of healthy. The next day the
-melodeon was carted about again
-and the singing continued on the
-sidewalks and in front of the drinking-saloons.
-Mr. Notext’s machinery
-was in full blast. The
-meeting on the second evening
-was devoted principally to grown
-people. The tent was full. The
-choir was strengthened by additional
-voices, and the music was
-good of its kind.</p>
-
-<p>After half a dozen hymns had
-been sung, Mr. Notext began his
-sermon&mdash;by courtesy so-called.
-He first spoke of the number of
-persons he had converted at home
-and abroad. For he had been
-“abroad,” as he took care to let
-his audience know. He had been
-the guest and the favored companion
-of the Duchess of Skippington,
-of the Earl of Whitefriars, of
-Lord This and Lady That, and the
-Countess of Thingumy. In Scotland
-and in Ireland immense
-crowds followed him and “got
-religion.” He converted three
-thousand people in a single town in
-Ireland. Since the meeting on the
-previous day, many children, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_705" id="Page_705">[705]</a></span>
-many adults as well, had visited him
-at his lodgings. Some who came to
-the tent “to make fun” went away
-full of religion. He would now
-let a dear little friend of his tell
-his own story in his own way.</p>
-
-<p>A red-haired youngster, about
-thirteen, was introduced to the audience
-as the nephew of a prominent
-and well-known official in a
-neighboring town. (It was afterwards
-stated, by the way, that the
-official in question had not a nephew
-in the world. No doubt the
-youngster imposed on Mr. Notext.)
-If ever there were a thoroughly
-“bad boy,” this youngster was one,
-or&mdash;as may be very possible&mdash;his
-face belied him atrociously. Mr.
-Notext placed his arm dramatically&mdash;affectionately,
-rather&mdash;around the
-young rogue’s neck, and led him to
-the front of the platform. The boy
-looked at the audience with a leer,
-half-impudent, half-jocular, and
-then gave his experiences glibly in
-a very harsh treble:</p>
-
-<p>“When first I heard that Rev.
-Mr. Notext was going to get up a
-revival, I joked about it with other
-boys, and said he couldn’t convert
-me; and the night of the first meeting
-I said to the other boys&mdash;who
-were bad boys, too&mdash;for us to go
-along and make fun. And so we
-did. And I came to laugh at Mr.
-Notext and to make fun. And
-somehow&mdash;I don’t know how it was&mdash;I
-got religion, and I was converted;
-and now I am very happy, and
-I love Mr. Notext, and I am going
-with him to Smithersville when he
-gets through here. And I am very
-happy since I was converted and
-became a good boy.” (Sensation
-among the audience, and music by
-the choir in response to Mr. Notext’s
-call.)</p>
-
-<p>Another juvenile convert was
-brought forward. He repeated
-substantially the same story as his
-predecessor, though more diffidently.
-(More music by the choir.)</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Notext now told the affecting
-story of “little Jimmy.” Little
-Jimmy was a native of Hindostan.
-He lived in some town ending in <em>an</em>.
-There was in that town a missionary
-school. Jimmy’s master was
-a very bad man&mdash;cruel, tyrannical.
-He forbade Jimmy to go to the
-mission-school. But Jimmy went,
-nevertheless, whenever he could.
-The master was a true believer in
-the national religion of Hindostan.
-He believed that Jimmy would go
-to perdition if he left his ancestral
-faith to embrace the national religion&mdash;or
-rather the governmental
-religion&mdash;of Great Britain. Jimmy
-would return from his visits to the
-mission-school in a very happy
-mood, singing as he went:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Yes, I love Jesus,</div>
-<div class="verse">Yes, I love Jesus,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I know, I know I do,” etc.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Notext gave an operatic rendering
-of the scene of Jimmy going
-home singing the above words.
-One day the master heard Jimmy,
-and was roused to a state of fury.
-He forbade the boy to sing the song.
-But Jimmy would sing it (Mr. Notext
-did not say whether Jimmy
-sang the hymn in English or
-Hindostanee). Then the brutal
-master took an enormous cowhide&mdash;or
-the Hindostanee punitive equivalent
-thereto&mdash;and belabored poor
-Jimmy. But Jimmy continued to
-sing, though the tears rolled down
-his cheeks from pain. And the master
-flogged; and Jimmy sang. And
-still the master flogged and flogged.
-And still Jimmy sang and sang and
-sang. It was like the famous fight
-in Arkansas, wherein the combatants
-“fit and fit and fit.” But
-there must be an end of everything&mdash;even
-of an Arkansas fight. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_706" id="Page_706">[706]</a></span>
-struggle lasted for hours. Exhausted
-nature finally gave way, and poor
-little Jimmy died under the lash,
-singing with his last breath:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Yes, I love Jesus,</div>
-<div class="verse">Yes, I love Jesus,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I know, I know I do.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Now, my friends,” said Mr.
-Notext, “I want you all to stand
-up for Jesus and sing poor little
-Jimmy’s song.” And Mr. Notext
-led off. The choir followed his example;
-but the audience remained
-seated.</p>
-
-<p>“I want to know,” said Mr. Notext
-rather testily, “how many
-Christians there are in this assembly.
-I want every one of them to
-stand up!”</p>
-
-<p>Several persons now stood up,
-and gradually the action began to
-spread, like yawning in a lecture-room.
-There were still many,
-however, who had not hearkened
-to Mr. Notext’s summons to stand
-up. He called attention to them,
-and bade some of the brethren go
-to them and talk them into an erect
-position. Some of the recalcitrants,
-evidently to avoid importunity,
-stood up. The rest also stood
-up, and hurriedly left the tent, followed
-by an angry scowl from Mr.
-Notext. After a little hesitation,
-he said: “We will now once more
-sing little Jimmy’s hymn.” And
-when the hymn was sung, the meeting
-dispersed.</p>
-
-<p>Next morning the friendly newspapers
-chronicled the wonderful
-success of Mr. Notext’s efforts.
-The number of converts was miraculously
-large. Two thousand
-persons had stood up for Jesus.
-The meetings were continued during
-the week. The <i lang="la">modus operandi</i>
-was about the same. Mr. Notext
-repeated himself so often that interest
-began to languish and his
-<i lang="fr">coups de théâtre</i> to grow flat and
-stale. When he was at a loss for
-words to continue one of his disjointed
-discourses, he took refuge
-in music and hymns.</p>
-
-<p>“Brethren, let us sing:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Come to Jesus!</div>
-<div class="verse">Come to Jesus!</div>
-<div class="verse">Come to Jesus just now,” etc.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>When his vulgar and often unintentionally
-blasphemous exhortations
-failed to hold the attention
-of his hearers, and Morpheus was
-making fight against him in sundry
-corners of the tent, he would suddenly
-call in his loudest tones on
-all present to stand up for Jesus.
-In cases of very marked inattention,
-he would summon his hearers,
-and particularly the children, to
-write down their names for Jesus
-in a large book kept for that purpose
-by the great revivalist. This
-stroke generally roused the audience
-pretty thoroughly. But when
-the children had written their names
-in the book three or four times,
-they began to grow tired of the
-practice, thinking that, if these writing
-lessons were continued, they
-might as well be at school.</p>
-
-<p>In the beginning of the second
-week there were unmistakable signs
-of impending collapse. The revival
-received a momentary impulse,
-however, from the opposition of
-another “Reverend Doctor,” who
-challenged Mr. Notext to controversy.
-This aroused the natural
-desire to witness a “fight” which
-lives in the human heart. But the
-desire was not gratified, owing to
-Mr. Notext’s refusal to accept the
-challenge. His failure to exhibit
-a proper polemical pugnacity was a
-very great detriment to him. Indeed,
-the end of the second week
-showed a marked falling off in the
-number of persons present at the
-nightly meetings. Then the sinews<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_707" id="Page_707">[707]</a></span>
-of war began to fail. The weekly
-wage of the great revivalist could
-not be raised, though he thrice sent
-back “the best workers” in all the
-congregations to make additional
-efforts to raise the stipulated sum.</p>
-
-<p>The Rev. Dr. Notext did not
-tarry very much longer in Frogtown.
-He had barely turned his
-back upon the little town before
-every trace of the “great tidal wave
-of the revival” (as the journals
-called it) had disappeared. The
-youthful converts had gone back to
-their peg tops, their kites, and their
-china alleys, and Alderman Charley
-Biggs was again taking his whiskey-toddies
-in the time-honored way.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE.</h3>
-
-<p>The President’s message, so far
-as it deals with the school question
-and the taxation of church property,
-is the sequel to the speech
-which he delivered at Des Moines.
-The article on that oration which
-appeared in our last number was, to
-some extent, an exposition of our
-views on the school question.</p>
-
-<p>We are sure that those views,
-when carefully examined, will be
-found to contain the only solution
-in harmony with the spirit of
-free institutions. We are willing to
-submit to the fairness of our fellow-citizens,
-and to wait until time
-and thought have matured their
-judgment on the following questions:</p>
-
-<p>1. Who has a right to direct the
-education of children&mdash;their parents
-or the government?</p>
-
-<p>2. Whether, in a republic whose
-form of government depends more
-than any other upon the virtue of its
-citizens, it is better to have moral
-instruction given in abundance, or
-to have this species of instruction
-restricted to the narrowest limits?</p>
-
-<p>3. Whether it is the design of a
-free government to legislate for
-all, or whether public institutions&mdash;the
-common schools, for instance&mdash;are
-to be directed only for the
-benefit of certain classes?</p>
-
-<p>4. Whether moneys raised by
-taxation for the common good
-should not be so applied as to
-satisfy the conscientious demands
-of all citizens?</p>
-
-<p>5. Whether taxation otherwise
-directed than for the good of all
-is not a violation of the maxim,
-“Taxation without representation
-is tyranny”?</p>
-
-<p>6. Whether Catholics have or
-have not shown zeal for education,
-both primary and scientific?</p>
-
-<p>7. Whether they have or have
-not shed their blood in defence of
-the nation, or furnished any of its
-great leaders in peace and war?</p>
-
-<p>8. Whether any instance can be
-shown in which they have entered
-or inhabited any country on equal
-terms with Protestants and infidels,
-and have abused their power to
-hamper or persecute their fellow-citizens?</p>
-
-<p>9. Whether, in paying their taxes
-and supporting their own schools
-to the best of their power, peacefully
-discussing the question of
-public welfare and their own rights,
-Catholics are acting as loyal citizens
-or as factious disturbers of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_708" id="Page_708">[708]</a></span>
-good-will and kindly feeling among
-neighbors?</p>
-
-<p>10. Finally, whether, in consideration
-of the foregoing, our views
-are not entitled to respectful consideration?</p>
-
-<p>We have no doubt whatever that
-when the thoughtful and just men
-of our day and race have duly
-pondered upon these subjects, we
-shall fully agree with their deliberate
-reply.</p>
-
-<p>At no time in the history of our
-country will it be found that Catholics
-have introduced religion into
-the arena of political discussion,
-and any attempt to do so will meet
-with failure. In this they are in
-perfect accord with the principles
-underlying our institutions and the
-genuine spirit of this country. If, at
-this moment, the rancor of ancient
-bigotry and fanaticism or modern
-hatred of Christianity has attempted
-to awaken a political conflict on
-religious grounds, while it refuses
-to admit a calm consideration of
-Catholic claims, we appeal from
-Philip drunk to Philip sober.</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime, we shall assume,
-that there are those who wish to
-hear more with regard to our principles
-and convictions. We shall
-endeavor to remove all obscurity on
-the questions now under discussion,
-and to reply to whatever reasonable
-objections may be made against our
-principles.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to the taxation of
-church property, we await the action
-of the political world. Some
-politicians, whose “vaulting ambition”
-is of that kind which “o’erleaps
-itself,” would introduce this
-question into political discussion in
-order to draw off the attention of
-the American people from the real,
-present issues in their politics. We
-ask for no innovations; but if such
-be made, let there be no discrimination.
-We stand before the law as
-do all other religious denominations.
-“Let us have peace” were
-the memorable words spoken at a
-memorable time by a man who to a
-large extent held the future of this
-country in his hands. Those words
-held, and hold still, the germs of
-the wisest policy. We repeat them
-now, and add, if we cannot have
-peace, let us at least have fair play.
-If the projectors and advocates of
-this innovation suppose that, in the
-event of its being carried out, they
-will thereby worst the Catholic
-Church, their action in the end will
-be found to resemble that of the
-man who cut off his nose to spite
-his neighbor.</p>
-
-<p>Since these words were written,
-four letters have appeared in the
-New York <cite>Times</cite> under the heading,
-“Should Church Property be
-Taxed?” and over the signature of
-George H. Andrews. The writer
-is not a Catholic. His clear, concise
-reasons against the taxation of
-church property, as recommended
-by the President in his message,
-will have the more weight with
-non-Catholic readers on that account.
-It is singular, yet natural,
-to see how his argument strengthens
-our own position on the question
-in a number of ways, particularly
-as regards the suicidal policy
-of many who, through hatred or
-fear of the Catholic Church, may
-be induced to commit themselves
-to a measure which would prove
-an irreparable mischief to their own
-church or churches. Passing by
-the many able and suggestive points
-in Mr. Andrews’ letters, we take just
-such as more immediately bear on
-the thoughts thrown out by ourselves.</p>
-
-<p>By the census of 1870 the value
-of all kinds of church property in
-the United States belonging to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_709" id="Page_709">[709]</a></span>
-leading denominations was placed
-as follows:</p>
-
-<table summary="Value of church property by denomination">
-  <tr>
-    <td>Methodist,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">$69,854,121</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Roman Catholic,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">60,935,556</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Presbyterian,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">53,265,256</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Baptist,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">41,608,198</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Episcopalian,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">36,514,549</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Congregational,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">25,069,698</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Reformed,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">16,134,470</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Lutheran,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">14,917,747</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Unitarian,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">6,282,675</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Universalist,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">5,692,325</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Others,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">24,000,000</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td></td>
-    <td class="tdr total">$354,324,595</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>“From these it appears,” says
-Mr. Andrews, “that the relative
-proportion of each denomination
-to the whole is substantially as follows:</p>
-
-<p>“Methodist, one-fifth of the aggregate;
-Roman Catholic, one-sixth
-of the aggregate; Presbyterian,
-one-seventh of the aggregate; Baptist,
-one-ninth of the aggregate;
-Episcopalian, one-tenth of the aggregate;
-Congregational, one-fourteenth
-of the aggregate; Reformed,
-one-twenty-second of the aggregate;
-Lutheran, one-twenty-third of the
-aggregate; Unitarian, one-fifty-ninth
-of the aggregate; Universalist,
-one-sixtieth of the aggregate.”</p>
-
-<p>And here is the case in a nutshell:
-“To me it seems obvious,”
-comments Mr. Andrews, on reviewing
-his figures, “that the expectation
-is that those who belong or
-are allied to other sects will, from
-dislike to or fear of the Roman
-Catholic Church, impose a burden
-upon it, even if in doing so they
-are obliged to assume an equal
-burden themselves; or, in other
-words, that the owners of $294,000,000
-of church property will
-subject it to taxation in order to
-impose a similar tax upon the owners
-of $60,000,000 of church property.
-So that the adherents of
-every other sect, at variance among
-themselves about sundry matters of
-doctrine and practice, essential and
-non-essential, can be brought to
-act in concert, and to give effect to
-a common spirit of hostility to Roman
-Catholic doctrine, to Roman
-Catholic exclusiveness, Roman Catholic
-aggression, and Roman Catholic
-influence, by placing a tax
-upon Roman Catholic Church property&mdash;in
-effect, arousing a spirit
-of persecution, qualified by the
-condition imposed by the Constitution,
-that the would-be persecutor
-must share in the penalty he
-may succeed in imposing upon the
-object of his dislike.” Which is
-precisely what we have characterized
-as “cutting off one’s nose to
-spite a neighbor.”</p>
-
-<p>May we presume to ask whether
-the taxation of church property
-will reduce the expenses of the
-general government, render its officials
-more honest, and purify our
-legislative halls? These are the
-duties of the hour. Here are the
-issues of our politics. But a profound
-silence regarding them reigns
-in the official utterance. Are the
-projectors of the new policy afraid
-to face them? Does their conscience
-make cowards of them?
-Or is it that they are playing the
-part of the cuttle-fish?</p>
-
-<p>Up to this period the state and
-all religious denominations have
-advanced peaceably to prosperity,
-and there have been no real
-grounds of complaint on any side.
-At least we have heard of none publicly.
-What, then, has brought
-about this sudden change? Who
-has called for it? Why should it
-be sprung upon us at this moment?
-No danger threatens from this quarter.
-There is not visible on our
-political horizon even the “cloud
-no bigger than a man’s hand.”
-Catholics, when only a handful,
-never dreamed of objecting to the
-exemption from taxation of the
-property of other religious denominations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_710" id="Page_710">[710]</a></span>
-or to the aid which their
-benevolent institutions received.
-Can it be the rapid development of
-Catholicity here which has prompted
-the proposed innovation? Are
-these exemptions, which have been
-handed down from the time of our
-fathers, to be altered because Catholicity
-has had her share in the
-common progress? Let truth and
-error grapple on a fair and open
-field. Is there fear that truth will
-be worsted in the struggle?</p>
-
-<p>If the exemption of church property
-from taxation be so great an
-evil and danger to the country,
-those whom Americans generally
-are content to regard as their great
-statesmen must have been very
-short-sighted men after all to pass
-by, one after another, so glaring an
-evil. For the growth of church
-property is not a thing of to-day.
-In his message the President says
-that he believes that “in 1850 the
-church property of the United
-States which paid no tax, municipal
-or State, amounted to about eighty-three
-million dollars. In 1860 the
-amount had doubled. In 1875 it
-is about one thousand million dollars.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Andrews questions the estimate
-for 1875 on the ground that
-it is too high. But let that pass.
-The following table, given by Mr.
-Andrews, shows the increase in value,
-according to the census, of the
-property of the ten principal churches
-for the last twenty years:</p>
-
-<table summary="Increase in value of church property">
-  <tr>
-    <th></th>
-    <th>1850</th>
-    <th>1860</th>
-    <th>1870</th>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Methodist,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">$14,825,670</td>
-    <td class="tdr">$33,683,371</td>
-    <td class="tdr">$69,854,121</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Roman Catholic,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">9,256,753</td>
-    <td class="tdr">26,744,119</td>
-    <td class="tdr">60,985,556</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Presbyterian,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">14,543,780</td>
-    <td class="tdr">24,227,359</td>
-    <td class="tdr">53,265,256</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Baptist,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">11,620,855</td>
-    <td class="tdr">19,789,378</td>
-    <td class="tdr">41,608,198</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Episcopalian,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">11,375,610</td>
-    <td class="tdr">21,665,698</td>
-    <td class="tdr">36,514,549</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Congregational,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">8,001,995</td>
-    <td class="tdr">13,327,511</td>
-    <td class="tdr">25,069,698</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Reformed,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">4,116,280</td>
-    <td class="tdr">4,453,820</td>
-    <td class="tdr">16,134,470</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Lutheran,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">2,909,711</td>
-    <td class="tdr">5,385,179</td>
-    <td class="tdr">14,917,747</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Unitarian,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">3,280,822</td>
-    <td class="tdr">4,338,316</td>
-    <td class="tdr">6,282,675</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td>Universalist,</td>
-    <td class="tdr">1,718,316</td>
-    <td class="tdr">2,856,095</td>
-    <td class="tdr">5,692,325</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td></td>
-    <td class="tdr total">$81,649,797</td>
-    <td class="tdr total">$156,470,846</td>
-    <td class="tdr total">$330,324,595</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>The gradation, it will be seen,
-has been pretty steady, and is comparatively
-no more marked in 1870
-than it was in 1860, or than it was,
-probably, in 1850. In that year,
-however, the Catholics were led by
-four religious bodies, and almost
-equalled by one. Ten years later
-they stood second, and after another
-ten years second still. Surrounded
-as they are by jealous foes,
-they offer fair game, therefore, to
-men in search of political prey.
-All was right so long as the others
-reaped an advantage over Catholics;
-but the moment there appears
-any prospect of Catholics reaping
-an advantage equally with the rest,
-the cry is: The country is in danger,
-and can only be saved by taxing
-church property. Who so
-blind as not to see through this
-flimsy pretext?</p>
-
-<p>Not Mr. Andrews certainly, and
-no words of ours could be more
-forcible than his. “Discarding all
-circumlocution,” he writes, “it is
-as well to get down at once to the
-bottom fact, which is that whatever
-euphemistic phrases may be resorted
-to, a desire to obstruct the
-growth and circumscribe the influence
-of the Roman Catholic
-Church gives whatever vitality it
-may possess to the proposition to
-tax church property.”</p>
-
-<p>But supposing this change to be
-made, is it to be imagined for a
-moment that the progress of the
-church will be stopped by it?
-That is futile. If, though so few in
-numbers and at a great disadvantage,
-the church was able to raise herself
-to her present position; if, when
-the exemptions were all in favor
-of other denominations, Catholics
-were able to make so great a progress,
-is it to be supposed that by
-these changes, and by placing other
-denominations on an equality with
-Catholics, the advancement of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_711" id="Page_711">[711]</a></span>
-the Catholic Church is to be retarded?</p>
-
-<p>We have been trained in the
-stern school of poverty. We are
-accustomed to sacrifice. Our clergy
-do not receive high salaries.
-The personal expenses of his Eminence
-the Cardinal-Archbishop are
-much less than those of many a
-clerical family in New York City.
-Wherever we have arms to work
-with, the church of God shall not
-lack all that is necessary to give it
-dignity, even if we have to pay
-taxes for it besides. In Ireland
-the priests and people have shared
-their crust in the midst of the famine,
-and in fear of death, until
-within a few years. In Germany
-we are now about to part with our
-property, under the wicked injustice
-of the state, rather than submit
-to its interference in the affairs
-of conscience. Is any person foolish
-enough to imagine that a few
-dollars, more or less, of taxation is
-going to dishearten or frighten us?
-If you want to make our people
-more liberal, if you want to see
-grand Catholic churches and the
-cross overtopping roof and spire in
-every city, just put us on our mettle.
-Persecution is our legacy. Martyrdom
-is our life. The cross on
-our brows is no empty symbol.
-These are our feelings. We have
-no alarm whatever.</p>
-
-<p>These proposed innovations are
-only the entrance of a wedge that,
-driven home, will disturb the foundations
-of our government; will
-create religious strife, and blast
-the hopes of freedom, not only in
-this country, but all the world over.
-They count, however, without their
-host who think that the American
-people are prepared to enter on
-such a career; and the politicians
-who hope to ride into power by
-awakening the spirit of fanaticism
-and religious bigotry among us, if
-their names be held in memory at
-all, will at no remote period be
-pointed out with the finger of scorn
-and contumely as the disturbers
-of that peace and harmony which
-ought always to reign in a just
-people, and which it is the true
-policy of all government and the
-duty of all citizens to foster and
-maintain. We say nothing at the
-present regarding the unconstitutionality
-of these proposed innovations,
-and of the secret banding
-together of men to carry them
-out.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_712" id="Page_712">[712]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>A NIGHT AT THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE.</h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF SAINT-GENEST.</p>
-
-<p>It is near midnight. I am alone
-in my cell, awaiting the mysterious
-guide who brought me hither, and
-who will return to call me for the
-office of Matins.</p>
-
-<p>I listen to every sound, seeking
-to understand its language. During
-the first hour I still heard steps
-from time to time in the distance;
-then I half opened my door and
-looked outside. At the end of the
-cloister a white figure appeared,
-carrying a small light in its hand.
-It approached at a slow pace,
-stopped near a pillar, and disappeared
-under the arches.</p>
-
-<p>Sometimes I have seen other
-shadows pass along, and have heard
-a few low-spoken words, …
-bells which answered each other;
-then, little by little, everything is
-extinguished and silent.…
-There is not another sound, another
-breath; … but still I listen,
-and cannot cease to listen.</p>
-
-<p>Is it indeed myself who am in
-this monastery? Was I, only to-day,
-yet in the midst of the living?
-Can one single day comprise so
-many things? This which is just
-ending has been so full, so strange,
-that I cannot well recount all that
-has happened in it.</p>
-
-<p>And yet it was but this morning
-that I was at Aix, in the midst of
-light and noise and gayety.…
-The children were gambolling
-around me! All at once some one
-said: “Suppose we go to the
-Grande Chartreuse!” It was said
-just as one would say anything else.
-We set out, as if for an ordinary excursion,
-a party of pleasure. Mme.
-B&mdash;&mdash; had provisions in readiness,
-which were increased by the additions
-of other members of the party,
-and we start in the midst of lively
-speeches and merriment.</p>
-
-<p>So long as we proceed along the
-valley this is all very well. The
-road rises and descends, running
-through the vineyards, skirting the
-rocks, while the warm breath of the
-south gently moves the surrounding
-verdure. Then, after piercing
-the flank of the mountain, it slopes
-down toward the plains of Dauphine,
-discovering a horizon all
-bathed in light.</p>
-
-<p>It is after passing Saint Laurent,
-at the foot of the <em>Desert</em>, and in
-perceiving the entrance of the
-gorge, that one begins to understand
-something more; … it is
-then that jesting is silenced and
-gayety grows grave.</p>
-
-<p>Then, on arriving at the Guiers-Mort,
-we become altogether dumb.
-Already we had ceased to laugh;
-we now ceased to speak, but regarded
-with a sort of stupefaction
-this road without issue, which
-seemed to end in chaos. The
-mountains rose defiantly before us,
-overlapping and mingling with
-each other, and here and there barring
-the way with huge masses of
-precipitous rock; the gigantic trees
-seem to rise to the clouds, and torrents
-from unknown heights fall as
-if from heaven, while the rocks
-crowd upon, before, around, and
-seem to say, “No farther shall you
-go.” As we come to a turn, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_713" id="Page_713">[713]</a></span>
-seems as if all progress were indeed
-at an end; two immense blocks
-fallen across each other completely
-close the horizon.… We approach
-them, however, and it opens again,
-the rocks forming a sort of Titanic
-vaulted roof overhead, and falling
-again in the form of three bridges,
-one above the other, the horses
-continuing to climb a road which
-the eye cannot take in.</p>
-
-<p>And whilst one is lost in these
-abysses, what a perfect dream of
-splendor begins to break overhead!
-Meadows of the most exquisite
-green seem as if suspended far
-above us, silvery rocks jutting out
-from among their black firs, gigantic
-oaks grasping the heights of the
-precipices, their crowns of verdure
-glittering in the wind.… It is a
-fantastic apparition. One has visions
-in one’s childhood of unknown
-regions, of enchanted forests guarded
-by genii, but one never thought
-to contemplate these marvels in
-reality.</p>
-
-<p>Then, all at once, the mountains
-separate, the torrents disappear,
-and in the midst of a gorge rise
-battlements and spires.… It is
-the monastery. There it stands,
-guarded by these lofty sentinels, in
-this sombre amphitheatre, which
-would be desolation itself if God
-had not scattered there all the magical
-beauties of his creation.</p>
-
-<p>There is not a village, not a
-cottage, not a wayfarer&mdash;nothing;
-there is La Chartreuse. No solitude
-can be compared to that!</p>
-
-<p>On the summit of St. Bernard and
-of the Simplon monasteries destined
-for the relief of travellers present
-themselves to the passage of the
-nations. In the sandy deserts the
-most isolated convents find themselves
-in the road of the caravans;
-but here this road conducts to nothing&mdash;it
-is a silent gorge; it is the
-Valley of Contemplation; it is the
-greatest solitude that one can imagine.</p>
-
-<p>And when from those heights
-one has seen the gradual approach
-of night; seen these masses of rock
-and of verdure enfolded in the vast
-shadows; and, at the summons of
-the monastery bell, has seen the
-last of the white robes descend from
-the mountain, he feels that it is one
-of those moments in a life which
-will never be forgotten. Then,
-after having stayed awhile to contemplate
-this scene, I rose and
-came to knock at this door, which
-has been to so many others as the
-gate of the tomb.… A Carthusian
-monk brought me to my cell, went
-his way in silence, and since then I
-have been left to my reflections.</p>
-
-<p>There are, then, men who in the
-morning were in their homes, in
-the midst of their friends, in life,
-and stir, and the noise of the outer
-world.… They have climbed
-this mountain, they have sought
-this <em>Desert</em>, have knocked at this
-gate; it has closed upon them, …
-and for ever.</p>
-
-<p>They have, as I, sat down at this
-table; they have gazed at the walls
-of their cell, and have said to themselves:
-“Behold henceforth my
-horizon.” Then they have heard
-the sound of these bells, the echo
-of these litanies, and they have
-said to themselves: “We shall
-henceforth hear no other voice.”</p>
-
-<p>You see, one reads these things
-in the works of poets, one sees
-them represented in the drama; but
-one must find one’s self actually in
-a real cell, and one must sleep there,
-to conceive anything of the reality
-of a monastic life.</p>
-
-<p>To awake here in the morning;
-to rise and eat, alone, the food
-which comes to you through a little
-wicket, like that of a prisoner;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_714" id="Page_714">[714]</a></span>
-to meet, when one traverses the
-cloister, other shadows who salute
-you in silence; to go from the
-church to the cell, from the cell to
-the church, and to say to one’s self
-that it is always and always to be
-the same!</p>
-
-<p>Always!… All through life;
-or rather, there is no more life, no
-more space, no more time. It is
-the beginning of eternity. One is
-on the threshold of the infinite,
-and it seems as if all this nature
-had only been created to give these
-men a beginning of eternal repose.</p>
-
-<p>Always alone! The thought crushes
-one. No more to receive anything
-from without; to nourish
-one’s self with spiritualities alone;
-to meditate, contemplate, and pray.
-To pray always: … to pray for
-those who never pray themselves;
-to pray for those who have shattered
-your life, and who, may be, have
-led you hither; … to pray for
-those who have despoiled your
-monastery and outraged your habit&mdash;even
-for the impious ones who
-come to insult you in your very
-hospitality! And for all this one
-thing alone suffices: faith.</p>
-
-<p>A bell has rung; it is the hour
-of Matins. Some one knocks at
-my door. I open, and they conduct
-me to the little stall reserved
-for travellers. At first the obscurity
-is so great that it is difficult to
-distinguish anything. The church
-is empty, and none of the tapers
-are lighted. Then a door opens in
-the distance, and the monks enter
-in procession, each holding a long
-dark-lantern, of which the slanting
-gleams dimly lessen the darkness
-of the chapel. They repair to their
-stalls, and the Office begins.</p>
-
-<p>It consists principally of a monotonous
-psalmody of an implacable
-rhythm, of which one scarcely
-perceives the first murmurs, and
-which seems as if it would never
-end. I gaze at these tall white figures,
-these motionless heads.…
-What has been the drama of life to
-each one? What changes, without
-and within, have led them there?
-What have they suffered? And do
-they suffer still? What has the
-rule of their order done for them?&mdash;and
-still the psalmody goes on.</p>
-
-<p>At times they rise, uttering what
-seems to be a sort of lamentation;
-then they fall prostrate, with their
-arms stretched out before them;
-all the lights disappear; there is
-nothing but darkness and silence;
-it seems as if man himself were extinguished.
-After which the lights
-reappear, the psalmody recommences,
-and thus it continues.</p>
-
-<p class="break">When the rising sun shone upon
-the summits of the rocks, I rose
-from my pallet, exclaiming: “The
-light at last! Hail to the light!” I
-open my window and look out.…
-There is no other place like this;
-such as it was in the night, such is
-it in the day. In vain may the sun
-mount above the horizon to bring
-warmth into this gorge&mdash;the monastery
-remains cold and, as it were,
-insensible; in vain his rays dart upon
-the walls, glitter on the spires,
-and set the rocks on fire.…
-There are living men, but one does
-not see them, one does not hear
-them; only a wagon drawn by oxen
-crosses the meadow, followed by
-a monk, and some beggars are approaching
-the monastery gate.</p>
-
-<p>Then, without guide or direction,
-I plunge into the forest in search
-of the Chapel of S. Bruno. This
-forest is of incomparable beauty;
-neither Switzerland nor the Pyrenees
-contain anything like it. Prodigious
-trees rise to an immense
-height, wrapping their gigantic
-roots about the rocks. In the midst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_715" id="Page_715">[715]</a></span>
-of the waters which murmur on
-every side unknown vegetations
-luxuriate, sheltering at their feet a
-world of ferns, tall grass, and
-mosses, every dewy feather and
-spray being hung, as it were, with
-precious stones, upon which the
-sun darts here and there rays of
-gold and touches of fire. There is
-here a wild enchantment which
-neither pen nor pencil ever can depict;
-and in the midst of these
-marvels rises, from a rock, the
-Chapel of S. Bruno. There it was
-that the visions appeared to him,
-and there he caused a spring of water
-to flow forth; but to me the
-most wonderful of all the miracles
-of his legend was that of his getting
-there at all&mdash;the fact of his reaching
-the foot of this desert, hatchet
-in hand, cutting down the trees
-which barred his entrance, wrestling
-with wild animals, the masters
-of this forest, and having no other
-pathway than the torrent’s bed;
-ever mounting upwards, in spite of
-the streams, in spite of the rocks, in
-spite of everything; never finding
-himself lost enough, but ever struggling
-higher and higher still. The
-miracle is, too, that of his having fixed
-himself at last upon that spot,
-and to have called companions
-around him, who constructed each
-his little hermitage about his own;
-that of having, in God’s name, taken
-possession of these inaccessible
-mountains, all of which are surmounted
-by a cross, and to have
-founded an order which spread itself
-over the whole Christian world, and
-which is still existing.</p>
-
-<p>But the hour of departure has
-arrived. At the moment of quitting
-this solitude we again reflect.
-France and Italy lie spread out
-beneath our feet; … that is to
-say, passions, hatred, strife.…
-Why should we descend again?
-Why resume the burden of ambitions,
-rivalries, the harness of social
-conventionalities? To what purpose
-is it, since the end at last
-must come alike to all?</p>
-
-<p>We look around, we reflect, and
-then, after having well meditated,
-we all descend.</p>
-
-<p>At the foot of the desert we find
-again huts, then cottages, by and
-by a village. With movement and
-life we find our speech again, and
-with speech discussion. Overwhelmed
-until then by the wild beauty of
-all around us and by the majesty
-of its silence, the sceptics only now
-recommence the criticisms which
-were cut short the evening before:
-“What services do these monks
-render to mankind? To what purpose
-do they bury themselves upon
-those heights, when there is so
-much to be done below?”</p>
-
-<p>I answer nothing. These are
-difficult questions. Later we shall
-know which has chosen the better
-part, those who act or those who
-pray; only I remember that whilst
-thirty thousand Israelites were
-fighting in the plain, Moses, alone
-on the mountain, with his arms
-stretched out towards heaven, implored
-the God of armies. When
-his arms fell through weariness, the
-Amalekites prevailed; and when he
-raised them, Israel was victorious;
-and seeing this, he caused his arms
-to be supported, until the enemies
-of Israel were overcome.</p>
-
-<p>While we are debating we cross
-Saint Laurent, Les Echelles, and
-the Valley du Guiers. Here is
-Chambéry <i lang="fr">en fête</i>, with its flags, its
-concourse of <i lang="fr">francs-tireurs</i>, and
-bands of music; but although we
-have returned to outer life, we
-have brought away with us something
-of the solitude we have left,
-where it seems as if the earth
-ended.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_716" id="Page_716">[716]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Believe me, reader, and do not forget
-my words when you visit these
-lands. The sight of La Grande
-Chartreuse is one of the most powerful
-emotions here below. To whatever
-religion you may belong, if
-your soul can be moved by the
-thought of the life to come, you
-will preserve an imperishable remembrance
-of a night spent in this
-monastery, and will feel that you
-are not altogether the same man
-that you were when you entered
-its walls.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Les Etats-Unis Contemporains, ou les
-Mœurs, les Institutions et les Idees
-depuis la Guerre de la Secession.</span>
-Par Claudio Jannet. Ouvrage précédé
-d’une Lettre de M. Le Play.
-Paris: E. Plon. 1876.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The author of this volume has read
-carefully and seriously a large number
-of works, by different American, French,
-and English writers, devoted to an explanation
-of the institutions of the
-United States, and to the history and social
-condition of the country. He shows
-also a remarkable acquaintance with the
-magazines and newspapers of the United
-States, so far as they bear on the subjects
-of which he treats. His book, indeed,
-must have cost him years of assiduous
-labor.</p>
-
-<p>M. Jannet gives a just and impartial
-exposition of the laws and political principles
-of our country, as also of its present
-social condition. Rarely, if ever, has a
-foreigner displayed so conscientious a
-study of all that goes to make up American
-civilization. He professes to have
-entered upon his study and his work
-without any preconceived theory&mdash;a profession
-not unusual with authors, and for
-the most part, probably, honestly made.
-It is one thing, however, to profess, another
-thing to adhere to the profession.
-Were it possible for authors to adhere
-strictly to the profession made by M.
-Jannet, literature and all of which it
-treats would certainly not suffer therefrom:
-But he who imagines he has attained
-to so just and fair a position is
-the least free from illusion. The position
-is simply unattainable, and M.
-Jannet is scarcely to be blamed if he has
-not quite reached his ideal.</p>
-
-<p>Two classes of authors have written
-about the United States. The one sees
-almost everything in <i lang="fr">couleur de rose</i>, the
-other in a sombre hue. M. Jannet belongs
-to the latter class. Throughout
-his volume he fastens upon every symptom
-that threatens the existence or the
-welfare of the republic. As an enumeration
-of these symptoms it is exact,
-and its perusal would do no harm to
-our spread-eagle orators.</p>
-
-<p>M. Jannet has evidently aimed at
-counterbalancing the influence of writers,
-French writers particularly, who
-have exaggerated the good side of American
-political society. He seems fearful
-lest their tone of thought should have
-too great a preponderance in France,
-and influence its present transition-state
-too powerfully in the direction of
-the United States. Whether or not this
-was called for is not a question for us to
-consider. The book, regarded as an impartial
-exposition of the present condition
-of the United States, resembles the
-picture of an artist, the background of
-which is painted with a Preraphaelite
-exactness, while the foreground is left
-unfinished, and the whole work, consequently,
-incomplete. Had the obvious
-purpose of the book been proclaimed at
-the beginning, we should have read it
-with a more favorable eye.</p>
-
-<p>In his last chapter, however, M. Jannet
-holds out some hope for the future
-of the American Republic. In our present
-commercial depression, in the recent
-success of the Democratic party, in
-the number of families who have preserved
-the primitive virtues and customs
-of our forefathers, and in the progress of
-Catholicity he sees a ground for this
-hope, and concludes his work by saying:
-“Men are everywhere prosperous or unfortunate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_717" id="Page_717">[717]</a></span>
-according as they observe or
-despise the divine law. All their free
-will consists in choosing between these
-two terms of the problem of life, and all
-the efforts of the spirit of innovation only
-break against, without ever being able to
-destroy, the eternal bounds set by God to
-the ambitious feebleness of the creature.
-Therein lies the lesson that the young
-republic of the New World sends from
-beyond the ocean and across the mirage
-of its rapid prosperity to the old nations
-of Europe, too inclined to believe in the
-sophisms of the great modern error, and
-to mistrust their own traditions.”</p>
-
-<p>M. Jannet’s work is worthy of a more
-extended notice, which will be given it at
-a later date. The book may be ordered
-directly from the publisher in France.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Public Life of Our Lord.</span> II.
-Preaching of the Beatitudes. By H.
-J. Coleridge, S.J. London: Burns &amp;
-Oates. 1875. (New York: Sold by
-The Catholic Publication Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is a new volume in the series
-which is intended, when complete, to
-include the entire life of Jesus Christ.
-We have already commended the preceding
-volume, and can only, at present,
-renew the expression of our concurrence
-in the unanimous verdict of
-competent judges, which awards a very
-high meed of praise to Father Coleridge’s
-work, so far as it is as yet given to the
-public.</p>
-
-<p>It is likely to become extensive when
-fully completed, since the present volume
-is filled up with the author’s introductory
-remarks on the missionary life of
-Our Lord, and the exposition of one portion
-of the Sermon on the Mount&mdash;to
-wit, the Beatitudes. It is a work which is,
-strictly speaking, <i lang="la">sui generis</i> in our language,
-and indeed in all modern literature,
-and one hard to describe in such a
-way as to give an accurate notion of its
-quality and scope to a person who has
-not read some portion of its contents.
-The author has drawn from the most
-various and from the purest sources,
-and has himself meditated in a very attentive
-and minute manner upon the
-rich materials furnished him by the sacred
-lore of his studies. He proceeds
-leisurely, quietly, carefully, like the patient
-illuminator of a manuscript text,
-filling his pages with large and small
-figures, all elaborately finished. The
-present volume gives us a sketch of
-Galilee, the scene of the preaching and
-miracles of our divine Redeemer during
-his first year of public ministry, which
-makes at once the idea of that ministry,
-of its extraordinary laboriousness, its extent,
-and the multitude of wonderful
-works comprehended within its brief
-period, ten times more vivid than it can
-be made by a mere perusal of the Gospel
-narrative. In this respect it is especially
-interesting and instructive for those
-who are themselves engaged in missionary
-labors. We have a picture placed
-before our minds of the real nature of
-Our Lord’s public life and ministry, and
-grouped around it are other pictures, as
-illustrations, from the lives of the great
-missionary saints. When the author approaches
-to his principal theme in this
-volume&mdash;the Sermon on the Mount&mdash;he
-makes the whole scene and all its circumstances
-appear before us like a fine
-dioramic view. He is not, however, of
-that meretricious school to which Renan
-and Beecher have given a false and momentary
-<i lang="fr">éclat</i>, as unworthy of the divine
-subject as the homage of another class
-of witnesses on whom Our Lord frequently
-imposed silence. The poetic,
-literary, and picturesque charms of Father
-Coleridge’s style are subservient to his
-theological, doctrinal, and moral exposition
-of sacred truths. It is the pure doctrine
-of the Scriptures, and of the fathers,
-doctors, and saints of the church, which
-we are invited and allured to drink from
-the ornamented chalice.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Holy Ways of the Cross; or, A
-Short Treatise on the Various Trials
-and Afflictions, Interior and
-Exterior, to which the Spiritual
-Life is Subject, and the Means of
-Making a Good Use Thereof.</span> Translated
-from the French of Henri-Marie
-Boudon, Archdeacon of Evreux. By
-Edward Healy Thompson, M.A. London:
-Burns, Oates &amp; Co. 1875. (New
-York: Sold by The Catholic Publication
-Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Whoever, after reading the title of
-this book, thinks that a treatise of this
-kind would be useful and helpful, and
-wishes to find such a book as may really
-do the service promised by the title, will
-probably be satisfied with the book itself.
-It is standard and approved, and
-has been well translated by Mr. Thompson,
-whose preface contains some excellent
-and timely remarks of his own.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_718" id="Page_718">[718]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Story of S. Peter.</span> By W. D. S.
-London: Burns &amp; Oates. 1875. (New
-York: Sold by The Catholic Publication
-Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This little book purports to be a simple
-sketch of the life of the Prince of the
-Apostles. It will serve to recall the
-principal events in his life, and therefore
-will possess a certain amount of interest
-for Catholic readers. The binding, type,
-and paper are neat and elegant. The
-object of the book is evidently pious,
-and therefore we shrink from criticising
-it too minutely. The style also is pleasing
-and readable. It is to be regretted,
-however, that the author did not take a
-little more pains with his task. It is a
-good thing to have plenty of books on
-Catholic subjects; and those who are
-gifted with power, and who can command
-the leisure, are, to a certain extent,
-bound to write. But they are also bound
-to study consistency and order, and, in
-sending forth their productions, to show
-a proper respect for those who are expected
-to buy them. Good-will does not
-excuse slovenliness, and we heartily
-wish that “W. D. S.” had shown a deeper
-sense of this truth. The fact that a
-book is small and easily read does not
-free the writer from a thorough analysis
-of his subject and employment of all
-sources of information regarding it. The
-present work is serviceable as an introduction
-to a real treatise on the position
-and office of S. Peter. It is nothing
-more; and we are sorry that it is not.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Lehrbuch des katholischen und protestantischen
-Kirchenrechts.</span> Von
-Dr. Friedrich H. Vering. Herder, Freiburg.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>A number of the most learned Catholic
-theologians of Germany have combined
-together to prepare a complete
-theological library. The present volume
-on canon law makes the fifth thus far
-issued. This library is one which will
-be very valuable to German priests or
-those who read German. The names of
-Hergenröther, Scheeben, and other writers
-of similar rank who are contributors
-sufficiently guarantee its excellence.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Acta et Decreta Concilii Vaticani.</span>
-Collectio Lacensis, tom. iii. Herder,
-Freiburg. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>These and other publications of the
-Herder publishing house are imported
-by the enterprising firm of the Benzigers.
-The first is a convenient and carefully
-edited text of the acts of the Vatican
-Council, to which is appended a list of all
-the episcopal sees and prelatures called
-<i lang="la">nullius</i> in the entire Catholic Church.
-The second is one portion of the magnificent
-collection of modern councils published
-at Maria-Laach, and contains the
-acts of British and North American councils
-held during the past century, or, to
-speak more precisely, from 1789 to 1869.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Calderon’s Groesste Dramen religioesen
-Inhalts.</span> Uebersetzt von Dr. F.
-Lorinser. 3d vol. Herder, Freiburg.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>We cannot speak from personal knowledge
-of the merit of this translation.
-Readers of German literature who cannot
-read Calderon in the original will
-no doubt be pleased to find some of his
-great dramas in a German dress, and be
-sufficiently interested in them to ascertain
-for themselves how far the great poet has
-been successfully reproduced.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Volksthuemliches aus Schwaben.</span> Von
-Dr. Anton Birlinger. Herder, Freiburg.
-1861.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>We have here in two volumes a miscellaneous
-collection of every kind of
-<em>folk-lore</em>, in prose and verse, mostly very
-short pieces which must be very amusing
-for children and others who like to entertain
-themselves with curious odds and
-ends of this sort.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Sacrifice of the Eucharist, and
-other Doctrines of the Catholic
-Church Explained and Vindicated.</span>
-By the Rev. Charles B. Garside. London:
-Burns &amp; Oates. 1875. (New
-York: Sold by The Catholic Publication
-Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is a very thoughtful and learned
-treatise on the Sacrifice of the Mass, and,
-though not directly controversial, it is a
-very lucid and satisfactory vindication
-of the Catholic doctrine on the Holy
-Eucharist considered as a sacrifice.</p>
-
-<p>The volume contains also essays on
-“Definitions of the Catholic faith, Existence
-of the church in relation to Scripture,
-Tradition as a vehicle of Christian
-doctrine, The Atonement and Purgatory,”
-and other subjects, all of them
-well written, and some, such as the one
-on “Definitions of the Catholic Faith,” occupied
-with discussion of questions
-which are frequently talked of at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_719" id="Page_719">[719]</a></span>
-present, and upon which it is important
-to have clear and accurate notions.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Persecutions of Annam</span>: A History
-of Christianity in Cochin China
-and Tonking. By J. R. Shortland,
-M.A. London: Burns &amp; Oates. 1875.
-(New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication
-Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>We read an account a few days since
-of four hundred Catholic priests who
-four years ago were transported from
-Poland to Siberia by the Russian government;
-three hundred have died, and
-the others can survive but a little while.
-It was only a paragraph in a newspaper.
-The martyrs die as of old, and we scarcely
-hear of their sufferings. The missionary
-work of the church, too, is almost forgotten
-by her children who are living at
-ease and in comfort; and yet it is carried
-on in all quarters of the globe. Our
-brothers, if we be worthy to call them by
-this name, are toiling, suffering, dying
-for Christ and the souls of men in far-off
-countries of which we seem not to care
-even to know anything. Here is a book,
-most interesting and consoling, full of
-edifying facts and heroic examples, written
-clearly and simply. It is a history
-of Christianity in Cochin China and
-Tonking; and as these two countries form
-the Empire of Annam, and the history of
-the church is always one of persecution,
-of triumph through suffering, the book
-is entitled <cite>The Persecutions of Annam</cite>.
-For centuries Europeans have been excluded
-from this country, into the interior
-of which the only strangers who have
-penetrated have been Catholic missionaries,
-and they have gone at the risk of
-their lives. For two hundred and fifty
-years the apostles of the church have
-been laboring in Annam, and whoever
-will read this book will be struck with
-wonder at the work they have done
-and the sufferings they have endured.
-Never anywhere have there been more
-barbarous or cruel persecutions, and
-never have they been borne with more
-heroic fortitude and simple trust in God.</p>
-
-<p>And then what a wealth of instruction
-in the lives of these Annamite converts!
-From 1615 down to our own day thousands
-and hundreds of thousands have
-received the faith, and, rather than forfeit
-it, hundreds and thousands have endured
-every torment, death itself. Their
-warm piety, their intelligent faith, their
-dauntless courage, put us to shame.</p>
-
-<p>The last persecution broke out in
-1858, and raged until the Christians were
-relieved by the arms of France, in consequence
-of which a treaty of peace was
-signed in June, 1862, which was soon followed
-by a decree granting religious
-worship; and we may hope that the soil
-which has drunk the blood of so many
-martyrs will yet become the vineyard of
-Christ.</p>
-
-<p>But we must refer our readers to the
-book itself, and close this brief notice
-with the wish that some one of our Catholic
-houses in this country may republish
-this most interesting chapter of Catholic
-history.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The American State and American
-Statesmen.</span> By William Giles Dix.
-1 vol. 12mo, pp. 171. Boston: Estes
-&amp; Lauriat. 1876.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It is refreshing in these days to meet
-with a non-Catholic writer like Mr. Dix,
-who takes his stand on Christianity and
-the law of Christ as the foundation of
-all right law and government. There is
-a class, and a large class, of patriots
-among us who seem, unconsciously indeed,
-to resent the idea that Almighty
-God had anything at all to do with the
-growth and development of this country.
-To this class of men Mr. Dix’s book will
-be a sharp reminder that there is a God
-above us who rules all things, and that
-religion and governments did actually
-exist in the world at large&mdash;and in the
-New World, for the matter of that&mdash;before
-the <i>Mayflower</i> touched these shores.
-The book deals with just what its title
-indicates: the American state and American
-statesmen. Among the statesmen
-dealt with are Abraham Lincoln, Charles
-Sumner, and several of the historic names
-that have lent a lustre to Congress. But
-the larger and graver portion of the book
-deals with the constitution of the States
-in themselves and their relation to the
-States as a whole or nation. Mr. Dix is
-a strong and earnest advocate for his
-views; but his views in the present matter
-are almost diametrically opposed to
-the general feeling of Americans. “Are
-the United States a nation?” he boldly
-asks in the final chapter of the book, and
-his answer is “yes” and “no.” In a
-word, he is strongly in favor of the centralization
-of sovereignty as opposed to
-the local independence of States. As
-long as federalism exists, says Mr. Dix,
-practically, so long is the nation exposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_720" id="Page_720">[720]</a></span>
-to disorder and a renewal of the civil
-war.</p>
-
-<p>So important a question, it is needless
-to remark, is scarcely to be settled in a
-book-notice; is, indeed, beyond books
-altogether. It is a growth. The country
-and government alike are a growth,
-and a growth that will not be forced.
-They are just entering on the hundredth
-year of a life that has been seriously
-threatened, and, notwithstanding the
-theatrical thunder which is being heard
-just now of politicians resolved to make
-“a hit,” we cannot but look to the development
-of this growth with hope and
-confidence. At the same time, it is the
-part of all who are concerned to guard
-that growth well, to see that no weeds
-spring up around it, to let in light and
-air and freedom, and to keep off all noxious
-influences that would threaten the
-life of the parent stem. In the desire to
-do this, such chapters as “Christianity
-the Inspirer of Nations,” “Materialism
-the Curse of America,” and “America
-a Christian Power,” which seem to us
-the strongest chapters in Mr. Dix’s book,
-will be found full of eloquent suggestion
-and sound, even solemn, advice. The
-book, as a whole, will be found a very
-interesting one. The writer is a bold
-man, who certainly has the courage of
-his convictions, which he never hesitates
-to express openly. The book overruns
-with apt illustration and an extraordinary
-eloquence. Indeed, there is a fault
-in parts of too great eloquence, compensated
-for over and over again by passages
-full of terseness, purity, and
-strength.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Personal Reminiscences by Constable
-and Gillies.</span> (Bric-à-Brac Series.)
-Edited by Richard Henry Stoddard.
-New York: Scribner, Armstrong &amp;
-Co. 1876.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This volume completes the first Bric-à-Brac
-Series. The publishers announce
-an extensive sale&mdash;proof only of its
-being suited to certain literary tastes.
-We have not been able to pronounce a
-very favorable opinion upon the merits
-of the series. In turning over the leaves
-of a college sheet the other day, we came
-upon an extract from the letter of a young
-lady at one of our fashionable seminaries,
-in which, counselling her sisters to high
-resolves and noble aims, she says: “Instead
-of getting a new hat this term,
-let us buy a Bric-à-Brac.” We think
-this is good evidence of the value
-of these volumes as literary works.
-They are admirably suited for boarding-school
-misses. But what the authors
-and scholars who are gossiped about
-would say at being brought down to this
-level is another question. On the whole,
-we would advise this young lady to buy
-a new hat instead. The hat will serve a
-useful if not a very exalted purpose in
-covering her head; the “Bric-à-Brac”
-will fill it with frivolous and untrustworthy
-chit-chat.</p>
-
-<p>This volume treats, under distinct
-heads, of forty-six persons&mdash;including a
-majority of the poets, novelists, historians,
-linguistic scholars, and essayists of
-Scotland at the beginning of this century,
-with a sprinkling of English and
-German <i lang="fr">savants</i>, including Goethe&mdash;in a
-little over three hundred small duodecimo
-pages. That is to say, it gives an
-average of seven pages to each author.
-These seven pages are devoted almost
-exclusively in each instance to trivial
-personal anecdotes. From this simple
-inventory, therefore, it will be easy to
-form an accurate notion of what the
-young lady gains mentally as an equivalent
-for the loss of her new hat.</p>
-
-<p>Considerable space is given, however,
-to one or two worthies. Of these, William
-Godwin, the revolutionary propagandist,
-holds the first place, and with him incidentally
-his first wife, Mary Wollstonecraft,
-the author of the <cite>Vindication of the
-Rights of Woman</cite>. This precious pair
-are handled with great tenderness and
-unction.</p>
-
-<p>The rest of the volume is made up
-chiefly of reminiscences of the small literary
-stars who twinkled round Sir Walter
-Scott in Edinburgh at the beginning of
-the century, and stole something from the
-reflection of his brightness, but who are
-now for the most part forgotten.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">In Doors and Out; or, Views from the
-Chimney Corner.</span> By Oliver Optic.
-Boston: Lee &amp; Shepard. 1876.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Excellent stories, all of which might
-have been drawn from actual life, are to
-be found in this volume. Like all of
-Oliver Optic’s books, it may be safely
-placed in the hands of young people.
-Some of the sketches, such as “Good-for-Nothings,”
-might be read with as much
-profit as amusement by grown-up persons,
-especially those who are continually
-complaining about servant-girls.</p>
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_721" id="Page_721">[721]</a></span></p>
-
-<h2 id="No132"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />
-CATHOLIC WORLD.<br />
-<span class="smaller">VOL. XXII., No. 132.&mdash;MARCH, 1876.</span></h2>
-
-<p class="center smaller">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Rev. <span class="smcap">I. T. Hecker</span>, in the Office of the
-Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A SEQUEL OF THE GLADSTONE CONTROVERSY.</h3>
-
-<h4>II</h4>
-
-<p>One of the most mischievous
-prejudices of our day is the popular
-theory that the cure for all evils
-is to be sought in the intellectual
-education of the masses. Those
-nations, we are told by every declaimer,
-in which the education of
-the people is most universal, are
-the most moral, the richest, the
-strongest, the freest, and their prosperity
-rests upon the most solid
-and lasting foundation. Make ignorance
-a crime, teach all to read
-and write, and war will smooth its
-rugged front, armies will be disbanded,
-crime will disappear, and
-mankind will have found the secret
-of uninterrupted progress, the final
-outcome of which will surpass even
-our fondest dreams.</p>
-
-<p>This fallacy, which has not even
-the merit of being plausible, is, of
-course, made to do service in M.
-de Laveleye’s pamphlet on the
-comparative bearing of Protestantism
-and Catholicism on the prosperity
-of nations.</p>
-
-<p>“It is now universally admitted,”
-he informs us (p. 22), “that
-the diffusion of enlightenment is
-the first condition of progress.…
-The general spread of education
-is also indispensable to the exercise
-of constitutional liberty.… In
-short, education is the basis of national
-liberty and prosperity.”</p>
-
-<p>He then goes on to declare that
-in this matter of popular education
-Protestant countries are far in advance
-of those that are Catholic;
-that this is necessarily so, since
-“the Reformed religion rests on a
-book&mdash;the Bible; the Protestant,
-therefore, must know how to read.
-Catholic worship, on the contrary,
-rests upon sacraments and certain
-practices&mdash;such as confession, Masses,
-sermons&mdash;which do not necessarily
-involve reading. It is, therefore,
-unnecessary to know how to
-read; indeed, it is dangerous, for
-it inevitably shakes the principle
-of passive obedience on which
-the whole Catholic edifice reposes:
-reading is the road that leads to
-heresy.”</p>
-
-<p>We will first consider the theory,
-and then take up the facts.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_722" id="Page_722">[722]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“The diffusion of enlightenment
-is the first condition of progress.
-Education is indispensable to the
-exercise of constitutional liberty.
-Education is the basis of national
-liberty and prosperity.”</p>
-
-<p>Enlightenment is, of course, of
-the mind, and means the development,
-more or less perfect, of the
-intellectual faculties; and education,
-since it is here considered as
-synonymous with enlightenment,
-must be taken in this narrow sense.</p>
-
-<p>Progress is material, moral, intellectual,
-social, political, artistic, religious,
-scientific, literary, and indefinitely
-manifold. Now, it is assumed
-that the diffusion of enlightenment
-is not merely promotive,
-but that it is an essential condition
-of progress in its widest and fullest
-meaning. This is the new faith&mdash;the
-goddess of culture, holding the
-torch of science and leading mankind
-into the palace of pleasure,
-the only true heaven.</p>
-
-<p>By conduct, we have already
-said, both individuals and nations
-are saved or perish; and we spoke
-of the civilized. Barbarous states
-are destroyed by catastrophes&mdash;they
-die a violent death; but the
-civilized are wasted by internal
-maladies&mdash;<i lang="la">suis et ipsa Roma viribus
-ruit</i>. They grow and they decay,
-they progress and they decline.
-At first poverty, virtue, industry,
-faith, hopefulness, strong characters
-and heroic natures; at last
-wealth, corruption, indolence, unbelief,
-despair, children too weak
-even to admire the strength of
-their fathers, too base to believe
-that they were noble. Public
-spirit dies out; patriotism is in the
-mouths of politicians, but, like the
-augurs of Rome, they cannot speak
-the word and look one another in
-the face. The country is to each
-one what he can make out of it,
-and the bond of union is the desire
-of each citizen to secure his own
-interests. The bondholders love
-their country, and the <i lang="fr">sans-culottes</i>
-are disloyal; class rises against
-class, civil discord unsettles everything,
-revolution succeeds revolution,
-and when the barbarian comes
-he holds an inquest over the corpse.
-It generally happens, too, that those
-civilizations which spring up quickest
-and promise most fair are fated
-to die earliest; as precocious children
-disappoint fond mothers. If
-the teaching of history is a trustworthy
-guide, we are certainly safe
-in affirming that civilized states
-and empires perish, not from lack
-of knowledge, but of virtue; not
-because the people are ignorant,
-but because they are corrupt.</p>
-
-<p>The assumption, however, is
-that men become immoral because
-they are ignorant; that if they were
-enlightened, they would be virtuous.</p>
-
-<p>“The superstition,” says Herbert
-Spencer (<cite>Study of Sociology</cite>,
-p. 121), “that good behavior is to
-be forthwith produced by lessons
-learned out of books, which was
-long ago statistically disproved,
-would, but for preconceptions, be
-utterly dissipated by observing to
-what a slight extent knowledge affects
-conduct; by observing that the
-dishonesty implied in the adulterations
-of tradesmen and manufacturers,
-in fraudulent bankruptcies,
-in bubble-companies, in ‘cooking’
-of railway accounts and financial
-prospectuses, differs only in form,
-and not in amount, from the dishonesty
-of the uneducated; by observing
-how amazingly little the
-teachings given to medical students
-affect their lives, and how even the
-most experienced medical men
-have their prudence scarcely at all
-increased by their information.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_723" id="Page_723">[723]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>It is not knowledge, but character,
-that is important; and character
-is formed more by faith, by
-hope, by love, admiration, enthusiasm,
-reverence, than by any patchwork
-of alphabetical and arithmetical
-symbols. The young know but
-little; but they believe firmly, they
-hope nobly, and love generously;
-and it is while knowledge is feeble
-and these spontaneous acts of the
-soul are strong that character is
-moulded. The curse of our age is
-that men will believe that, in education,
-to spell, to read, to write, is
-what signifies, and they cast aside
-the eternal faith, the infinite hope,
-the divine love, that more than all
-else make us men.</p>
-
-<p>“The true test of civilization,”
-says Emerson, “is not the census,
-nor the size of cities, nor the crops&mdash;no,
-but the kind of man the country
-turns out.” Is there some mystic
-virtue in printed words that to
-be able to read them should make
-us men? And even in the most
-enlightened countries what do the
-masses of men know? Next to nothing;
-and their reading, for the
-most part, stupefies them. The
-newspaper, with its murders, suicides,
-hangings, startling disclosures,
-defalcations, embezzlements, burglaries,
-forgeries, adulteries, advertisements
-of nostrums, quack medicines,
-and secrets of working death
-in the very source of life, with all
-manner of hasty generalizations,
-crude theories, and half-truths jumbled
-into intellectual <i lang="fr">pot-pourris</i>;
-the circulating library, with its
-stories, tales, romances of love, despair,
-death, of harrowing accidents,
-of hair-breadth escapes, of
-successful crime, and all the commonplaces
-of wild, reckless, and
-unnatural life&mdash;these are the sources
-of their knowledge. Or, if they
-are ambitious, they read “How to
-get on in the world,” “The art of
-making money,” “The secret of
-growing rich,” “The road to wealth,”
-“Successful men,” “The millionaires
-of America,” and the Mammon-worship,
-and the superstition
-of matter, and the idolatry of success
-become their religion; their
-souls die within them, and what
-wretched slaves they grow to be!</p>
-
-<p>In the newspaper and circulating
-library God and man, heaven and
-earth&mdash;all things&mdash;are discussed,
-flippantly, in snatches, generally; all
-possible conflicting and contradictory
-views are taken; and these ignorant
-masses, who, in the common
-schools, have been through the
-Fourth Reader, and who know nothing,
-not even their own ignorance,
-are confused. They doubt, they lose
-faith, and are enlightened by the
-discovery that God, the soul, truth,
-justice, honor, are only nominal&mdash;they
-do not concern positivists.
-Can anything be more pitiful than
-the state of these poor wretches?&mdash;neither
-knowing nor believing;
-without knowledge, yet having neither
-faith nor love. God pity them
-that they are communists, internationalists,
-<i lang="fr">solidaires</i>; for what else
-could they be? No enthusiasm is
-possible for them but that of destruction.</p>
-
-<p>Religion is the chief element in
-civilization, and consequently in
-progress. For the masses of men,
-even though the whole energy of
-mankind should spend itself upon
-some or any possible common-school
-system, the eternal principles
-which mould character, support
-manhood, and consecrate humanity
-will always remain of faith,
-and can never be held scientifically.
-If it were possible that science
-should prove religion false, it would
-none the less remain true, or there
-would be no truth.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_724" id="Page_724">[724]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>What children know when they
-leave school is mechanical, external
-to their minds, fitted on them
-like clothes on the body; and it is
-soon worn threadbare, and hangs
-in shreds and patches. Take the
-first boy whom you meet, fourteen
-or fifteen years old, fresh from the
-common school, and his ignorance
-of all real knowledge will surprise
-you. What he knows is little and
-of small value; what is of moment
-is whether he believes firmly, hopes
-strongly, and loves truly. Not the
-diffusion of enlightenment do we
-want so much, but the diffusion of
-character, of honest faith, and manly
-courage.</p>
-
-<p>Man is more than his knowledge.
-Simple faith is better than reading
-and writing. And yet the educational
-quacks treat the child as
-though he were mere mind, and
-his sole business to use it, and
-chiefly for low ends, shrewdly and
-sharply, with a view to profit; as
-though life were a thing of barter,
-and wisdom the art of making the
-most of it.</p>
-
-<p>Poor child! who wouldst live
-by admiration, hope, and love, how
-they dwarf thy being, stunt thy
-growth, and flatten all thy soaring
-thoughts with their dull commonplaces&mdash;thrift,
-honesty is the best
-policy, time is money, knowledge
-is wealth, and all the vocabulary of
-a shop-keeping and trading philosophy.
-Poor child! who wouldst
-look out into the universe as God’s
-great temple, and behold in all its
-glories the effulgence of heaven; to
-whom morning, noon, and night,
-and change of season, golden flood
-of day and star-lit gloom, all
-speak of some diviner life, how
-they stun thy poetic soul, full of
-high dreams and noble purposes,
-with their cold teaching that man
-lives on bread alone&mdash;put money
-in thy purse! And when thou
-wouldst look back with awe and
-reverence to the sacred ages past,
-to the heroes, sages, saints of the
-olden times, they come with their
-gabble and tell thee there were no
-railroads and common schools in
-those days.</p>
-
-<p>Is it strange that this education
-should hurt the nation’s highest
-interests by driving in crowds, like
-cattle to the shambles, our youths
-from God and nature and tilling
-of the soil to town and city, or,
-worse, into professions to which
-only their conceit or distaste for hard
-labor calls them? What place for
-morality is there in this Poor Richard’s
-Catechism&mdash;education of thrift
-and best policy? We grow in likeness
-to what we love, not to what
-we know. With low aims and
-selfish loves only narrow and imperfect
-characters are compatible.</p>
-
-<p>Science, when cherished for itself&mdash;which
-it seldom is and in very
-exceptional cases&mdash;refines and purifies
-its lovers, and chastens the
-force of passion; though even here
-we must admit that the wisest
-of mankind may be the meanest,
-morally the most unworthy. But
-for the great mass of men, even of
-those who are called educated, the
-possession of such knowledge as
-they have or can have has no necessary
-relation with higher moral
-life. Their learning may refine,
-smooth over, or conceal their sin;
-it will not destroy it. The furred
-gown and intertissued robe hide
-the faults that peep through beggars’
-rags, but they are there all the
-same. There may be a substitution
-of pride for sensuality, or a
-skilful blending or alternation of
-the finer with the coarser. Vice
-may lose its grossness, but not its
-evil. And herein we detect the
-wretched sophistry of criminal statistics,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_725" id="Page_725">[725]</a></span>
-which deal, imperfectly and
-roughly enough, with what is open,
-shocking, and repulsive. The hidden
-sins that “like pitted speck in
-garnered fruit,” slowly eating to the
-core of a people’s life, moulder all;
-the sapping of faith, the weakening
-of character, the disbelief in goodness;
-the luxury, the indulgence, the
-heartlessness and narrowness of the
-rich; the cunning devices through
-which “the spirit of murder”
-works in the very means of life,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“While rank corruption, mining all within,</div>
-<div class="verse">Infects unseen”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">&mdash;cannot be appreciated by the
-gross tests of numbers and averages.
-The poor, by statistics as by the
-world, are handled without gloves.
-In the large cities of civilized countries,
-both in ancient and in modern
-times, we have unmistakable proof
-of what knowledge can do to form
-character and produce even the
-social virtues. These populations
-have had the advantage of the best
-schools in the most favorable circumstances,
-and yet in character
-and morality they are far beneath
-the less educated peasantry. Sensual
-indulgence, contempt of authority,
-hatred and jealousy of those
-above them, make these the dangerous
-classes, eager for socialistic
-reforms, radical upheavals of the
-whole existing order; and were it
-not for the more religious tillers of
-the soil, chaos and misrule would
-already prevail. In Greece and
-Rome it was in the cities that civilization
-first perished, as it was
-there it began&mdash;began with men
-who had great faith and strong
-character, but little knowledge;
-perished among men who were
-learned and refined, but who in
-indulgence and debauch had lost
-all strength and honesty of purpose.</p>
-
-<p>In the last report of the Commissioner
-of Education some interesting
-facts, bearing on the relation
-of ignorance to crime, are taken
-from the Forty-fifth Annual Report
-of the inspector of the State penitentiary
-for the Eastern District of
-Pennsylvania.</p>
-
-<p>“It is doubted if in any State, or
-indeed in any country,” says the
-commissioner, “forty-four volumes
-containing the annual statistical tables
-relating to the populations of
-a penal institution, covering nearly
-half a century, can, on examination,
-be regarded as more complete.”</p>
-
-<p>The number of prisoners received
-into the institution from 1850 to
-1860 was 1,605, of whom 15 per
-cent. were illiterate, 15 per cent.
-were able to read, and 70 per cent.,
-or more than two-thirds, knew how
-to read and write; from 1860 to
-1870, 2,383 prisoners were received
-into the penitentiary, and of these
-17 per cent. were illiterate, 12 per
-cent. could read, and about 71 per
-cent. could read and write.</p>
-
-<p>Of the 627 convicts who were in
-the penitentiary during the year
-1867, 62 per cent., or five-eighths
-of the whole number, had attended
-the public schools of the State,
-25 per cent., or two-eighths, had
-gone to private institutions, and 12
-per cent., or one-eighth, had never
-gone to school.</p>
-
-<p>But, as we have said, statistics
-deal with crime, and chiefly with
-the more open and discoverable
-sort, not with morality; whereas
-nations are destroyed not so much
-by crime as by immorality.</p>
-
-<p>The thief is caught and sent to
-the penitentiary; but the trader
-who adulterates or gives short
-measure, the banker who puts forth
-a false or exaggerated statement,
-the merchant who fails with full
-hands, the stock-gambler who robs
-thousands, Crédit-Mobilier men and
-“ring” men generally who plunder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_726" id="Page_726">[726]</a></span>
-scientifically, Congressmen who take
-money for helping to swindle the
-government, getters-up of “bubble
-companies”&mdash;salted diamond-fields
-and Emma Mines&mdash;compared with
-whom pickpockets and burglars
-are respectable gentlemen&mdash;these
-know not of penitentiaries; prisons
-were not built for such as they.
-The poor man abandons his wife,
-without divorce marries another, and
-is very properly sent to State prison.
-His rich and educated fellow-citizen
-gets a divorce, or is a free-lover,
-or keeps a harem, and for him laws
-were not made. Even that respectable
-old dame Society only gently
-shakes her head. We must not expect
-too much of gentlemen, you
-know. The ignorant girl falls,
-commits infanticide, and is incarcerated
-or hanged&mdash;heaven forbid that
-we should attempt to tell what she
-would have done had she been educated!&mdash;at
-any rate, she would not
-have gone to prison, though her
-guilt would not have been less.</p>
-
-<p>Has the very great diffusion of
-enlightenment among our people
-during the hundred years that we
-have been an independent nation
-made them more moral and more
-worthy?</p>
-
-<p>“The true test of civilization is
-not the census, nor the size of cities,
-nor the crops&mdash;no, but the kind
-of man the country turns out.”</p>
-
-<p>The Yankee is smarter than the
-Puritan&mdash;is he as true a man? Is
-the inventor of a sewing-machine
-or a patent bedstead as worthy as
-he who believes in God and in liberty
-against the whole earth with
-all his heart and soul, even though
-the heart be hard and the soul narrow?
-What compensation is there
-in all our philanthropies, transcendentalisms,
-sentimentalities, patent
-remedies for social evils, for the
-loss of the strong convictions, reverent
-belief, and simple dignity of
-character that made our fathers
-men? Do we believe in the goodness
-and honesty of men as they
-did, or is it possible that we should?
-What can come of beliefs in oversouls,
-whims, tendencies, abstractions,
-developments? If we were
-shadows in a shadow-land, this might
-do.</p>
-
-<p>Look at a famous trial where
-the very aroma and fine essence
-of our civilization was gathered:
-What bright minds, keen intellects!
-Poetry, eloquence, romance; the
-culture, the knowledge, the scientific
-theories, of the age&mdash;all are there.
-And yet, when the veil is lifted, we
-simply turn away heart sick and
-nauseated. Not a hundred statistical
-prison reports would reveal
-the festering corruption and deep
-depravity, the coarse vulgarity and
-utter heartlessness that is there,
-whatever the truth may be, if in
-such surroundings it can be found
-at all.</p>
-
-<p>In Laing’s <cite>Notes of a Traveller</cite>
-(p. 221) we find a most striking example
-of almost incredible corruption
-united with great intellectual
-culture. “In this way,” he says,
-“we must account for the singular
-fact that the only positively immoral
-religious sect of the present
-times in the Christian world arose
-and has spread itself in the most
-educated part of the most educated
-country in Europe&mdash;in and about
-Königsberg, the capital of the province
-of Old Prussia. The Muckers
-are a sect who combine lewdness
-with religion. The conventicles
-of this sect are frequented by
-men and women in a state of nudity;
-and to excite the animal passion,
-but to restrain its indulgence,
-is said to constitute their religious
-exercise. Many of the highest nobility
-of the province, and two of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_727" id="Page_727">[727]</a></span>
-the established clergy of the city,
-besides citizens, artificers, and ladies,
-old and young, belong to this
-sect; and two young ladies are
-stated to have died from the consequences
-of excessive libidinous excitement.
-It is no secret association
-of profligacy shunning the
-light. It is a sect&mdash;according to
-the declarations of Von Tippelskirch
-and of several persons of
-consideration in Königsberg who
-had been followers of it themselves&mdash;existing
-very extensively
-under the leadership of the established
-ministers of the Gospel, Ebel
-and Diestel, of a Count von Kaniz,
-of a Lady von S&mdash;&mdash;, and of other
-noble persons.… The system
-and theory of this dreadful combination
-of vice with religion are, of
-course, very properly suppressed.…
-The sect itself appears, by Dr.
-Bretscheider’s account of it, to
-have been so generally diffused
-that he says ‘it cannot be believed
-that the public functionaries
-were in ignorance of its existence;
-but they were afraid to do their
-duty from the influence of the
-many principal people who were involved
-in it.’”</p>
-
-<p>But we are not the advocates of
-ignorance. We will praise with
-any man the true worth and inestimable
-value of education. Even
-mere mental training is, to our
-thinking, of rare price. Water is
-good, but without bread it will not
-sustain life. Wine warms and gladdens
-the heart of man; but if used
-without care, it maddens and drives
-to destruction. We are crying out
-against the folly of the age which
-would make the school-room its
-church, education its sacrament,
-and culture its religion. It is the
-road to ruin. Culture is for the
-few; and what a trumpery patchwork
-of frippery and finery and
-paste diamonds it must ever remain
-for the most of these! For
-the millions it means the pagan
-debauch, the bacchanal orgy, and
-mere animalism.</p>
-
-<p>“The characters,” wrote Goethe&mdash;who
-was pagan of the pagans and
-“decidirter Nicht-Christ”&mdash;“which
-we can truly respect have become
-rarer. We can sincerely esteem
-only that which is not self-seeking.…
-I must confess to have found
-through my whole life unselfish
-characters of the kind of which I
-speak only there where I found a
-firmly-grounded religious life; a
-creed, which had an unchangeable
-basis, resting upon itself&mdash;not dependent
-upon the time, its spirit, or
-its science.”</p>
-
-<p>This foundation of a positive
-religious faith is as indispensable
-to national as to individual character,
-and without it the diffusion
-of enlightenment cannot create a
-great or lasting civilization. Religion
-ought to constitute the very
-essence of all primary education.
-It alone can touch the heart, raise
-the mind, and evoke from their
-brutish apathy the elements of
-humanity, especially the reason;
-and it is therefore the one indispensable
-element in any right
-system of national education. A
-population unable to read or
-write, but with a religious faith
-and discipline, has before now constituted,
-and may again constitute,
-a great nation; but a people without
-religious earnestness has no
-solid political character. Religion
-is the widest and deepest of all
-the elements of civilization; it
-reaches those whom nothing else
-can touch; but for the masses of
-men there can be no religion without
-the authoritative teaching of a
-church.</p>
-
-<p>And now let us return to M. de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_728" id="Page_728">[728]</a></span>
-Laveleye. “The general spread
-of education,” he says (p. 23), “is
-indispensable to the exercise of constitutional
-liberty.… Education
-is the basis of national
-liberty and prosperity.”</p>
-
-<p>In view of the facts that constitutional
-liberty has existed, and
-for centuries, in states in which
-there was no “general spread of
-education,” and that “the diffusion
-of enlightenment” is found in our
-own day to co-exist with the most
-hateful despotisms, we might pass
-on, without stopping to examine
-more closely these loose and popular
-phrases; but since the fallacies
-which they contain form a part of
-the culture-creed of modern paganism,
-and are accepted as indisputable
-truths by the multitude, they
-have a claim upon our attention
-which their assertion by Mr. Gladstone’s
-friend could not give them.</p>
-
-<p>There is no necessary connection
-between popular education
-and civil liberty, as there is none
-between the enlightenment and the
-morality of a people. This is a
-subject full of import&mdash;one which,
-in this age and country, ought to
-be discussed with perfect freedom
-and courage. Courage indeed is
-needed precisely here; for to deny
-that there is a God, to treat Christ
-as a myth or a common man, to declaim
-against religion as superstition,
-to make the Bible a butt for
-witticisms and fine points, to deny
-future life and the soul’s immortality,
-to denounce marriage, to
-preach communism, and to ridicule
-whatever things mankind have
-hitherto held sacred&mdash;this is not
-only tolerable, it is praiseworthy
-and runs with the free thought of
-an enlightened and inquiring age.
-But to raise a doubt as to the supreme
-and paramount value of intellectual
-training; of its sovereign
-efficacy in the cure of human ills;
-of its inseparable alliance with freedom,
-with progress, with man’s
-best interests, is pernicious heresy,
-and ought not to be borne with
-patiently. In our civilization,
-through the action of majorities,
-there is special difficulty in such
-discussions, since with us nothing
-is true except what is popular.
-Majorities rule, and are therefore
-right. With rare eloquence we denounce
-tyrant kings and turn to
-lick the hands of the tyrant people.
-Whoever questions the wisdom
-of the American people is not to
-be argued with&mdash;he is to be pitied;
-and therefore both press and pulpit,
-though they flaunt the banner
-of freedom, are the servants of the
-tyrant. To have no principles,
-but to write and speak what will
-please the most and offend the fewest&mdash;this
-is the philosophy of free
-speech. We therefore have no
-independent, and consequently no
-great, thinkers. It is dangerous not
-to think with majorities and parties;
-for those who attempt to
-break their bonds generally succeed,
-like Emerson, only in becoming
-whimsical, weak, and inconclusive.
-It is not surprising, then,
-that the Catholics, because they do
-not accept as true or ultimate what
-is supposed to be the final thought
-and definite will of American majorities
-on the subject of education,
-should be denounced, threatened,
-and made a Trojan Horse of
-to carry political adventurers into
-the White House.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, the observant are
-losing confidence in the theory, so
-full of inspiration to demagogues
-and declaimers, that superstition
-and despotism must be founded on
-ignorance. In Prussia at this moment
-universal education co-exists
-with despotism. Where tyrannical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_729" id="Page_729">[729]</a></span>
-governments take control of education
-they easily make it their
-ally.</p>
-
-<p>Let us hear what Laing says of
-the practical results of the Prussian
-system of education, which it is so
-much the fashion to praise.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“If the ultimate object,” he says, “of
-all education and knowledge be to raise
-man to the feeling of his own moral
-worth, to a sense of his responsibility
-to his Creator and to his conscience for
-every act, to the dignity of a reflecting,
-self-guiding, virtuous, religious member
-of society, then the Prussian educational
-system is a failure. It is only a training
-from childhood in the conventional
-discipline and submission of mind which
-the state exacts from its subjects. It is
-not a training or education which has
-raised, but which has lowered, the human
-character.… The social value or importance
-of the Prussian arrangements for
-diffusing national scholastic education
-has been evidently overrated; for now
-that the whole system has been in the
-fullest operation in society upon a whole
-generation, we see morals and religion
-in a more unsatisfactory state in this very
-country than in almost any other in the
-north of Europe; we see nowhere a
-people in a more abject political and
-civil condition, or with less free agency
-in their social economy. A national education
-which gives a nation neither religion,
-nor morality, nor civil liberty, nor
-political liberty is an education not worth
-having.… If to read, write, cipher,
-and sing be education, the Prussian
-subject is an educated man. If to reason,
-judge, and act as an independent
-free agent, in the religious, moral, and
-social relations of man to his Creator
-and to his fellow-men, be the exercise of
-the mental powers which alone deserves
-the name of education, then is the Prussian
-subject a mere drum boy in education,
-in the cultivation and use of all
-that regards the moral and intellectual
-endowments of man, compared to one
-of the unlettered population of a free
-country. The dormant state of the public
-mind on all affairs of public interest,
-the acquiescence in a total want of political
-influence or existence, the intellectual
-dependence upon the government
-or its functionary in all the affairs
-of the community, the abject submission
-to the want of freedom or free agency in
-thoughts, words, or acts, the religious
-thraldom of the people to forms which
-they despise, the want of influence of religious
-and social principle in society,
-justify the conclusion that the moral, religious,
-and social condition of the people
-was never looked at or estimated by
-those writers who were so enthusiastic
-in their praises of the national education
-of Prussia.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>In spite of the continued progress
-of education, there is even
-less liberty, religious, civil, and political,
-in Prussia to-day than when
-these words were written, thirty
-years ago.</p>
-
-<p>Nothing more dazzles the eyes
-of men than great military success;
-and this, together with the habit
-which belongs to our race of applauding
-whoever wins, has produced,
-especially in England and the
-United States, where Bismarck is
-looked upon, ignorantly enough, as
-the champion of Protestantism, a
-kind of blind admiration and awe
-for whatever is Prussian. “Protestant
-Prussia,” boasts M. de Laveleye,
-“has defeated two empires,
-each containing twice her own population,
-the one in seven weeks, the
-other in seven months”; and in the
-new edition of Appleton’s <cite>Encyclopædia</cite>
-we are informed that these
-victories are attributed to the superior
-education of her people. As
-well might the tyranny of the government
-and the notorious unchastity
-and dishonesty of the Prussians
-be ascribed to their superior education.
-Not to the general intelligence
-of the people, but to the fact
-that the whole country has been
-turned into a military camp, and
-that to the one purpose of war all
-interests have been made subservient,
-must we seek for an explanation
-of the victories of Sadowa
-and Sedan.</p>
-
-<p>Who would pretend that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_730" id="Page_730">[730]</a></span>
-Spartans were in war superior to
-the Athenians because they had a
-more perfect system of education
-and were more intelligent or had a
-truer religion? Or who would
-think of accounting in this way for
-the marvellous exploits of Attila
-with his Huns, of Zingis Khan with
-his Moguls, of Tamerlane with his
-Tartars, of Mahmood, Togrul-Beg,
-and Malek-Shah with their Turkish
-hordes?</p>
-
-<p>In fact, it may be said, speaking
-largely and in general, that the history
-of war is that of the triumph
-of strong and ignorant races over
-those which have become cultivated,
-refined, and corrupt. The
-Romans learned from their conquered
-slaves letters and the vices
-of a more polished paganism. Barbarism
-is ever impending over the
-civilized world. The wild and
-rugged north is ever rushing down
-upon the soft and cultured south:
-the Scythian upon the Mede, the
-Persian, and the Egyptian; the Macedonian
-upon Greece, and then
-upon Asia and Africa; the Roman
-upon Carthage, and in turn falling
-before the men of the North&mdash;Goth,
-Vandal, Hun, Frank, and Gaul; the
-Mogul and the Tartar upon China
-and India; the Turk upon Southern
-Europe, Asia, and Africa; and
-to-day, like black clouds of destiny,
-the Russian hordes hang over the
-troubled governments of more educated
-Europe. Look at Italy during
-the middle ages&mdash;the focus of
-learning and the arts for all Christendom,
-and yet an easy prey for
-every barbarous adventurer; and in
-England the Briton yields to the
-Saxon, who in turn falls before the
-Norman. It would be truer to say
-that Prussia owes her military successes
-to the ignorance of her people,
-though they nearly all can read and
-write. Had she had to deal with
-intelligent, enlightened, and thinking
-populations, she could not have
-made the country a camp of soldiers.</p>
-
-<p>The Prussian policy of “blood
-and iron” has been carried out, in
-defiance of the wishes of the people
-as expressed through their representatives,
-who were snubbed and
-scolded and sent back home as
-though they were a pack of schoolboys;
-yet the people looked on
-in stolid indifference, and allowed
-the tax to be levied after they had
-refused to grant it.</p>
-
-<p>We will now follow M. de Laveleye
-a step farther.</p>
-
-<p>“With regard to elementary instruction,”
-he says, “the Protestant
-states are incomparably more advanced
-than the Catholic. England
-alone is no more than on a
-level with the latter, probably because
-the Anglican Church, of all
-the reformed forms of worship, has
-most in common with the Church
-of Rome.”</p>
-
-<p>If any one has good reason to
-praise education, and above all the
-education of the people, certainly
-we Catholics have. The Catholic
-Church created the people; she
-first preached the divine doctrine
-of the brotherhood and equality of
-all men before God, which has
-wrought and must continue to work
-upon society until all men shall be
-recognized as equals by the law.
-She drew around woman her magic
-circle; from the slave struck his
-fetters and bade him be a man;
-lifted to her bosom the child; baptized
-all humanity into the inviolable
-sacredness of Christ’s divinity;
-she appealed, and still appeals, from
-the tyranny of brute force and success,
-in the name of the eternal liberties
-of the soul, to God. Her
-martyrs were and are the martyrs
-of liberty; and if she were not to-day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_731" id="Page_731">[731]</a></span>
-all men would accept accomplished
-facts and bow before whatever
-succeeds.</p>
-
-<p>The barbarians, who have developed
-into the civilized peoples of
-Europe, despised learning as they
-contemned labor. War was their
-business. The knight signed his
-name with his sword, in blood; the
-pen, like the spade, was made for servile
-hands. To destroy this ignorant,
-idle life of pillage and feud, the
-church organized an army, unlike
-any the world had ever seen, unlike
-any it will ever see outside her
-pale&mdash;an army of monks, who, with
-faith in Christ and the higher life,
-believed in knowledge and in work.
-They became the cultivators of the
-mind and soil of Europe.</p>
-
-<p>“The praise,” says Hallam,
-speaking of the middle ages, “of
-having originally established schools
-belongs to some bishops and abbots
-of the VIth century.”</p>
-
-<p>Ireland is converted and at once
-becomes a kind of university for all
-Europe. In England the episcopal
-sees became centres of learning.
-Wherever a cathedral was built a
-school with a library grew up under
-its shadow. Pope Eugenius II., in
-a council held in Rome in 826, ordered
-that schools should be established
-throughout Christendom at
-cathedral and parochial churches
-and other suitable places. The Council
-of Mayence, in 813, admonishes
-parents that they are in duty bound to
-send their children to school. The
-Synod of Orleans, in 800, enjoins
-the erection in towns and villages
-of schools for elementary instruction,
-and adds that no remuneration
-shall be received except such
-as the parents voluntarily offer.
-The Third General Council of
-Lateran, in 1179, commanded that
-in all cathedral churches a fund
-should be set aside for the foundation
-and support of schools for the
-poor. Free schools were thus first
-established by the Catholic Church.
-The monasteries were the libraries
-where the arts and letters of a civilization
-that had perished were
-carefully treasured up for the rekindling
-of a brighter and better
-day.</p>
-
-<p>As early as the XIIth century
-many of the universities of Europe
-were fully organized. Italy took
-the lead, with universities at Rome
-Bologna, Padua, Naples, Pavia, and
-Perugia&mdash;the sources</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Whence many rivulets have since been turned,</div>
-<div class="verse">O’er the garden Catholic to lead</div>
-<div class="verse">Their living waters, and have fed its plants.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The schools founded at Oxford
-and Cambridge in the IXth and
-Xth centuries had in the XIIth
-grown to be universities. At Oxford
-there were thirty thousand, at
-Paris twenty-five thousand, and at
-Padua twenty thousand students.
-Scattered over Europe at the time
-Luther raised his voice against the
-church were sixty six universities.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Time went on,” says Dr. Newman,
-speaking of the mediæval universities;
-“a new state of things, intellectual and
-social, came in; the church was girt with
-temporal power; the preachers of S.
-Dominic were in the ascendant: now, at
-length, we may ask with curious interest,
-did the church alter her ancient rule of
-action, and proscribe intellectual activity?
-Just the contrary; this is the very age of
-universities; it is the classical period
-of the schoolmen; it is the splendid and
-palmary instance of the wise policy and
-large liberality of the church, as regards
-philosophical inquiry. If there ever was
-a time when the intellect went wild, and
-had a licentious revel, it was at the date
-I speak of. When was there ever a more
-curious, more meddling, bolder, keener,
-more penetrating, more rationalistic exercise
-of the reason than at that time?
-What class of questions did that subtle
-metaphysical spirit not scrutinize? What
-premise was allowed without examination?
-What principle was not traced to
-its first origin, and exhibited in its most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_732" id="Page_732">[732]</a></span>
-naked shape?… Well, I repeat, here
-was something which came somewhat
-nearer to theology than physical research
-comes; Aristotle was a somewhat more
-serious foe then, beyond all mistake, than
-Bacon has been since. Did the church
-take a high hand with philosophy then?
-No, not though that philosophy was metaphysical.
-It was a time when she had
-temporal power, and could have exterminated
-the spirit of inquiry with fire and
-sword; but she determined to put it
-down by <em>argument</em>; she said: ‘Two can
-play at that, and my argument is the better.’
-She sent her controversialists into
-the philosophical arena. It was the Dominican
-and Franciscan doctors, the
-greatest of them being S. Thomas, who
-in those mediæval universities fought the
-battle of revelation with the weapons of
-heathenism.”<a name="FNanchor_249" id="FNanchor_249"></a><a href="#Footnote_249" class="fnanchor">[249]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>To find fault with the church
-because popular education in the
-middle ages was not organized and
-general as it has since become
-would be as wise as to pick a quarrel
-with the ancient Greeks for not
-having railroads, or with the Romans
-because they had no steamships.
-Reading and writing were
-not taught then universally as they
-are now because it was physically
-and morally impossible that they
-should have been. Without steam
-and the printing-press, common-school
-systems would not now be
-practicable, nor would the want of
-them be felt. We have great reason
-to be thankful that the art of printing
-was invented and America discovered
-before Luther burned the
-Pope’s bull, else we should be continually
-bothered with refuting the
-cause-and-effect historians who
-would have infallibly traced both
-these events to the Wittenberg conflagration.</p>
-
-<p>All Europe was still Catholic
-when gunpowder drove old Father
-Schwarz’s pestle through the ceiling,
-when Gutenberg made his
-printing-press, when Columbus
-landed in the New World; and
-these are the forces which have
-battered down the castles of feudalism,
-have brought knowledge
-within the reach of all, and some
-measure of redress to the masses
-of the Old World, by affording
-them the possibility and opportunity
-of liberty in the New. These
-forces would have wrought to even
-better purpose had Protestantism
-not broken the continuity and
-homogeneity of Christian civilization.
-The Turk would not rest
-like a blight from heaven upon
-the fairest lands of Europe and
-Asia, nor the darkness of heathenism
-upon India and China, had
-the civilized nations remained of
-one faith; and thus, though our
-own train might have rushed less
-rapidly down the ringing grooves
-of change, the whole human race
-would have advanced to a level
-which there now seems but little
-reason to hope it will ever reach.</p>
-
-<p>But to come more nearly to M.
-de Laveleye’s assertion that the
-Protestant states are incomparably
-more advanced than the Catholic,
-with the exception of England,
-which in this matter is at
-least up to the standard of Catholic
-countries. In the report of
-the Commissioner of Education for
-1874 there is a statistical account
-of the state of education in foreign
-countries which throws some
-light upon this subject.</p>
-
-<p>The school attendance, compared
-with the population, is in Austria as
-1 to 10; in Belgium, as 1 to 10½;
-in Ireland, as 1 to 16; in Catholic
-Switzerland, as 1 to 16; in England,
-as 1 to 17. In Bavaria it is
-as 1 to 7, upon the authority of
-Kay, in his <cite>Social Condition of the
-People in England and Europe</cite>.
-Catholic Austria, Bavaria, Belgium,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_733" id="Page_733">[733]</a></span>
-and Ireland have proportionately a
-larger school attendance than Protestant
-England. England and
-Wales (report of 1874), with a
-population of 22,712,266, had a
-school population of 5,374,700, of
-whom only about half were registered,
-and not half of these attended
-with sufficient regularity
-to bring grants to their schools.
-Ireland, with a population of
-5,411,416, had on register 1,006,511,
-or nearly half as many as England
-and Wales, though her population
-is not a fourth of that of these two
-countries. “The statistical fact,”
-says Laing, speaking of Rome as it
-was under the popes, “that Rome
-has above a hundred schools more
-than Berlin, for a population little
-more than half that of Berlin, puts
-to flight a world of humbug about
-systems of national education carried
-on by governments and their
-moral effects on society.… In
-Catholic Germany, in France, Italy,
-and even Spain, the education of
-the common people in reading,
-writing, arithmetic, music, manners,
-and morals, is at least as generally
-diffused and as faithfully promoted
-by the clerical body as in Scotland.
-It is by their own advance, and not
-by keeping back the advance of the
-people, that the popish (<i lang="la">sic</i>) priesthood
-of the present day seek to
-keep ahead of the intellectual progress
-of the community in Catholic
-lands; and they might, perhaps, retort
-on our Presbyterian clergy,
-and ask if they, too, are in their
-countries at the head of the intellectual
-movement of the age. Education
-is in reality not only not repressed,
-but is encouraged, by the
-popish church, and is a mighty instrument
-in its hands, and ably
-used.”<a name="FNanchor_250" id="FNanchor_250"></a><a href="#Footnote_250" class="fnanchor">[250]</a></p>
-
-<p>Professor Huxley’s testimony is
-confirmatory of this admission of
-Laing. “It was my fortune,” he says,
-“some time ago to pay a visit to
-one of the most important of the
-institutions in which the clergy of
-the Roman Catholic Church in these
-islands are trained; and it seemed
-to me that the difference between
-these men and the comfortable
-champions of Anglicanism and Dissent
-was comparable to the difference
-between our gallant Volunteers
-and the trained veterans of
-Napoleon’s Old Guard. The Catholic
-priest is trained to know his
-business and do it effectually. The
-professors of the college in question,
-learned, zealous, and determined
-men, permitted me to speak
-frankly with them. We talked like
-outposts of opposed armies during
-a truce&mdash;as friendly enemies; and
-when I ventured to point out the
-difficulties their students would
-have to encounter from scientific
-thought, they replied: ‘Our church
-has lasted many ages, and has passed
-safely through many storms.
-The present is but a new gust of
-the old tempest; and we do not
-turn out our young men less fitted
-to weather it than they have been
-in former times to cope with the
-difficulties of those times.’”<a name="FNanchor_251" id="FNanchor_251"></a><a href="#Footnote_251" class="fnanchor">[251]</a></p>
-
-<p>“It is a common remark,” says
-Kay, “of the operatives of Lancashire,
-and one which is only too
-true: ‘Your church is a church for
-the rich, but not for the poor. It
-was not intended for such people
-as we are.’ The Roman church is
-much wiser than the English in this
-respect.… It is singular to observe
-how the priests of Romanist
-(<i lang="la">sic</i>) countries abroad associate
-with the poor. I have often seen
-them riding with the peasants in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_734" id="Page_734">[734]</a></span>
-their carts along the roads, eating
-with them in their houses, sitting
-with them in the village inns, mingling
-with them in their village festivals,
-and yet always preserving
-their authority.”<a name="FNanchor_252" id="FNanchor_252"></a><a href="#Footnote_252" class="fnanchor">[252]</a></p>
-
-<p>With us, too, the masses of the
-people are fast abandoning Protestantism.
-There is no Catholic
-country in Europe in which the social
-condition of the masses is so
-wretched as in England, the representative
-Protestant country. For
-three hundred years, it may be said,
-the Catholic Church had no existence
-there. The nation was exclusively
-under Protestant influence;
-and yet the lower classes were suffered
-to remain in stolid ignorance,
-until they became the most degraded
-population in Christendom.</p>
-
-<p>“It has been calculated,” says
-Kay, writing in 1850, “that there
-are at the present day, in England
-and Wales, nearly 8,000,000 persons
-who cannot read and write.” That
-was more than half of the whole
-population at that time. But this
-is not the worst. A population
-ignorant of reading and writing may
-nevertheless, to a certain extent, be
-educated through religious teaching
-and influence; but these unhappy
-creatures were left, helpless and
-hopeless, to sink deeper and deeper
-beneath the weight of their degradation,
-without being brought into contact
-with any power that could refine
-or elevate them; and if their condition
-has somewhat improved in the
-last quarter of a century, this is no
-more to be attributed to Protestantism
-than the Catholic Emancipation
-Act or the Atlantic cable.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE SEVEN FRIDAYS IN LENT</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">First, thy most holy Passion, dearest Lord,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Doth set the keynote of our love and tears;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And then thy holy Crown of Thorns appears&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Strange diadem for thee, of lords the Lord!</div>
-<div class="verse">The holy Lance and Nails we clasp and hoard:</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">What pierced thee sore heals sin-sick souls to-day;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Then thy Five Wounds we glorify for aye&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse">Hands, feet, and broken Heart, beloved, adored.</div>
-<div class="verse">Now tears of bitter grief flow fast like rain:</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Our Lord’s most Precious Blood for us flows fast.</div>
-<div class="verse">Alas! what tears of ours, what love, what pain,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Can match that tide of blood and love and woe?</div>
-<div class="verse">Mother, we turn to thy Seven Griefs at last;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Teach us to stand, with thee, the cross below.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_735" id="Page_735">[735]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ARE YOU MY WIFE?</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “PARIS BEFORE THE WAR,” “NUMBER THIRTEEN,” “PIUS VI.,” ETC.</p>
-
-<h4>CHAPTER XIII.<br />
-<span class="smaller">THE SEARCH NEARLY OVER.</span></h4>
-
-<p>It was one of those exquisitely
-lovely mornings that we sometimes
-see in early spring. The night had
-been frosty, and had hurried to
-meet the dawn, leaving her moonlight
-mantle behind her, frozen to
-silver, on every field or hill-side.
-The sky was of a heavenly blue&mdash;liquid
-turquoise, swept with feathery
-dashes of pink, that set off
-the glistening landscape like a velvet
-curtain spread for the purpose.
-The sun was shining through a
-pearly mist that hung, a silver
-gauze veil, in the air and made
-everything look dreamy and vision-like.
-The meadows were silvered
-with frost; so were the hedges&mdash;every
-twig and thorn finished like
-a jewel. The trees stood up like
-immense bouquets of filigree against
-the pink and blue curtain. No
-wonder Franceline, who had been
-awake and watching the sunrise
-from her window, stole a march on
-Angélique, and hastened out to
-enjoy the beauty of the morning.
-It was impossible it could hurt her;
-it was too lovely to be unkind. But
-besides this outward incentive,
-there was another one that impelled
-her to the daring escapade.
-She felt an irresistible longing to
-go to church this morning&mdash;one of
-those longings that she called presentiments,
-and seldom rejected
-without having reason to regret it.
-It was not that she was uneasy, or
-alarmed, or unhappy about anything.
-Nothing had occurred to
-awake the dormant fires that were
-still smouldering&mdash;though she
-thought them dead&mdash;and impel her
-to seek for strength in a threatened
-renewal of the combat. Sir Simon’s
-disappearance the morning after
-the dinner-party, some few days
-ago, had not surprised her; that
-was his way, and this time she had
-been prepared for it. It was true
-that ever since then her father had
-been more preoccupied, more inseparable
-from his work. It was a
-perfect mania with him for the last
-three or four days. He scarcely let
-the pen out of his hand from morning
-till night. He seemed, moreover,
-to have got to a point where he
-could no longer use her as an
-amanuensis, but must write himself.
-Franceline was distressed at the
-change; it deprived her of the
-pleasure of helping him and of their
-daily walk together, which had of
-late become the principal enjoyment
-of her life. But he could not
-be persuaded to go beyond the garden
-gate, and then only for ten
-minutes to take a breath of air.
-He was in a hurry to get back to
-his study, as if the minutes were so
-much gold wasted. Franceline was
-obliged to accept this sudden alteration
-in his habits, with the assurance
-that it would not be for long;
-that the great work was drawing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_736" id="Page_736">[736]</a></span>
-a close; and that, when it was finished,
-he would be free to walk with
-her as much as she liked, and in
-more beautiful places than Dullerton.
-This last she did not believe.
-No place could ever be so beautiful
-as this familiar one, because
-none would ever be hallowed by
-the same sweet early memories, or
-sanctified by the same sufferings
-and regrets. There was a spirit
-brooding over these quiet sylvan
-slopes that could never dwell, for
-her, elsewhere. She looked around
-her at the leafless woods that lay
-white and silent in the near distance,
-and at the river winding
-slowly towards them like an azure
-arm encircling the silver fields, and
-she sighed at the thought of ever
-leaving them. The sigh escaped
-from her lips in a little column of
-sapphire smoke; for the air was as
-clear as crystal, but it was cold too,
-and the bell was already ringing;
-so she drew her shawl closer and
-hurried on. What was that fly doing
-before the presbytery door?
-Who could have business with Father
-Henwick at such an unearthly
-hour as seven <span class="smcapuc">A.M.</span>? When people
-live in a small place where everybody’s
-life is a routine as well
-known as their own to everybody
-else, the smallest trifle out of the
-usual way is magnified into an
-event. Franceline was not very
-curious by nature; she passed the
-mysterious fly with a momentary
-glance of interest, and then dismissed
-it from her thoughts. The
-little white-washed church was
-never full on week-days, its congregation
-being mostly of the class
-who can only afford the luxury of
-going to church on Sundays. A
-few kindly glances greeted her as
-she walked up to her place near the
-sanctuary. Since her health had
-become delicate, it was a rare occurrence
-to see her there during the
-week, so her presence was looked
-on as of good omen. She answered
-the welcoming eyes with a sweet,
-grateful smile, and then knelt down
-and soon forgot them.</p>
-
-<p>We talk of magnetic atmospheres
-where instinct warns us of a presence
-without any indication from
-our senses. I don’t know whether
-Franceline believed in such influences;
-but her attitude of rapt devotion
-as she knelt before the altar,
-seemingly unconscious of anything
-earthly near her, her soul drawn
-upwards through her eyes and fixed
-on the Unseen, did not suggest
-that there was any human presence
-within reach which had power
-to move her. When Father Henwick
-had left the altar, she rose
-and went to the sacristy door to
-ask if she could see him. She
-wanted to speak to him about a
-poor woman in the village. It was
-not the clerk, but Father Henwick
-himself, who came to answer her
-message. He did not welcome his
-young penitent in his usual gracious,
-affectionate manner, but asked
-sharply “who gave her leave to
-be out at that hour?”</p>
-
-<p>“The morning was so sunny I
-thought it would do me no harm to
-come,” replied the culprit, with a
-sudden sense of having done something
-very wicked.</p>
-
-<p>“You had no business to think
-about it at all; you should not
-have come without your father’s
-permission. Go home as fast as
-you can.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline was turning away,
-when he called her back.</p>
-
-<p>“Come this way; you can go
-out through the house.” Then he
-added in a mollified tone: “You
-foolish child! I hope you are
-warmly clad? Keep your chest
-well covered, and hold your muff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_737" id="Page_737">[737]</a></span>
-up to your mouth. Be off, now, as
-quick as you can, and let me have
-no more of these tricks!”</p>
-
-<p>He shook hands with her, half-smiling,
-half-frowning, and, opening
-the sacristy door that led into
-the presbytery, hurried her away.
-Franceline was too much discomfited
-by the abrupt dismissal to
-conjecture why she was hustled out
-through the house instead of being
-allowed to go back through the
-church, the natural way, and quite
-as short. She could not understand
-why Father Henwick should
-have shown such annoyance and
-surprise at the sight of her. This
-was not the first time she had played
-the trick on them at home of
-coming out to church on a sunny
-morning, and it had never done her
-any harm. She was turning the
-riddle in her mind, as she passed
-through the little sitting-room into
-the entry, when she saw the front
-door standing wide open, and a
-gentleman outside speaking to the
-fly-man. The moment he perceived
-Franceline he raised his hat
-and remained uncovered while he
-spoke.</p>
-
-<p>“Good-morning, mademoiselle!
-How is M. de la Bourbonais?”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, my father is quite
-well.”</p>
-
-<p>She and Clide looked at each
-other as they exchanged this commonplace
-greeting; but they did
-not shake hands. Neither could
-probably have explained what the
-feeling was that held them back.
-Franceline went on her way, and
-Clide de Winton entered the presbytery,
-each bearing away the sound
-of the other’s voice and the sweetness
-of that rapid glance with a
-terrible sense of joy.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline’s heart beat high within
-her as she walked on. What
-right had it to do so? How dared
-it? Poor, fluttering heart! No bitter
-upbraidings of indignant conscience,
-no taunts of womanly pride,
-could make it stop. The more she
-tried to silence it, the louder it
-cried. She was close by The Lilies,
-and it was crying out and throbbing
-wildly still. She could not
-go in and face her father in this
-state; she must gain a few minutes
-to collect and calm herself. The
-snow-drops grew in great profusion
-on a bank in the park at the back
-of the cottage. Raymond was
-fond of wild flowers; she would go
-and gather him some: this would
-account for her delay. She laid
-her muff on the grass. It was wet
-with the hoar-frost melting in the
-sun; but Franceline did not see
-this. She stooped down and began
-to pluck the snow-drops. It was a
-congenial task in her present frame
-of mind. Snow-drops had always
-been favorites with her. In her
-childish days of innocent pantheism
-she used to fancy that flowers
-had spirits, or some instinct that enabled
-them to enjoy and to suffer,
-to be glad in the sunshine and unhappy
-in the cold and the rain. She
-fancied that perfume was their language,
-and that they conversed in
-it as birds do in songs and chirpings.
-She used to be sorry for the
-flowers that had no perfume, and
-called them “the dumb ones,” connecting
-their fate in some vague,
-pitying way with that of two deaf
-and dumb little children in the village.
-But the snow-drops she pitied
-most of all. They came in the
-winter-time, when everything was
-cold and dreary and there were no
-kindred flowers to keep them company;
-no roses; no bees and butterflies
-to make music for them;
-no nightingales to sing them to
-sleep in the scented summer nights;
-no liquid, starry skies and sweet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_738" id="Page_738">[738]</a></span>
-warm dews to kiss them as they
-slept; their pale, ascetic little slumbers
-were attuned to none of these
-fragrant melodies, and Franceline
-loved them all the more for their
-loveless, lonely life. But she was
-not pitying them now, as, one by
-one, she plucked the drooping bells
-and the bright green leaves under
-the silver hedge; she was envying
-them and listening to them.
-Every flower and blade of grass
-has a message for us, if we could
-but hear it; the woods and fields
-are all tablets on which the primitive
-scriptures of creative love are
-written for us. “Your life is to be
-like ours,” the snow-drops were
-whispering to Franceline. “We
-dwell alone in cold and silence&mdash;so
-must you; we have no sister flowers
-to make life joyous, no roses to
-gladden us with their perfume and
-their beauty&mdash;neither shall you;
-roses are emblems of love, and
-love is not for you. You must be
-content with us. We are the emblems
-of purity and hope; take us
-to your heart. We are the heralds
-of the spring; we bring the promise,
-but we do not wait for its fulfilment.
-You are happier than we;
-you will not have the summer here,
-but you know that it will come
-hereafter, and that the flowers and
-fruits will be only the more beautiful
-for the waiting being prolonged.
-Look upwards, sister snow-drop,
-and take courage.” Franceline listened
-to the mystic voice, and, as
-she did so, large tears fell from her
-eyes on the white bells of the messengers,
-as pure as the crystal dew
-that stood in frozen tears upon
-their leaves.</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais had not
-heard her go out; and when she
-came in and handed him her bouquet,
-fresh-gathered, he took for
-granted she had gone out for
-the purpose, and did not chide her
-for the slight imprudence. Angélique
-was not so lenient; she was
-full of wrath against the truant, and
-threatened to go at once and inform
-on her, which Franceline remarked
-she might have done an
-hour ago, if she had any such intention;
-and then, with a kiss and two
-arms thrown around the old woman’s
-mahogany neck, it was all
-made right between them.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline did not venture out
-again that day. She was afraid of
-meeting Clide. She strove hard to
-forget the morning’s incident, to
-stifle the emotions it had given rise
-to, and to turn away her thoughts
-from even conjecturing the possible
-cause of Mr. de Winton’s presence
-at Dullerton and at Father Henwick’s.
-But strive as she might,
-the thoughts would return, and her
-mind would dwell on them. She
-was horrified to see the effect that
-Clide’s presence had had on her; to
-find how potent his memory was
-with her still, how it had stirred
-the slumbering depths and broken
-up the stagnant surface-calm of her
-heart, filling it once more with wild
-hopes and ardent longings that she
-had fondly imagined crushed and
-buried for ever. Was her hard-earned
-self-conquest a sham after
-all? She could not help fearing it
-when she saw how persistently the
-idea kept returning again and again
-to her, banish it as she would:
-“Had he come to tell Father Henwick
-that he was free?” Then she
-wondered, if it were so, what Father
-Henwick would do; whether he
-would come and see her immediately,
-or let things take their course
-through Sir Simon and her father.
-Then again she would discard this
-notion as impossible, and see all
-sorts of evidence in the circumstances
-of the morning’s episode to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_739" id="Page_739">[739]</a></span>
-prove that it could not be. Why
-should Father Henwick have tried
-so hard to prevent their meeting, if
-the one obstacle to it were removed?
-and why should Clide have
-been so restrained and distant when
-she came upon him suddenly? If
-only she could ask this one question
-and have it answered, Franceline
-thought she could go back
-again to her state of stagnation, and
-trample down her rebellious heart
-into submission once more.</p>
-
-<p>She slept very little that night,
-and the next morning she determined
-that she would go out at
-any risk. Sitting still all day in
-this state of mind was unbearable;
-so about eleven o’clock, when the
-sun was high and the frost melted,
-she put on her bonnet and said she
-was going for a walk to see Miss
-Merrywig. As the day was fine and
-she had not taken cold yesterday,
-Angélique made no difficulty. Franceline
-started off to the wood, and
-was soon crushing the snow-drops
-and the budding lemon-colored
-primroses as she threaded her way
-along the foot-paths.</p>
-
-<p>For some mysterious reason which
-no one could fathom, but which the
-oldest inhabitant of the place remembered
-always to have existed,
-you were kept an hour waiting at
-Miss Merrywig’s before the door
-was opened. You rang three times,
-waited an age between each ring,
-and then Keziah, the antediluvian
-factotum of the establishment, came
-limping along the passage, and, after
-another never-ending interval of
-unbarring and unbolting, you were
-let in. It was not Keziah who
-opened the door for Franceline this
-morning; it was Miss Merrywig herself,
-shawled and bonneted, ready
-to go out.</p>
-
-<p>“O my dear child! <em>is</em> it you?
-I am <em>so</em> delighted to see you! Do
-come in! No, no, I am <em>not</em> going
-out. That is to say, I <em>am</em> going out.
-It’s the luckiest thing that you did
-not come two minutes later, or you
-would not have found me. I <em>am</em>
-so glad! No, no, you are not putting
-me about the least bit in the
-world. Come and sit down, and I’ll
-explain all about it. I <em>cannot</em> imagine
-what is keeping Keziah, and
-she knows I am waiting to be off,
-and that the negus will be getting
-cold, though it was boiling mad, and
-I <em>have</em> only this moment put it into
-the flask. But what can be keeping
-her? It didn’t so much matter; in
-fact, it didn’t matter at all, only I
-<em>have</em> promised little Jemmy Torrens&mdash;you
-know Mary Torrens’ boy on
-the green?&mdash;well, I <em>promised</em> him I
-would make the negus for him myself
-and <em>take</em> it to him myself. He
-won’t take anything except from
-me, poor little fellow! You see he’s
-known me since I was a baby&mdash;I
-mean since <em>he</em> was&mdash;and that’s why,
-I suppose; and Keziah knows it,
-and why she dallies so long I <em>cannot</em>
-conceive! She knows I can’t
-leave the house unprotected and
-go off before she comes in&mdash;there
-are so many tramps about, you see,
-my dear. It <em>is</em> provoking of
-Keziah!”</p>
-
-<p>“Let me take the negus to
-Jemmy,” said Franceline, when
-there was a break in the stream
-and she was able to edge in a word.
-“I will explain why you could not
-go.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that’s <em>just</em> like you to be
-<em>so</em> kind, my dear; but I <em>promised</em>,
-you see, and I really <em>must</em> go myself.
-What can Keziah be about?”</p>
-
-<p>“Then go, and I will wait and
-keep the house until either of you
-comes back,” suggested Franceline.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! that <em>is</em> a bright idea. That
-is as witty as it is kind. Well, then,
-I will just run off. I shall find you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_740" id="Page_740">[740]</a></span>
-here when I return. I won’t be
-twenty minutes away, and you can
-amuse yourself looking over <cite>Robinson
-Crusoe</cite> till I come back; here it
-is!” And the old lady rooted out
-a book from under a pile of all sorts
-of odds and ends on the table,
-and handed it to Franceline. “Sit
-down, now, and read that; there’s
-nothing I enjoyed like that book
-when I was your age, and, indeed, I
-make a point of reading it at least
-once every year regularly.”</p>
-
-<p>With this she took up her wine-flask,
-well wrapped in flannel to
-protect her from the scalding-hot
-contents, and bustled away.</p>
-
-<p>“If any one rings, am I to let them
-in?” inquired Franceline, running
-into the hall after her.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! no, certainly not, unless
-it happens to be Mr. Langrove;
-you would not mind opening the
-door to <em>him</em>, would you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not the least; but how shall I
-know it is he?”</p>
-
-<p>“You will be sure to hear the
-footsteps first and the click of the
-gate outside, and then run out and
-peep through <em>this</em>,” pointing to the
-narrow latticed window in the entry;
-“but you must be quick, or
-else they will be close to the door
-and see you.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline promised to keep a
-sharp lookout for the warning steps,
-closed the door on Miss Merrywig,
-and went back to <cite>Robinson Crusoe</cite>;
-but she was not in a mood to enjoy
-Friday’s philosophy, so she sat
-down and began to look about her
-in the queer little apartment. It
-was much more like a lumber-room
-than a sitting-room; the large
-round table in the middle was littered
-with every description of rubbish&mdash;the
-letters of two generations of
-Miss Merrywig’s correspondents,
-old pamphlets, odds and ends of
-ribbon and lace, little boxes, bags
-of stale biscuits that were kept for
-the pet dogs of her friends when
-they came to visit her, quantities
-of china cats and worsted monkeys,
-samplers made for her by great-grandnieces,
-newspapers of the
-year one, tracts and books of
-hymns, all huddled pell-mell together.
-Fifty years’ smoke and lamp-light
-had painted the ceiling all
-over in dense black clouds, and the
-cobwebs of innumerable defunct
-spiders festooned the cornices.
-The carpet had half a century ago
-been bright with poppies and bluebells
-and ferns; but these vanities,
-like the memory of the unrighteous
-man, had been blotted out, and had
-left no trace behind them. Franceline
-was considering how singular it
-was that anything so bright and simple
-and happy as Miss Merrywig
-should be the presiding genius of
-this abode of incongruous rubbish,
-and wishing she could make a clean
-sweep of it all, and tidy the place a
-little, when her attention was roused
-by a sound of footsteps. She
-ran out at once to look through the
-lattice; but she had waited too
-long. There was only time to shrink
-behind the door when the visitors
-had come up and the bell was
-sounding through the cottage.
-There were two persons, if not
-more; she knew this by the footsteps.
-Presently some one spoke;
-it was Mr. Charlton. He was
-continuing, in a low voice, a conversation
-already begun. Then another
-voice answered, speaking in
-a still lower key; but every word
-was distinctly audible through the
-open casement, which was so covered
-by an outer iron bar and the
-straggling stem of a japonica that
-no one from the outside would see
-that it was open, unless they looked
-very close. The words Franceline
-overheard had nothing in them to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_741" id="Page_741">[741]</a></span>
-make her turn pale; but the voice
-was Clide de Winton’s. What fatality
-was this that brought them so
-near again, and yet kept them apart,
-and condemned her to hide and
-listen to him like an eavesdropper?
-There was a pause after the first
-ring. Mr. Charlton knew the ways
-of the house; he said something
-laughingly, and rang again. Then
-they reverted to the conversation
-that had been interrupted. Good
-God! did Franceline’s ears deceive
-her, or what were these words
-she heard coupled with her father’s
-name? She put her hand to her
-lips with a sudden movement to
-stifle the cry that leaped up from
-her heart of hearts. She heard
-Clide giving an emphatic denial:
-“I don’t believe it. I tell you it is
-some mistake&mdash;one of those unaccountable
-mistakes that we can’t
-explain or understand, but which
-we <em>know</em> must be mistakes.”</p>
-
-<p>She could not catch what Mr.
-Charlton said; but he was evidently
-dissenting from Clide, and muttered
-something about “being convicted
-on his own showing,” which the
-other answered with an impatient
-exclamation the drift of which
-Franceline could not seize; neither
-could she make sense out of
-the short comments that followed.
-They referred to some facts or circumstances
-that were clear to the
-speakers, but only bewildered her
-more and more.</p>
-
-<p>“It strikes me the old lady does
-not mean to let us in at all this
-time,” said Mr. Charlton; and he
-gave another violent pull to the
-bell.</p>
-
-<p>“There can’t be any one in the
-house,” said Clide, after a pause
-that exhausted the patience of
-both. “We may as well come
-away. I will call later. I must see
-her before.…”</p>
-
-<p>The rest of the sentence was
-lost, as the two speakers walked
-down the gravel-walk, conversing
-in the same low tones.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline did not move even
-when the sound of their steps had
-long died away. She seemed turned
-to stone, and did not stir from
-the spot until Keziah came back.
-She gave her a message for Miss
-Merrywig, left the cottage, and went
-home.</p>
-
-<p>She found her father just as she
-had left him&mdash;busy at his desk, with
-books and papers strewn on the
-table beside him. She saw this
-through the window, but did not
-go in to him. She could not go at
-once and speak to him as if nothing
-had happened in the interval.
-She went to her room, and remained
-there until dinner-time, and
-then came down, half-dreading to
-see some alteration in him corresponding
-with what had taken place
-in her own mind. But he was gentle
-and serene as usual. No mental
-disturbance was visible on his features;
-at least, she did not see it.
-Looking at him, nevertheless, with
-perceptions quickened by what she
-had heard since they parted, it
-struck her that his eyes were sunk
-and dim, as if from overwork and
-want of sleep combined; but there
-was no cloud of shame or humiliation
-on his brow. Never had that
-dear head seemed so venerable,
-never had such a halo of nobleness
-and goodness encircled it, in his
-daughter’s eyes, as at this moment.</p>
-
-<p>She did not tease him to come
-out to walk with her, but asked
-him to read aloud to her for an
-hour while she worked. It was a
-long time&mdash;more than a week&mdash;since
-they had had any reading aloud.
-Raymond complied with the request,
-but soon returned to his
-work.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_742" id="Page_742">[742]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Franceline expected that Father
-Henwick would call, and kept nervously
-looking out of the window
-from time to time; but the day
-wore on, and the evening, and he
-did not come. She did not know
-whether to be glad or sorry. She
-was in that frame of feeling when
-the gentlest touch of sympathy
-would have stung her like the bite
-of a snake. It was not sympathy
-she wanted, but a voice to join
-with her in passionate contempt for
-the liars who had dared to slander
-her father, and in indignant denunciation
-of the lie. She wanted to
-fling it in the teeth of those who
-had uttered it. If Father Henwick
-would help her to do this, let
-him come; if not, let him leave her
-alone. Let no one come near her
-with words of pity; pity for her
-now meant contempt for her father.
-She would resent it as a lioness
-might resent the food that was
-thrown to her in place of the cubs
-she had been robbed of. No love&mdash;no,
-not the best and noblest she
-had ever dreamed of&mdash;would compensate
-her for the absence of reverence
-and respect for her father.</p>
-
-<p>But Clide did not suspect him.
-She had heard him indignantly
-spurn the idea. “He no more
-stole it than you did,” he had
-said. Stolen what? Would no
-one come to tell her what it all
-meant? Would not Clide come?
-Was he still at Dullerton? Was
-there any fear&mdash;or hope?&mdash;of her
-meeting him again if she went out?
-She might have gone with impunity.
-Clide was far enough away, on a
-very different errand from that
-which had brought him yesterday
-across her path.</p>
-
-<p class="break">On coming back to the Court
-from his abortive attempt to see
-Miss Merrywig, Clide found Stanton
-in great excitement with a telegram
-that had arrived for his master
-that instant. It was from Sir
-Simon, summoning him back by
-the first train that started. Some
-important news awaited him. He
-did not wait to see Miss Merrywig,
-but took the next train to London,
-and arrived there in the early afternoon.
-The news that awaited him
-was startling enough to justify
-Sir Simon’s peremptory summons.
-One of the detectives, whose sagacity
-and coolness fitted him for delicate
-missions of the kind, had been
-despatched to gather information
-in the principal lunatic asylums of
-England and Scotland. He had
-come that morning to tell Sir Simon
-Harness that he thought he
-had found Mrs. de Winton in one
-of them. Sir Simon went straight
-to the place, and, after an interview
-with the superintendent, telegraphed
-for Clide, as we have seen.</p>
-
-<p>It was an old-fashioned Elizabethan
-manor-house in the suburbs
-of London, situated in the midst of
-grounds almost large enough to be
-called a park. There was nothing
-in the outward aspect of the place
-to suggest its real character. Everything
-was bright and peaceful and
-well ordered as in the abode of a
-wealthy private family. The gardens
-were beautifully kept; the
-shrubbery was trim and neat;
-summer-houses with pretty climbing
-plants rose in shady places, inviting
-the inmates of the fine old
-mansion to sit out of doors and enjoy
-the sunshine unmolested; for
-there was sunshine in this early
-spring-time, and here in this sheltered
-spot some bits of red and
-gold and blue were peeping through
-the tips of closed flower-cups. Nothing
-externally hinted at the discord
-and disorder that reigned in so
-many human lives within the walls.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_743" id="Page_743">[743]</a></span>
-The sight of the place was soothing
-to Clide. He had so often pictured
-to himself another sort of dwelling
-for his unhappy Isabel that it
-was a great relief to him to see this
-well-ordered, calm abode, and to
-think of her being a resident there.
-A lady-like matron received him,
-and conversed with him kindly and
-sensibly while they were waiting
-for the doctor to come in. The
-latter accosted him with the same
-reassuring frankness of manner.</p>
-
-<p>“I hope,” he said, “that your
-informant has not exaggerated matters,
-as that class of people are so
-apt to do, and that you are <em>expecting</em>
-to see the right person. All I dare
-say to you is that you may hope;
-the points of coincidence are striking
-enough to warrant hope, but by
-no means such as to establish a certainty.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am too much taken by surprise
-to have arrived at any conclusion,”
-replied Clide; “and I have
-been too often disappointed to do
-so in a hurry. Until I see and
-speak to the patient I can say nothing.”</p>
-
-<p>“You can see her at once. As
-to speaking to her, that is not so
-easy. The sun is clouding over.
-That is unlucky at this moment.”</p>
-
-<p>His visitor looked surprised.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! I forgot that I had not explained
-to you the nature of the
-delusion which this lady is suffering
-from,” continued the medical
-man. “It is one of the most poetic
-fancies that madness ever engendered
-in a human brain. She is
-enamored of the sun, and fancies
-herself beloved of him; she believes
-him to be a benign deity
-whose love she has been privileged
-to win, and which she passionately
-responds to. But there is more
-suffering than joy in this belief.
-She fancies that when the sun shines
-he is pleased with her, and that
-when he ceases to shine he is angry;
-the sunbeams are his smiles and
-the warmth his kisses. At such
-times she will deck herself out with
-flowers and gay colors, and sit and
-sing to her lover by the hour, pretending
-to turn away her face and
-hide from him, and going through
-all the pretty coyness of love. Then
-suddenly, when the sun draws behind
-a cloud, she will burst into
-tears, fling aside her wreath, and
-give way to every expression of
-grief and despair. It is at such
-moments, when they are prolonged,
-that the crisis is liable to become
-dangerous. She flings herself on
-the ground, and cries out to her
-lover to forgive her and look on
-her kindly again, or she will die.
-Very often she cries herself to sleep
-in this way. I fear you have come
-at an unfortunate moment, for the
-sun seems quite clouded; however,
-he may come out again, and then
-you will get a glimpse of the patient
-at her best.”</p>
-
-<p>He rose and led the way upstairs
-along a softly-carpeted corridor
-with doors opening on either
-side. Pointing to one, he motioned
-Clide to advance. One of the
-panels was perforated so as to admit
-of the keeper’s seeing what went
-on inside when it was necessary to
-watch the patient, without irritating
-her by seeming to do so or remaining
-in the room. At first the
-occupant was standing up at the
-window, her hands clasped, while
-she conversed with herself or some
-invisible companion in low tones
-of entreaty. Then, uttering a
-feeble cry, she turned mournfully
-away, laid aside the flowers that
-decked her long black hair, and,
-taking a large black cloak, drew it
-over her dress, and sat down in a
-dark corner of the room, with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_744" id="Page_744">[744]</a></span>
-face to the wall, crying to herself
-like a child. Clide watched her go
-through all this with growing emotion.
-He had not yet been able
-to catch a glimpse of her face, but
-the small, light figure, the wayward
-movements, the streaming black
-hair, all reminded him strikingly
-of Isabel. The voice was too inarticulate,
-so far, for him to pronounce
-on its resemblance with
-any certainty; but the low, plaintive
-tones fell on his ear like the
-broken bars of an unforgotten
-melody. He strained every nerve to
-see the features. But, stay! She is
-moving. She has drawn away her
-hands from her face, and has turned
-it towards him. The movement
-did not, however, dispel his doubts;
-it increased them. It was almost
-impossible to discover any trace
-of beauty in that worn, haggard
-face, with its sharp features, its
-eyes faded and sunk, and from
-which the tears streamed in torrents,
-as if they were melting away in
-brine. The skin was shrivelled
-like an old woman’s&mdash;one, at least,
-double the age that Isabel would
-be now. Was it possible that this
-wreck could be the bright, beautiful
-girl of ten years ago?</p>
-
-<p>“Are <em>you</em> my wife?” was Clide’s
-mental exclamation, as he looked
-at the sad spectacle, and then, with
-a shudder, turned away.</p>
-
-<p>“I see you are unable to arrive
-at any conclusion,” said the doctor
-when they were out of ear-shot in
-an adjoining room.</p>
-
-<p>“I will say nothing till I have
-spoken to her,” replied the young
-man evasively. “When can I do
-this?”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot possibly fix a time.
-She is not in a mood to be approached
-now; any violent shock
-in her present state might have a
-fatal result. It would, in all probability,
-quench for ever the feeble
-spark of light that still remains,
-and might bring on a crisis which
-no skill could alleviate. On the
-other hand, if we could apply the
-test at the right moment, the effect
-might be unexpectedly beneficial.
-I say unexpectedly, because, for
-my own part, I have not the slightest
-hope of any such result.”</p>
-
-<p>“Has her memory quite gone,
-or does she recall any passages of
-her past life accurately?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not accurately, I fancy; she
-seems to have some very vivid impressions
-of the past, but whether
-they be clear or not I cannot say.
-The balance of the mind is, I believe,
-too deeply shaken for clearness,
-even on isolated points, to
-survive in any of the faculties.
-She talks frequently of going over
-a great waterfall with her nurse,
-and describes scenery in a way that
-rather gave me a hope once. I
-spoke to her guardian, however,
-and he said she had never been
-near a waterfall in her life; that it
-was some picture which had apparently
-dwelt in her imagination.”</p>
-
-<p>“He might have his own reasons
-for deceiving you in that respect,”
-observed Clide. “His name, you
-say, is Par…?</p>
-
-<p>“Percival&mdash;Mr. Percival.”</p>
-
-<p>“Humph! When people change
-their names, they sometimes find it
-convenient to retain the initial,”
-remarked Clide.</p>
-
-<p>He went home and desired Stanton
-to look out for a lodging as
-near as possible to the asylum. A
-tolerably habitable one was found
-without delay, and he and his valet
-installed themselves there at once.
-The very next day he received a
-letter from Sir Simon Harness, informing
-him that Lady Rebecca
-seemed this time in earnest about
-betaking herself to a better world,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_745" id="Page_745">[745]</a></span>
-and had desired him, Sir Simon,
-to be sent for immediately. The
-French <i lang="fr">dame de compagnie</i> who
-wrote to him said they hardly expected
-her to get through the week.</p>
-
-<p class="break">M. de la Bourbonais had never
-been a social man since he lived at
-Dullerton. He said he did not
-care for society, and in one sense
-this was true. He did not care for
-it unless it was composed of sympathetic
-individuals; otherwise he preferred
-being without it. He did
-not want to meet and talk with his
-fellow-creatures simply because they
-were his fellow-creatures; there
-must be some common bond of interest
-or sympathy between them
-and him, or else he did not want to
-see them. When, in the early days
-at The Lilies, Sir Simon used to
-remonstrate with him on being
-so “sauvage,” and wonder how he
-could bear the dulness, Raymond
-would reply that no dulness oppressed
-him like uncongenial company.
-He had no sympathies in
-common with the people about the
-neighborhood, and so he would
-have no pleasure in associating
-with them. There was truth in
-this; but Sir Simon knew that the
-count’s susceptible pride had influenced
-him also. He did not want
-rich people to see his poverty, if
-they were not refined and intelligent
-enough to respect it and value
-what went along with it. He had
-studiously avoided cultivating any
-intimacies beyond the few we know,
-and had so persistently kept aloof
-from the big houses round about
-that they had accepted his determination
-not to go beyond mere
-acquaintanceship, and never stopped
-to speak when they met him
-out walking, but bowed and passed
-on. But of late Raymond began
-to feel quite differently about all
-this. He longed to see these distant
-acquaintances as if they had
-been so many near friends; to meet
-their glance of kindly, if not cordial,
-recognition; to receive the
-homage of their passing salutation.
-It was the dread of seeing these
-hitherto valueless greetings refused
-that prevented him stirring beyond
-his own gate. He marvelled himself
-at the void that the absence of
-them was making in his life. He
-did not dream they had filled such
-a space in it; that the reflection of
-his own self-respect in the respect
-of others had been such a strength
-and such a need to him. Up to
-this time Franceline had more than
-satisfied all his need of society at
-home, with the pleasant periodical
-addition of Sir Simon’s presence,
-while his work had amply supplied
-his intellectual wants; but suddenly
-he was made aware of a new need&mdash;something
-undefined, but that he
-hungered for with a downright physical
-hunger.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline’s spirit and heart were
-too closely bound up in her father’s
-not to feel the counter-pang of this
-mental hunger. She could not
-help watching him, though she
-strove not to do it, and, above all,
-not to let him see that she was
-watching him. She might as well
-have tried not to draw her breath
-or to stop the pulsations of her
-heart. Her eyes would fasten on
-him when he was not looking, and
-she could not but see that the expression
-of his face was changed.
-A hard, resolved look had come
-over it; his eyebrows were always
-protruded now, and his lips drawn
-tight together under the gray fringe
-of his mustache. She knew every
-turn of his features, and saw that
-what had once been a passing
-freak under some sudden thought
-or puzzling speculation in his work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_746" id="Page_746">[746]</a></span>
-had now become a settled habit.
-She longed to speak; to invite him
-to speak. It would have been so
-much easier for both; it would lighten
-the burden to them so much if
-they could bear it together, instead
-of toiling under it apart. But Raymond
-was silent. It never crossed
-his mind for a moment that Franceline
-knew his secret. If he <em>had</em>
-known it, would he have spoken?
-Sometimes the poor child felt the silence
-was unbearable; that at any
-cost she must break it and know the
-truth of the story which had reached
-her in so monstrous a form.
-But the idea that her father knew
-possibly nothing of it kept her
-back. But supposing he was silent
-only to spare her? Perhaps he
-was debating in his own mind what
-the effect of the revelation would
-be on her; wondering if she, too,
-would join with his accusers, or,
-even if she did not do this, whether
-she might not be ashamed of a
-father who was branded as a thief.
-When these thoughts coursed
-through her mind, Franceline felt
-an almost irresistible impulse to
-rush and fling her arms around his
-neck and tell him how she venerated
-him, and how she scorned with
-all her might and main the envious,
-malignant fools who dared to so
-misjudge him. But she never
-yielded to the impulse; the inward
-conflict of lodgings and shrinkings
-and passionate, tender cries of her
-heart to his made no outward sign.
-Raymond sat writing away at his
-desk, and Franceline sat by the fire
-or at the window reading and working,
-day after day. The idea occurred
-to her more than once that she
-would write to Sir Simon; but she
-never did. She did not dare open
-her heart to Father Henwick. How
-could she bring herself to tell him
-that her father was accused of theft?
-It was most probable&mdash;she hoped
-certain&mdash;that the abominable suspicion
-had not travelled to his ears;
-and if so, she could not speak of it.
-This was not her secret; it was no
-breach of confidence towards her
-spiritual father to be silent, and the
-selfish longing to pour out her filial
-anger and outraged love into a
-sympathizing ear should not hurry
-her into a betrayal of what was,
-even in its falsity, humiliating to
-Raymond. It was hard to refrain
-from speech when speech would
-have been a solace; but Franceline
-knew that the sacrifice of the cup
-of cold water has its reward, just
-as the bestowal has. Peace comes
-to us on surer and swifter wing
-when we go straight to God for
-it, without putting the sympathy
-of creatures between us and his
-touch.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Langrove had never been a
-frequent visitor at The Lilies; but
-Franceline never remembered him
-to have been so long absent as now,
-and she could not but see a striking
-coincidence in the fact. She knew
-he had been one of the party at
-Dullerton that night; and if, as she
-felt certain, that had been the occasion
-of the extraordinary mistake
-she had heard of, the vicar, of
-course, knew all about it. He believed
-her father had committed a
-theft, and was keeping aloof from
-him. Did everybody at Dullerton
-know this? Mr. Langrove was
-not a man to spread evil reports in
-any shape. Franceline knew him
-well enough to be sure of that; but
-her father’s reputation was evidently
-at the mercy of less charitable
-tongues. She did not know that
-the six witnesses had promised Sir
-Simon to keep silence for his sake;
-but if she had known it, it would
-not have much reassured her. A
-secret that is known to six people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_747" id="Page_747">[747]</a></span>
-can scarcely be considered safe.
-The six may mean to guard it, and
-may only speak of it among themselves
-and in whispers; but it is
-astonishing how far a whisper will
-travel sometimes, especially when
-it is malignant. A vague impression
-had in some inexplicable
-way got abroad that the count had
-done something which threw him
-under a cloud. The gentlemen of
-the neighborhood were very discreet
-about it, and had said nothing positively
-to be taken hold of, but it
-had leaked out that there was a
-screw loose in that direction.
-Young Charlton had laughed at the
-notion of his friend Anwyll thinking
-of Mlle. de la Bourbonais <em>now</em>;
-and the emphasis and smile which
-accompanied the assurance expressed
-pretty clearly that there was
-something amiss which had not
-been amiss a little while ago.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline had gone out for her
-usual mid-day walk in the park. It
-was the most secluded spot where
-she could take it, as well as warm
-and sheltered. She was walking
-near the pond; the milk-white swans
-were sailing towards her in the sunlight,
-expecting the bits of bread
-she had taken a fancy to bring
-them every day at this hour, when
-she saw Mr. Langrove emerge from
-behind a large rockery and step
-out into the avenue. She trembled
-as if the familiar form of her old
-friend had been a wild animal
-creeping out of the jungle to
-pounce upon her. What would he
-do? Would he pass her by, or
-stop and just say a few cold words
-of politeness? The vicar did not
-keep her long in suspense.</p>
-
-<p>“Well! here, you are enjoying
-the sunshine, I see. And how are
-you?” he said, extending his hand
-in the mild, affectionate way that
-Franceline was accustomed to, but
-had never thought so sweet before.
-“Is the cough quite gone?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not quite; but I am better,
-thank you. Angélique says I am,
-and she knows more about it than
-I do,” replied the invalid playfully.
-“How is everybody at the vicarage?”</p>
-
-<p>“So-so. Arabella has one of
-her bad colds, and Godiva is suffering
-from a toothache. It’s the spring
-weather, no doubt; we will all be
-brisker by and by. Are you going
-my way?”</p>
-
-<p>“Any way; I only came for a
-walk.”</p>
-
-<p>They walked on together.</p>
-
-<p>“And how is M. de la Bourbonais?”
-said the vicar presently.
-“I’ve not met him for a long time;
-we used to come across each other
-pretty often on the road to Dullerton.
-He’s not poorly, I hope?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, only busy&mdash;so dreadfully
-busy! He hardly lets the pen out
-of his hand now; but he promises
-me there will soon be an end of it,
-and that the book will soon be finished.”</p>
-
-<p>“Bravo! And you have been
-such a capital little secretary to
-him!” said Mr. Langrove. “The
-next thing will be that we shall
-have you writing a book on your
-own account.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline laughed merrily at
-this conceit; her fears were, if not
-banished by his cordial manner,
-sufficiently allayed to rid her
-of her momentary awkwardness.
-They were soon chatting away
-about village gossip as if nothing
-were amiss with either.</p>
-
-<p>“Angélique brought home news
-from the market a few days ago
-that Mr. Tobes was going to marry
-Miss Bulpit; is it true?” inquired
-the young girl.</p>
-
-<p>“Far too good to be true!” said
-the vicar, shaking his head. “The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_748" id="Page_748">[748]</a></span>
-report has been spread so often
-that this time I very nearly believed
-in it. However, I saw Miss
-Bulpit, and she dispelled the illusion
-at once, and, I fear, for ever.”</p>
-
-<p>“But would it have been such
-a good thing if they got married?”</p>
-
-<p>“It would be a very desirable
-event in some ways,” said Mr.
-Langrove, with a peculiar smile;
-“it would give her something to
-do and some one to look after
-her.”</p>
-
-<p>“And it would have been a good
-thing for Mr. Tobes, too, would it
-not? He is so poor!”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s just why she won’t have
-him, poor fellow! When he proposed&mdash;she
-told me the story herself,
-and I find she is telling it right
-and left, so there is no breach of
-confidence in repeating it&mdash;when
-he proposed, Miss Bulpit asked
-him point-blank how much money
-he had; ‘because,’ she said, ‘I
-have only just enough for one!’”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! but that was a shame.
-She has plenty for two; and, besides,
-it was unfeeling. Don’t you think
-it was?” inquired Franceline, looking
-up at the vicar. But he evidently
-did not share either her indignation
-against Miss Bulpit or her
-pity for the discarded lover. He
-was laughing quietly, as if he enjoyed
-the joke.</p>
-
-<p>They reached the gate going
-out on the high-road while thus
-pleasantly chatting.</p>
-
-<p>“Now I suppose we must say
-good-by,” said Mr. Langrove. “This
-is my way; I am going to pay a
-sick visit down in the valley.”</p>
-
-<p>They shook hands, and Franceline
-turned back.</p>
-
-<p>“Mind you give my compliments
-to the count!” said the vicar, calling
-after her. “Tell him I don’t dare
-go near him, as he is so busy; but if
-he likes me to drop in of an evening,
-let him send me word by you,
-and I’ll be delighted. By-by.”</p>
-
-<p>He nodded to her and closed the
-gate behind him.</p>
-
-<p>“He did not dare because he
-is so busy!” repeated Franceline
-as she walked on. “How did he
-know papa was busy? It was I
-who told him so a few minutes ago.
-That was an excuse.”</p>
-
-<p>She gave the message, nevertheless,
-on coming home, scarcely daring
-to look at her father while she
-did so.</p>
-
-<p>“May I tell him to come in one
-of these evenings, petit père?”</p>
-
-<p>“No; I cannot be disturbed at
-present,” was the peremptory answer,
-and Franceline’s heart sank
-again.</p>
-
-<p>She told him the gossip about
-Miss Bulpit and Mr. Tobes, thinking
-it would amuse him; he used
-to listen complacently to the little
-bits of gossip she brought in about
-their neighbors. Raymond had the
-charming faculty, common to great
-men and learned men, of being
-easily and innocently amused; but
-he seemed to have lost it of late.
-He listened to Franceline’s chatter
-to-day with an absent air, as if he
-hardly took it in; and before she
-had done, he made some irrelevant
-remark that proved he had not
-been attending to what she was saying.
-Then he had got into a way
-of repeating himself&mdash;of saying
-the same thing two or three times
-over at an interval of an hour or
-so, sometimes even less. Franceline
-attributed these things to the
-concentration of his thoughts on
-his work, and to his being so entirely
-absorbed in it as not to pay attention
-to anything that did not
-directly concern it. She was too
-inexperienced to see therein symptoms
-of a more alarming nature.</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais had all his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_749" id="Page_749">[749]</a></span>
-life complained of being a bad
-sleeper; but Angélique, who suffered
-from the same infirmity, always
-declared that he only imagined he
-did not sleep; that she was tossing
-on her pillow, listening to him
-snoring, when he said he had been
-wide awake. The count, on his
-side, was sceptical about Angélique’s
-“white nights,” and privately confided
-to Franceline that he knew
-for a fact she was fast asleep often
-when she fancied in the morning
-she had been awake. Some people
-are very touchy at being doubted
-when they say they have not “closed
-an eye all night.” Angélique
-resented a doubt on her “white
-nights” bitterly, and Franceline,
-who from childhood had been the
-confidant of both parties, found an
-early exercise for tact and discretion
-in keeping the peace between
-them. The discrepancies in the
-two accounts of their respective
-vigils often gave rise to little tiffs
-between herself and Angélique, who
-would insist upon knowing what
-M. le Comte had said about <em>her</em>
-night; so that Franceline was compelled
-to aggravate her whether she
-would or not. She “knew her
-place” better than to have words
-with M. le Comte, but she had it
-out with Franceline. “Monsieur
-says he didn’t get to sleep till past
-two o’clock this morning, does he?
-Humph! I only wish I had slept
-half as well, I know. Pauvre, cher
-homme! He drops off the minute
-his head is on the pillow, and then
-dreams that he’s wide awake.
-That’s how it is. Why, this morning
-I was up and lighted my candle
-at ten minutes to two, and he was
-sleeping as sound as a wooden
-shoe! I heard him.” Franceline
-would soothe her by saying she
-quite believed her; but as she said
-the same thing to M. le Comte, and
-as Angélique generally overheard
-her saying so, this seeming credulity
-only aggravated her the more. Laterly
-Raymond had taken up a
-small celestial globe to his room,
-for the purpose, he said, of utilizing
-his long vigils by studying the face
-of the heavens during the clear,
-starry nights; and he would give
-the result of his nocturnal contemplations
-to Franceline at breakfast
-next morning&mdash;Angélique being
-either in the room pouring out the
-hot milk for her master’s coffee, or
-in the kitchen with the door ajar,
-so that she had the benefit of the
-conversation. The pantomimes
-that were performed at these times
-were a severe trial to Franceline’s
-gravity: Angélique would stand
-behind Raymond’s chair, holding
-up her hands aghast or stuffing her
-apron into her mouth, so as not to
-explode in disrespectful laughter.
-Sometimes she would shake her
-flaps at him with an air of despondency
-too deep for words, and then
-walk out of the room.</p>
-
-<p>“I heard M. le Comte telling
-mam’selle that he saw the Three
-Kings (the popular name for Orion’s
-belt in French) shining so bright
-this morning at three o’clock. I
-believe you; he saw them in his
-sleep! I was up and walking about
-my room at that hour, and it so happened
-that I opened my door to
-let in the air <em>just</em> as the clock in
-the <i lang="fr">salon</i> was striking three!”</p>
-
-<p>As ill-luck would have it, Raymond
-overheard this confidential
-comment which Angélique was
-making to Franceline under the
-porch, not seeing that the sitting-room
-window was open.</p>
-
-<p>“My good Angélique,” said the
-count, putting his head out of the
-window, “you must have opened
-the door two seconds too late; it
-was striking five, most likely, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_750" id="Page_750">[750]</a></span>
-you only heard the last three
-strokes. I suspect you were sound
-asleep at the hour I was looking at
-the Three Kings.”</p>
-
-<p>“La! as if I were an infant not
-to know when I wake and when I
-sleep!” said Angélique with a shrug.
-“It was M. le Comte that was
-asleep and dreaming that he saw
-the Three Kings.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay, but I lighted my candle;
-it was pitch-dark when I got up to
-set the globe,” argued M. de la
-Bourbonais.</p>
-
-<p>“When M. le Comte <em>dreamt</em> that
-he got up and lighted his candle,”
-corrected the incorrigible
-sceptic. Raymond laughed and
-gave it up. But it was true, notwithstanding
-Angélique’s obstinate
-incredulity, that he did pass many
-white nights now, and the wakefulness
-was insensibly and imperceptibly
-telling on his health. It was
-a curious fact, too, that the more the
-want of sleep was injuring him, the
-less he was conscious of suffering
-from it. He had been passionately
-fond of astronomy in his youth,
-and he had resumed the long-neglected
-study with something of
-youthful zest, enjoying the observation
-of the starry constellations
-in the bright midnight silence with
-a sense of repose and communion
-with those brilliant, far-off worlds
-that surprised and delighted himself.
-Perhaps the feeling that he
-was now cut off from possible communion
-with his fellow-men threw
-him more on nature for companionship,
-urging him to seek on her
-glorious brow for the smiles that
-human faces denied him, and to
-accept her loving fellowship in lieu
-of the sympathy that his brothers
-refused him.</p>
-
-<p>But rich and inexhaustible as the
-treasures of the great mother are,
-they are at best but a compensation;
-nothing but human love and
-human intercourse can satisfy the
-cravings of a human heart. Raymond
-was beginning to realize this.
-His forced isolation was becoming
-poignantly oppressive to him.
-He longed to see Sir Simon, to hear
-his voice, to feel the warm clasp
-of his hand; he longed, above all,
-to get back his old feeling of gratitude
-to him. Raymond little suspected
-what a moral benefactor
-his light-hearted, worldly-minded
-friend had been to him all those
-years when he was perpetually
-offering services that were so seldom
-accepted. Sir Simon was all
-the time feeding his heart with the
-milk of human kindness, making
-a bond between the proud, poor
-brother and the rest of the rich
-and happy brotherhood who were
-strangers to him. Raymond loved
-them all for the sake of this one.
-Nothing nourishes our hearts like
-gratitude. It widens our space for
-love, and enlarges our capacity for
-kindness; it creates a want in us to
-send the same happy thrills through
-other hearts that are stirring our
-own. We overflow with love to
-all in thankfulness for the love
-of one. This is often our only
-way of giving thanks, and the
-good it does us is sometimes a
-more abiding gain than the service
-that has called it forth. It was all
-this that Raymond missed in Sir
-Simon. In losing his loving sense
-of gratefulness he seemed to have
-lost some vital warmth in his own
-life. Now that the source which
-had fed this gratitude was dried up,
-all that was tender and kind and
-good in him seemed to be running
-dry or turning to bitterness. The
-estrangement of one had estranged
-him from all; he was at war with
-all humanity. Would any sacrifice
-of pride be too great to win back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_751" id="Page_751">[751]</a></span>
-the old sweet life, with its trust,
-and ready sympathy, and indulgent
-kindness? Why should he not
-write to Sir Simon? He had asked
-himself this many times, and had
-written many letters in imagination,
-and some even in reality; but Angélique
-had found them torn up in
-the waste-paper basket next morning,
-and had been surprised to see
-the fresh sheets of note-paper,
-which she recognized as her
-master’s, wasted in that manner
-and thrown away. He knew what
-he was doing, probably; it was not
-for her to lecture him on such matters,
-but she could not help setting
-down the unnatural extravagance
-as a part of the general something
-that was amiss with her master.</p>
-
-<p>One morning, however, after one
-of those white nights that gave rise
-to so much discussion in the family,
-Raymond came down with his mind
-made up to write a letter and send
-it. He could stand it no longer;
-he must go to his friend and lay
-bare his heart to him, so that they
-might come together again. If Sir
-Simon’s silence was an offence,
-Raymond’s was not free from blame.
-He sat down and wrote. It was a
-long letter&mdash;several sheets closely
-filled. When it was finished, and
-Raymond was folding it and putting
-it into the envelope, he remembered
-that he did not know
-where the baronet was. If he sent
-it to the Court, the servants would
-recognize the handwriting and
-think it odd his addressing a
-letter there in their master’s absence.
-He thought of forwarding
-it to Sir Simon’s bankers; but then,
-again, how did matters stand at
-present between him and them?
-He might have gone abroad and
-not left them his address, and the
-letter might remain there indefinitely.
-While Raymond was debating
-what he should do he closed
-up and stamped the blank envelope,
-making it ready to be addressed;
-then he laid it on the top of his writing
-desk, and wrote a few lines to
-the bankers, requesting them to
-forward Sir Simon’s address, if
-they had it or could inform him
-how a letter would reach him.</p>
-
-<p>He seemed relieved when this
-was done, and, for the first time for
-nearly a month, called Franceline
-to come and write for him. She
-did so for a couple of hours, and
-noticed with thankfulness that her
-father was in very good, almost in
-high, spirits, laughing and talking
-a great deal, as if elated by some
-inward purpose. Her glad surprise
-was increased when he said
-abruptly:</p>
-
-<p>“Now, my little one, run and put
-on thy bonnet, and we will go for a
-walk in the park together.”</p>
-
-<p>The day was cold, and there was
-a sharp wind blowing; but the sun
-was very bright, and the park looked
-green and fresh and beautiful as
-they entered it, she leaning on him
-with a fond little movement from
-time to time and an exclamation
-of pleasure. He smiled on her
-very tenderly, and chatted about
-all sorts of things as in the old days
-of a month ago before the strange
-cloud had drawn a curtain between
-their lives. He talked with great
-animation of his work, and the
-excitement it would be to them
-both when it was published.</p>
-
-<p>“We shall go to Paris for the publication,
-and then I will show thee
-the wonderful sights of the great
-city: the Louvre, and the Museum
-of Cluny, and many antiquities
-that will interest thee mightily;
-and we will go to some fine <i lang="fr">modiste</i>
-and get thee a smart French bonnet,
-and thou wilt be quite a little
-<i lang="fr">élégante</i>!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_752" id="Page_752">[752]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Oh! how nice it will be, petit
-père,” cried Franceline, squeezing
-his arm in childish glee; “and many
-learned men will be coming to see
-you, will they not, and writing
-articles in praise of your great
-work?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! Praise! I know not if it
-will all be praise,” said the author,
-with a dubious smile. “Some will
-not approve of my views on certain
-historical pets. I have torn the
-masks off many <i lang="fr">soi-disant</i> heroes,
-and replaced others in the position
-that bigotry or ignorance has
-hitherto denied them. I wonder
-what Simon will say to it all?”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond smiled complacently
-as he said this. It was the first
-time he had mentioned the baronet.
-Franceline felt as if a load
-were lifted off her, and that all the
-mists were clearing away.</p>
-
-<p>“He is sure to be delighted with
-it!” she exclaimed. “He always is,
-even when he quarrels with you,
-petit père. I think he quarrels for
-the pleasure of it; and then he is
-so proud of you!”</p>
-
-<p>They walked as far as the house,
-and then Raymond said it was time
-to turn back; it was too cold for
-Franceline to stay out more than
-half an hour.</p>
-
-<p>An event had taken place at The
-Lilies in their absence. The postman
-had been there and had
-brought a letter. Raymond started
-when Angélique met him at the
-door with this announcement, adding
-that she had left it on the chimney-piece.</p>
-
-<p>He went straight in and opened
-it. It was from Sir Simon. After
-explaining in two lines how Clide
-de Winton had arrived in time to
-save him at the last hour, the writer
-turned at once to Raymond’s
-troubles. Nothing could be gentler
-than the way he approached
-the delicate subject. “Why should
-we be estranged from one another,
-Raymond? Do you suppose I suspect
-you? And what if I did? I
-defy even that to part us. The
-friendship that can change was
-never genuine; ours can know no
-change. I have tried in every possible
-way to account satisfactorily
-for your strange, your suicidal behavior
-on that night, and I have
-not succeeded. I can only conclude
-that you were beside yourself
-with anxiety, and over-excited,
-and incapable of measuring the effect
-of your refusal and your conduct
-altogether. But admitting, for
-argument’s sake, that you did take
-it; what then? There is such a
-thing as momentary insanity from
-despair, as the delirium of a sick
-and fevered heart. At such moments
-the noblest men have been
-driven to commit acts that would
-be criminal if they were not mad.
-It would ill become <em>me</em> to cast a
-stone at <em>you</em>&mdash;I, who have been no
-better than a swindler these twenty
-years past! Raymond, there can
-be no true friendship without full
-confidence. We may give our confidence
-sometimes without our love
-following; but when we give our
-love, our confidence must of necessity
-follow. When we have once
-given the key of our heart to a
-friend, we have given him the right
-to enter into it at all times, to read
-its secrets, to open every door, even
-that, and above that, behind which
-the skeleton stands concealed.
-You and I gave each other this
-right when we were boys, Raymond;
-we have used it loyally
-one towards the other ever since,
-and I have done nothing to forfeit
-the privilege now. All things are
-arranged by an overruling Providence,
-and God is wise as he is
-merciful; yet I cannot forbear asking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_753" id="Page_753">[753]</a></span>
-how it is that I should have
-been saved from myself, and that
-you should not have been delivered
-from temptation&mdash;you, whose life
-has been one long triumph of virtue
-over adversity! It will be all
-made square one day; meantime, I
-bless God that the weaker brother
-has been mercifully dealt with and
-permitted to rescue the nobler and
-the worthier one. The moment I
-hear from you I will come to Dullerton,
-and you and Franceline
-must come away with me to the
-south. I will explain when we
-meet why this letter has been so
-long delayed.” Then came a postscript
-quite at the bottom of the
-page: “Send that wretched bauble
-to me in a box, addressed to my
-bankers. Rest assured of one
-thing: you shall be cleared before
-men as you already are before a
-higher and a more merciful tribunal.”</p>
-
-<p>Many changes passed over Raymond’s
-countenance as he read this
-letter; but when his eye fell on the
-postscript, the smile that had hovered
-between sadness, tenderness,
-and scorn subsided into one of almost
-saturnine bitterness, and a
-light gathered in his eyes that
-was not goodly to see. But the
-feelings which these signs betrayed
-found no other outward vent. M.
-de la Bourbonais quietly and deliberately
-tore up the letter into
-very small pieces, and then, instead
-of throwing them into the waste-paper
-basket, he dropped them into
-the grate. The fire was low; he
-took the poker and stirred it to
-make a blaze, and then watched
-the flame catching the bits one by
-one and consuming them.</p>
-
-<p>“It is fortunate I did not send
-mine!” was his mental congratulation
-as he turned to his desk, intending
-to feed the dying flame with
-two more offerings. But where
-were they? Raymond pushed
-about his papers, but could not find
-either of the letters. Angélique
-was called. Had she seen them?</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! yes; I gave them both to
-the postman,” she explained, with
-a nod of her flaps that implied mystery.</p>
-
-<p>“How both? There was only one
-to go. The other had no address
-on it,” said Raymond.</p>
-
-<p>“I saw it, M. le Comte.” Another
-mysterious nod.</p>
-
-<p>“And yet you gave it to the postman?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. I am a discreet woman,
-as M. le Comte knows, and he
-might have trusted me to keep a
-quiet tongue in my head; but monsieur
-knows his own affairs best,”
-added Angélique in an aggrieved
-tone.</p>
-
-<p>“My good Angélique, explain
-yourself a little more lucidly,” said
-M. de la Bourbonais with slight impatience.
-“What could induce you
-to give the postman a letter that
-had neither name nor address on
-it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Bless me! I thought M. le
-Comte did not wish me to know
-who he was writing to!”</p>
-
-<p>“Good gracious!” exclaimed
-Raymond, too annoyed to notice
-the absurdity of the reply. “But
-how could the postman take it
-when he saw it was a blank envelope?”</p>
-
-<p>“I did not let him see it; I slipped
-the two with my own hands
-into the bag,” said Angélique.</p>
-
-<p>M. de la Bourbonais moved his
-spectacles, and shrugged his shoulders
-in a way that was expressive
-of anything but gratitude for this
-zeal. He hesitated a moment or
-two, debating what he should do.
-The only way to ensure getting
-back his letter immediately was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_754" id="Page_754">[754]</a></span>
-to go off himself to the post-office,
-and claim it before it was
-taken out to be stamped with the
-postmark, when it would be opened
-in order to be returned to the
-writer. There might be no harm
-in its being opened; the postmaster
-was not a French scholar that
-Raymond knew of, but he might
-have a friend at hand who was, and
-who would be glad to gratify his
-curiosity, as well as exhibit his
-learning, by reading the count’s
-letter.</p>
-
-<p>Raymond set off at once, so as to
-prevent this. It was the first time
-for some weeks that he had
-shown himself in or near the town;
-and if his mind had not been so
-full of his errand, he would have
-been painfully conscious and shy at
-finding himself abroad in open daylight
-in his old haunts and within
-the observation of many eyes that
-knew him. But he did not give this
-a thought; he was calculating the
-chances for and against his arriving
-at the post-office before the postman
-had come back from his rounds
-and handed in the out-going letters
-to be marked, and his imagination
-was running on to the wildest conclusions
-in the event of his being
-too late. He walked as if for a
-wager; not running, but as near to
-it as possible. The pace and his
-intense look of preoccupation attracted
-many glances that he would
-have escaped had he walked on
-quietly at his ordinary pace. He
-was not a minute too soon, however,
-just coming up as the postman appeared
-with his replenished bag.
-M. de la Bourbonais hastened to
-describe the shape and color of his
-blank envelope, and to explain how
-it had come to be where it was, and
-was most emphatic in protesting
-that he did not mean the letter to
-go, and that he was prepared to
-take any steps to prevent its going.
-There was no need to be so earnest,
-about it. The postmaster assured
-him at once that the letter would
-be forthcoming in a moment, and
-that his word would be quite enough
-to identify it and ensure its being
-returned to him. It seemed an age
-to Raymond while the letters were
-being turned out and sorted, but at
-last the man held up the blank envelope,
-with its queen’s head in the
-corner, and exclaimed jubilantly:
-“Here it is!”</p>
-
-<p>The count seized it with avidity,
-and hurried away, leaving the postmaster
-half-amused, half-mystified,
-at his excited volubility and warm
-expressions of thanks. There was
-no necessity to rush home at the
-same pace that he had rushed out,
-but Raymond felt like a machine
-wound up to a pitch of velocity that
-must be kept up until the wheel stopped
-of its own accord. His hat was
-drawn over his eyes, and his head
-bent like a person walking on mechanically,
-neither seeing nor hearing
-what might be going on around
-him. He was soon beyond the
-streets and shop-windows, and
-back amidst the fields and hedges.
-There was a clatter of horses coming
-down the road. M. de la Bourbonais
-saw two gentlemen on horseback
-approaching. He recognized
-them, even in the distance, at a
-glance: Sir Ponsonby Anwyll and
-Mr. Charlton. Raymond’s heart
-leaped up to his throat. What
-would they do? Stop and speak,
-or cut him dead? A few seconds
-would decide. They were close on
-him now, but showed no sign of
-reining in to speak. Ponsonby
-Anwyll raised his hat in a formal
-salutation; Mr. Charlton looked
-straight before him and rode on.
-All the blood in his body seemed
-to rush at the instant to Raymond’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_755" id="Page_755">[755]</a></span>
-face. He put his hand to his forehead
-and stood to steady himself;
-then he walked home, never looking
-to the right or the left until he
-reached The Lilies.</p>
-
-<p>Angélique called out from the
-kitchen window to know if he had
-made it right about the letter; but
-he took no heed of her, only walked
-in and went straight up to his
-room. She heard him close the
-door. There certainly was something
-queer come to him of late.
-What did he want, going to shut
-himself in his bedroom this time
-of day, and then passing her without
-answering?</p>
-
-<p>Franceline was in the study, busy
-arranging some primroses and wild
-violets that she had been gathering
-under the hedge while her father
-was out. A noise as of a body falling
-heavily to the ground in the
-room overhead made her drop the
-flowers and fly up the stairs. Angélique
-had hastened from the
-kitchen to ask what was the matter;
-but a loud shriek rang through
-the house in answer to her question.</p>
-
-<p>“Angélique, come! O my God!
-Father! father!”</p>
-
-<p>Raymond was lying prostrate on
-the floor, insensible, while Franceline
-lifted his head in her arms,
-and kissed him and called to
-him. “Oh! What has happened
-to him? Father! father! speak
-to me. O my God! is he dead?”
-she cried, raising her pale, agonized
-face to the old servant with a despairing
-appeal.</p>
-
-<p>“No! no! Calm thyself! He
-has but fainted; he is not dead,”
-said Angélique, feeling her master’s
-pulse and heart. “See, put thy
-hand here and feel! If he were
-dead, it would not beat.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline laid her finger on the
-pulse. She felt the feeble beat; it
-was scarcely perceptible, but she
-could feel it.</p>
-
-<p>“We must lift him on to the
-bed,” said Angélique, and she grasped
-the slight form of her master
-with those long, brown arms of hers,
-and laid it gently on the bed, Franceline
-assisting as she might.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, my petite, thou wilt be
-brave,” said the faithful creature,
-forgetting herself in her anxiety
-to spare and support Franceline.
-“Thou wilt stay here and do what
-is necessary whilst I run and fetch
-the doctor.”</p>
-
-<p>She poured some eau-de-cologne
-into a basin of water, and desired
-her to keep bathing her father’s
-forehead and chafing his hands
-until she returned. This, after loosing
-his cravat and letting in as much
-air as possible, was all her experience
-suggested.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline sat down and did as
-she was told; but the perfect stillness,
-the deathlike immobility of
-the face and the form, terrified her.
-She suspended the bathing to
-breathe on it, as if her warm breath
-might bring back consciousness
-and prove more potent than the
-cold water. But Raymond remained
-insensible to all. The silence
-began to oppress Franceline like a
-ghastly presence; the cooing of her
-doves outside sounded like a dirge.
-Could this be death? His pulse
-beat so faintly she hardly knew
-whether it was his or the pulse of
-her own trembling fingers that she
-felt. A chill of horror came over
-her; the first vague dread was
-gradually shaping itself in her mind
-to the most horrible of certainties.
-If he should never awake, never
-speak again, never open those closed
-eyes on her with the old tender
-glance of love that had been as
-familiar and unfailing as the sunlight
-to her! Oh! what a fearful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_756" id="Page_756">[756]</a></span>
-awakening came with this first realization
-of that awful possibility.
-What vain shadows, what trivial
-empty things, were those that she
-had until now called sorrows!
-What a joy it would be to take them
-all back again, and bear them, increased
-tenfold in bitterness, to the
-end of her life, if this great, this real
-sorrow might be averted! Franceline
-dropped on her knees beside the
-bed, and, clasping her hands, sent
-up one of those cries that we all of
-us find in our utmost need, when
-there is only God who can help us:
-“O Father! thy will be done.
-But if it be possible, … if it
-be possible, … let this cup
-pass from me!”</p>
-
-<p>There were steps on the stairs.
-It was Angélique come back. She
-had only been ten minutes away&mdash;the
-longest ten minutes that ever a
-trembling heart watched through&mdash;but
-Franceline knew she could not
-have been to the doctor’s and back
-so quickly. “I met M. le Vicaire
-just at the end of the lane, and he
-is gone for the doctor; he was riding,
-so he will be there in no time.”</p>
-
-<p>Then she made Franceline go
-and fetch hot water from the kitchen,
-and busied her in many little
-ways, under pretence of being useful,
-until Dr. Blink’s carriage was
-heard approaching. The medical
-man was not alone; Mr. Langrove
-and Father Henwick accompanied
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Angélique drew the young girl out
-of her father’s room, and sent her
-to stay with Father Henwick, while
-the doctor, assisted by Mr. Langrove
-and herself, attended to M.
-de la Bourbonais.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! what is it? Did the doctor
-tell you?” she whispered, her dark
-eyes preternaturally dilated in their
-tearless glance, as she raised it to
-Father Henwick’s face.</p>
-
-<p>“He could say nothing until he
-had seen him. Tell me, my dear
-child, did your father ever have
-anything of this sort happen him
-before?” inquired Father Henwick,
-as unconcernedly as he could.</p>
-
-<p>“Never, never that I heard of,
-unless it may have been when
-I was too little to remember,” said
-Franceline; and then added nervously,
-“Why?”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank God! It is safe, then, not
-to be so serious,” was the priest’s
-hearty exclamation. “Please God,
-you will see him all right again
-soon; he has been overdoing of late,
-working too hard, and not taking
-air or exercise enough. The blade
-has been wearing out the sheath&mdash;that’s
-what it is; but Blink will
-pull him through with God’s
-help.”</p>
-
-<p>“Father,” said Franceline, laying
-both hands on his arm with an unconscious
-movement that was very
-expressive, “do you know it seems
-to me as if I were only waking up,
-only beginning to live now. Everything
-has been unreal like a dream
-until this. Is it a punishment for
-being so ungrateful, so rebellious,
-so blind to the blessings that I
-had?”</p>
-
-<p>“If it were, my child, punishment
-with God is only another name
-for mercy,” said Father Henwick.
-“Our best blessings come to us
-mostly in the shape of crosses.
-Perhaps you were not thankful
-enough for the great blessing of
-your father’s love, for his health and
-his delight in you; perhaps you let
-your heart long too much for other
-things; and if so, God has been
-mindful of his foolish little one, and
-has sent this touch of fear to teach
-her to value more the mercies that
-were vouchsafed to her, and not
-to pine for those that were denied.
-We seldom see things in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_757" id="Page_757">[757]</a></span>
-true proportions until the shadow
-of death falls on them.”</p>
-
-<p>“The shadow of death!” echoed
-Franceline, her white lips growing
-still whiter. “Oh! if it be but the
-shadow, my life will be too short
-for thanksgiving, were I to live to
-the end of the world.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ha! here they come,” said
-Father Henwick, opening the study-door
-as he heard the doctor’s steps,
-followed by Mr. Langrove’s, on the
-stair.</p>
-
-<p>Franceline went forward to meet
-them; she did not speak, but Dr.
-Blink held out his hand in answer
-to her questioning face, and said
-cheerfully: “The count is much
-better; he has recovered consciousness,
-and is doing very nicely, very
-nicely indeed for the present.
-Come! there is nothing to be
-frightened at, my dear young lady.”</p>
-
-<p>Franceline could not utter a word,
-not even to murmur “Thank God!”
-But the dead weight that had been
-pressing on her heart was lifted,
-she gasped for breath, and then the
-blessed relief of tears came.</p>
-
-<p>“My poor little thing! My poor
-Franceline!” said the vicar, leading
-her gently to a chair, and smoothing
-the dark gold hair with paternal
-kindness.</p>
-
-<p>“Let her cry; it will do her good,”
-said Dr. Blink kindly; and then he
-turned to speak in a low voice to
-Father Henwick and Mr. Langrove.</p>
-
-<p>He had concluded, from the incoherent
-account which Mr. Langrove
-had gathered from Angélique,
-that he should come prepared for a
-case of apoplexy, and had brought
-all that was necessary to afford immediate
-relief. He had recourse
-to bleeding in the first instance,
-and it had proved effective. M. de
-la Bourbonais was, as he said,
-doing very well for the present.
-Consciousness had returned, and
-he was calm and free from suffering.
-Franceline was too inexperienced
-to understand where the real danger
-of the attack lay. She fancied that,
-since her father had regained consciousness,
-there could be nothing
-much worse than a bad fainting fit,
-brought on by fatigue of mind and
-body, and, now that the Rubicon
-was past, he would soon be well,
-and she would take extra care of
-him, so as to prevent a relapse.
-Her passionate burst of tears soon
-calmed down, and she rose up to
-thank her visitors with that queenly
-self-command that formed so striking
-a part of her character.</p>
-
-<p>“I am very grateful to you for
-coming so quickly; it was very
-good of you,” she said, extending
-her hand to Dr. Blink: “May I
-go to him now?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no, not just yet,” he replied
-promptly. “I would rather he
-were left perfectly quiet for a few
-hours. We will look in on him
-later; not that it is necessary, but
-we shall be in the neighborhood,
-and may as well turn in for a moment.”
-He wished them good-afternoon,
-and was gone.</p>
-
-<p>“And how did you happen to
-come in just at the right moment?”
-said Franceline, turning to Father
-Henwick. “It did not occur to
-me before how strange it was. Was
-it some good angel that told you to
-come to me, I wonder?”</p>
-
-<p>“The very thing! You have
-hit it to a nicety!” said Mr. Langrove.
-“It was an angel that did
-it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Father Henwick,
-falling into the vicar’s playful vein,
-“and the odd thing was that he
-came riding up to my house on a
-fat Cumberland pony! Now, we all
-know S. Michael has been seen on a
-white charger, but this is the first
-time, to my knowledge, that an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_758" id="Page_758">[758]</a></span>
-angel was ever seen mounted on a
-Cumberland pony.”</p>
-
-<p>“Dear Mr. Langrove, how good
-of you!” said Franceline, with
-moistened eyes, and she pressed his
-hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Had you not better come out
-with me now for a short walk?” said
-the vicar. “I sha’n’t be more than
-half an hour, and it will do you
-good. Come and have early tea at
-the vicarage, and we will walk
-home with you before Blink comes
-back. What do you say?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! I think I had better not go
-out, I feel so shaken and tired;
-and then papa might ask for me,
-you know. I shall not go near him
-unless he does, after what Dr.
-Blink said.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, perhaps it is as well for
-you to keep quiet. Good-by, dear.
-I will look in on you this evening.”</p>
-
-<p>“And so will I, my child,” said
-Father Henwick, laying his broad
-hand on her head; and the two
-gentlemen left the cottage together.</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE FRIENDS OF EDUCATION.</h3>
-
-<p>To pass from the discussion of
-arguments to the question of motives
-is a most common yet most
-unjustifiable manœuvre of popular
-debate. This is usually done when
-the field of calm and logical reasoning
-has become tolerably clear.
-The flank movement is attempted
-as a final struggle against defeat
-otherwise inevitable. If the motive
-thus impugned be really indefensible;
-if it be, at the same time,
-glaring or manifest, a positive advantage
-is sometimes gained by a
-vigorous diversion from the real
-object of contention. But if such
-a motive has to be alleged&mdash;or, still
-worse, invented&mdash;the demonstration
-against it, however violent, is but a
-reluctant and ungracious acknowledgment
-of defeat and a flight
-from the real point at issue. The
-most recent instance of this sort is
-taking place before the American
-public, and has been afforded by
-those who endeavor to represent
-Catholics as opposed to free and
-liberal education, thereby attainting
-the motives of the position
-which Catholics have been forced
-to assume with regard to what are
-falsely called “common” schools.</p>
-
-<p>This attitude of our opponents,
-however, we regard not without
-complacency. Our object is not
-war, but peace and good-will
-among citizens. We hail the present
-violent misrepresentation as a
-sign that the enemy is close to the
-“last ditch,” and that the discussion
-approaches its conclusion.
-When this final effort to distort
-the Catholic object and to asperse
-the Catholic character has exhausted
-itself and been held up to the
-inspection of the American people,
-we shall have seen the end of the
-“school question.” We insist upon
-an improvement in our educational
-system which is necessary to
-perfect its character and to satisfy
-the requirements of the times.
-The present system does not meet
-the wishes of a very large portion
-of the community, is unfair to
-others besides Catholics, and is out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_759" id="Page_759">[759]</a></span>
-of harmony with the spirit of free
-institutions. A system is wanted
-which shall at least be equal to
-that of monarchical countries, fair
-to all citizens alike, and which will
-relieve Catholics from the double
-burden of educating their own
-children, besides paying for a system
-of education of which they
-cannot conscientiously avail themselves.</p>
-
-<p>The correctness of the Catholic
-position is so manifest, and is so
-rapidly gaining the recognition of
-all thoughtful classes, that those
-who are unwilling to allow Catholics
-equal rights as citizens are
-forced, in order to hide the truth,
-not only to maintain that the present
-system is absolutely perfect and
-incapable of any improvement, but
-to accuse Catholics of harboring
-ideas of which they are not only
-innocent, but which it would be
-wholly impossible for them to entertain&mdash;such
-as that they are
-afraid of the light; that they attack
-the present system because
-they are inimical to all education;
-and that their object is, if possible,
-to do away with it altogether. Accusations
-similar to these are daily
-repeated, garnished with rhetoric,
-and sent forth to alarm our fellow-citizens
-and to encourage them to
-turn a deaf ear to whatever Catholics
-may say. The weak point of
-this movement against us is that
-the people will notice that it does
-not deal at all with the validity of
-Catholic claims, and that it shirks
-the only question at issue. They
-will be led to suspect that it is emphatically
-a “dodge”; and the
-mere suspicion of this will awaken
-curiosity as to what Catholics
-really have to say&mdash;a curiosity fatal
-to the success of the flank attack.</p>
-
-<p>In the language of those who
-advance the charge with which we
-propose to deal, education means
-either primary instruction in the
-elements of knowledge, or else
-higher academic culture, such as
-is to be furnished by colleges and
-universities. If, therefore, Catholics
-are hostile to education, in this
-sense of the word, they must be
-opposed either to the general
-spread of such information as is
-aimed at in elementary and normal
-schools, or to the existence and
-growth of the higher institutions
-of science and art.</p>
-
-<p>We are perfectly aware that there
-is another meaning given to the
-word education, to which reference
-is made, simply in order to avoid
-obscurity.</p>
-
-<p>Philosophers of the class to
-which Mr. Huxley belongs understand
-by education a certain specific
-course of moral and intellectual
-training, the aim of which is to ensure
-its pupils against ever being
-affected by “theological tendencies.”
-Such impressions are to
-be made upon childhood, and matured
-in more advanced stages, as
-will rid men of that natural but
-awkward habit of reasoning from
-cause to effect; which will free
-them from all hope of any life but
-the present, and any fear of future
-responsibility, in order that they
-may be impelled to devote themselves
-solely to the analysis and
-classification of material phenomena,
-since this is the only purpose
-of man’s existence&mdash;such a course
-of spiritual defloration as was practised
-upon the tender and noble genius
-of the late John Stuart Mill, the
-results of which, as manifested by
-the revelation of his biography, afford,
-in the words of an ingenuous,
-critic, “a most unpleasant spectacle.”
-A process of this kind is
-not education; it is a heartrending
-and lamentable destruction of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_760" id="Page_760">[760]</a></span>
-that which is noblest and most essential
-in man, and as a definition
-has not yet obtained a place in the
-English language.</p>
-
-<p>If any of our readers would care
-to know our own ultimate definition
-of education, we should describe
-it as the complete and harmonious
-development of all the
-powers of man in reference to his
-true end. But for present purposes
-it is sufficient to adopt the
-ordinary sense of the word, as
-meaning the diffusion of knowledge
-by scholastic exercises in academies
-and colleges.</p>
-
-<p>If it appears singular to enlightened
-Protestants to hear a demand
-for circumscription and discouragement
-of Catholics, and, if possible,
-the suppression of religious education,
-from that faction whose motto
-is “Liberty and Light,” we trust
-that it will seem none the less paradoxical
-to hear the charge of favoring
-ignorance urged with most vehemence
-against us by those whose
-boast, up to within a few years, has
-been “a ministry without education,
-and a way to heaven without
-grammar.”</p>
-
-<p>The first demand does not in the
-least surprise us, coming, as it does,
-from a crude and undigested assumption
-of the principles of European
-radicalism. We have seen
-its consistency illustrated by madmen
-chasing, robbing, and killing
-one another to the cry of “liberty,
-equality, fraternity.” We understand
-what it is to be assaulted by
-this party, which knows not how to
-act except in the way of destruction,
-which is never at rest except in the
-midst of agitation, and never at
-peace, so to speak, except when at
-war.</p>
-
-<p>Nor is it strange to see an attempt
-against Catholics made outside
-the field of theological controversy,
-inasmuch as the result of
-controversy for the past two centuries
-has tended rather to the disintegration
-of Protestantism than to
-the conversion of Catholics to the
-new faith. Nor is it surprising to
-find this assault directed against
-the equal rights of Catholics in
-education; for here some earnest
-but short-sighted men imagine that
-there is not simply ground to be
-gained, but that the present system
-is a stronghold not to be given up.
-It is a stronghold, truly, but rather
-of infidelity than of Protestantism.</p>
-
-<p>But educated Protestants and
-heathen will marvel with us that
-the attack has been made on the
-theory that Protestantism is the
-born friend, and Catholicity the
-natural enemy of education, knowing
-as well as we the fatal evidence
-of history.</p>
-
-<p>The contempt for education
-which, until more recent times,
-has always existed, to a certain
-extent, among the orthodox Protestants,
-was founded upon their
-erroneous doctrines of the total
-depravity of human nature, the
-consequent invalidity of human
-reason, and the principle of private
-illumination.</p>
-
-<p>When Luther said, “The god Moloch,
-to whom the Jews immolated
-their children, is to-day represented
-by the universities” (<cite>Wider den
-Missbrauch der Messe</cite>), it was not
-simply on the ground of the universities
-being centres of association
-for boisterous and disorderly
-youth, or fortresses of the ancient
-faith, but because of that “pagan
-and impious science” which was
-taught in them.</p>
-
-<p>In his furious onslaught against
-them Luther was sustained by his
-well-known hatred of anything
-which tended to assert the prerogatives
-of human nature or the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_761" id="Page_761">[761]</a></span>
-dignity of reason. No man was
-ever more intemperate in denunciation
-than this so-called “liberator
-of humanity and emancipator of
-human reason.” “True believers
-strangle reason,” said he; and he
-never alluded to it except in terms
-of most outrageous abuse. The
-last sermon of his at Wittenberg<a name="FNanchor_253" id="FNanchor_253"></a><a href="#Footnote_253" class="fnanchor">[253]</a>
-is monumental in this respect;
-and his well-known reply to the
-Anabaptists is one of the most
-startling examples of his intensely
-idiomatic style.<a name="FNanchor_254" id="FNanchor_254"></a><a href="#Footnote_254" class="fnanchor">[254]</a></p>
-
-<p>The feelings of the master were
-fully communicated to the disciples.
-The results were fearful. The free
-schools which existed in every city
-were overturned by the very men
-whom they had educated; the <i lang="de">gymnasia</i>
-were in many places wholly destroyed,
-in others so reduced as never
-to recover their former position.</p>
-
-<p>At Wittenberg itself the two
-preachers, Spohr and Gabriel Didymus,
-announced from the pulpit that
-the study of science was not simply
-useless but noxious, and that it was
-best to do away with the colleges and
-schools. The upshot was to change
-the academy of that city into a bakery.
-Similar measures were carried
-into effect throughout the entire
-duchy of Anspach. The history
-of the Reformation by Dr. Döllinger
-gives a long list of the numerous
-scholars, rectors of high schools and
-colleges, who were driven into exile, and
-also details a minute account
-of many of the institutions which
-were destroyed.</p>
-
-<p>The statements of Erasmus, as to
-the disastrous results of the Reformation
-on studies, are constant and
-numberless. They may be formulated
-in a sentence of one of his
-letters to Pirkheimer (1538): “<i lang="la">Ubicumque
-regnat Lutheranismus, ibi
-litterarum est interitus</i>”&mdash;“Wherever
-Lutheranism reigns, there is the destruction
-of letters.”</p>
-
-<p>The testimony of Sturm, Schickfuss,
-Bucer, and others is no less
-forcible. Luther and Melancthon
-in later days seem to have been appalled
-by their own work, and
-George Major thus sums up the
-melancholy condition of things in
-his own day: “Thanks to the wickedness
-of men and the contempt
-which we ourselves have shown for
-studies, the schools have more than
-ever need of patrons and protectors
-to save them from ruin, and to prevent
-us from falling into a state of
-barbarism worse than that of Turks
-and Muscovites.”</p>
-
-<p>The interesting works of the Benedictines
-of St. Maur of the XVIIIth
-century, the Bollandists, and the
-collections of a few other Catholic
-scholars have preserved nearly all
-the material that is left from which
-to construct the history of the middle
-ages, so thorough was the work
-of destruction done on libraries
-by the Calvinists and Huguenots.
-The Bodleian library is but a fragment&mdash;a
-few torn leaves of the literature
-which was weeded out of
-England by the enlightened zeal of
-the much-married father of Anglicanism.</p>
-
-<p>“What mad work this Dr. Coxe
-did in Oxon, while he sat chancellor,
-by being the chief man that
-worked a reformation there, I have
-elsewhere told you,” says Anthony
-Wood “To return at length to
-the royal delegates, some of whom
-yet remained in Oxford, doing such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_762" id="Page_762">[762]</a></span>
-things as did not at all become
-those who professed to be learned
-and Christian men. For the principal
-ornaments, and at the same
-time supports, of the university&mdash;that
-is, the libraries, filled with innumerable
-works, both native and foreign&mdash;they
-permitted or directed to
-be despoiled.… Works of
-scholastic theology were sold off
-among those exercising the lowest
-description of arts; and those
-which contained circles or diagrams
-it was thought good to mutilate or
-burn, as containing certain proof
-of the magical nature of their contents.”</p>
-
-<p>What was left undone by the
-royal delegates was thoroughly attended
-to by the Puritans, who never
-did their work by halves, and
-whose views with regard to the
-Bible and literature bore a close
-resemblance to those of the early
-Mohammedans in their comparative
-estimate of the Koran and secular
-writings.</p>
-
-<p>For a full account of the effect
-of the revolution of the XVIth century
-on learning, people who may
-suspect Catholic writers of exaggeration
-can compare their statements
-with those of the learned Protestant
-Huber, in his exhaustive history of
-the universities. Even “honest
-Latimer,” who certainly was not a
-zealot for profane learning, lifted up
-his voice in complaint: “It would
-pity a man’s heart to hear that
-that I hear of the state of Cambridge;
-what it is in Oxford I cannot
-tell.” How it was at Oxford
-we have already seen. Throughout
-the length and breadth of the land
-the monastic schools, which were
-asylums both of mercy and learning,
-were destroyed; the mere list of
-their names, as given by the Protestant
-historian Cobbett, occupies one
-hundred and forty-five pages of his
-work. The present condition of the
-lower classes in England, which is
-due to their being thus deprived of
-means of education and assistance
-in distress, is the Nemesis of the Reformation.
-In listening to the demand
-that the government shall dispossess
-the present landlords as it
-despoiled the churchmen of old, we
-hear arguments of fearful power as
-to the extent of eminent domain.
-When it is asked why the crown and
-people shall not exercise for the
-common good the prerogative which
-was conceded and exercised formerly
-for the benefit of the crown alone,
-the present holders of property acquired
-by sacrilege may well take
-alarm at the progress of revolutionary
-ideas. And the question as to
-how far the people were forcibly
-deprived of the benefits of a trust
-vested for them in the church, may
-be decided “without constitutional
-authority and through blood.”
-God avert such a calamity from England!
-May the prayers of Catholic
-martyrs, of More and Fisher, intercede
-in her behalf, and save her from
-the consequences of that act, to prevent
-which, these, her truest sons, did
-not hesitate to offer up their lives!
-However, with these facts in view,
-it is scarcely wise for English Protestantism
-to assume the position
-of a necessary and perpetual friend
-of popular education. It is best to
-wait until the ink has become dry
-which has scored from the statute
-book of that realm the law making
-it felony to teach the alphabet to
-Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>It would be gratifying to us to contrast
-with the conduct of the authors
-of Protestantism that of the great
-educators of Europe who laid the
-foundations of our civilization. A
-fierce and violent revolution has
-turned that civilization aside, and
-introduced into it principles of anarchy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_763" id="Page_763">[763]</a></span>
-and death. A shallow and
-ungrateful era has failed to perceive
-and to acknowledge its debts. It
-is only in the pages of scholars such
-as Montalembert, the Protestants
-Maitland and Huber, and the author
-of that recent modest but
-most charming book entitled <cite>Christian
-Schools and Scholars</cite>, that we
-begin to notice a thoughtful inquiry
-into the history of our intellectual
-development. The masters slumber
-in forgetfulness and oblivion.
-We know not the builders of the
-great structures of the middle ages;
-and people generally know almost
-as little of its great intellectual and
-social system. The history of the
-human race for a thousand years
-of most intense activity is summed
-up in a few unmeaning words.</p>
-
-<p>Time and space fail for such a
-comparison. But the fact that the
-first Protestants found themselves
-educated, the fact that they found
-schools to denounce and to destroy,
-in the XVIth century, is sufficient
-to justify us with regard to history
-prior to that date.</p>
-
-<p>It would also be a pleasure to
-describe the progress of those magnificent
-bodies of Catholic educators
-which rose, under divine inspiration,
-as a check to the wave of revolution,
-and whose successes first
-stimulated the action of Protestants
-by the wholesome influence of fear.
-But this also is beyond our compass.
-We are ready to discuss the
-charge that Catholics are opposed
-to education, independently of all
-reference to Protestantism, by the
-test of positive facts, and to stand
-or fall by the Catholic record in
-modern times.</p>
-
-<p>It is not necessary to cross the
-ocean or to visit countries where
-the munificence of ages has endowed
-the universities of Catholic lands;
-as, for instance, the seven great
-universities of the Papal States&mdash;Ferrara,
-Bologna, Urbino, Macerata,
-Camerino, Perugia, and Rome,
-each containing thousands of students.
-Nor is it necessary to remind
-the reader that the great Protestant
-universities, and notably
-those of England, are, to use the
-expression of a distinguished Anglican
-prelate, “a legacy of Catholicism.”
-The charge that Catholics
-are opposed to university education
-is simply laughable, considering
-that the university is essentially a
-Catholic idea, and has never, even
-in Europe, been successfully counterfeited.</p>
-
-<p>It is not necessary, although it
-may be instructive, to refer to the
-free schools of the city of Rome,
-which, according to the testimony
-of a Protestant traveller, thirty
-years ago surpassed even those of
-Berlin in efficiency and relative
-number. They were, before the recent
-seizure by the Piedmontese
-government, the most numerous in
-proportion to the population and
-the most varied in character of any
-city in the world. They presented
-to their scholars the choice of day
-or night with regard to time, and
-prepared them for every profession,
-art, and trade. This matchless
-variety was doubtless the result of
-centuries of growth; but it was
-also the spontaneous outcome of
-zeal for education, and laid not a
-penny of taxation upon the people.
-So high was the standard of
-gratuitous education that private
-schools, at the beginning of the
-reign of our Holy Father Pius IX.,
-had to struggle hard in order to
-retain the patronage of the wealthy
-classes. At that time there were
-in Rome 27 institutions and 387
-schools for free education. Of
-these last, 180 were for little children
-of both sexes. Of the remainder,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_764" id="Page_764">[764]</a></span>
-94 were devoted to males and
-113 to females. The total number
-of pupils in elementary schools
-amounted to 14,157, of which
-number 3,790 were of the infant
-class. Of those more advanced,
-5,544 were males and 4,823 females.
-In elementary schools, <em>purely gratuitous</em>,
-7,579 received education&mdash;viz.,
-3,952 boys and 3,627 girls.</p>
-
-<p>There appears, however, in Cardinal
-Morichini’s report, a feature
-which has never yet been introduced
-into the American system&mdash;to
-wit, in <em>schools paying a small pension</em>
-there were 1,592 boys and
-1,196 girls; making a total in such
-schools of 2,788. This last item
-may furnish a hint to those who are
-anxious to secure the attendance
-of poor children in our own schools;
-although it is scarcely practicable
-where common education has to
-be provided by taxation alone. Of
-these 387 schools to which we have
-referred, 26 belonged to religious
-communities of men, and 23 to religious
-communities of women.
-The rest belonged to, or were conducted
-by, seculars. Besides these,
-2,213 children of both sexes received
-free instruction in special conservatories.</p>
-
-<p>In addition to this system of free
-primary education, there was the
-vast system of colleges and academies
-connected with the university,
-the advantages of which were at the
-command of the most limited and
-humble means.</p>
-
-<p>It would be interesting to ask
-some of the high-school graduates
-in this country the simple historical
-question, “Who, in modern
-times; have done most for free education?”
-General Grant has doubtlessly
-contributed liberally towards
-it; so, it is to be presumed, has Mr.
-Blaine; so have many other distinguished
-lecturers on the subject of
-education. But if the question is
-rightly answered, the date will have
-to be assigned much earlier, and
-St. Joseph Calasanctius, Venerable
-de la Salle, Catherine McAuley,
-and a hundred thousand other
-“Papists” will have to take precedence
-of our illustrious fellow-citizens.
-The spectacle of one Christian
-Brother, or Ursuline Nun, or
-Sister of Mercy whose life is devoted
-to the instruction of the poor,
-with no recompense but the sweet
-privilege of being worn out in the
-service of fellow-men for the sake
-of Jesus Christ&mdash;such a spectacle
-as was afforded by the gifted Gerald
-Griffin, or by Mother Seton in
-our own country, and is daily
-shown among us by thousands of
-calm, intelligent men and amiable
-women, in the various religious orders&mdash;this
-is a testimony to education
-which none but Catholics
-can produce. And yet these men
-and women, these bright martyrs
-of charity, are they whom it is
-thought good to attack by every
-means within the reach of calumny.</p>
-
-<p>Let it be understood that we do
-not overlook the efforts made by
-noble men and women in the ranks
-of Protestantism. Though few,
-and insignificant in intensity of
-zeal when compared with the
-daily and common sacrifices made
-by Catholics, nevertheless it must
-be borne in mind that these isolated
-attempts have been ineffectual,
-save only in so far as they have
-produced imperfect copies of the
-great works of Catholicity. Protestantism,
-as such, has never
-prompted or organized any great
-attempt at general free primary
-education. Indeed, it might be
-safely challenged to produce any
-instance of the kind. And if the
-American people to-day were to be
-seized with remorse for its injustice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_765" id="Page_765">[765]</a></span>
-towards Catholics, and to propose
-immediately to do away with all
-public schools, we should object
-most strongly on the ground that
-no adequate means would then exist
-for the education of Protestant
-children. The problem of general
-education has never been faced by
-Protestantism. The system of godless
-education is an extremely modern
-and thoroughly pagan idea.
-If it has found favor among the
-leaders of Protestantism, this has
-been because they have accepted it
-as a solution of the educational
-problem; not having given the
-matter sufficient attention to observe
-the ruinous effect which it is
-producing on themselves.</p>
-
-<p>From similar thoughtlessness
-comes their maintenance of the
-present system. It is a comparatively
-cheap solution, as far as individuals
-are concerned. It calls
-for no sacrifices. It is supposed to
-be sufficiently Protestant as long
-as the Bible is read in the schools.
-But if the present movement of
-the infidel party succeeds, and the
-“common” schools are reduced to
-purely irreligious institutions, the
-matter will soon force itself upon
-Protestant attention. We are convinced
-that they will perceive that
-Catholics have given the subject
-much more consideration than
-they supposed, and have been
-right throughout. Many of them
-will regret having misunderstood
-our views, and will be prepared
-to endorse the proposition that
-such schools are subversive of
-Christianity and demoralizing in
-their tendency. They will then endeavor
-to repair the evils which
-may still result from their ill-judged
-neglect of Catholic remonstrance.
-They will demand to be put upon
-at least an equal footing with infidels,
-probably with as much vehemence
-as Catholics have demanded
-an equal footing for all citizens
-alike. If they find themselves
-hopelessly debarred from this by
-the radical changes in the constitution
-which some of their number
-are even now proposing, they
-will impeach these amendments.
-This failing, they will find themselves
-in the position in which Catholics
-now are. Then, for the
-first time in history, will Protestantism
-have a fair chance to show
-how much it cares for education.</p>
-
-<p>But, as already intimated, it is not
-necessary to cross the seas to discover
-testimony in rebuttal of the
-gratuitous slander which is urged
-against Catholics. Nor is there
-need to summon from the tomb the
-teachers of those who founded the
-so-called Reformation, nor to institute
-an historic comparison between
-the labors of Catholics and
-Protestants. Still less need is there
-to attempt to penetrate the future
-as to what Catholics may do for
-education when they are relieved
-of one-half of their present twofold
-burden.</p>
-
-<p>We live in the XIXth century
-and in America; and in this, very
-age and country Catholics are doing
-more for education than is actually
-done by any other denomination,
-and, in proportion to their numbers
-and means, more than is done by
-all other denominations put together,
-which outnumber Catholics
-by at least four to one&mdash;Catholics,
-forsooth, who are impudently charged
-with being opposed to primary
-schools and collegiate training!</p>
-
-<p>This assertion will doubtless
-sound strangely in the ears of those
-who have allowed themselves to
-remain in ignorance of the facts
-which we shall presently adduce.
-But, in view of them, it will be acknowledged
-that our statement is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_766" id="Page_766">[766]</a></span>
-the most modest that can be made,
-and that, if disposed to be boastful,
-we could increase it many fold without
-fear of exaggeration. Catholics
-in this country have, it is true, no
-great university such as those produced
-by the efforts and endowments
-of generations. Besides the
-lack of time necessary for such a
-development, two other causes have
-thus far prevented its origin. The
-first is the poverty of Catholics
-here&mdash;not simply their lack of
-means&mdash;but the fact that the extent
-of the country and the comparatively
-small number of very
-wealthy families require that educational
-institutions of the higher
-class should be plentifully distributed.
-Secondly, Catholic resources
-have actually been applied to satisfy
-this condition of things. We feel
-quite sanguine that, before the
-close of the century, in spite of all
-disadvantages, a Catholic university
-of the very highest character will
-be established here; but, without
-it, there exist at present, in every
-city of importance throughout the
-Union, colleges which, for scholarship,
-will fairly compete with the
-chartered universities of this country,
-and which, in certain localities
-and in special departments, will
-surpass their older and more pretentious
-rivals. Although these
-colleges do not approach the ideal
-of a university&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>, a great city of
-learning, which can no more be
-built in a day than a great commercial
-metropolis&mdash;nevertheless
-there is no reason to be ashamed
-of our colleges. Scarcely one of
-them can be found which does not
-contain the children of non-Catholics,
-sent thither by the preference
-of parents and guardians. Our
-great academies for young ladies
-are recognized as possessing advantages
-which are without a parallel;
-and, as a class, the convent schools
-for girls are without even a rival,
-and contain a very large proportion
-of Protestant children.</p>
-
-<p>Nor are Catholics lacking in
-efforts to provide primary education
-for Catholic children, although
-their efforts in this direction are
-sadly out of proportion to their
-necessities. In higher intellectual
-culture the wealthy are naturally
-interested. They must provide
-suitable education for their children.
-To do this in every place
-is a most severe tax upon them.
-Nevertheless, it has been their duty
-to accomplish this, and, at the same
-time, to subscribe liberally toward
-the education of the children of
-their poorer brethren.</p>
-
-<p>The poorer classes, also, with
-less natural impulse to make sacrifices
-for education, exposed to
-the temptation of hundreds of proselytizing
-institutions, forced to pay
-also for the lavish expenditure of
-the public schools, have had to bear
-the burden of procuring the necessary
-instruction for their children
-without exposing them to sectarianism
-and the scorn of their religion
-too often openly manifested in
-the “common” schools. How far
-they have done their duty will presently
-be shown. Honorable men
-shall judge whether they have or
-have not valued education. But
-if it be suddenly discovered that
-they have valued it, let it be acknowledged
-also that they have acted
-as Catholics and from the deepest
-religious motives.</p>
-
-<p>The general statistics of the
-Catholic Church in America are
-very imperfect. Nevertheless, from
-the <cite>Catholic Directory</cite> of 1875 a
-few figures may be gleaned which
-will abundantly sustain the statements
-here advanced. It is to
-be regretted that the statistics as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_767" id="Page_767">[767]</a></span>
-given in the <cite>Directory</cite> are not more
-complete, those of some dioceses
-being quite minute and exact, those
-of others very imperfect.</p>
-
-<p>With regard to colleges and
-academies for higher education,
-there are, under Catholic direction,
-in the United States, at least 540,
-with an attendance of not less than
-48,000 pupils. In dioceses of
-which both the numbers of institutions
-and their attendance have
-been given there are 270 institutions,
-with an attendance of 24,000.
-A mathematical computation
-gives for the attendance in the
-others the amount which we have
-allowed as a safe estimate&mdash;viz., a
-total attendance of no less than
-48,000 souls. How does this appear
-to those who have listened
-hitherto to the revilers of Catholics?
-Are we right in repelling their
-charge, or are they right, who have
-nothing but their angry feelings
-with which to sustain it?</p>
-
-<p>If Catholics are wanting in zeal
-for education, the spirit of obstruction
-is not apparent in their higher
-institutions. But, as we have said,
-the mass of our people are poor.
-What provision have they made for
-themselves, besides paying for the
-education of others?</p>
-
-<p>The Catholic parochial schools
-are principally designed to supply
-the need of Catholic education for
-the masses. It would be wrong,
-however, to consider them as merely
-primary schools. Many of the
-parochial schools are really high
-schools, and have a course of
-studies equal to the best normal
-schools. Nevertheless, under the
-head of parish schools are not included
-any of those already mentioned
-as colleges or academies.
-In the Archdiocese of Cincinnati
-there are 140 parish schools, in
-which are educated about 35,000
-children free of cost to the State.
-In the Archdiocese of New York
-there are 93 parish schools, with not
-less than 37,600 children. In the
-Diocese of Cleveland there are 100
-parish schools and 16,000 children.
-In some places the attendance of
-the Catholic schools is fully equal
-to that of the public schools. So that
-in these districts Catholics not only
-pay for the education of their own
-children, but half the expenses of
-the public schools, and&mdash;supposing
-both systems to be conducted with
-equal economy&mdash;enough to pay for
-the education of all the other children
-as well as their own, <em>free of
-cost</em> to Protestants, Jews, and infidels.
-And yet Catholics are charged
-with being hostile to education!</p>
-
-<p>In the United States we have
-statistics of 1,400 parochial schools,
-the given attendance at which
-amounts to 320,000 pupils. The
-entire number of parish schools
-foots up 1,700, and the total figure
-of attendance may be set down at
-400,000 scholars. Add to this the
-number of 48,000 who are being
-educated in colleges and academies,
-and farther increase the sum by the
-probable number of children in
-asylums, reformatories, and industrial
-schools, and there will appear
-something very like half a million
-of scholars who are receiving their
-education at the expense of Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>Taking into account Catholic
-numbers, Catholic means, and the
-time in which Catholics have made
-these provisions for education, we
-can safely challenge, not only every
-denomination singly, but all of
-them put together, to show any
-corresponding interest in the matter
-of education, whether elementary
-or scientific. This challenge is
-made, not in the spirit of pride
-(though certainly without shame),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_768" id="Page_768">[768]</a></span>
-but in the name of truth and of
-generous rivalry to outstrip all
-others in the service of humanity
-and our country. Let it stand as
-the fittest reply to the disingenuous
-charge that Catholics are opposed
-to education.</p>
-
-<p>The candid reader to whom
-these facts are new will use his
-own language in characterizing the
-“flank movement” against Catholics,
-and will be disposed to credit
-us with honesty and consistency in
-our open criticism of the present
-hastily-adopted system of education.
-But we are persuaded that
-he will also be led, if not to make,
-at least to concur in, farther reflections
-on the facts which are here
-adduced. If Catholics are actually
-providing instruction for so vast
-a number of the people of the
-United States, is not this a very
-considerable saving to the public?
-We think it is. The average cost
-of education in New York City is
-$13 60 per child; in the State of
-New York, $11; in the United
-States and Territories, $9 26. The
-saving represented by such a number
-in our schools amounts, at the
-rate of New York City, to $6,800,000;
-at the rate of the State of New York,
-to $5,500,000, and at the lowest
-rate, to $4,630,000 per annum. In
-addition to this direct saving, we
-must be credited with the amount
-of our taxes for the public schools.
-When Catholics stand before the
-American people, and state the reasons
-why they do not consider the
-present educational system that prevails
-here to be either wise or just,
-they are not beggars in any sense.
-They ask for no favor. They demand
-an equitable system of disbursing
-the funds raised for education, so
-that no class of citizens shall be
-deprived of that for which they are
-forced to contribute. They would
-arrange it so that none could justly
-complain. As Catholics, we
-must have religion and morality
-(which, whatever others may think,
-are to us inseparable) taught in the
-schools to which we send our children.
-No time or place will ever
-alter our convictions on this point.
-What we demand for ourselves we
-gladly concede to others. We are
-ready to consult with them on a
-common and just basis of agreement.
-Nothing is wanting for a
-harmonious settlement except fairness
-on the part of our opponents.
-There is no flaw in our position, no
-evil design in our heart, nor have
-we the slightest disposition to drive
-a close bargain. Let the word be
-spoken. Let any of the Protestant
-denominations make a step forward,
-intimate a desire for settlement
-on the basis of equal justice
-to all, and Catholics are with them.
-But while we thus maintain our demand
-as strictly just, whether it be
-received or rejected, we are not
-debtors but creditors of the state.
-We not only ask our fellow-citizens,
-Will you stand by and see
-us taxed for a system of education
-of which we cannot conscientiously
-avail ourselves? but we further
-ask, Can you, as honest men, disregard
-what Catholics are doing
-for education? Do you want them
-not only to educate their own children,
-thereby saving you this cost,
-but to educate yours also?</p>
-
-<p>What kind of a soul has the man
-or the nation who would deliberately
-resist such an appeal? The
-time will come when people will
-ask&mdash;as, indeed, many do ask at present&mdash;“Why
-is not a louder outcry
-made for the Catholics in the
-school question?” And the answer
-is that we feel a certainty,
-which nothing can shake, that the
-American people are intelligent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_769" id="Page_769">[769]</a></span>
-enough to understand Catholics after
-a time; and when they do understand
-them, they will be fair
-enough to do them justice.</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime let the Catholic
-laborer pay not only for the education
-of his own children at the
-parish school, and save this expense
-to his rich neighbor; let him
-also pay for the same neighbor’s
-children, not merely in primary
-schools, but in high schools, where
-ladies and gentlemen (whom poverty
-does not drive to labor at the
-age when the poor man’s children
-have to be apprenticed) may learn
-French and German and music,
-and to declaim on the glorious
-principles of American liberty and
-of the Constitution, under which
-all men are (supposed to be) free
-and equal. We love to hear their
-young voices and hearty eloquence.
-Let these institutions be costly in
-structure and furnished with every
-improvement. Let the teachers
-have high salaries. Let gushing editors
-issue forth, to manifest to the
-astonished world the wisdom and
-deep thought which they have acquired
-at the expense of their
-humbler and self-sacrificing neighbor.
-But let honest and thoughtful
-men ponder on the meaning of
-American equality, and judge who
-are the true friends of education.
-The wages of the laborers will be
-spent, if the shallowness and crude
-imperfection of the present system
-are learned, and the spirit of equal
-rights among citizens peacefully
-preserved; though the credit will
-belong to those who have kept
-their calmness of mind and made
-the greatest sacrifices.</p>
-
-<p>The candid reader to whom we
-have alluded will readily admit
-that Catholics are true friends of
-education, and are doing most for
-it proportionately to their means;
-that, instead of suspicion and
-abuse, they deserve respect, honor,
-and acknowledgment of their services.</p>
-
-<p>We think, however, that our fellow-citizens
-will go much farther,
-and will, in time, endorse our statement
-when we affirm that Catholics
-at present, and as a body, are the
-only true friends of popular education.
-By this is not meant simply
-to say that they have not been backward
-in obtaining, by their intelligence
-and integrity, the highest
-positions in the country; that they
-count as representatives such men
-as Chief-Justice Taney, Charles
-O’Conor, a Barry at the head of
-the navy, a Sheridan and a Rosecrans
-in the army, and others of
-the highest national and local
-reputation; or that, when the Roman
-purple fell upon the shoulders
-of the Archbishop of New York,
-it suffered no loss of dignity in
-touching a true and patriotic
-American, well fitted to wear it in
-any court or academy of Europe.
-But we do mean that, outside of
-the Catholic Church and those who
-sympathize with our views on this
-subject, there is no body whose
-representatives are not biassed in
-their plan for common education
-by prejudice or hostility toward
-some other body.</p>
-
-<p>With what utter disregard for
-the rights of conscience the infidel
-and atheistic faction coolly avows
-its purpose to enforce a secular
-and irreligious education upon all
-the people&mdash;a system known to be
-no less antagonistic to the spirit of
-our democratic institutions than
-hostile to the religious convictions
-of Catholics as well as Protestants!
-What loud outcries and stormy denunciations
-echo from certain popular
-pulpits when this faction demands
-the expulsion of the Bible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_770" id="Page_770">[770]</a></span>
-from the public schools! Is any
-person cool in the midst of this confusion?
-Is there any class of citizens
-which looks to the common
-good and adheres to the principle
-of equal regard for religious rights
-and education free for all? There
-are such persons. There is such a
-class. Those are they who never
-shrink from avowing their principles,
-and whose principles are always
-right, in spite of temporary
-unpopularity&mdash;the representatives
-of the Catholic Church of America.</p>
-
-<p>When the excitement of the hour
-has died away, and the schemes of
-politicians to gain power by fastening
-upon the country a system fatal
-to liberty, and radical in its assault
-upon the spirit of our government,
-have met their just fate, then we
-shall receive the honor due to those
-who have defended the country
-from the danger of adopting partisan
-measures aimed against a certain
-class of citizens.</p>
-
-<p>We hope to live to see the day
-when there will not be a child in
-the whole land capable of instruction
-who shall not receive a
-thorough education, fitting him
-to be a patriotic citizen of our
-country, and, at the same time, in
-nowise interfering with his religious
-duties. The present system
-signally fails to accomplish this.
-Those who so strenuously uphold
-its organization and attempt to make
-it compulsory upon all are hostile
-to the genius of our institutions
-and fanatical in their zeal. That
-they are not lovers of education is
-evident from their own ignorance
-of facts. That they are in earnest
-when they charge Catholics with
-hostility to education we can
-scarcely believe; for we hear from
-the same lips hints and warnings
-against Catholic success in education.
-We hear also that the Catholic
-Church is growing, and, unless
-something is done to stop her, she
-will convert all the Protestants in
-the country; and, still at other
-times, that she is an effete and
-worn-out thing which cannot live
-through the century in a free republic.
-At one time Catholics are
-derided as idiots; at another represented
-as deep and insidious conspirators.
-There is scarcely anything
-which is not affirmed or denied
-of them, according as it suits
-the mood of their revilers. If our
-people were cooler and more dispassionate,
-we should find all those
-calumnies answering one another.
-As it is, we are constrained to
-pay them more or less attention,
-though the nature of the testimony
-against us scarcely allows us to
-take up more than one point at a
-time.</p>
-
-<p>If Catholics or Methodists or
-Episcopalians or Baptists can give a
-better and a cheaper education, we
-see no reason why the state should
-interfere with those who choose to
-avail themselves of it. Let the
-state set up any standard it may
-choose, or make it obligatory; Catholics
-will cheerfully come up to
-it, no matter how high it may be,
-provided equal rights are allowed
-to all. The government has a right
-to demand that its voters shall possess
-knowledge. It has no right to
-say how or where they shall acquire
-knowledge. The government
-is bound by public policy to promote
-education. This is to be
-done by stimulating in this department
-the same activity which has
-made Americans famous in other
-branches of social economy, by encouraging
-spontaneous action, and
-not by an ill-judged system of
-“protection” of one kind of education
-against another, or by creating
-a state monopoly. Bespeaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_771" id="Page_771">[771]</a></span>
-candor and due respect on the part
-of those who may differ from us,
-we take our stand on what we conceive
-to be the true American
-ground, and are willing to abide by
-the consequences&mdash;fair play, universal
-culture, obligatory knowledge,
-non-interference of the state
-in religion, and free trade in education.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>SUGGESTED BY A CASCADE AT LAKE GEORGE.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">Not idly could I watch this torrent fall</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Hour after hour; not vainly day by day</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Visit the spot to meditate and pray.</div>
-<div class="verse">The charm that holds me in its giant thrall</div>
-<div class="verse">Has too much of the infinite to pall.</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">For though, like time, the waters pass away,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">They fling a freshness, a baptismal spray,</div>
-<div class="verse">Which breathes of the Eternal Fount of all.</div>
-<div class="verse">And so, my God, does thy revealed word,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In living dogma or on sacred page,</div>
-<div class="verse">Flow to us ever new; though read and heard</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Immutably the same from age to age.</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And thither Nature sends us to assuage</div>
-<div class="verse">The higher longings by her voices stirred.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_772" id="Page_772">[772]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SIR THOMAS MORE.<br />
-<i>A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.</i></h3>
-
-<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.</p>
-
-<h4>V.</h4>
-
-<p>Time glides rapidly by, leaving
-no footprints on the dreary road
-over which it has passed, as the
-wild billows, rolling back into the
-fathomless depths whence the tempest
-has called them forth, leave no
-traces behind them. And so passes
-life&mdash;fleeting rapidly, noiselessly
-away; while man, weary with striving,
-tortured by cares and unceasing
-anxieties, is born, suffers, weeps,
-and in a day has withered, and,
-like a fragile flower of the field,
-perishes from the earth.</p>
-
-<p>Wolsey, fallen from the summit of
-prosperity, continued to experience
-a succession of reverses. Unceasingly
-exposed to the malice of his
-enemies, he struggled in vain against
-their constantly-increasing influence;
-and if they failed in bringing
-about his death, they succeeded, at
-least, in poisoning every moment
-of his existence. Thus, at the time
-even when Henry VIII. had sent
-him a valuable ring as a token of
-amity, they forced the king to despoil
-the wretched man of the valuable
-possessions which they pretended
-to wish restored to him. He received
-one day from his master a
-new assurance of his royal solicitude;
-the next, his resources failing,
-he was obliged, for want of money,
-to dismiss his old servants and remain
-alone in his exile.</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell, with an incredible
-adroitness, had succeeded by degrees
-in disengaging himself from
-the obligations he owed the cardinal,
-and in making the downfall
-and misfortunes of his master serve
-to advance his own interests. He
-had made numerous friends among
-the throng of courtiers surrounding
-the king, in obtaining from the unhappy
-Wolsey his recognition of
-the distribution which the king had
-made of his effects, by adding the
-sanction of his own seal. After
-repeated refusals on the part of the
-cardinal, he was at last successful
-in convincing him of the urgent
-necessity for making this concession,
-in order to try, he said with
-apparent sincerity, to lessen the
-animosity and remove the prejudices
-they entertained against him.
-But, in reality, the intention of
-Cromwell had been, by that manœuvre,
-to strip him of his entire possessions;
-for the courtiers, being
-well aware their titles were not valid
-under the law, were every moment
-afraid they might be called on
-to surrender the gifts they had received,
-and consequently desired
-nothing so much as to have the
-cardinal confirm them in their unjust
-possessions.</p>
-
-<p>It was by means of this monstrous
-ingratitude that Cromwell purchased
-the favor of the court, began to
-elevate himself near the king in receiving
-new dignities and honors,
-and at length found himself saved
-from the fate he had so greatly apprehended
-at the moment of his
-benefactor’s downfall. Of what
-consequence was Wolsey to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_773" id="Page_773">[773]</a></span>
-now? Banished from his archbishopric
-of York, he was but a broken
-footstool which Cromwell no
-longer cared to remember. He
-scarcely deigned to employ his new
-friends in having Wolsey (reduced
-to the condition of an invalid) removed
-from the miserable abode
-at Asher to the better situated castle
-of Richmond; and later, when
-the heads of the council, always apprehensive
-and uneasy because of
-his existence, obtained his peremptory
-exile, he considered this departure
-as completely liberating
-him from every obligation to his old
-benefactor.</p>
-
-<p>Events were thus following each
-other in rapid succession, when,
-toward the middle of the day,
-the door of the king’s cabinet
-opened, and Sir Thomas More,
-in the grand costume of lord
-chancellor, entered as had been his
-custom.</p>
-
-<p>The king turned slightly around
-on his chair, and fixed upon him a
-searching glance, as if he sought to
-read the inmost soul of More.</p>
-
-<p>The countenance of the chancellor
-was tranquil, respectful, and assured,
-such as it had always been.
-In vain Henry sought to discover
-the indications of fear, the impetuous
-desires and ambitions which he
-was accustomed to excite or contradict
-in the agitated heart of Wolsey,
-and by which, in his turn master
-of his favorite, of his future, and of
-his great talents, he made him pay so
-dearly for the honors at intervals
-heaped upon him.</p>
-
-<p>Nothing of all this could he discover!
-More seated himself when
-invited by the king, and entered
-upon the discussion of a multitude
-of affairs to which he had been devoting
-himself with unremitting attention
-day and night.</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” he would urge, “this
-measure will be most useful to
-your kingdom; sire, justice, it
-seems to me, requires you to give
-such a decision in that case.”</p>
-
-<p>Never were any other considerations
-brought to bear nor
-other demands made; nothing for
-himself, nothing for his family, but
-all for the good of the state, the interests
-of the people; silence upon
-all subjects his conscience did not
-oblige him to reveal, though the
-king perceived only too clearly the
-inmost depths of the pure and elevated
-soul of his chancellor.</p>
-
-<p>By dazzling this man of rare virtues
-with a fortune to which a simple
-gentleman could never aspire,
-Henry had hoped to allure him to
-his own party and induce him to
-sustain the divorce bill. Thus, by
-a monstrous contradiction, in corrupting
-him by avarice and ambition,
-he would have destroyed the
-very virtues on which he wished to
-lean. He perceived with indignation
-that all his artifices had been
-unsuccessful in influencing a will
-accustomed to yield only to convictions
-of duty, and he feared his
-ability to move him by any of
-the indirect and abstract arguments
-which he felt and acknowledged to
-himself were weak and insufficient.
-Revolving all these reflections in
-his mind, the king eagerly opened
-the conversation with More, but in
-a quiet tone and with an air of assumed
-indifference.</p>
-
-<p>“Well! Sir Thomas,” he said,
-“have you reflected on what I asked
-you? Do you not find now that
-my marriage with my brother’s
-wife was in opposition to all laws
-human and divine, and that I
-cannot do otherwise than have it
-pronounced null and void, after being
-thus advised by so many learned
-men, and ecclesiastics also?”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” replied More, “I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_774" id="Page_774">[774]</a></span>
-done what your majesty requested
-me; but it occurs to my mind that,
-in an affair of so much importance,
-it will not be sufficient to ask simply
-the advice of those immediately
-around you; for it might be feared
-that, influenced by the affection
-they bear for you, they would not
-decide as impartially as your majesty
-would desire. Perhaps, also,
-some of them might be afraid of
-offending you. I have, therefore,
-concluded that it would be better
-for your majesty to consult advisers
-who are entirely removed from all
-such suspicions. That is why I
-have endeavored to collect together
-in this manuscript I have here the
-various passages of Holy Scripture
-bearing on this subject. I have
-added also the opinions of S. Augustine
-and several other fathers
-of the church, with whose eminent
-learning and high authority among
-the faithful your majesty is familiar.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” said the king, with a
-slightly-marked movement of impatience,
-“that was right. Leave it
-there; I will read it.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Thomas deposited the manuscript
-on the king’s table.</p>
-
-<p>“My lord chancellor,” he continued,
-“the House of Commons has
-taken some steps toward discharging
-my debts. What do they think
-of this in the city?”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” replied More, “I must
-tell you candidly they complain
-openly and loudly. They say if the
-ministers had not taken care to introduce
-into the house members
-who had received their positions
-from themselves, the bill would
-never have passed; for it is altogether
-unjust and iniquitous for
-Parliament to dispose in this manner
-of private property. They say
-still farther that it has been inserted
-in the preamble of the bill that
-the prosperity of the kingdom under
-the king’s paternal administration
-had induced them to testify
-their gratitude by discharging his
-debts. If this pretext is sincere, it
-reflects the greatest honor on Cardinal
-Wolsey; and if, on the contrary,
-it is false, it covers his successors
-with shame.”</p>
-
-<p>“What!” exclaimed the king,
-“do they dare express themselves in
-this manner?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” replied Sir Thomas; “and
-I will frankly say to the king that
-it would have been far better to
-have imposed a new tax supported
-equally by all than thus to
-despoil individuals of their patrimony.”</p>
-
-<p>“They are never contented!” exclaimed
-the king impatiently. “I
-have sacrificed Wolsey to their hatred,
-whom there is no person in
-the kingdom now able to replace.
-This Dr. Gardiner torments me
-with questions which are far from
-satisfactory to his dull comprehension.
-Everything goes wrong, unless
-I take the trouble of managing
-it myself; while with the cardinal
-the slightest suggestion was sufficient.
-I constantly feel inclined to
-recall him! Then we will see what
-they will say! But no!” he continued,
-with an expression of gloomy
-sullenness, “they gave me no rest
-until I had banished him from his
-archbishopric of York. It was, they
-said, the sole means of preventing
-Parliament from pronouncing his
-condemnation. By this time he is
-doubtless already reconciled; he is
-so vain a creature that the three
-or four words I have said in his
-favor to my nobles of the north
-will have been worth more to him
-than the homage and adulation of
-a court, without which he cannot
-exist. He is pious now, they say,
-occupying himself only with good
-works and in doing penance for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_775" id="Page_775">[775]</a></span>
-his many sins of the past. In fact,
-he is entirely reconciled! He has
-already forgotten all that I have
-done for him! I shall devote myself,
-then, to those who now serve
-me!”</p>
-
-<p>“I doubt very much if your
-majesty has been correctly informed
-with regard to the latter fact,”
-replied More. “Indeed, I know
-that the order compelling him to
-be entirely removed from your
-majesty’s presence is the one that
-caused him the deepest grief.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! More,” interrupted the
-king very suddenly, as if to take
-him by surprise, “you are opposed
-to my divorce. I have known it
-perfectly well for a long time; and
-these extracts from the fathers of
-the church to which you refer me
-are simply the expression of your
-own opinions, which you wish to convey
-to me in this indirect manner.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” replied More, slightly embarrassed,
-“I had hoped your majesty
-would not force me to give my
-opinion on a subject of such grave
-importance, and one, as I have already
-explained, on which I possess
-neither the authority nor the ability
-to decide.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! well, Sir Thomas,” replied
-the king in a confident manner,
-wishing to discover what effect his
-words would produce on More,
-“being entirely convinced of the
-justice of my cause, and that nothing
-can prevent me from availing
-myself of it, I am determined, if
-the pope refuses what I have a
-right to demand, to withdraw from
-the tyrannical yoke of his authority.
-I will appoint a patriarch
-in my kingdom, and the bishops
-shall no longer submit to his jurisdiction.”</p>
-
-<p>“A schism!” exclaimed More,
-“a schism! Dismember the church
-of Jesus Christ for a woman!”</p>
-
-<p>And he paused, appalled at what
-Henry had said and astonished at
-his own energetic denunciation.</p>
-
-<p>The king felt, as by a violent
-shock, all the force of that exclamation,
-and, dropping his head on
-his breast, he remained stupefied,
-like one who had just been aroused
-from a painful and terrible dream.</p>
-
-<p>Just at that moment the cabinet
-door was thrown violently open,
-and Lady Anne Boleyn entered precipitately.
-She was drowned in
-tears, and carried in her arms a
-hunting spaniel that belonged to
-the king.</p>
-
-<p>She threw it into the centre of
-the apartment, evidently in a frightful
-rage.</p>
-
-<p>“Here,” she cried, looking at the
-king&mdash;“here is your wretched dog,
-that has tried to strangle my favorite
-bird! You never do anything
-but try to annoy me, make me miserable,
-and cause me all kinds of
-intolerable vexations. I have told
-you already that I did not want
-that horrid animal in my chamber.”</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime the dog, which
-she had thrown on the floor, set up
-a lamentable howl.</p>
-
-<p>The king felt deeply humiliated
-by this ridiculous scene, and especially
-on account of the angry
-familiarity exhibited by Anne Boleyn
-in presence of Sir Thomas
-More; for she either forgot herself
-in her extreme excitement and indignation,
-or she believed her empire
-so securely established that
-she did not hesitate to give these
-proofs of it. She continued her
-complaints and reproaches with increasing
-haughtiness, until she was
-interrupted by Dr. Stephen Gardiner,
-who came to bring some newly-arrived
-despatches to the king.</p>
-
-<p>Henry arose immediately, and,
-motioning Sir Thomas to open the
-door, without saying a word, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_776" id="Page_776">[776]</a></span>
-took Anne Boleyn by the hand, and,
-leading her from the room, ordered
-her to retire to her own apartment.</p>
-
-<p>He then returned, and, seating
-himself near the chancellor, concealed,
-as far as he was able, his excitement
-and mortification.</p>
-
-<p>Sir Thomas, still more excited,
-could not avoid, as they went over
-the despatches, indignantly reflecting
-on the manner in which Anne
-Boleyn had treated the king, on
-his deplorable infatuation, and the
-terrible consequences to which that
-infatuation must inevitably lead.</p>
-
-<p>The king, divining the nature of
-his reflections, experienced a degree
-of humiliation that made him
-inexpressibly miserable.</p>
-
-<p>“What say these despatches?” he
-asked, endeavoring to assume composure.
-“What does More think of
-me?” he said to himself&mdash;“he so
-grave, so pious, so dignified! He
-despises me!… That silly girl!”</p>
-
-<p>“They give an account of the
-emperor’s reception of the Earl of
-Wiltshire,” answered More. “I
-will read it aloud, if your majesty
-wishes.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no,” said the king, whom
-the name of Wiltshire confused
-still more; “give them to me. I
-am perfectly familiar with the cipher.”
-He did not intend that
-More should yet be apprised of
-the base intrigues he had ordered
-to be practised at Rome to assist
-the father of his mistress in obtaining
-the divorce.</p>
-
-<p>Having taken the letters, he
-found the emperor had treated his
-ambassador with the utmost contempt,
-remarking to Wiltshire that
-he was an interested party, since he
-was father of the queen’s rival, and
-he would have to inform Henry
-VIII. that the emperor was not a
-merchant to sell the honor of his
-aunt for three hundred thousand
-crowns, even if he proposed to
-abandon her cause, but, on the
-contrary, he should defend it to
-the last extremity; and after saying
-this, the emperor had deliberately
-turned his back on the ambassador
-and forbidden him to be
-again admitted to his presence.</p>
-
-<p>Henry grew red and white alternately.</p>
-
-<p>“I am, then, the laughing-stock
-of Europe,” he murmured through
-his firmly-set teeth.</p>
-
-<p>Numerous other explanations followed,
-in which the Earl of Wiltshire
-gave an exact and circumstantial
-account of the offer he had
-made to the Holy Father of the
-treatise composed by Cromwell on
-the subject of the divorce, saying
-that he had brought the author
-with him, who was prepared to sustain
-the opinions advanced against
-all opposition. He ended by informing
-the king that, in spite of
-his utmost efforts, he had not been
-able to prevent the pope from according
-the emperor a brief forbidding
-Henry to celebrate another
-marriage before the queen’s case
-had been entirely decided, and enjoining
-him to treat her in the
-meantime as his legitimate wife.</p>
-
-<p>Wiltshire sent with his letter an
-especial copy of that document,
-adding that he feared the information
-the Holy Father had received
-of the violence exercised by the
-English universities toward those
-doctors who had voted against the
-divorce, together with the money
-and promises distributed among
-those of France, especially the
-University of Paris, to obtain favorable
-decisions, had not contributed
-toward influencing him.</p>
-
-<p>The king read and re-read several
-times all these statements, and
-was entirely overwhelmed with indignation
-and disappointment.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_777" id="Page_777">[777]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“And why,” he angrily exclaimed,
-dashing the earl’s letter as far
-as possible from him&mdash;“why have
-these flatterers surrounding me always
-assured me I would succeed
-in my undertaking? Why could
-they not foresee that it would be impossible?
-and why have I not found
-a sincere friend who might have admonished
-me? More!” he cried
-after a moment’s silence&mdash;“More, I
-am most miserable! What could be
-more unjust? I am devoted to Lady
-Anne Boleyn as my future wife;
-and now they wish to make me renounce
-her. The emperor’s intrigues
-prevail, and against all laws,
-human and divine, they condemn
-me to eternal celibacy!”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” replied Sir Thomas in a
-firm but sadly respectful manner,
-“yes, it is indeed distressing to see
-your majesty thus voluntarily destroy
-your own peace, that of your
-kingdom, the happiness of your
-subjects, the regard for your own
-honor, so many benefits, in fact,
-and all for the foolish love of a girl
-who possesses neither worth nor
-reputation.”</p>
-
-<p>“More,” exclaimed the king,
-“do not speak of her in this manner!
-She is young and thoughtless,
-but in her heart she is devoted to
-me.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is,” replied More, “she
-is entirely devoted to the crown;
-she loves dearly the honors of royalty,
-and her pride is doubly flattered.”</p>
-
-<p>“More,” said the king, “I forgive
-you for speaking thus to me;
-your severe morals, your austere
-virtues, have not permitted you to
-experience the torments of love,
-and that is why,” he added gloomily,
-“you cannot comprehend its irresistible
-impulses and true sentiments.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing that is known to one
-man is unknown to another,” replied
-More. “Love, in itself, is a
-sublime sentiment that comes from
-God; but, alas! men drag it in the
-dust, like all else they touch, and too
-often mistake the appearance for the
-reality. To love anyone, O my king!”
-continued More, “is it not to prefer
-them in all things above yourself,
-to consider yourself as nothing,
-and be willing to sacrifice
-without regret all that you would
-wish to possess?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Henry VIII.; “and
-that is the way I love Anne&mdash;more
-than my life, more than the entire
-world!”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no, sire!” exclaimed More,
-“don’t tell me that. No, don’t say
-you love her; say you love the pleasure
-she affords you, the attractions
-she possesses, which have charmed
-your senses&mdash;in a word, acknowledge
-that you love yourself in her,
-and consider well that the day
-when nature deprives her of her
-gifts and graces your memory will
-no longer represent her to you but
-as an insipid image, worthy only of
-a scornful oblivion! Ah! if you
-loved her truly, you would act in
-a different manner. You would
-never have considered aught but
-her happiness and her interests;
-you would blush for her, and you
-would not be able to endure the
-thought of the shame with which
-you have not hesitated to cover
-her yourself in the eyes of all your
-court!”</p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps,” … replied Henry
-in a low and altered voice. “But
-she&mdash;she loves me; I cannot doubt
-that.”</p>
-
-<p>“She loves the King of England!”
-replied More excitedly,
-“but not Henry; she loves the
-mighty prince who ignominiously
-bends his neck beneath the yoke
-which she pleases to impose on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_778" id="Page_778">[778]</a></span>
-him. But poor and destitute, her
-glance would never have fallen
-upon you. Proud of her beauty,
-vain of her charms, she holds you
-like a conquered vassal whom she
-governs by a gesture or a word.
-She loves riches, honors and the
-pleasures with which you surround
-her. She is dazzled by the <i lang="fr">éclat</i> of
-the high rank you occupy, and, to
-attain it, she fears not to purchase
-it at the price of your soul and all
-that you possess. What matters
-to her the care of your honor or
-the love of your subjects? Has
-she ever said to you: ‘Henry, I
-love you, but your duty separates
-you from me; be great, be virtuous’?
-Has she said: ‘Catherine,
-your wife, is my sovereign, and I
-recognize no other’? Do you not
-hear the voice of your people saying
-to your children: ‘You shall reign
-over us’? But what am I saying?
-No, of course she has not spoken
-thus; because she seeks to elevate
-herself, she thinks of her own aggrandizement&mdash;to
-see at her feet
-men whom she would never otherwise
-be able to command.”</p>
-
-<p>“What shall I do, then, what
-shall I do?” cried Henry dolorously.</p>
-
-<p>“Marry Anne Boleyn,” replied
-Thomas More coolly; “you should
-do it, since you have broken off her
-marriage with the Earl of Northumberland.
-If not, send her away
-from court.”</p>
-
-<p>“I will do it! … No, I will
-not do it!” he exclaimed, almost in
-the same breath. “I shall never
-be able to do it.”</p>
-
-<p>“That is to say, you never intend
-to do it,” replied More. “We can
-always accomplish what we resolve.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, no,” replied Henry; “we
-cannot always do what we wish.
-Everything conspires against me.
-Tired of willing, I can make nothing
-bend to my will! Of what
-use is my royal power? To be
-happy is a thing impossible!”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, of all things in this life
-most impossible,” answered More;
-“and he who aspires to attain it
-finds his miseries redoubled at the
-very moment he thinks they will
-terminate. The possession of unlawful
-pleasures is poisoned by the
-remorse that follows in their train;
-and, frightened by their insecurity
-and short duration, we are prevented
-from enjoying them in quietness
-and peace.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then,” cried Henry VIII.,
-stamping his foot violently on the
-floor, “we had better be dead.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” replied Thomas More,
-“and to-morrow perhaps we may
-be!”</p>
-
-<p>“To-morrow!” repeated the king,
-as if struck with terror. “No, no,
-More, not to-morrow. … I would
-not be willing now to appear in the
-presence of God.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then,” replied More, “how can
-you expect to live peaceably in a
-condition in which you are afraid
-to die? In a few hours, or at least
-in a few years (that is as certain
-as the light of day which shines
-this moment), your life and mine
-will have to end, leaving nothing
-more than regrets for the past and
-fears for the future.”</p>
-
-<p>“You say truly, More,” replied
-the king; “but life appears so long
-to us, the future so far removed!
-Is it necessary, then, that we be always
-thinking of it and sacrificing
-our pleasures?… Later&mdash;well,
-we will change. Will we not have
-more time then to think of it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” replied More sadly, “there
-remains very little time to him
-who is always putting off until to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>As he heard the last words, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_779" id="Page_779">[779]</a></span>
-king’s face grew instantly crimson.
-He kept More with him, entertaining
-him with his trials and vexations,
-and the night was far advanced
-before he permitted him to
-retire.</p>
-
-<p class="break">During four entire days the king
-remained shut up in his apartment,
-and Anne Boleyn vainly attempted
-to gain admittance.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, a rumor of her downfall
-spread rapidly through the
-palace. The courtiers who were
-accustomed to attend her <i lang="fr">levées</i> in
-greater numbers and much more
-scrupulously than those of Queen
-Catherine, suddenly discontinued,
-and on the last occasion scarcely
-one of them made his appearance.
-They also took great care to preserve
-a frigid reserve and doubtful
-politeness, which excited to the
-last degree her alarm and that of
-her ambitious family.</p>
-
-<p>The latter were every moment
-in dread of the blow that seemed
-ready to fall upon them. In this
-state of gloomy disquiet every
-circumstance was anxiously noted
-and served to excite their apprehensions.
-They continually discussed
-among themselves the arrival
-of the despatches from Rome,
-the nature of which they suspected
-from the very long time Sir Thomas
-More had remained with the king.
-Then they refreshed their memories
-with reflections on the inflexible
-severity of the lord chancellor,
-his old attachment for Queen Catherine&mdash;an
-attachment which the
-elevation of More had never interrupted,
-as they had hoped would be
-the case. Finally, the sincerity of
-his nature and the estimation in
-which he was held by the king
-made them, with great reason, apprehend
-the influence of his counsel.
-Already they found themselves
-abandoned by almost all of
-those upon whose support they
-had relied. Suffolk, leagued with
-them heretofore, in order to secure
-the downfall of Cardinal Wolsey,
-now regarded them in their disgrace
-as of little consequence to
-one so closely related as himself
-to his majesty by the princess, his
-wife. The Duke of Norfolk, justly
-proud of his birth, his wealth, and
-his reputation, could not believe
-the power with which the influence
-of his niece had clothed him in the
-council by any means bound him
-to engage in or compromise himself
-in her cause. In the meantime
-they realized that they would
-inevitably be compelled to succumb
-or make a last and desperate
-effort, and they resolved with one
-accord to address themselves to
-Cromwell, whose shrewdness and
-cunning, joined to the motives of
-self-interest that could be brought
-to bear on him, seemed to offer them
-a last resort.</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell immediately understood
-all the benefit he would be
-likely to derive from the situation
-whether he succeeded or failed in
-the cause of Anne Boleyn, and
-determined, according to his own
-expression, to “make or unmake.”
-He wrote to the king, demanding
-an audience. “He fully realized,”
-he wrote, with his characteristic
-adroitness, “his entire incapacity
-for giving advice, but neither his
-devoted affection nor his sense of
-duty would permit him to remain
-silent when he knew the anxiety
-his sovereign was suffering. It
-might be deemed presumptuous in
-him to say it, but he believed all
-the difficulties embarrassing the
-king arose from the timidity of his
-advisers, who were misled by exterior
-appearances or deceived by
-the opinions of the vulgar.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_780" id="Page_780">[780]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>The king immediately granted
-him an audience, although his usual
-custom was to remain entirely secluded
-and alone while laboring
-under these violent transports of
-passion. He hoped that Cromwell
-might be able to present his opinions
-with such ability as would at
-least be sufficient to divert him
-from the wretchedness he experienced.</p>
-
-<p>Cromwell appeared before him
-with eyes cast down and affecting
-an air of sadness and constraint.</p>
-
-<p>“Sire,” he said, as he approached
-the king, “yesterday, even yesterday,
-I was happy&mdash;yes, happy in
-the thought of being permitted to
-present myself before your majesty;
-because it seemed to me I might
-be able to offer some consolation
-for the anxieties you experience
-by reminding you that nothing
-should induce you to pause in your
-efforts to advance the interests of
-the kingdom and the state. But
-to-day, in appearing before you, I
-know not what to say. This morning
-Lady Boleyn, being informed
-that I was to have the happiness
-of seeing your majesty, sent for me
-and charged me with the commission
-of asking your majesty’s permission
-for her to withdraw from
-court.”</p>
-
-<p>“What!” exclaimed Henry, rising
-hastily to his feet, “she wishes
-to leave me?&mdash;she, my only happiness,
-my only joy? Never!”</p>
-
-<p>“I have found her,” continued
-Cromwell, seeming not to remark
-the painful uneasiness he had aroused
-in the king’s mind&mdash;“I have
-found her plunged in a state of
-indescribable grief. She was almost
-deprived of consciousness; her
-beautiful eyes were weighed down
-with tears, her long hair hanging
-neglected around her shoulders;
-and her pale, transparent cheek
-made her resemble a delicate white
-rose bowed on its slender stem before
-the violence of the tempest.
-‘Go, my dear Cromwell,’ she said
-to me with a tremulous voice, but
-sweet as the soft expiring notes
-of an æolian lyre&mdash;‘go, say to my
-king, to my lord, I ask his permission
-to retire this day to my father’s
-country-seat. I know that I am
-surrounded by enemies, but, while
-favored by his protection, I have
-not feared their malice. But now
-I feel, and cannot doubt it, I shall
-become their victim, since they
-have succeeded in prejudicing my
-sovereign against me to such an
-extent that he refuses to hear my
-defence.’”</p>
-
-<p>“What can she be afraid of
-here?” cried the king. “Who
-would dare offend her in my
-palace?”</p>
-
-<p>“Who will be able to defend her
-if your majesty abandons her?” replied
-Cromwell in a haughty tone,
-feigning to forget the humble demeanor
-he had assumed, and mentally
-applauding the success of his
-stratagem. “Has she not given
-up all for you? Every day she
-has wounded by her refusals the
-greatest lords of the realm, who
-have earnestly sued for her heart
-and hand; but she has constantly
-refused to listen to them because
-of the love she bears for you&mdash;always
-preferring the uncertain hope
-of one day becoming yours to all
-the brilliant advantages of the
-wealthiest suitors she has been
-urged to accept. But to-day, when
-her honor is attacked, when you
-banish her from your presence, she
-feels she will not have the courage
-to endure near you such wretchedness,
-and she asks to be permitted
-to withdraw from court at once
-and for ever!”</p>
-
-<p>“For ever?” repeated the king.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_781" id="Page_781">[781]</a></span>
-“Cromwell, has she said that?
-Have you heard her right? No,
-Cromwell, you are mistaken! I
-know her better than you.” And
-he turned on Cromwell a keen,
-scrutinizing glance.</p>
-
-<p>But nothing could daunt this
-audacious man.</p>
-
-<p>“She said all I have told you,”
-replied the hypocrite, with the coolest
-assurance, raising his head
-haughtily. “Would I dare to repeat
-what I have not heard? And your
-majesty can imagine that my devotion
-has alone induced me to
-become the bearer of so painful a
-message; for I could not believe,
-your majesty had ceased to love
-her.”</p>
-
-<p>“Never!” cried the king.
-“Never have I for one moment
-ceased to adore her! But listen,
-dear Cromwell, and be convinced
-of how wretched I am! Yesterday
-I received from Rome the most distressing
-intelligence. I had written
-the pope a letter, signed by a
-great number of lords of my court
-and bishops of the kingdom, in
-which they expressed the fears
-they entertained of one day seeing
-the flames of civil war break out
-in this country if I should die without
-male heirs, as there would be
-grounds for contesting the right of
-my daughter Mary to the throne
-on the score of her legitimacy. But
-nothing can move him.”</p>
-
-<p class="break">Here the king rose, furiously indignant.
-“He has answered this
-petition,” he cried, walking with
-hurried strides up and down the
-floor; “and how?… By my faith,
-I can scarcely repeat it.… That
-he pardons the terms they have
-used in their letter, attributing
-them to the affection they bear for
-me; that he is under still greater
-obligations to me than they have
-mentioned; that it is not his fault
-if the affair of the divorce remains
-undecided; that he has sent legates
-to England; that the queen has refused
-to recognize them, and appealed
-from all they have done; that
-he has tried vainly in every possible
-way to terminate the affair amicably;
-and, furthermore, ‘You will,
-perhaps, be ready to say,’ he writes,
-‘that, being under so many obligations
-to the king as I am, I should
-waive all other considerations and
-accord him absolutely everything
-he asks.’ Although that would be
-sovereignly unjust, yet he can conclude
-nothing else from their letter;
-that they reflect not on the queen
-having represented to him, that all
-Christendom is scandalized because
-they would attempt to annul a marriage
-contracted so many years ago,
-at the request of two great kings
-and under a dispensation from the
-pope&mdash;a marriage confirmed by the
-birth of several children! And
-what else? Let me see:… That
-if I rely on the opinion of several
-doctors and universities, he refers,
-on his part, to the law of God upon
-the sanctity and unity of marriage,
-and the highest authorities taken
-from the Hebrew and Latin writers;
-that the decisions of the universities
-which I bring forward are supported
-by no proofs; he cannot decide
-finally upon that, and, if he
-should precipitate his judgment,
-they would no longer be able to
-avert the evils with which it is
-said England is threatened; that
-he desires as much as they that I
-may have male heirs, but he is not
-God to give them to me; he has
-no greater wish than to please me
-as far as lies in his power, without
-at the same time violating all the
-laws of justice and equity; and,
-finally, he conjures them to cease
-demanding of him things that are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_782" id="Page_782">[782]</a></span>
-opposed to his conscience, in order
-that he may be spared the pain of
-refusing! Mark that well, Cromwell&mdash;the
-pain of refusing! Thus,
-you see, after having tried everything,
-spent everything, and used
-every possible means, what remains
-now for me to hope?”</p>
-
-<p>“All that you wish,” replied
-Cromwell; “everything without
-exception! Why permit yourself
-to be governed by those who ought
-to be your slaves? Among all the
-clergy who surround you, and whom
-you are able to reduce, if you
-choose, to mendicity, can you not
-find a priest who will marry you?
-If I were King of England, I would
-very soon convince them that the
-happiness of <em>their</em> lives depended
-entirely upon <em>mine</em>! Threaten to
-withdraw from the authority of
-Rome, and you will very soon see
-them yielding, on their knees, to all
-your demands.”</p>
-
-<p>“Cromwell,” said Henry VIII.,
-“I admire your spirit and the boldness
-of the measures you advocate.
-From this moment I open to you
-the door of my council. Remember
-the kindness and the signal
-favor with which I have honored
-you. However, your inexperienced
-zeal carries you too far; you forget
-that the day I would determine
-really to separate myself from the
-Church of Rome, I would become
-schismatic, and the people would
-refuse to obey me. Moreover I
-am a Catholic, and I wish to die
-one.”</p>
-
-<p>“What of that?” replied Cromwell.
-“Am I not also a Catholic?
-Because your majesty frightens the
-pope, will he cease to exist? Declare
-to him that from this day you
-no longer recognize his authority;
-that you forbid the clergy paying
-their tithes to, or receiving from
-him their nominations. You will
-see, then, if the next day your present
-marriage is not annulled and
-the one you wish to contract approved
-and ratified.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you really believe it?” said
-the king.</p>
-
-<p>“I am sure of it,” replied Cromwell.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said the king. “It is a
-thing utterly impossible; the bishops
-would refuse to accede to any
-such requirements, and they would
-be right. They know too well that
-it is essential for the church to
-have a head in order to maintain
-her unity, and without it nothing
-would follow but confusion and disorder.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well! who can prevent your
-majesty from becoming yourself
-that head?” exclaimed Cromwell.
-“Is England not actually a monster
-now with two heads, one of them
-wanting a thing, and the other not?
-Follow the example given you by
-those German princes who are freeing
-themselves from the yoke which
-has humbled them for so many
-years before the throne of a pontiff
-who is a stranger alike to their affections
-and their interests! Then
-everything anomalous will rectify
-itself, and your subjects cease to
-believe that any other than yourself
-is entitled to their homage or
-submission.”</p>
-
-<p>“You are right, little Cromwell!”
-cried Henry VIII., this
-seductive and perfidious discourse
-flattering at the same time his
-guilty passion and the ambition
-that divided his soul. “But how
-would you proceed about executing
-this marvellous project, of which a
-thought had already crossed my
-own mind?&mdash;for, as I have just told
-you, the clergy will refuse to obey
-me, and I shall then have no means
-of compelling them.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your consideration and kindness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_783" id="Page_783">[783]</a></span>
-make you forget,” replied
-Cromwell adroitly, afraid of wounding
-the king’s pride, “the statutes
-of præmunire offer you means both
-sure and easy. Is it not by those
-laws they have tried Wolsey before
-the Parliament? In condemning
-him they have condemned themselves,
-and have made themselves
-amenable to the same penalties.
-You have them all in your power.
-Threaten to punish them in their
-turn, if they refuse to take the oath
-acknowledging you as head of the
-church; and do it fearlessly if they
-dare attempt to resist you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, little Cromwell,” said
-Henry VIII., slapping him familiarly
-on the shoulder, “I observe
-with great satisfaction your coolness
-and the variety of resources
-you have at command. You see
-everything at a glance and fear nothing.
-I have made all these objections
-only to hear how you
-would meet them. Here, take
-these Roman documents, read them
-for yourself, and you will be better
-able to appreciate their contents;
-while I go and beg Anne to forget
-the wrongs I so cruelly reproach
-myself with having inflicted on her.”</p>
-
-<p>Saying this, Henry VIII. went
-out, and Cromwell followed him
-with his eyes as he walked through
-the long gallery.</p>
-
-<p>An ironical smile hovered over
-his thin and bloodless lips as he
-watched him. “Go, go,” he murmured
-to himself, “throw yourself
-at the feet of your silly mistress, and
-ask her pardon for wishing her to
-be queen of England. They are
-grand, very grand, these kings, and
-yet they find themselves very often
-held in the hollow of the hand of
-some low and crafty flatterer!
-‘Despicable creature!’ they will
-say. Yes, I am despicable in the
-eyes of many; and yet they prepare,
-by my advice, to overthrow
-the pillars of the church, in order
-to enrich me with its consecrated
-spoils.”</p>
-
-<p>He laughed a diabolical laugh;
-then suddenly his face grew dark,
-and a fierce, malignant gleam shot
-from his eyes. “Go,” he continued&mdash;“go,
-prince as false as you are
-wicked. I, at least, am your equal
-in cunning and duplicity. You
-were not created for good, and the
-odious voice of More will call you
-in vain to the path of virtue. My
-tongue&mdash;ay, mine&mdash;is to you far
-sweeter! It carries a poison that
-you will suck with eager lips. The
-son of the poor fuller will make
-you his partner in crime. He will
-recline with you on your velvet
-throne, and perfidious cruelty will
-unite us heart and soul!… Go,
-seek that fool whom you adore and
-who will weary you very soon, and
-the vile, ambitious father who has
-begotten her. But, for me! …
-destroy your kingdom, profane the
-sanctuary, light the funeral pyre,
-and compel all those to mount it
-who shall oppose the laws Cromwell
-will dictate to you! Two ferocious
-beasts to-day share the throne of
-England! You will surfeit me with
-gold, and I will make you drunk
-with blood! You shall proclaim
-aloud what I shall have whispered
-in your ear! Ha! who of the two
-will be really king&mdash;Henry VIII.
-or Cromwell? Why, Cromwell,
-without doubt; because he was
-born in the mire. He has learned
-how to fly while the other was being
-fledged beneath the shadow of
-the crown! You have been reared
-within these walls of gold,” continued
-Cromwell, surveying the magnificent
-adornings of the royal
-chamber; “these exquisite perfumes,
-escaping from fountains and
-flowers, have always surround you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_784" id="Page_784">[784]</a></span>
-You have never known, like me,
-abandonment and want, suffered
-from cold and hunger in a thatched
-cottage, and imbibed the hatred,
-fostered in those abodes of wretchedness,
-against the rich; but I have
-cherished that rage in my inmost
-soul! There it burns like a consuming
-fire! I will have a palace.
-I will have power and be feared.
-Servile courtiers shall fawn at my
-feet, adulation shall surround me.
-I would grasp the entire world, and
-yet the cry of my soul would be,
-More, still more!”</p>
-
-<p>Saying this, Cromwell threw himself
-into the king’s arm-chair, and,
-pushing contemptuously from him
-the papers he had taken to read,
-abandoned himself entirely to the
-furious thirst of avarice and ambition
-that devoured him.</p>
-
-<p class="break">The curfew had already sounded
-many hours, and profound silence
-reigned over the city. Not a
-sound was heard throughout the
-dark and winding streets, save the
-boisterous shouts of some midnight
-revellers returning from a party of
-pleasure, or the dreary and monotonous
-song of a besotted inebriate
-as he staggered toward his home.</p>
-
-<p>In the mansion of the French
-ambassador, however, no one had
-retired; and young De Vaux, impatiently
-waiting the return of M.
-du Bellay, paced with measured
-tread up and down the large hall
-where for many hours supper had
-been served.</p>
-
-<p>Weary with listening for the
-sound of footsteps, and hearing
-only the mournful sighing of the
-night-wind, he at length seated himself
-before the fire in a great tapestried
-arm-chair whose back, rising
-high above his head, turned over
-in the form of a canopy, and gave
-him the appearance of a saint reposing
-in the depths of his shrine.
-For a long time he watched the
-sparks as they flew upward from
-the fire, then, taking a book from
-his pocket, he opened it at random;
-but before reaching the bottom of
-the first page his eyes closed, the
-book fell from his hands, and he
-sank into a profound sleep, from
-which he was aroused only by the
-noise made by the ambassador’s
-servants on the arrival of their
-master.</p>
-
-<p>M. de Vaux, being suddenly
-aroused from sleep, arose hastily to
-his feet on seeing the ambassador
-enter.</p>
-
-<p>“I have waited for you with the
-greatest impatience,” he exclaimed
-with a suppressed yawn.</p>
-
-<p>“Say, rather, you have been
-sleeping soundly in your chair,”
-replied M. du Bellay, smiling.
-“Here!” he continued, turning
-toward the valets who followed
-him, “take my cloak and hat, and
-then leave us; you can remove the
-table in the morning.”</p>
-
-<p>Obedient to their master’s orders,
-they lighted several more lamps
-and retired, not without regret,
-however, at losing the opportunity
-of catching, during the repast,
-a word that might have satisfied
-their curiosity as to the cause
-of M. du Bellay having remained
-at the king’s palace until so late an
-hour.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, monsieur! what has
-been done at last?” eagerly inquired
-young De Vaux as soon as
-they had left.</p>
-
-<p>“In truth, I cannot yet comprehend
-it myself,” replied Du Bellay.
-“In spite of all my efforts, it has
-been impossible to clearly unravel
-the knot of intrigue. This morning,
-as you know, nothing was talked
-of but the downfall of Anne
-Boleyn. I was delighted; her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_785" id="Page_785">[785]</a></span>
-overthrow would have dispensed
-us from all obligations. Now the
-king is a greater fool about her
-than ever, and, unless God himself
-strikes a blow to sever them, I believe
-nothing will cure him of his
-infatuation. As I entered, his first
-word was to demand why I had
-been so long in presenting myself.
-‘Sire,’ I replied, ‘I have come with
-the utmost haste, I assure you, and
-am here ready to execute any orders
-it may please you to give!’”</p>
-
-<p>“‘Listen,’ he then said to me. ‘I
-have several things to tell you;
-but the first of all is to warn you
-of my determination to arrest Cardinal
-Wolsey. I am aware that
-you have manifested a great deal
-of interest in him; … that you
-have even gone to see him when
-he was sick; … but that is of no
-consequence. I am far from believing
-that you are in any manner
-concerned in the treason he has
-meditated against me. Therefore
-I have wished to advise you, that
-you may feel no apprehension on
-that account.’ I was struck with
-astonishment. ‘What! sire,’ I at
-last answered, ‘the cardinal betray
-you? Why, he is virtually banished
-from England, where he occupies
-himself, they say, only in doing
-works of charity and mercy.’ ‘I
-know what I say to you,’ replied
-the king; ‘his own servants accuse
-him of conspiring against the state.
-But I shall myself examine into
-the depths of this accusation. In
-the meantime he shall be removed
-to the Tower, and I will send Sir
-Walsh with instructions to join the
-Earl of Northumberland, in order
-to arrest Wolsey at Cawood Castle,
-where he is now established.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Is it possible?” cried De Vaux,
-interrupting M. du Bellay. “That
-unfortunate cardinal! Who could
-have brought down this new storm
-on his head? M. du Bellay, do
-you believe him capable of committing
-this crime, even if it were
-in his power?”</p>
-
-<p>“I do not believe a word of it,”
-replied M. du Bellay, “and I know
-not who has excited this new storm
-of persecution. I have tried every
-possible means to ascertain from
-the king, but he constantly evaded
-my questions by answering in a
-vague and obscure manner. I
-have been informed in the palace
-that he had seen no person during
-the day, except Cromwell, Lady
-Boleyn, and the Duke of Suffolk.
-Might this not be the result of a
-plot concocted between them?
-This is only a conjecture, and we
-may never get at the bottom of the
-affair. But let us pass on to matters
-of more importance. The
-mistress is in high favor again.
-The king is determined to marry
-her, and has proclaimed in a threatening
-manner that he will separate
-himself from the communion of
-Rome, and no more permit the supremacy
-of the Sovereign Pontiff
-to be recognized in his kingdom.
-He demands that the King of
-France shall do the same, and
-rely on his authority in following
-his example.”</p>
-
-<p>“What!” cried De Vaux, astounded
-by this intelligence. “And
-how have you answered him, my
-lord?”</p>
-
-<p>“I said all that I felt authorized
-or could say,” replied Du Bellay;
-“but what means shall we use
-to persuade a man so far transported
-and subjugated by his passions
-that he seems to be a fool&mdash;no
-longer capable of reasoning, of comprehending
-either his duty, the
-laws, or the future? I have held
-up to him the disruption of his
-kingdom, the horrors that give
-birth to a war of religion, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_786" id="Page_786">[786]</a></span>
-blood that it would cause him to
-spill.”</p>
-
-<p>“‘I shall spill as much of it as
-may be necessary,’ he replied, ‘to
-make them yield. They will have
-their choice. Already the representatives
-of the clergy have been
-ordered to assemble. Well! they
-shall decide among themselves
-which is preferable&mdash;death, exile,
-or obedience to my will.’</p>
-
-<p>“Whilst saying this,” continued
-M. du Bellay, with a gloomy expression,…
-“he played with
-a bunch of roses, carelessly plucking
-off the leaves with his fingers.”</p>
-
-<p>“But what has been able to
-bring the king, in so short a time,
-to such an extremity?” asked De
-Vaux, whose eyes, full of astonishment
-and anxiety, interrogated
-those of M. du Bellay.</p>
-
-<p>“His base passions, without
-doubt; and, still more, the vile flattery
-coming from some one of those
-he has taken into favor,” replied
-Du Bellay impatiently.…
-“I tried in vain to discover who
-the arch-hypocrite could be, but the
-king was never for a moment thrown
-off his guard; he constantly repeated:
-‘<em>I</em> have resolved on this; <em>I</em>
-will do that!’ … I shall find
-out, however, hereafter,” continued
-Du Bellay; “but at present I am
-in ignorance.”</p>
-
-<p>“Has he said anything to you
-about the grand master?” asked
-De Vaux.</p>
-
-<p>“No; but it seems he has been
-very much exercised on account
-of the cordial reception Chancellor
-Duprat gave Campeggio when he
-passed through France. ‘That
-man has behaved very badly toward
-me,’ he said sharply. ‘I was so
-lenient as to let him leave my kingdom
-unmolested, after having hesitated
-a long time whether I should
-not punish him severely for his conduct;
-and, behold, one of your
-ministers receives and treats him
-with the utmost magnificence!’</p>
-
-<p>“I assured him no consequence
-should be attached to that circumstance,
-and pretended that Chancellor
-Duprat was so fond of good
-cheer and grand display he had
-doubtless been too happy to have
-an opportunity of parading his
-wealth and luxury before the eyes
-of a stranger.</p>
-
-<p>“He then renewed the attack
-against Wolsey. ‘If that be the
-case,’ he exclaimed, ‘this must be
-a malady common to all these chancellors;
-for my lord cardinal was
-also preparing to give a royal reception
-in the capital of his realm of
-York; but, unfortunately,’ he added
-with an ironical sneer, ‘I happen
-to be his master, and we have somewhat
-interfered with his plans.’ He
-then attacked the pope, then our
-king; and finally, while the hour
-of midnight was striking, exhausted
-with anger and excitement, to my
-great relief, he permitted me to retire.
-Now,” added M. du Bellay,
-“we will have to spend the rest of
-the night in writing, and to-morrow
-the courier must be despatched.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_787" id="Page_787">[787]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>PRUSSIA AND THE CHURCH.</h3>
-
-<h4>II.</h4>
-
-<p>In February, 1848, Louis Philippe
-was driven from his throne by
-the people of Paris, and the Republic
-was proclaimed. This revolution
-rapidly spread over the whole
-of Europe. The shock was most
-violent in Germany, where everything
-was in readiness for a general
-outburst. Most of the governments
-were compelled to yield to the
-popular will and to make important
-concessions. New cabinets
-were formed in Würtemberg, Darmstadt,
-Nassau, and Hesse. Lewis
-of Bavaria was forced to abdicate.
-Hanover and Saxony held out until
-Berlin and Vienna were invaded by
-the revolutionary party, when they
-too succumbed. On the 13th of
-March the Vienna mob overthrew
-the Austrian ministry, and Metternich
-fled to England. Italy
-and Hungary revolted. Berlin was
-held all summer by an ignorant
-revolutionary faction. In September
-fierce and bloody riots
-broke out in Frankfort.</p>
-
-<p>Popular meetings, secret societies,
-revolutionary clubs, violent
-declamations, and inflammatory appeals
-through the press kept all
-Germany in a state of agitation.
-Occasional outbreaks among the
-peasantry, followed by pillage and
-incendiarism, increased the general
-confusion.</p>
-
-<p>It was during this time of wild
-excitement that the elections for
-the Imperial Parliament were held.
-To this assembly many avowed
-atheists, pantheists, communists,
-and Jacobins were chosen&mdash;men
-who fully agreed with Hecker
-when he declared that “there
-were six plagues in Germany&mdash;the
-princes, the nobles, the bureaucrats,
-the capitalists, the parsons,
-and the soldiers.” The parties in the
-Parliament took their names from
-their positions in the assembly hall,
-and were called the extreme left,
-the left, the left centre, the right
-centre, the right, and the extreme
-right. The first three were composed
-of red republicans, Jacobins,
-and liberals. To the right centre
-belonged the constitutional liberals;
-and on the right and right
-centre sat the Catholic members,
-the predecessors of the party of the
-<i lang="de">Centrum</i> of the present day. The
-extreme right was occupied by
-functionaries and bureaucrats,
-chiefly from Prussia. The Parliament
-of Frankfort, in the <i lang="de">Grundrechte</i>,
-or <cite>Fundamental Rights</cite>,
-which it proclaimed, decreed universal,
-suffrage, abolished all the political
-rights of the aristocracy, the
-hereditary chambers in all the
-states of Germany, set aside the
-existing family entails, and, though
-nominally it retained the imperial
-power, degraded the emperor to a
-republican president by giving him
-merely a suspensive veto.</p>
-
-<p>While this Parliament was sitting
-the Catholic bishops of Germany
-assembled in council at Würzburg,
-and, at the conclusion of their deliberations,
-drew up a Memorial as
-firm in tone as it was clear and precise
-in expression, in which they
-set forth the claims of the church.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_788" id="Page_788">[788]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“To bring about,” they said, “a
-separation from the state&mdash;that is
-to say, from public order, which
-necessarily reposes on a moral
-and religious foundation&mdash;is not according
-to the will of the church.
-If the state will perforce separate
-from the church, so will the
-church, without approving, tolerate
-what it cannot avoid; and when
-not compelled by the duty of self-preservation,
-she will not break the
-bonds of union made fast by mutual
-understanding.</p>
-
-<p>“The church, entrusted with the
-solemn and holy mission, ‘As my
-Father hath sent me, so send I ye,’
-requires for the accomplishment of
-this mission, whatever the form of
-government of the state may be,
-the fullest freedom and independence.
-Her holy popes, prelates,
-and confessors have in all ages willingly
-and courageously given up
-their life and blood for the preservation
-of this inalienable freedom.”</p>
-
-<p>In virtue of these principles the
-bishops, in this Memorial, claimed
-the right of directing, without any
-interference on the part of the state,
-theological seminaries, and of founding
-schools, colleges, and all kinds
-of educational establishments; of
-exerting canonical control, unfettered
-by state meddling, over the
-conduct of their clergy, as well as
-that of introducing into their dioceses
-religious orders, congregations,
-and pious confraternities, for which
-they demanded the same rights
-which the new political constitution
-had granted to secular associations.
-Finally, they asserted their right to
-free and untrammelled communication
-with the Holy See; and, as included
-in this, that of receiving and
-publishing all papal bulls, briefs,
-and other documents without the
-Royal Placet, which they declared
-to be repugnant to the honor
-and dignity of the ministers of religion.</p>
-
-<p>The Frankfort Parliament decreed
-the total separation of church
-and state, and was therefore compelled
-to guarantee the freedom of
-all religions. This separation was
-sanctioned by the Catholic members
-of the Assembly, who looked
-upon it as less dangerous to the
-cause of religion and morality than
-ecclesiastical Josephism. In the
-present conflict between the church
-and the German Empire the Catholic
-party has again demanded,
-and in vain, the separation of
-church and state. In rejecting
-their urgent request, Dr. Falk declared
-that the leading minds in
-England and America are already
-beginning to regret that their governments
-have so little control
-over the ecclesiastical organizations
-within their limits.</p>
-
-<p>Whilst the representatives of the
-German people at Frankfort were
-abolishing the privileges of the nobles,
-decreeing the separation of
-church and state, and forgetting
-the standing armies, the governments
-were quietly gathering their
-forces. Marshal Radetzky put
-down the Italian rebellion, Prince
-Windischgrätz quelled the democracy
-of Vienna, and General Wrangel
-took possession of Berlin, without
-a battle. Russia, at the request
-of Austria, sent an army into Hungary
-to destroy the rebellion in
-that country, and the disturbances
-in Bavaria and in the Palatinate
-were suppressed by Prussian troops
-under the present Emperor of Germany.
-The representatives of the
-larger states withdrew from the
-Frankfort Parliament, which dwindled,
-and finally, amidst universal
-contempt and neglect, came to an
-end at Stuttgart, June 18, 1849.</p>
-
-<p>But the liberties of the church<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_789" id="Page_789">[789]</a></span>
-were not lost. In Prussia, as we
-have seen, a better state of things
-had begun with the imprisonment
-of the heroic Archbishop of Cologne
-in 1837. In the face of the menacing
-attitude of the German democrats
-and republicans, Frederick
-William IV. confirmed the liberties
-of the Catholic Church by the letters-patent
-of 1847.</p>
-
-<p>The constitutions of December
-5, 1848, and January 31, 1850, were
-drawn up in the lurid light of
-the revolution, which had beaten
-fiercest upon the house of Hohenzollern.
-The king had capitulated
-to the insurgents, withdrawn his
-soldiers from the capital, and abandoned
-Berlin, and with it the whole
-state, for nine months to the tender
-mercies of the mob. He was
-forced to witness the most revolting
-spectacles. The dead bodies
-of the rioters were borne in procession
-under the windows of his
-palace, while the rabble shouted
-to him: “Fritz, off with your
-hat.”</p>
-
-<p>It is not surprising, in view of
-this experience, that we should find
-in the constitution of 1850 (articles
-15 to 18 inclusive) a very satisfactory
-recognition of the rights of
-the church. Why these paragraphs
-granting the church freedom to
-regulate and administer its own
-affairs; to keep possession of its
-own revenues, endowments, and establishments,
-whether devoted to
-worship, education, or beneficence;
-and freely to communicate with the
-Pope, were inserted in the constitution,
-we know from Prince Bismarck
-himself. In his speech in
-the Prussian Upper House, March
-10, 1873, he affirmed that “they
-were introduced at a time when the
-state needed, or thought it needed,
-help, and believed that it would
-find this help by leaning on the
-Catholic Church. It was probably
-led to this belief by the fact
-that in the National Assembly of
-1848 all the electoral districts with
-a preponderant Catholic population
-returned&mdash;I will not say royalist
-representatives, but certainly
-men who were the friends of order,
-which was not the case in the Protestant
-districts.”</p>
-
-<p>The provisions of the constitution
-of 1850 with regard to the
-church were honorably and faithfully
-carried out down to the beginning
-of the present conflict.
-Never since the Reformation had
-the church in Prussia been so free,
-never had she made such rapid progress,
-whether in completing her
-internal organization or in extending
-her influence. The Prussian
-liberals and atheists, who had
-fully persuaded themselves that
-without the wealth and aid of the
-state the Catholic religion would
-have no force, were amazed. The
-influence of the priests over the
-people grew in proportion as they
-were educated more thoroughly in
-the spirit and discipline of the
-church under the immediate supervision
-of the bishops, unfettered
-by state interference; the number
-of convents, both of men and women,
-rapidly increased; associations
-of all kinds, scientific, benevolent,
-and religious, spread over the
-land; religious journals and reviews
-were founded in which Catholic
-interests were ably advocated
-and defended; and all the
-forces of the church were unified
-and guided by the harmonious action
-of a most enlightened and
-zealous episcopate.</p>
-
-<p>This was the more astonishing
-as the Evangelical Church, whose
-liberties had also been guaranteed
-by the constitution of 1850, had
-shown itself unable to profit by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_790" id="Page_790">[790]</a></span>
-greater freedom of action which it
-had received. In fact, the Evangelical
-Church was lifeless, and it needed
-only this test to prove its want
-of vitality. It was a state creation,
-and in an age when the world had
-ceased to recognize the divine
-right of kings to create religions.
-It was only in 1817 that the Lutheran
-and Calvinistic churches of
-Prussia, together with the very
-name of Protestant, were abolished
-by royal edict, and a new Prussian
-establishment, under the title of
-“evangelical,” was imposed by the
-civil power upon a Protestant population
-of nearly eight millions,
-whose religious and moral sense
-was so dead that they seemed to
-regard with stolid indifference this
-interference of government with all
-that freemen deem most sacred
-in life. Acts of parliament may
-make “establishments,” but they
-cannot inspire religious faith and
-life; and it was therefore not surprising
-that, when the mummy of
-evangelicalism was put out into
-the open air of freedom by the constitution
-of 1850, it should have
-been revealed to all that the thing
-was dead.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, the Prussian government
-continued to act toward
-the Catholic Church with great justice,
-and even friendliness, and the
-war against Catholic Austria in 1866
-wrought no change in its ecclesiastical
-policy. Even the opening
-of the Vatican Council caused no
-alarm in Prussia; on the contrary,
-King William, as it was generally
-believed at least, was most civil to
-the Holy Father; and Prince Bismarck
-himself at that time saw no
-reason for apprehension, though he
-had been the head of the ministry
-already eight years. To what, then,
-are we to attribute Prussia’s sudden
-change of attitude toward the
-church? Who began the present
-conflict, and what was its provocation?</p>
-
-<p>This is a question which has
-been much discussed in the Prussian
-House of Deputies and elsewhere.
-Prince Bismarck has openly
-asserted in the House of Deputies
-within the past year that the provocation
-was the definition of papal
-infallibility by the Vatican Council
-on the 18th of June, 1870, and
-subsequently the hostile attitude of
-the party of the <i lang="de">Centrum</i> toward the
-German Empire.</p>
-
-<p>Herr von Kirchmann, a member
-of the German Parliament and of
-the Prussian House of Deputies, a
-national liberal, and not a Catholic,
-but in the main a sympathizer with
-the spirit of the Falk legislation, has
-recently discussed this whole subject
-with great ability, and&mdash;as far
-as it is possible for one who believes
-in the Hegelian doctrine that “the
-state is the present god”&mdash;also with
-fairness.<a name="FNanchor_255" id="FNanchor_255"></a><a href="#Footnote_255" class="fnanchor">[255]</a></p>
-
-<p>To Prince Bismarck’s first assertion,
-that the definition of papal
-infallibility was the unpardonable
-offence, which has been so strongly
-emphasized by Mr. Gladstone and
-re-echoed with parrot-like fidelity
-by the anti-Catholic press of Europe
-and America, Herr von Kirchmann
-makes the following reply:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“It is difficult to understand how so
-experienced a statesman as Prince Bismarck
-can ascribe to this decree of the
-council such great importance for the
-states of Europe, and particularly for
-Prussia and Germany. To a theorizer
-sitting behind his books such a decree,
-it may be allowed, might appear
-to be something portentous, since,
-taken from a purely theoretical stand-point
-and according to the letter, the infallibility
-of the Pope in all questions of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_791" id="Page_791">[791]</a></span>
-religion and morals gives him unlimited
-control over all human action; and
-many a Catholic, when called upon to receive
-this infallibility as part of his faith,
-may have found that he was unable to
-follow so far; but a statesman ought to
-know how to distinguish, especially
-where there is question of the Catholic
-Church, between the literal import of
-dogmas and their use in practical life.
-In the Catholic Church as a whole, this
-infallibility, as is well known, has existed
-from the earliest times; its organ hitherto
-has been the Ecumenical Council in
-union with the Pope; but already before
-1870 it was disputed whether the Pope
-might not alone act as the organ of infallibility.
-In 1870 the question was decided
-in favor of the Pope; but we must
-consider that the ecumenical councils
-have, as history shows, nearly always
-framed their decrees in accordance with
-the views of the court of Rome; and this,
-of itself, proves that the change made in
-1870 is rather one of form than of essence.
-Especially false is it to maintain
-that by this decree a complete revolution
-in the constitution of the church has
-been made. To the theorizer we might
-grant the abstract possibility that something
-of this kind might some day or
-other happen; but such <em>possibilities</em> of
-the abuse of a right are found in all the
-relations of public life, in the state and
-its representatives as well as in the
-church. Even in constitutions the most
-carefully drawn up such possibilities are
-found in all directions. What a statesman
-has to consider is not mere possibilities,
-but the question whether the
-possessor of such right is not compelled,
-from the very nature of things, to make
-of it only the most moderate and prudent
-use. So long, therefore, as the Pope
-does not alter the constitution of the
-church, that constitution remains, precisely
-in its ancient form, such as it has
-been recognized and tolerated by the
-state for centuries: and wherever the relations
-between particular states and the
-court of Rome have been arranged by
-concordats, these too remain unchanged,
-unless the states themselves find it convenient
-to depart from them. We see, in
-fact, that this infallibility of the Pope has
-in no country of Europe or America altered
-one jot or tittle in the constitution
-of the Catholic Church; and where in
-particular countries such changes have
-taken place, they have not been made by
-the ecclesiastical government, but by the
-state and in its interest. In Germany
-even, and in Prussia itself, the Pope has,
-since 1870, made no change in the church
-constitution, as determined by the Canon
-Law; and when, in some of his encyclicals
-and other utterances, he has taken
-up a hostile attitude towards the German
-Empire and the Prussian state, he has
-done this only in defence against the aggressive
-legislation of the civil government.
-He has never hesitated to express
-his disapprobation of the new church
-laws, but he has in no instance touched
-the constitution of the Catholic Church
-or the rights of the bishops.”<a name="FNanchor_256" id="FNanchor_256"></a><a href="#Footnote_256" class="fnanchor">[256]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It seems almost needless to remark
-that there is no necessary connection
-between the doctrine of
-Papal infallibility and that of the essential
-organization of the church;
-that the jurisdiction of the Pope
-was as great, and universally recognized
-as such by Catholics, before
-the Vatican Council as since;
-and consequently that it is not
-even possible that the definition of
-1870 should make any change in
-his authoritative relation to, or power
-over, the church. His jurisdiction
-is wider than his infallibility,
-and independent of it; and the
-duty of obedience to his commands
-existed before the dogma was defined
-precisely as it exists now;
-and therefore it is clearly manifest
-that the Vatican decree cannot
-give even a plausible pretext for
-such legislation as the Falk Laws.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Not less singular,” continues Herr
-von Kirchmann, “does it sound to hear
-the party of the <i lang="de">Centrum</i> in the Reichstag
-and Prussian Landtag denounced
-as the occasion of the new regulations
-between church and state. The members
-of this party notoriously represent
-the views and wishes of the majority of
-their constituents, and just as faithfully
-as the members of the parties who side
-with the government. The reproach<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_792" id="Page_792">[792]</a></span>
-that they receive their instructions from
-Rome is not borne out by the facts; and
-if there were an understanding with
-Rome of the kind which their adversaries
-affirm, this could only be the result of a
-similar understanding on the part of
-their constituents. Nothing could more
-strikingly prove that the Catholic party
-faithfully represent the great majority in
-their electoral districts than the repeated
-re-election of the same representatives or
-of men of similar views. To this we must
-add that the <i lang="de">Centrum</i>, though strong in
-numbers, is yet in a decided minority
-both in the Reichstag and the Prussian
-Landtag, and has always been defeated
-in its opposition to the recent ecclesiastical
-legislation. If in other matters, by
-uniting with opposition parties, it has
-caused the government inconvenience,
-we have no right to ascribe this to
-feelings of hostility; for on such occasions
-its orators have given substantial
-political reasons for their opposition,
-and instances enough might be enumerated
-in which, precisely through the aid
-of the <i lang="de">Centrum</i>, many illiberal and dangerous
-projects of law have fallen
-through; and for this the party deserves
-the thanks of the country.</p>
-
-<p>“The present action of the state against
-the Catholic Church would be unjustifiable,
-if better grounds could not be adduced
-in its favor. For the attentive observer,
-however, valid reasons are not wanting.
-They are to be found, to put the whole
-matter in a single word, in the great
-power to which the Catholic Church in
-Prussia had attained by the aid of the
-constitution and the favor of the government&mdash;a
-power which, if its growth had
-been longer tolerated, would have become,
-not indeed dangerous to the existence
-of the state, but a hindrance to
-the right fulfilment of the ends of its
-existence.”<a name="FNanchor_257" id="FNanchor_257"></a><a href="#Footnote_257" class="fnanchor">[257]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Neither the Vatican Council,
-then, nor the Catholics of Prussia
-have done anything to provoke the
-present persecution. To find fault
-with the German bishops for accepting
-the dogma of infallibility,
-after having strongly opposed its
-definition by the council, would be
-as unreasonable as to blame a member
-of Congress for admitting the
-binding force of a law the passage
-of which he had done everything in
-his power to prevent. Their duty,
-beyond all question, was to act as
-they have acted. This was not the
-offence: the unpardonable crime
-was that the church, as soon as she
-was unloosed from the fetters of
-bureaucracy, had grown too powerful.
-We doubt whether any more
-forcible argument in proof of the
-indestructible vitality of the church
-can be found than that which may
-be deduced from the universal consent
-of her enemies, of whatever
-shade of belief or unbelief, that the
-only way in which she can be successfully
-opposed is to array against
-her the strongest of human powers&mdash;that
-of the state. A complete revolution
-of thought upon this subject
-has taken place within the last
-half-century. Up to that time it
-was confidently held by Protestants
-as well as infidels that, to undermine
-and finally destroy the church, it
-would be simply necessary to withdraw
-from her the support of the
-state; that to her freedom would
-necessarily prove fatal. The experiment,
-as it was thought, had not
-been satisfactorily tried. Ireland,
-indeed, had held her faith for three
-hundred years, in spite of all that
-fiendish cruelty could invent to destroy
-it; but persecution has always
-been the life of the faith. In the
-United States the church had been
-free since the war of independence,
-but of us little was known; and, besides,
-down to, say, 1830 even the
-most thoughtful and far-sighted
-among us had serious doubts as to
-the future of the church in this
-country.</p>
-
-<p>But with the emancipation of the
-Catholics in Great Britain, the new
-constitution of the kingdom of Belgium,
-and the completer organization<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_793" id="Page_793">[793]</a></span>
-of the church in the United
-States, the test as to the action
-of freedom upon the progress of
-Catholic faith began to be applied
-over a wide and varied field and
-under not unfavorable circumstances.
-What the result has been we
-may learn from our enemies. Mr.
-Gladstone expostulates for Great
-Britain, and reaches a hand of sympathy
-to M. Emile de Laveleye in
-Belgium. Dr. Falk, Dr. Friedberg,
-and even the moderate Herr von
-Kirchmann, defend the tyrannical
-<cite>May Laws</cite> as necessary to stop the
-growth of the church in Germany;
-and at home the most silent of Presidents
-and the most garrulous of
-bishops, forgetting that the cause
-of temperance has prior claims upon
-their attention, have raised the cry
-of alarm to warn their fellow-citizens
-of the dangerous progress of
-popery in this great and free country.
-Time was when “the Free
-Church in the Free State” was
-thought to be the proper word of
-command; but now it is “the
-Fettered Church in the Enslaved
-State,” since no state that meddles
-with the consciences of its subjects
-can be free.</p>
-
-<p>If there is anything for which we
-feel more especially thankful, it is
-that henceforth the cause of the
-church and the cause of freedom
-are inseparably united. We have
-heard to satiety that the Catholic
-Church is the greatest conservative
-force in the world, the most powerful
-element of order in society, the
-noblest school of respect in which
-mankind have ever been taught.
-Praised be God that now, as in the
-early days, he is making it impossible
-that Catholics should not be on the
-side of liberty, as the church has always
-been; so that all men may see
-that, if we love order the more, we
-love not liberty the less!</p>
-
-<p>“I will sing to my God as long at
-I shall be,” wrote an inspired king;
-“put not your trust in princes.”
-No, nor in governments, nor in
-states, but in God who is the Lord,
-and in the poor whom Jesus loved.
-From God out of the people came
-the church; through God back to
-the people is she going. We know
-there are still many Catholics who
-trust in kings and believe in salvation
-through them; but God will
-make them wiser. The Spirit that
-sits at the roaring Loom of Time
-will weave for them other garments.
-The irresistible charm of
-the church, humanly speaking, lies
-in the fact that she comes closer to
-the hearts of the people than any
-other power that has ever been
-brought to bear upon mankind.</p>
-
-<p>Having shown that the oppressive
-ecclesiastical legislation of
-Germany was not provoked by the
-church, and that its only excuse
-is the increasing power of the
-church, Herr von Kirchmann reduces
-all farther discussion of this
-subject to the two following heads:
-1st. How far ought the state to
-go in setting bounds to this power
-of the Catholic Church? and 2d.
-What means ought it to employ?</p>
-
-<p>In view of the dangers with which
-every open breach of the peace between
-church and state is fraught
-for the people, it would have been
-advisable, he thinks, from political
-motives, to have tried to settle the
-difficulty by a mutual understanding
-between the two powers; nor
-would it, in his opinion, be derogatory
-to the sovereignty of the state
-to treat the church as an equal,
-since she embraces in her fold all
-the Catholics of the world, who
-have their directing head in the
-Pope, whose sovereign ecclesiastical
-power cannot, therefore, as a
-matter of fact, be called in question.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_794" id="Page_794">[794]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>That Prussia did not make any
-effort to see what could be effected
-by this policy of conciliation may,
-in the opinion of Herr von Kirchmann,
-find some justification in the
-fact that the government did not
-expect, and could not in 1871 foresee,
-the determined opposition of
-the Catholics to the May Laws of
-1873. At any rate, as he thinks,
-the high and majestatic right of the
-state is supreme, and it alone must
-determine, in the ultimate instance,
-how far and how long it will acknowledge
-any claim of the church.
-Thus even this statesman, who is
-of the more moderate school of
-Prussian politicians, holds that the
-church has no rights which the
-state is bound to respect; that
-political interests are paramount,
-and conscience, in the modern as
-in the ancient pagan state, has no
-claim upon the recognition of the
-government. English and American
-Protestants, where their own
-interests are concerned, would be
-as little inclined to accept this
-doctrine as Catholics; in fact, this
-country was born of a protest
-against the assumption of state
-supremacy over conscience; and
-yet so blinding and misleading is
-prejudice that the Falk Laws receive
-their heart-felt sympathy.</p>
-
-<p>Though Herr von Kirchmann
-accepts without reservation the
-principles which underlie the recent
-Prussian anti-Catholic legislation,
-and thinks the May Laws
-have been drawn up with great
-wisdom and consummate knowledge
-of the precise points at
-which the state should oppose the
-growing power of the church, he
-yet freely admits that there are
-grave doubts whether the present
-policy of Prussia on this subject
-can be successfully carried out.
-That Prince Bismarck and Dr. Falk
-had but a very imperfect knowledge
-of the difficulties which lay
-in their path, the numerous supplementary
-bills which have been repeatedly
-introduced in order to
-give effect to the May Laws plainly
-show. Where there is question of
-principle and of conscience Prince
-Bismarck is not at home. He believes
-in force; like the first Napoleon,
-holds that Providence is always
-on the side of the biggest
-cannons; sneers about going to
-Canossa, as Napoleon mockingly
-asked the pope whether his excommunication
-would make the arms
-fall from the hands of his veterans.
-He knows the workings of courts,
-and is a master in the devious
-ways of diplomacy. He can estimate
-with great precision the resources
-of a country; he has a
-keen eye for the weak points of an
-adversary. His tactics, like Napoleon’s,
-are to bring to bear upon
-each given point of attack a force
-greater than the enemy’s. He has,
-in his public life, never known
-what it is to respect right or principle.
-With the army at his back
-he has trampled upon the Prussian
-constitution with the same daring
-recklessness with which he now
-violates the most sacred rights of
-conscience. Nothing, in his eyes, is
-holy but success, and he has been
-consecrated by it, so that the Bismarck-cultus
-has spread far beyond
-the fatherland to England and
-the United States. Carlyle has at
-last found a living hero, the very
-impersonation of the brute force
-which to him is ideal and admirable;
-and at eighty he offers incense
-and homage to the idol. We
-freely give Prince Bismarck credit
-for his remarkable gifts&mdash;indomitable
-will, reckless courage, practical
-knowledge of men, considered
-as intelligent automata whose movements<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_795" id="Page_795">[795]</a></span>
-are directed by a kind of
-bureaucratic and military mechanism;
-and this is the kind of men
-with whom, for the most part, he
-has had to deal. For your thorough
-Prussian, though the wildest
-of speculators and the boldest of
-theorizers, is the tamest of animals.
-No poor Russian soldier ever
-crouched more submissively beneath
-the knout than do the Prussian
-pantheists and culturists beneath
-the lash of a master. Like
-Voltaire, they probably prefer the
-rule of one fine Lion to that of a
-hundred rats of their own sort.
-Prince Bismarck knew his men, and
-we give him credit for his sagacity.
-Not every eye could have pierced
-the mist, and froth, and sound, and
-fury of German professordom, and
-beheld the craven heart that was
-beneath.</p>
-
-<p>Only men who believe in God
-and the soul are dangerous rebels.
-Why should he who has no faith
-make a martyr of himself? Why,
-since there is nothing but law, blind
-and merciless force, throw yourself
-beneath the wheels of the state
-Juggernaut to be crushed? The
-religion of culture is the religion of
-indulgence, and no godlike rebel
-against tyranny and brute force
-ever sprang from such worship.
-So long as Prince Bismarck had to
-deal with men who were nourished
-on “philosophy’s sweet milk,” and
-who worshipped at the altar of culture,
-who had science but not
-faith, opinions but not convictions,
-amongst whom, consequently, organic
-union was impossible, his policy
-of making Germany “by blood and
-iron” was successful enough. But,
-like all great conquerors, he longed
-for more kingdoms to subdue, and
-finding right around him a large and
-powerful body of German citizens
-who did not accept the “new faith”
-that the state&mdash;in other words,
-Prince Bismarck&mdash;is “the present
-god,” just as a kind of diversion
-between victories, he turned to give
-a lesson to the <i lang="de">Pfaffen</i> and clerical
-<i lang="de">Dummköpfe</i>, who burnt no incense
-in honor of his divinity. In taking
-this step it is almost needless to
-say that Prince Bismarck sought to
-pass over a chasm which science
-itself does not profess to have bridged&mdash;that,
-namely, which lies between
-the worlds of matter and of spirit.
-Of the new conflict upon which
-he was entering he could have
-only vague and inaccurate notions.
-Nothing is so misleading as contempt&mdash;a
-feeling in which the wise
-never indulge, but which easily becomes
-habitual with men spoiled
-by success. To the man who had
-organized the armies and guided
-the policy which had triumphed at
-Sadowa and Sedan what opposition
-could be made by a few poor priests
-and beggar-monks? Would the
-arms fall from the hands of the
-proudest soldiers of Europe because
-the <i lang="de">Pfaffen</i> were displeased?
-Or why should not the model culture-state
-of the world make war
-upon ignorance and superstition?</p>
-
-<p>Of the real nature and strength
-of the forces which would be marshalled
-in this great battle of souls
-a man of blood and iron could form
-no just estimate. “To those who
-believe,” said Christ, “all things are
-possible”; but what meaning have
-these words for Prince Bismarck?
-The soul, firm in its faith, appealing
-from tyrant kings and states to
-God, is invincible. Lifting itself to
-the Infinite, it draws thence a divine
-power. Like liberty, it is brightest
-in dungeons, in fetters freest,
-and conquers with its martyrdom.
-Needle-guns cannot reach it, and
-above the deadly roar of cannon it
-rises godlike and supreme.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_796" id="Page_796">[796]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“For though the giant Ages heave the hill</div>
-<div class="verse">And break the shore, and evermore</div>
-<div class="verse">Make and break and work their will;</div>
-<div class="verse">Though world on world in myriad myriads roll</div>
-<div class="verse">Round us, each with different powers</div>
-<div class="verse">And other farms of life than ours,</div>
-<div class="verse">What know we greater than the soul?</div>
-<div class="verse">On God and godlike men we build our trust.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Men who have unwrapt themselves
-of the garb and vesture of
-thought and sentiment with which
-the world had dressed them out,
-who have been born again into the
-higher life, who have been clothed
-in the charity and meekness of
-Christ, who for his dear sake have
-put all things beneath their feet,
-who love not the world, who venerate
-more the rags of the beggar
-than the purple of Cæsar, who fear
-as they love God alone, for whom
-life is no blessing and death infinite
-gain, form the invincible army
-of Christ foredoomed to conquer.
-“This is the victory which overcometh
-the world&mdash;our Faith.”</p>
-
-<p>Who has ever forgotten those
-lines of Tacitus, inserted as an
-altogether trifling circumstance in
-the reign of Nero?&mdash;“So for the
-quieting of this rumor [of his having
-set fire to Rome] Nero judicially
-charged with the crime, and punished
-with most studied severities,
-that class, hated for their general
-wickedness, whom the vulgar call
-<em>Christians</em>. The originator of that
-name was one <em>Christ</em>, who in the
-reign of Tiberius suffered death by
-sentence of the procurator, Pontius
-Pilate. The baneful superstition,
-thereby repressed for the time,
-again broke out, not only over Judea,
-the native soil of the mischief,
-but in the City also, where from
-every side all atrocious and abominable
-things collect and flourish.”<a name="FNanchor_258" id="FNanchor_258"></a><a href="#Footnote_258" class="fnanchor">[258]</a></p>
-
-<p>“Tacitus,” says Carlyle, referring
-to this passage, “was the wisest,
-most penetrating man of his generation;
-and to such depth, and no
-deeper, has he seen into this transaction,
-the most important that has
-occurred or can occur in the annals
-of mankind.”</p>
-
-<p>We doubt whether Prince Bismarck
-to-day has any truer knowledge
-of the real worth and power
-of the living Catholic faith on which
-he is making war than had Tacitus
-eighteen hundred years ago, when
-writing of the rude German barbarians
-who were hovering on the
-confines of the Roman Empire,
-and who were to have a history in
-the world only through the action
-of that “baneful superstition” which
-he considered as one of the most
-abominable products of the frightful
-corruptions of his age.</p>
-
-<p>That the Prussian government
-was altogether unprepared for the
-determined though passive opposition
-to the May Laws which the
-Catholics have made, Herr von
-Kirchmann freely confesses. It
-was not expected that there would
-be such perfect union between the
-clergy and the people; on the contrary,
-it was generally supposed
-that, with the aid of the Draconian
-penalties threatened for the violation
-of the Falk Laws, the resistance
-of the priests themselves would
-be easily overcome. These men
-love their own comfort too much,
-said the culturists, to be willing to
-go to prison and live on beans and
-water for the sake of technicalities;
-and so they chuckled over their
-pipes and lager-beer at the thought
-of their easy victory over the <i lang="de">Pfaffen</i>.
-They were mistaken, and
-Herr von Kirchmann admits that the
-courage of the bishops and priests
-has not been broken but strengthened
-by their sufferings for the
-faith.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“So long as we were permitted to
-hope,” he says, “that we should have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_797" id="Page_797">[797]</a></span>
-only the priests to deal with, there was
-less reason for doubt as to the policy of
-executing the laws in all their rigor; but
-the situation was wholly altered when it
-became manifest that the congregations
-held the same views as the bishops and
-priests.… It is easy to see that all
-violent, even though legal, proceedings
-of the government against these convictions
-of the Catholic people can only
-weaken those proper, and in the last instance
-alone effective, measures through
-which the May Laws can successfully
-put bounds to the growing power of the
-church. These measures&mdash;viz., a better
-education of the people and a higher
-culture of the priests&mdash;can, from the nature
-of things, exert their influence only
-by degrees. Not till the next generation
-can we hope to gather the fruit of this
-seed; and not then, indeed, if the reckless
-execution of the May Laws calls
-forth an opposition in the Catholic populations
-which will shake confidence in
-the just intentions of the government,
-and beget in the congregations feelings
-of hatred for everything connected with
-this legislation. Such feelings will unavoidably
-be communicated to the children,
-and the teacher will in consequence
-be deprived of that authority without
-which his instructions must lack the
-persuasive force that is inherent in truth.
-In such a state of warfare even the higher
-culture of the clergy must be useless.
-Those who stand on the side of the government
-will, precisely on that account,
-fail to win the confidence of their people;
-and the stronger the aged pastors
-emphasize the Canon Law of the church,
-the more energetically they extend the
-realms of faith even to the hierarchical
-constitution of the church, the more
-readily and faithfully will their congregations
-follow them.</p>
-
-<p>“It cannot be dissembled that the
-government, through the rigorous execution
-of the May Laws, is raging against
-its own flesh and blood, and is thereby
-robbing itself of the only means by
-which it can have any hope of finally
-coming forth victorious from the present
-conflict. It may be objected that the resistance
-which is now so widespread
-cannot be much longer maintained, and
-that all that is needed to crush it and
-bring about peace with the church is to
-increase the pressure of the law. Assertions
-of this kind are made with great
-confidence by the liberals of both
-Houses of the Landtag whenever the
-government presents a new bill; and the
-liberal newspapers, which never grow
-tired of this theme, declare that the result
-is certain and even near at hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, even though we should attach
-no importance to the contrary assertions
-of the Catholic party, it is yet evident,
-from the declarations of the government
-itself, that it is not all confident of reaching
-this result with the aid of the means
-which it has hitherto employed or of
-those in preparation, but that it is making
-ready for a prolonged resistance of
-the clergy, who are upheld and supported
-by the great generosity of the Catholic
-people. The ovations which the
-priests receive from their congregations
-when they come forth from prison are
-not falling off, but are increasing; and
-this is equally true of the pecuniary aid
-given to them. It is possible that much
-of this may have been gotten up by the
-priests themselves as demonstration;
-but the displeasure of the still powerful
-government officials which the participants
-incur, and the greatness of the
-money-offerings, are evidence of earnest
-convictions.</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing, however, so strongly witnesses
-to the existence of a perfect understanding
-between the congregations
-and the priests as the fact that, though
-the law of May, 1874, gave to those congregations
-whose pastors had been removed
-or had not been legally appointed
-by the bishops the right to elect a pastor,
-yet not even one congregation has
-up to the present moment made any use
-of this privilege. When we consider
-that the number of parishes where there
-is no pastor must be at least a hundred;
-that in itself such right of choice corresponds
-with the wishes of the congregations;
-farther, that the law requires for
-the validity of the election merely a majority
-of the members who put in an appearance;
-that a proposition made to
-the <i lang="de">Landrath</i> by ten parishioners justifies
-him in ordering an election; and
-that, on the part of the influential officials
-and their organs, nothing has been left
-undone to induce the congregations to
-demand elections, not easily could a
-more convincing proof of the perfect
-agreement of the people with their
-priests be found than the fact that to
-this day in only two or three congregations
-has it been possible to hunt up ten
-men who were willing to make such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_798" id="Page_798">[798]</a></span>
-proposal, and that not even in a single
-congregation has an election of this kind
-taken place.”<a name="FNanchor_259" id="FNanchor_259"></a><a href="#Footnote_259" class="fnanchor">[259]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This is indeed admirable; and it
-may, we think, be fairly doubted
-whether, in the whole history of the
-church, so large a Catholic population
-has ever, under similar trials,
-shown greater strength or constancy.
-Of the peculiar nature of
-these trials we shall speak hereafter;
-the present article we will bring
-to a close with a few remarks upon
-what we conceive to have been one
-of the most important agencies in
-bringing about the perfect unanimity
-and harmony of action between
-priests and people to which
-the Catholics of Prussia must in
-great measure ascribe their immovable
-firmness in the presence
-of a most terrible foe. We refer
-to those Catholic associations in
-which cardinals, bishops, priests,
-and people have been brought into
-immediate contact, uniting their
-wisdom and strength for the attainment
-of definite ends.</p>
-
-<p>Such unions have nowhere been
-more numerous or more thoroughly
-organized than in Germany, though
-their formation is of recent date.
-It was during the revolution of
-1848, of which we have already
-spoken, that the German Catholics
-were roused to a more comprehensive
-knowledge of the situation, and
-resolved to combine for the defence
-of their rights and the protection
-of their religion. Popular unions
-under the name and patronage of
-Pius IX. (Pius-Vereine) were formed
-throughout the fatherland, with
-the primary object of bringing together
-once a week large numbers
-of Catholic men of every condition
-in life. At these weekly meetings
-the questions of the day, in so far
-as they touched upon Catholic
-interests, were freely discussed, and
-thus an intelligent and enlightened
-Catholic public opinion was created
-throughout the length and breadth
-of the land. In refuting calumnies
-against the church the speakers
-never failed to demand the fullest
-liberty for all Catholic institutions.</p>
-
-<p>On the occasion of beginning the
-restoration and completion of the
-Cathedral of Cologne, the most religious
-of churches, the proposition
-that an annual General Assembly
-of all the unions should be
-held was made and received with
-boundless enthusiasm. The first
-General Assembly took place at
-Mayence in October, 1848; and
-thither came delegates from Austria,
-Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover,
-and all the other states of
-Germany, whose confidence and
-earnestness were increased by the
-presence of the Catholic members
-of the Parliament of Frankfort.
-For the first time since Luther’s
-apostasy the Catholics of Germany
-breathed the air of liberty. The
-bishops assembled at Würzburg,
-gave their solemn approbation to
-the great work, and Pius IX. sent
-his apostolic benediction. Since
-that time General Assemblies have
-been held at Breslau, May, 1849;
-Ratisbon, October, 1849; Linz,
-1850; Mayence, 1851; Münster,
-1852; Vienna, 1853; Linz, 1856;
-Salzburg, 1857; Cologne, 1858;
-Freyburg, 1859; Prague, 1860; Munich,
-1861; Aix-la-Chapelle, 1862;
-Frankfort, 1863, and in other cities,
-down to the recent persecutions.</p>
-
-<p>These assemblies represented a
-complete system of organization, in
-which no Catholic interest was forgotten.
-Every village and hamlet
-in the land was there, if not immediately,
-through some central union.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_799" id="Page_799">[799]</a></span>
-We have had the honor of being
-present at more than one of these
-assemblies, and the impressions
-which we then received are abiding.
-Side by side with cardinals,
-bishops, princes, noblemen, and the
-most learned of professors sat mechanics,
-carpenters, shoemakers, and
-blacksmiths&mdash;not as in the act of
-worship, in which the presence of
-the Most High God dwarfs our
-universal human littlenesses to the
-dead-level of an equal insignificance,
-but in active thought and
-co-operation for the furtherance
-of definite religious and social
-ends. The brotherhood of the
-race was there, an accomplished
-fact, and one felt the breathing
-as of a divine Spirit compared
-with whose irresistible force great
-statesmen and mighty armies are
-weak as the puppets of a child’s
-show.</p>
-
-<p>We have not the space to describe
-more minutely the ends,
-aims, and workings of the numberless
-Catholic associations of Germany;
-but we must express our
-deep conviction that no study could
-be more replete with lessons of
-practical wisdom for the Catholics
-of the United States. Organization
-is precisely what we most lack.
-Our priests are laborious, our people
-are devoted, but we have not
-even an organized Catholic public
-opinion&mdash;nay, no organ to serve as
-its channel, and make itself heard
-of the whole country. Many seem
-to think that the very question of
-the necessity of Catholic education
-is still an open one for us;
-and this is not surprising, since
-we have no system of Catholic
-education. Catholic schools, indeed,
-in considerable number, there
-are, but there is no organization.
-The great need of the church in
-this country is the organization of
-priests and people for the promotion
-of Catholic interests. Through
-this we will learn to know one another;
-our views will be enlarged,
-our sympathies deepened, and the
-truth will dawn upon us that, if we
-wish to be true to the great mission
-which God has given us, the time
-has come when American Catholics
-must take up works which do
-not specially concern any one diocese
-more than another, but whose
-significance will be as wide as the
-nation’s life.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_800" id="Page_800">[800]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>A STORY WITH TWO VERSIONS.</h3>
-
-<p>Yes, sir, this is Brentwood. And
-you are of the race, you say, though
-not of the name. Clarkson, sir?
-Surely, surely. I remember well.
-Miss Jane Brent&mdash;the first Miss
-Brent I can recall&mdash;married a
-Clarkson. So you are her grandson,
-sir? Then you are right welcome
-to me and mine. Come in,
-come in. Or, if you will do me the
-honor, sit here in the porch, sir,
-and my Kate will bring you of her
-best, and right glad will we be to
-wait again on one with the Brent
-blood in him.</p>
-
-<p>None of the name left? Ah! Mr.
-Clarkson, have you never heard,
-then? But you must have heard
-of James Brent. Surely, surely.
-He lives still, God pity him!
-What’s that? You want to hear
-the story out? Well, sir, no man
-living can tell you better than I,
-unless it be Mr. James’ self. Settle
-yourself comfortably, Mr. Clarkson,
-and I’ll tell you all.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, this is Brentwood. ’Twas
-your great-great-grandsire founded
-it, two hundred years back, he and
-his brother&mdash;James and William.
-They began the work which was
-to grow and grow into foundries
-and factories, and the bank that
-was to ruin all. But I’m telling
-the end afore the beginning.
-The next two brothers built the
-church you see there, sir, down
-the road; and the next two after
-them added the tower and founded
-the almshouses; and then came
-the fourth James and William Brent,
-and one of them was an idiot, and
-the other was and is the last of the
-name.</p>
-
-<p>I was twenty years older than
-Mr. James, and, before ever he
-came into business, had served with
-his father. I watched him grow
-up, and I loved him well. But from
-the first I knew he was different
-from the rest of his race. He was
-his mother all over again&mdash;a true
-Mortimer, come of nobles, not of
-townsfolk; all fire and sweetness
-and great plans for people’s good
-and happiness, but with little of
-the far-sighted Brent prudence.
-He was just as tender of Mr. William
-as if he had had all the wits
-of himself, and used to spend part
-of every day with him, and amuse
-him part of many a night when the
-poor gentleman could not sleep.</p>
-
-<p>Their father died just when they
-came of age. They were twins, the
-last Brent Brothers, sir; and ’twas
-a great fortune and responsibility
-to fall full and with no restraint
-into such young hands. Mr. James
-seemed like one heart-broken for
-nigh a year after, and carried on
-everything just as his father had
-done, till we all wondered at it;
-then he saw Miss Rose Maurice,
-and loved her&mdash;as well indeed he
-might&mdash;and after that things changed.
-She was as simple in all her ways
-as she was beautiful, and would
-have thought my cottage good
-enough, so long as he was in it with
-her. But he!&mdash;well, sir, I know he
-has kissed the very ground she
-trod on, and he didn’t think a
-queen’s palace too fine for her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_801" id="Page_801">[801]</a></span>
-As soon as ever he saw her he
-loved her and set his soul to win
-her; and the very next day he
-began a new home in Brentwood.
-Where is it? Alack! alack! sir.
-Wait till ye <em>must</em> hear. Let’s think,
-for a bit, of only the glad days
-now.</p>
-
-<p>You could not call it extravagance
-exactly. It set the whole
-town alive. So far as he could, he
-would have none but Brentwood
-folk to work upon the place where
-his bride was to dwell. And he
-said it was time that so old a family
-should have a home that would
-last as long as they. Ah! me, as
-long as they!</p>
-
-<p>Of course there was a city architect
-and a grand landscape gardener;
-but, oh! the thoughtfulness of
-him whom we were proud to call
-our master. There, in the very flush
-of his youth and love and hope,
-he took care of the widows and the
-little children; contrived to make
-work for them; was here and there
-and everywhere; and there was
-not a beggar nor an idler in Brentwood&mdash;not
-one. The house rose
-stately and tall; he had chosen a
-fair spot for it, where great trees
-grew and brooks were running, all
-ready to his hand; and that city
-man&mdash;why, sir, ’twas marvellous
-how he seemed to understand just
-how to make use of it all, and to
-prune a little here and add a little
-there, with vines and arbors and
-glades and a wilderness, till you
-didn’t know what God had done
-and what he had given his creatures
-wit to do. And in the sunniest
-corner of the house&mdash;Brent Hall,
-as they called it&mdash;Mr. James chose
-rooms for Mr. William, who was
-pleased as a child with it all, and
-used to sit day by day and watch
-the work go on.</p>
-
-<p>All the time, too, the Brent iron-foundries
-were being added to
-and renovated, till there was none
-like them round about; and the
-town streets were made like city
-streets, and the town itself set into
-such order as never before; and
-when all was ready&mdash;’twas the work
-of but three years, sir&mdash;when the
-house was hung with pictures and
-decked with the best; in the spring,
-when the grass and the trees were
-green, and the flowers were blooming
-fair, then he brought her
-home. And when I saw her&mdash;well,
-sir, first I thought of the angels;
-but next (if I may say it; and I wot
-it is not wrong)&mdash;next I thought
-of our Blessed Lady. There was
-a great painting in the Hall oratory&mdash;by
-some Spanish painter, they
-said. Murillo? Yes, sir, that is the
-name. It looked like Mrs. James
-Brent, sir. Not an angel, but a
-woman that could suffer and weep
-and struggle sore; and, pure and
-stainless, would still remember she
-was of us poor humans, and so pity
-and pray for us.</p>
-
-<p>We had been used to have Mr.
-Brent come into our houses, and to
-see him in the poorest cottages and
-the almshouses, with smiles and
-cheery words and money; but Mrs.
-James gave more than that, for she
-gave herself. I’ve seen those soft
-hands bind wounds I shrank from;
-and that delicate creature&mdash;I’ve
-seen her kneeling by beds of dying
-sinners, while her face grew white
-at what she saw and heard, and
-yet she praying over ’em, and, what’s
-more, <em>loving</em> ’em, till she made the
-way for the priest to come. And
-she laid out dead whom few of us
-would have touched for hire, and
-she listened to the stories of the
-sad and tiresome, and her smile
-was sunshine, and the very sight
-of her passing by lifted up our
-minds to God. Her husband<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_802" id="Page_802">[802]</a></span>
-thwarted her in nothing. What
-was there to thwart her in? He
-loved her, and she should do what
-she would in this work which was
-her heart’s joy.</p>
-
-<p>Then we had been used to see
-Mr. James in church regular, weekday
-Mass and Sunday Mass; but
-Mrs. James was there any time,
-early mornings and noons and
-nights. I fancy she loved it better
-than the stately Hall. After she
-came, her husband added the great
-south transept window from Germany,
-and the organ that people
-came miles to hear; and he said it
-was her gift, not his. The window
-picture is a great Crucifixion and
-Our Lady standing by. You’ll understand
-better, Mr. Clarkson, ere
-I finish, what it says to Brentwood
-folk now.</p>
-
-<p>The first year there was a daughter
-only; but the next there came
-a son. After that, for six long years
-there were no more children, but
-then another son saw the light.
-What rejoicings, what bonfires,
-what clanging of bells, there was!
-But ere night the clanging changed
-to tolling and the shouts to tears;
-for the child died. And when Mrs.
-James came among us again, very
-white and changed and feeble, we
-all knew that with Mr. James and
-Mr. William, we were seeing the
-last Brent Brothers, whatever our
-grandchildren might see.</p>
-
-<p>However, <em>she</em> was spared, and
-Mr. James took heart of such grace
-as that, and said it would be Brent
-and Son, which sounded quite as
-well when one was used to it.
-And to make himself used to it&mdash;or
-to stifle the disappointment, as I
-really think&mdash;he began the Brent
-Bank. There had been a Brent
-Bank here for years past, and to it
-all Brentwood and half the country
-round trusted their earnings. Only
-a few really rich people had much
-to do with it, but men in moderate
-circumstances, young doctors and
-lawyers with growing families, widows,
-orphans, seamstresses, the factory
-people, laborers, thought there
-was no bank like that. Mr. James’
-kind spirit showed itself there as
-elsewhere, and nobody felt himself
-too insignificant to come there, if
-only with a penny.</p>
-
-<p>Often and often I sit here and
-wonder, Mr. Clarkson, why it all
-was&mdash;why God ever let it be&mdash;the
-shame and the sorrow and the suffering
-that came. I know Mr.
-James was lavish, but, if he spent
-much on himself, he spent much
-on others too; and he made God’s
-house as beautiful as his own.
-For a time it looked as if God’s
-blessing was on him; for he prospered
-year by year, and, except for his
-child’s dying and his wife’s frail
-health, his cup of joy seemed running
-over.</p>
-
-<p>By and by came a year&mdash;you
-may just remember it, sir&mdash;a year
-of very hard times for the whole
-country. Banks broke, and old
-houses went by the board, and men
-were thrown out of work, and there
-was a cry of distress through all
-the land. But Brentwood folk
-hadn’t a thought of fear. Still, in
-that year, from the very first of it,
-something troubled me. Master
-was moody now and then; went
-up to the city oftener; had letters
-which he did not show to me, who
-had seen all his business correspondence
-and his father’s for thirty
-years and more. Sometimes he
-missed Mass, and presently I noted
-with a pang that he did not receive
-the Blessed Sacrament regular as
-he used. And Mrs. James was
-pale, and her eyes, that once were
-as bright and clear as sunshine,
-grew heavy and dark, and she looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_803" id="Page_803">[803]</a></span>
-more and more like the picture
-in her oratory; but it made one
-very sad somehow to see the likeness.</p>
-
-<p>The hard times began at midsummer.
-The Lent after there
-was a mission of Dominican friars
-here. I was special busy that
-week, and kept at work till after
-midnight. One evening, about
-eight, Mr. James came hurriedly
-into the office and asked for the letters.
-He turned them over, looked
-blank, then said the half-past eleven
-mail would surely bring the one he
-wanted, and he should wait till
-then and go for it himself. For
-five minutes or so he tried to cast
-up some accounts; then, too nervous-like
-to be quiet longer, he
-said: “I’ll go and hear the sermon,
-Serle. It will serve to fill up the
-time.” And off he went.</p>
-
-<p>The clock struck the hour and
-the half-hour, and the hour and the
-half-hour, and I heard the half-past
-eleven mail come in, and, soon after,
-Mr. James’ step again, but slow now,
-like one in deep thought. In he
-came, and I caught a glimpse of
-his face, pale and stern, with the
-lips hard set. He shut himself into
-his private room, and I heard
-him pacing up and down; then
-there came a pause, and he strode
-out again. He seemed very odd to
-me, but he tried to laugh, as he
-put down two slips for telegrams
-on my desk. “Which would you
-send?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>One was, “Go on. I consent to
-all your terms.” The other was,
-“Stop. I will have nothing more
-to do with it, no matter what happens.”</p>
-
-<p>Something told me in my heart
-that, though he was trying to pass
-this off in his old way like a joke,
-my master&mdash;my dear master&mdash;was
-in a great strait. I looked up and
-answered what he had not said at
-all to get an answer, with words
-which rose to my lips in spite of
-myself. Says I: “Send what Mrs.
-James would want you to send,
-sir.” And then his ruddy, kind
-face bleached gray like ashes, and
-he gave a groan, and the next minute
-he was gone.</p>
-
-<p>Though my work was done for
-that night, I would not leave the
-bank; for I thought he might come
-back. And back he did come, a
-full hour after, steady and grave
-and not like my master. For, Mr.
-Clarkson, the bright boy-look I
-had loved so, which, with the boy-nature
-too, had never seemed to
-leave him, was all gone out of his
-face, and I knew surely I never
-should see it there again. He
-wrote something quickly, then
-handed it to me, bidding me send
-telegrams to the bank trustees as
-there ordered. The slip which
-bore my direction bore also the
-words, with just a pencil-line erasure
-through them, “Go on. I consent
-to all your terms.” So, for
-good or for ill, whichever it might
-be, the other was the one he must
-have sent.</p>
-
-<p>These telegrams notified the trustees
-of a most important meeting
-to which they were summoned, and
-at that meeting I had, as usual, to
-be present. Perhaps his colleagues
-saw no change in him; but I, who
-had served him long, saw much.
-O Mr. Clarkson, Mr. Clarkson!
-whatever you may be&mdash;and you are
-young still&mdash;<em>be honest</em>. For, sir,
-there’s one thing of many terrible
-to bear, and it’s got to be borne
-here or hereafter by them as err
-from uprightness; and that thing
-is shame. I’d seen him kneel at
-the altar that morning, and she beside
-him, bless her! That’s where
-he got strength to endure the penance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_804" id="Page_804">[804]</a></span>
-he had brought upon himself;
-else I don’t know how he ever
-could have borne it or have done it.</p>
-
-<p>They sat there about him where
-they had often sat before, those fifteen
-country gentlemen, some of
-whom had been his father’s and
-his uncle’s friends, and some his
-own schoolmates and companions.
-And he stood up, and first he looked
-them calm and fearless full in
-their faces, and then his voice faltered
-and stopped, and then they
-all felt that it was indeed something
-beyond ordinary that was
-coming.</p>
-
-<p>Don’t ask me to tell my master’s
-shame as he told it, without a gloss
-or an excuse, plain and bald and to
-the point. I knew and they knew
-that there was excuse for his loving
-and lavish nature, but he made
-none for himself.</p>
-
-<p>Well, there’s no hiding what all
-the world knows now. He had let
-himself be led away into speculation
-and&mdash;God pity and forgive
-him!&mdash;into fraud, till only ruin or
-added and greater sin stared him
-in the face; then, brought face to
-face with that alternative, he had
-chosen&mdash;just ruin, sir.</p>
-
-<p>There was dead silence for a
-space, till Sir Jasper Meredith,
-the oldest man there, and the justest
-business man I ever met, said
-gravely: “Do you realize, Mr.
-Brent, that this implies ruin to
-others than to you?”</p>
-
-<p>He was not thinking of himself,
-though this trouble would straiten
-him sorely; he was thinking, and
-so was my master, and so was I, of
-poor men, and lone women, and
-children and babies, made penniless
-at a blow; of the works stopped;
-of hunger and sickness and
-cold. Mr. James bowed his head;
-he could not speak.</p>
-
-<p>Then I had to bring out the
-books, and we went carefully over
-them page by page. It was like
-the Day of Judgment itself to turn
-over those accounts, and to read
-letters that had to be read, and to
-find out, step by step, and in the
-very presence of the man we had
-honored and trusted, that he had
-really fallen from his high place.
-He quivered under it, body and
-soul, but answered steadily every
-question Sir Jasper put to him;
-spoke in such a way that I was
-sure he as well as I thought of the
-last great day, and was answering
-to One mightier than man. And
-presently, when they had reached
-the root of it&mdash;well, Mr. Clarkson,
-it was sin and it was shame, and I
-dare not call it less before God;
-yet it was sin which many another
-man does unblushingly, and had
-he persisted in it&mdash;had he only the
-night previous sent that message,
-“Go on”&mdash;it was possible and probable
-that he could have saved himself.
-Yet, if I could have had my
-choice then or now, I would rather
-have seen him stand there, disgraced
-and ruined by his own act and
-will, than have had him live for another
-day a hypocrite.</p>
-
-<p>But Sir Jasper said never a word
-of praise or blame till the whole
-investigation was ended; listened
-silently while Mr. James told his
-plan to sell all he owned in Brentwood,
-pay what debts he could,
-and then begin life over again
-abroad, and work hard and steadily
-to retrieve his fortunes, that he
-might pay all and stand with a clear
-conscience before he died. Then
-Sir Jasper rose and came to him,
-put his two hands on Mr. James’
-shoulders, and looked him straight
-in the eyes. “James Brent,” he
-said, “I knew your father before
-you, and your father’s father, but I
-never honored them more, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_805" id="Page_805">[805]</a></span>
-never honored you more, than on
-this day when you confess to having
-disgraced your name and theirs,
-but have had the honesty and manliness
-to confess it. Disgrace is
-disgrace; but confession is the beginning
-of amendment.”</p>
-
-<p>That was all. There was no
-offer of money help; all Sir Jasper
-could offer would have been but a
-drop in the ocean of such utter
-ruin. There was no advice to
-spare himself before he spared his
-neighbor; Sir Jasper was too just
-for that. But after those words I
-saw my master’s eyes grow moist
-and bright, and a gleam of hope
-come into his face. My poor master!
-my poor master! Thank God
-we cannot see the whole of suffering
-at the beginning!</p>
-
-<p>The intention was not to let the
-news get abroad that night. Mr.
-James went home to tell his wife
-and children&mdash;how terrible that
-seemed to me!&mdash;and I sat busy in
-the office. It was the spring of
-the year. Fifteen years ago the
-coming month he had brought his
-bride home in the sunshine and the
-flowers. This afternoon darkened
-into clouds, and rain came and the
-east wind. I lighted the lamps early
-and went to my work again. Presently
-I heard a sound such as I
-never heard before&mdash;a low growl, or
-roar, or shout, that wasn’t thunder
-or wind or rain. It grew louder;
-it was like the tramp of many feet,
-hurrying fast, and in the direction
-of the bank. Then cries&mdash;a name,
-short, distinct, repeated again and
-again: “Brent! Brent! James
-Brent!”</p>
-
-<p>I went to the window. There
-they were, half Brentwood and
-more, clamoring for the sight of the
-man they trusted above all men. I
-flung the window up and they saw
-me.</p>
-
-<p>“Halloo, there, Joseph Serle!”
-cried the leader, a choleric Scot
-who had not been many years
-among us. “Where’s our master?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not here,” says I, with a sinking
-at my heart.</p>
-
-<p>“He knows,” piped a woman’s
-shrill voice; “make him tell us
-true.”</p>
-
-<p>And then the Scot cries again:
-“Halloo, Joseph Serle, there! Speak
-us true, mon, or ye’ll hang for’t.
-Is our money safe?”</p>
-
-<p>What could I say? Face after
-face I saw by the glare of torches&mdash;faces
-of neighbors and friends and
-kin&mdash;and not one but was a loser,
-and few that were not well-nigh
-ruined. And while I hesitated how
-to speak again that woman spoke:
-“Where’s James Brent? Has he
-run, the coward?”</p>
-
-<p>That was too much. “He’s
-home,” cried I, “where you and
-all decent folk should be.”</p>
-
-<p>“Home! home!” They caught
-the word and shouted it. “We’ll
-go home too. We’ll find James
-Brent.” And the tide turned towards
-the Hall.</p>
-
-<p>I flew down the back-stairs to the
-stable, mounted the fleetest horse,
-and galloped him bareback to Brent
-Hall; but, fast as I rode, the east
-wind bore an angry shout behind
-me, and, if I turned my head, I saw
-torches flaring, and the ground
-seemed to tremble with the hurrying
-tramp of feet.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t know how they bore it
-or how I told ’em. I know I found
-them together, him and her, and
-she was as if she had not shed a
-tear, and her eyes were glowing like
-stars, bright, and tender, and sad, and
-glad all at once. I had hardly time
-to tell the news, when the sound
-I had dreaded for ’em broke upon
-us like the rush and the roar of an
-awful storm. On they came, trampling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_806" id="Page_806">[806]</a></span>
-over the garden-beds, waving
-their torchlights, calling one
-name hoarse and constant&mdash;“Brent!
-Brent! James Brent!”</p>
-
-<p>“My love,” he said, bending
-down to her, “stay while I go to
-them.”</p>
-
-<p>And then she looked at him with
-a look that was more heavenly than
-any smile, and said only: “James,
-my place is by your side, and I will
-keep it.”</p>
-
-<p>He put his hand quick over his
-eyes like one in great awe, smiled
-with a smile more sad than tears,
-then opened the hall door and
-stood out before the crowd&mdash;there
-where many a man and woman of
-them had seen him bring his young
-bride home. And the sudden silence
-which fell upon them his own
-voice broke. “My friends,” he
-said, “what would you have of
-me?”</p>
-
-<p>Straight and keen as a barbed
-arrow, not from one voice, but from
-many, the question rose, “Is our
-money safe?” And after that some
-one called: “We’ll trust your word,
-master, ’gainst all odds.”</p>
-
-<p>I had thought that scene in the
-bank was like the Judgment Day;
-but what was this? He tried to
-speak, but his lips clave together.
-Then I saw her draw a little nearer&mdash;not
-to touch him or to speak to
-him; she did not even look at him,
-neither at the people, but out into
-the darkness, and up and far away;
-and her very body, it seemed to
-me, was praying.</p>
-
-<p>“Is our money safe?” It was
-like a yell now, and James Brent
-made answer: “My friends, I am a
-ruined man.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is our money safe?” Little
-children’s voices joined in the cry.
-My God, let Brentwood never hear
-the like again!</p>
-
-<p>My master held out his hands
-like any beggar; then he fell down
-upon his knees. “I confess to you
-and to God,” he said, “there is
-not one penny left.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Clarkson, I am Brentwood
-born and bred. I love my master,
-but I love my place and people
-too. We are a simple folk and a
-loving folk. It is an awful thing to
-shake the trust of such. They had
-deemed their honor and their property
-for ever safe with this one man,
-and in an hour and at a word their
-trust was broken, their scanty all
-was gone, their earthly hopes were
-shattered. Mr. Clarkson, sir, it
-drove them wild.</p>
-
-<p>That day had set on Brent Hall
-fair and stately; the morrow dawned
-on blackened ruins. The
-grounds lay waste; the fountains
-were dry; pictures which nobles
-had envied had fed the flames;
-fabrics which would have graced a
-queen stopped the babbling of the
-brooks; and in front of Brent
-Bank hung effigies of the last Brent
-Brothers, with a halter about the
-neck of each.</p>
-
-<p>He had planned&mdash;my master,
-my poor master!&mdash;to retrieve all.
-Why could it not be? God knows
-best, but it is a mystery which I
-cannot fathom. That night’s horror
-and exposure brought him to
-the very gates of death; and when
-he rose up at last, it was as a mere
-wreck of himself, never to work
-again. His wife’s dowry went to
-the people whom he had ruined
-and who had ruined him. They
-lived until her death, as he lives
-still, on charity.</p>
-
-<p>And that is all? No, Mr. Clarkson,
-not quite all. He was brave
-enough, since he could not win
-back his honor otherwise, to stay
-among us and gain a place again
-in the hearts he had wounded sore.
-Sometimes I think he teaches us a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_807" id="Page_807">[807]</a></span>
-better lesson, old, and alone, and
-poor, than if he had come to build
-his fallen home once more. I
-think, sir, we have learned to pity
-and forgive as we never should
-have done otherwise, since we have
-seen him suffering like any one of
-us; as low down as any one of us.</p>
-
-<h4>JAMES BRENT’S VERSION.</h4>
-
-<p>He has told you the story, then,
-my boy, has he? And you are
-the last of us, and you have my
-name&mdash;James Brent Clarkson.
-The last? Then I will tell you
-more than he could tell you. Do
-not shrink or fancy it will pain me.
-I would like to let you know all,
-my boy&mdash;not for my sake; but you
-say you are only half a Catholic,
-and I would have you learn something
-of the deep reality of the true
-faith.</p>
-
-<p>The night I waited for the half-past
-eleven train I had been stopped
-on my way to the bank by a
-crowd at the church door, and
-I heard one man say to another:
-“They’re dark times, neighbor&mdash;as
-dark as our land’s seen these hundred
-years.” And his mate answered
-him: “Maybe so, Collins;
-maybe so. But Brentwood don’t
-feel ’em much. I believe, and so
-does most folks, that if all other
-houses fell, and e’en the Bank of
-England broke, Brent Brothers
-would stand. It’s been honest and
-true for four generations back, and
-so ’twull be to the end on’t.” Then
-the crowd parted, the men went
-into the church, and I passed down
-the street.</p>
-
-<p>“Honest and true for four generations
-back, and so ’twull be to the
-end on’t.” The words haunted me.
-At last, in desperation, to rid myself
-of the thought, I went to church
-also. Going in by a side door, I
-found myself in a corner by a confessional,
-quite sheltered from view,
-but with the pulpit in plain sight.
-There, raised high above the heads
-of the people, the preacher stood,
-a man of middle age, who looked
-as if he had been at some time of
-his life in and of the world; his
-face that of one who has found it
-almost a death-struggle to subdue
-self to the obedience and the folly of
-the cross. He seemed meant for
-a ruler among his fellows. I wondered
-idly what he was doing there
-in the preacher’s frock, speaking
-to the crowd.</p>
-
-<p>He was telling, simply and plainly,
-of our Lord’s agony in the garden.
-But simple and plain as
-were his words, there was something
-in the face and voice which
-drew one into sympathetic union
-with this man, who spoke as if he
-were literally beholding the load
-of our sin lying upon the Lord’s
-heart till his sweat of blood started.
-And when he had painted
-the scene to us, he paused as hearing
-the awful cry echo through the
-stillness that reigned in the crowded
-church, then bent forward as if his
-eyes would scan our very hearts,
-and spoke once more.</p>
-
-<p>I cannot tell you what he said,
-but before he ended I knew this:
-my sin cost our Lord’s agony;
-added sin of mine would be added
-anguish of his. The choice lay before
-me. When I showed Serle
-those two despatches, the one
-“Stop,” the other “Go on,” I held
-there what would be my ruin for
-time or for eternity.</p>
-
-<p>There is a world unseen, and
-mighty; its powers were round me
-that night like an army. Hitherto
-I had been deceiving myself with
-the plea of necessity of others’ interests
-to be considered, of my honor
-to be sustained. That night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_808" id="Page_808">[808]</a></span>
-another motive rose before me, but
-it was of an honor put to dishonor&mdash;the
-Lord of glory bowed down to
-the earth by shame.</p>
-
-<p>The letter must be answered before
-morning, so pressing was my
-need. I decided to go to the telegraph
-office, and by the time I
-reached it my mind must be made
-up. But, in the street, I came face
-to face with the preacher I had
-heard that night. The moon was
-near the full. We two looked
-straight at each other, passed, then
-turned as by one impulse, and
-faced again. They who fight a
-fight to its end, and conquer, but
-only with wounds whose scars they
-must bear to their graves, sometimes
-gain a great power of reading
-the souls of those who are fighting
-a like contest, and know not yet if
-it will end in victory or defeat.
-Some fight like mine I felt sure that
-priest had fought. “What would
-you have, my brother?” he asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Answers to two questions, father,”
-I replied. “If a man has
-done wrong to others, and can only
-repair it by added wrong, shall he
-disgrace his own good name for
-ever by avowal, or shall he sin?
-And if his fall involves the suffering
-of his innocent wife and children,
-may he not save himself from shame
-for their sake? It is a matter
-which may not wait now for confession
-even. Answer as best you may,
-for the love of God.”</p>
-
-<p>I fancied that the stern face before
-me softened and grew pale, and
-in the momentary stillness I understood
-that the Dominican was
-praying. Then he answered, few
-words and firm, as one who <em>knew</em>:</p>
-
-<p>“To choose disgrace is to choose
-the path our divine Lord chose.
-To involve our dearest in suffering
-is to know his anguish whose blessed
-Mother stood beneath his cross.”</p>
-
-<p>Then, after one more slight, intense
-silence, “My brother,” he
-said earnestly, “I do not know
-your life, but I know my own. To
-drink the Lord’s cup of shame to
-its dregs&mdash;<em>with him</em>&mdash;is a blessed
-thing to do, if he gives a sinner
-grace to do it.”</p>
-
-<p>Tell me a thousand times that
-you have no faith yourself; that to
-love God passionately is a dream, a
-delusion, unworthy of our manly
-nature; that to choose shame is
-folly, to choose suffering is a mad
-mistake&mdash;what shame could atone
-for my sins or give back to the
-poor the means of which my folly
-had robbed them? What can your
-words count with those who have
-once tasted the bitter sweetness of
-the Lord’s own chalice? Suddenly,
-standing there, I knew what it
-means to love God more than
-houses or lands, wife or children;
-to have him more real to the soul
-than they to the heart; to be willing
-and glad to forsake all for
-him; to know I had one more
-chance left to do his will, not
-Satan’s; and to make my choice.
-Having brought his agony on him,
-there was nothing more I <em>could</em> do
-but bear it with him.</p>
-
-<p>My boy, though you came on my
-invitation, you chose the twilight in
-which to come to me, that I might
-hide my shame at meeting you.
-Such shame <em>died dead</em> in two awful
-nights and days: First, confession
-before the priest of God; then to
-colleagues and friends; then to my
-wife and to my son&mdash;oh! that
-stings yet; then to an angry throng,
-whose trust I had betrayed, whose
-hopes I had blasted, whose love
-and reverence I had turned to
-hate and scorn. I have seen my
-home in ruins, my effigy hung up
-and hooted at in the public square,
-my name become a byword, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_809" id="Page_809">[809]</a></span>
-race blotted out. I am an old man
-now, and still they tell my story in
-Brentwood; each child learns it;
-strangers hear of it. Yet, if the
-power were mine to alter these
-twenty years of humiliation, I
-would not lose one hour of suffering
-or shame.</p>
-
-<p>You ask me why? Thirty-five
-years ago I stood here, the centre
-and the favorite of this town, and
-I set myself to work my own will,
-to gain glory for me and mine.
-My wife, my name, my home, were
-my idols. It seemed an innocent
-ambition, but it was not for God,
-and it led me into evil work. You
-told me that since you came of age
-you have been but once to confession.
-It is by the light of that
-sacrament that what seems to you
-the mystery of my life is read.
-For a Catholic&mdash;whether striving
-after perfection, or struggling up
-from sin to lasting penitence&mdash;has
-for pattern the life of Jesus, the
-doing all in union with him, after
-his example. What is the sacrament
-of penance but the bearing
-of shame, though in the presence
-of a compassionate priest, with
-him who, when he could have
-rescued us at the price of one drop
-of his most precious blood, chose
-to die in ignominy, bearing before
-the world the entire world’s disgrace?
-My boy, if in any way,
-by the love of our common name,
-I can influence you, <em>go back to confession</em>.
-It is the very sacrament
-for men who would be upright, and
-loyal, and strong, and true; or
-who, having fallen, would humbly
-and bravely bear for Christ’s sake
-the disclosure and the penalty.</p>
-
-<p>My penance&mdash;given by God, mark
-you&mdash;was heavy, men think. Was
-it heavier than my sin? They do
-not know everything. All my life
-I had been helped, guarded, upheld;
-and for such to fall is a deadlier
-sin than for others. The infinite
-love of God bore with me and
-saved me. And as, day by day,
-like the unremitted lashes of a
-scourge, suffering fell to my portion,
-I tell you that a strange, an
-awful sweetness mingled with the
-anguish. I knew it was the hand
-of God that smote me, and that
-he smote here to spare hereafter.</p>
-
-<p>Oh! do not look at me. Stop!
-Turn your face away! I thought
-all such shame was dead, but there
-are moments when it overwhelms
-me with its sting. Did I say or
-dare to think that <em>God loves me</em>?
-Wait, wait, till I can remember what
-it means!</p>
-
-<p>Yes, I know now. Through all
-that night, while the torches glared,
-and wrathful faces looked curses at
-me, and lips shouted them, ever
-through all I saw, as it were, One
-sinless but reputed with the wicked;
-stripped of his garments as I of my
-pride; made a spectacle to angels
-and to men; mocked, reviled,
-scourged, crucified; and through
-the wild tumult I heard a voice
-say, as of old to the repentant thief
-on the cross: “This day thou shalt
-be with me.” And through all my
-heart was answering to his most
-Sacred Heart, “I, indeed, justly;
-for I receive the due reward of my
-deeds: but this man hath done no
-evil.” How could I wish to be
-spared a single pang or lose one
-hour of shame with him? What
-part could any Christian take but
-to suffer with him, having made
-him suffer? And when one has
-said “with him,” one has explained
-all. But, somehow, people do not
-always seem to understand.</p>
-
-<p class="break">Understand? Ah! no. It is a
-story, not of two versions, but of
-many. Some called James Brent a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_810" id="Page_810">[810]</a></span>
-fool, and some a madman, and some
-said he should have saved his honor
-and his name at all hazards; and
-some, that he had no right to entail
-such suffering on his household.
-But there is one light by which such
-stories should be read, that is truer
-than these. When time is gone,
-and wealth is dust, and earthly honor
-vanishes like smoke, then, by
-the standard of the cross of Christ,
-wealth, and pomp, and pleasure,
-and business shall be duly tried.
-Shun humiliation here as we will,
-there shall be after this the judgment,
-when the Prince of Glory,
-who pronounces final sentence, will
-be he who, while on earth, chose for
-his portion a life of suffering and a
-death of shame.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>ANTI-CATHOLIC MOVEMENTS IN THE UNITED STATES.</h3>
-
-<p>Like commercial panics, periodical
-outbursts of irreligious fanaticism
-seem to have become regular
-incidents in the history of the United
-States&mdash;occurrences to be looked
-for with as much certainty as if
-they were the natural outgrowth of
-our civilization and the peculiarly-constituted
-condition of American
-society. Though springing from
-widely different causes, these intermittent
-spasms have a marked resemblance
-in their deleterious effects
-on our individual welfare and national
-reputation. Both are demoralizing
-and degrading in their
-tendencies, and each, in its degree,
-finally results in the temporary gain
-of a few to the lasting injury and
-debasement of the multitude. In
-other respects they differ materially.
-Great mercantile reverses and isolated
-acts of peculation, unfortunately,
-are not limited to one community
-or to the growth of any particular
-system of polity, but are as
-common and as frequent in despotic
-Asia and monarchical Europe
-as in republican America. Popular
-ebullitions of bigotry, on the contrary,
-are, or, more correctly, ought
-to be, confined to those countries
-where ignorance and intolerance
-usurp the place of enlightened philanthropy
-and wise government.
-They are foreign to the spirit of
-American institutions, hostile to the
-best interests of society, and a curse
-to those who tolerate or encourage
-them. The brightest glory of the
-fathers of the republic springs, not
-so much from the fact that they separated
-the colonies from the mother
-country and founded a new nation&mdash;for
-that is nothing strange or unheard-of
-in the world’s history&mdash;but
-that they made its three millions of
-inhabitants free as well as independent:
-free not only from unjust taxation
-and arbitrary laws, but for
-ever free to worship their Creator according
-to the dictates of their conscience,
-unawed by petty authority
-and unaffected by the shifting counsels
-of subsequent legislators.</p>
-
-<p>From this point of view the Revolution
-appears as one of the grandest
-moral events in the records of
-human progress; and when we reflect
-on the numerous pains, penalties,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_811" id="Page_811">[811]</a></span>
-and restrictions prescribed by
-the charters and by-laws of the colonies
-from whence our Union has
-sprung, it challenges our most profound
-admiration and gratitude.
-This complete religious equality,
-guaranteed by our fundamental law,
-has ever been the boast of every
-true American citizen, at home and
-abroad. From the halls of Congress
-to the far Western stump-meeting
-we hear it again and again enunciated;
-it is repeated by a thousand
-eloquent tongues on each recurring
-anniversary of our independence,
-and is daily and weekly trumpeted
-throughout the length and breadth
-of the land by the myriad-winged
-Mercuries of the press. This freedom
-of worship, freedom of conscience,
-and legal equality, as declared
-and confirmed by our forefathers,
-has become, in fact, not
-only the written but also the common
-law of the land&mdash;the birthright
-of every native-born American, the
-acquired, but no less sacred, privilege
-of every citizen by adoption.
-Whoever now attempts to disturb
-or question it, by word or act, disgraces
-his country in the eyes of all
-mankind, and defiles the memory
-of our greatest and truest heroes
-and statesmen.</p>
-
-<p>So powerful, indeed, were the example
-and teachings of those wise
-men who laid broad and deep the
-foundations of our happy country
-that, during the first half-century
-of our national existence, scarcely a
-voice was raised in opposition or
-protest against the principle of religious
-liberty as emphatically expressed
-in the first amendment to
-the Constitution. A whole generation
-had to pass away ere fanaticism
-dared to raise its crest, until
-the solemn guarantees of our federal
-compact were assailed by incendiary
-mobs and scouted by so-called
-courts of justice. The first flagrant
-instance of this fell spirit of
-bigotry happened in Massachusetts,
-and naturally was directed against
-an institution of Catholic learning.</p>
-
-<p>In 1820 four Ursuline nuns arrived
-in Boston and established
-there a house of their order. Six
-years later they removed to the
-neighboring village of Charlestown,
-where they purchased a piece of
-ground, and, calling it Mt. St. Benedict,
-erected a suitable building and
-reduced the hitherto barren hill-side
-to a state of beautiful cultivation.
-In 1834 the community had increased
-to ten, all ladies of thorough
-education and refinement. From
-the very beginning their success
-as teachers was acknowledged and
-applauded, and their average attendance
-of pupils was computed at
-from fifty to sixty. Of these, at
-least four-fifths were Protestants,
-the daughters of the best American
-families, not only of New England,
-but of the Middle and Southern
-States. Though it was well known
-that the nuns had ever been most
-scrupulously careful not to meddle
-with the religious opinions of their
-scholars, and that not one conversion
-to the church could be ascribed
-to their influence, the fact that a
-school conducted by Catholic religious
-should have acquired so brilliant
-a reputation, and that its patrons
-were principally Protestants
-of high social and political standing,
-was considered sufficient in the
-eyes of the Puritan fanatics to condemn
-it.</p>
-
-<p>Its destruction was therefore resolved
-on, and an incident, unimportant
-in itself, occurred in the
-summer of 1834 which was eagerly
-seized upon by the clerical adventurers
-who then, as now, disgraced
-so many sectarian pulpits. It appears
-that an inmate of the convent,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_812" id="Page_812">[812]</a></span>
-a Miss Harrison, had, from excessive
-application to music, become partially
-demented, and during one of
-her moments of hallucination left
-the house and sought refuge with
-some friends. Her brother, a Protestant,
-having heard of her flight,
-accompanied by Bishop Fenwick,
-brought her back to the nunnery,
-to her own great satisfaction and
-the delight of the sisterhood. This
-trifling domestic affair was eagerly
-taken up by the leaders of the anti-Catholic
-faction and magnified into
-monstrous proportions. The nuns,
-it was said, had not only driven an
-American lady to madness, but had
-immured her in a dungeon, and,
-upon her attempting to escape, had,
-with the connivance of the bishop
-and priests, actually tortured her to
-death. Falsehoods even more diabolical
-were invented and circulated
-throughout Boston. The following
-Sunday the Methodist and
-Congregational churches rang again
-with denunciations against Popery
-and nunneries, while one self-styled
-divine, a Dr. Beecher, the father of
-a numerous progeny of male and
-female evangelists, some of whom
-have since become famous in more
-senses than one, preached no less
-than three sermons in as many different
-churches on the abominations
-of Rome. All the bigotry of Boston
-and the adjacent towns was aroused
-to the highest pitch of frenzy, and
-threats against the convent were
-heard on every side.</p>
-
-<p>To pacify the public mind the
-selectmen of Charlestown, on the
-following day, the memorable 11th
-of August, appointed a committee
-to examine into the truth of the
-charges. They waited on the nuns,
-and were received by Miss Harrison,
-who was alleged to have been
-foully murdered. Under her personal
-guidance they searched every
-part of the convent and its appurtenances,
-till, becoming thoroughly
-satisfied with the falsity of the reports,
-they retired to draw up a
-statement to that effect for publication
-in the newspapers. This was
-what the rabble dreaded, and, as
-soon as the intention of the committee
-became known, the leaders
-resolved to forestall public sentiment
-by acting at once.</p>
-
-<p>Accordingly, about nine o’clock
-in the evening, a mob began to
-collect in the neighborhood of Mt.
-St. Benedict. Bonfires were lit
-and exciting harangues were made,
-but still there were many persons
-reluctant to believe that the rioters
-were in earnest. They would not
-admit that any great number of
-Americans could be found base
-and brutal enough to attack a
-house filled with defenceless and
-delicate women and children. They
-were mistaken, however; they had
-yet to learn to what lengths fanaticism
-can be carried when once the
-evil passions of corrupt human
-nature are aroused. Towards midnight
-a general alarm was rung,
-calling out the engine companies
-of Boston, not to quell any fire or
-disturbance, but, as was proved
-by their conduct, to reinforce the
-rioters, if necessary. The first demonstration
-was made by firing
-shot and stones against the windows
-and doors of the main building,
-to ascertain if there were any
-defenders inside; but, upon becoming
-satisfied that there were none,
-the cowardly mob burst open the
-gates and doors, and rushed wildly
-through the passages and rooms,
-swearing vengeance against the
-nuns.</p>
-
-<p>Trusting to the protection of the
-authorities, the gentle sisters were
-taken by surprise. The shots of
-their assailants, however, awakened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_813" id="Page_813">[813]</a></span>
-them to a sense of danger. Hastening
-from their beds, they rushed
-to the dormitories, aroused the
-sleeping children, and had barely
-time to avoid the fury of the mob
-by escaping through a back entrance
-in their night-clothes. Everything
-portable, including money and
-jewelry belonging to the pupils,
-was laid hold of by the intruders,
-the furniture and valuable
-musical instruments were hacked
-in pieces, and then the convent
-was given to the flames amid the
-frantic cheers of assembled thousands.
-“Not content with all this,”
-says the report of Mr. Loring’s
-committee, “they burst open the
-tomb of the establishment, rifled it
-of the sacred vessels there deposited,
-wrested the plates from the
-coffins, and exposed to view the
-mouldering remains of their tenants.
-Nor is it the least humiliating
-feature, in this scene of cowardly
-and audacious violation of all that
-man ought to hold sacred, that it
-was perpetrated in the presence of
-men vested with authority and of
-multitudes of our fellow-citizens,
-while not one arm was lifted in the
-defence of helpless women and
-children, or in vindication of the
-violated laws of God and man.
-The spirit of violence, sacrilege,
-and plunder reigned triumphant.”</p>
-
-<p>The morning of the 12th of August
-saw what for years had been the
-quiet retreat of Christian learning
-and feminine holiness a mass of
-blackened ruins; but the character
-of Massachusetts had received even
-a darker stain, a foul blot not yet
-wiped from her escutcheon. It was
-felt by the most respectable portion
-of the citizens that some step
-should be taken to vindicate the
-reputation of the State, and to place
-the odium of the outrage on those
-who alone were guilty. Accordingly,
-a committee of thirty-eight
-leading Protestant gentlemen, with
-Charles G. Loring as chairman,
-was appointed to investigate and
-report on the origin and results of
-the disgraceful proceeding. It met
-in Faneuil Hall from day to day,
-examined a great number of witnesses,
-and made the most minute
-inquiries from all sources. Its
-final report was long, eloquent, and
-convincing. After the most thorough
-examination, it was found,
-those Protestant gentlemen said,
-that all the wild and malicious assertions
-put forth in the sectarian
-pulpits and repeated in the newspapers,
-regarding the Ursulines,
-were without a shadow of truth or
-probability; they eulogized in the
-most glowing language the conduct
-of the nuns, their qualifications as
-teachers, their Christian piety and
-meekness, and their careful regard
-for the morals as well as for the
-religious scruples of their pupils.
-They also attributed the wanton
-attack upon the nunnery to the fell
-spirit of bigotry evoked by the false
-reports of the New England press
-and the unmitigated slanders of the
-anti-Catholic preachers, and called
-upon the legislative authorities to
-indemnify, in the most ample manner,
-the victims of mob law and
-official connivance.</p>
-
-<p>But the most significant fact
-brought to light by this committee
-was that the fanatics, in their attack
-on Mt. St. Benedict, were not a
-mere heterogeneous crowd of ignorant
-men acting upon momentary
-impulse, but a regular band of lawless
-miscreants directed and aided
-by persons of influence and standing
-in society. “There is no
-doubt,” says the report, “that a
-conspiracy had been formed, extending
-into many of the neighboring
-towns; but the committee are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_814" id="Page_814">[814]</a></span>
-of opinion that it embraced very
-few of respectable character in
-society, though some such may,
-perhaps, be actually guilty of an offence
-no less heinous, morally considered,
-in having excited the feelings
-which led to the design, or
-countenanced and instigated those
-engaged in its execution.” Here
-we find laid down, on the most
-unquestionable authority, the origin
-and birth-place of all subsequent
-Native American movements
-against Catholicity.</p>
-
-<p>But the sequel to the destruction
-of the Charlestown convent was
-even more shameful than the crime
-itself. Thirteen men had been arrested,
-eight of whom were charged
-with arson. The first tried was
-the ringleader, an ex-convict, named
-Buzzell. The scenes which
-were enacted on that occasion are
-without a parallel in the annals of
-our jurisprudence. The mother-superior,
-several of the sisters, and
-Bishop Fenwick, necessary witnesses
-for the prosecution, were received
-in court with half-suppressed
-jibes and sneers, subjected to every
-species of insult by the lawyers for
-the defence, and were frowned upon
-even by the judge who presided.
-Though the evidence against the
-prisoner was conclusive, the jury,
-without shame or hesitation, acquitted
-him, and he walked out of
-court amid the wildest cheers of the
-bystanders. Similar demonstrations
-of popular sympathy attended the
-trials of the other rioters, who were
-all, with the exception of a young
-boy, permitted to escape the penalty
-of their gross crimes.</p>
-
-<p>Even the State legislature, though
-urged to do so by many of the leading
-public men of the commonwealth,
-refused to vote anything
-like an adequate sum to indemnify
-the nuns and pupils for their losses,
-amounting to over a hundred thousand
-dollars. The pitiful sum of
-ten thousand dollars was offered,
-and of course rejected; and to this
-day the ruins of the convent stand
-as an eloquent monument of Protestant
-perfidy and puritanical meanness
-and injustice.</p>
-
-<p>The impunity thus legally and
-officially guaranteed to mobs and
-sacrilegious plunderers soon bore
-fruit in other acts of lawlessness
-in various parts of Massachusetts.
-A Catholic graveyard in Lowell
-was shortly after entered and desecrated
-by an armed rabble, and a
-house in Wareham, in which Mass
-was being celebrated, was set upon
-by a gang of ruffians known as the
-“Convent Boys.” A couple of
-years later the Montgomery Guards,
-a regular militia company, composed
-principally of Catholic freeholders
-of Boston, were openly insulted
-by their comrades on parade,
-and actually stoned through the
-streets by a mob of over three thousand
-persons.</p>
-
-<p>As there were no more convents
-to be plundered and burned in the
-stronghold of Puritanism, the war
-on those glories of religion was
-kept up in a different manner, but
-with no less rancor and audacity.
-Taking advantage of the excitement
-created by such men as Lyman
-Beecher and Buzzell, a mercenary
-publisher issued a book entitled
-<cite>Six Months in a Convent</cite>, which
-was put together by some contemptible
-preacher in the name of an illiterate
-girl named Reed, who, the
-better to mislead the public, assumed
-the title of “Sister Mary Agnes.”
-“We earnestly hope and believe,”
-said the preface to this embodiment
-of falsehood, “that this little work,
-if universally diffused, will do more,
-by its unaffected simplicity, in deterring
-Protestant parents from educating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_815" id="Page_815">[815]</a></span>
-their daughters in Catholic
-nunneries than could the most
-labored and learned discourses on
-the dangers of Popery.” Though
-the book was replete with stupid
-fabrications and silly blunders, so
-grossly had the popular taste been
-perverted that fifty thousand copies
-were sold within a year after its
-publication. The demand was still
-increasing, when another contribution
-to Protestant literature appeared,
-before the broad, disgusting, and
-obscene fabrications of which the
-mendacity of “Sister Mary Agnes”
-paled its ineffectual fires. This
-latter candidate for popular favor,
-though it bore the name, destined
-for an immortality of infamy, of
-Maria Monk&mdash;a notoriously dissolute
-woman&mdash;was actually compiled
-by a few needy and unscrupulous
-adventurers, reverend and irreverend,
-who found a distinguished
-Methodist publishing house, not
-quite so needy, though still more
-unscrupulous, to publish the work
-for them, though very shame compelled
-even them to withhold their
-names from the publication. And
-it was only owing to a legal suit
-arising from this infamous transaction
-many years after that the
-fact was revealed that the publishers
-of this vilest of assaults on one
-of the holiest institutions of the
-Catholic Church was the firm of
-Harper Brothers. True to their
-character, they saw that the times
-were favorable for an assault on
-Catholicity, even so vile as this
-one; and true to their nature again,
-they refused to their wretched accomplice
-her adequate share in the
-wages of sin. Though bearing on
-its face all the evidences of diabolical
-malice and falsehood, condemned
-by the better portion of the
-press and by all reputable Protestants,
-the work had an unparalleled
-sale for some time. The demand
-might have continued to go on increasing
-indefinitely, but, in an evil
-hour for the speculators, its authors,
-under the impression that the prurient
-taste of the public was not
-sufficiently satiated with imaginary
-horrors, issued a continuation under
-the title of <cite>Additional Awful
-Disclosures</cite>. This composition proved
-an efficient antidote to the malignant
-poison of the first. Its impurity
-and falsehoods were so palpable
-that its originators were glad to
-slink into obscurity and their patrons
-into silence, followed by the
-contempt of all honest men.</p>
-
-<p>Just ten years after the Charlestown
-outrage the spirit of Protestant
-persecution began to revive.
-Premonitory symptoms of political
-proscription appeared in 1842, in
-the constitutional conventions of
-Rhode Island and Louisiana, and
-in the local legislatures of other
-States; but it was not till the early
-part of 1844 that it became evident
-that secret measures were being
-taken to arouse the dormant feeling
-of antipathy to the rights of
-Catholics, so rife in the hearts of
-the ignorant Protestant masses.
-New York, at first, was the principal
-seat of the disorder. Most
-of the newspapers of that period
-teemed with eulogistic reviews of
-books written against the faith;
-cheap periodicals, such as the Rev.
-Mr. Sparry’s <cite>American Anti-Papist</cite>,
-were thrust into the hands of
-all who would read them by the
-agents of the Bible and proselytizing
-societies; and a cohort of
-what were called anti-papal lecturers,
-of which a reverend individual
-named Cheever was the leader,
-was employed to attack the Catholic
-Church with every conceivable
-weapon that the arsenal of Protestantism
-afforded.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_816" id="Page_816">[816]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>The popular mind being thus
-prepared for a change, the various
-elements of political and social life
-opposed to Catholicity were crystallized
-into the “American Republican”
-party, better known as the
-Native Americans. On the 19th
-of March, 1844, the new faction
-nominated James Harper for mayor
-of the city of New York, and
-about the same time William Rockwell
-was named for a similar
-office in Brooklyn. The platform
-upon which these gentlemen
-stood was simple but comprehensive:
-the retention of the Protestant
-Bible and Protestant books in
-the public schools; the exclusion
-of Catholics of all nationalities
-from office; and the amendment
-of the naturalization laws so as to
-extend the probationary term of
-citizenship to twenty-one years.
-The canvass in New York was
-conducted with some regard to
-decency; but in the sister city, the
-Nativists threw off all respect for
-law, their processions invaded the
-districts inhabited mainly by adopted
-citizens, assailed all who did not
-sympathize with them, and riot and
-bloodshed were the consequence.
-In Brooklyn the Nativist candidate
-was defeated, but Harper was elected
-triumphantly by about twenty-four
-thousand votes. The ballots
-that placed such a man at the head
-of the municipality of the American
-metropolis were deposited by
-both Whigs and Democrats, though
-each party had a candidate in the
-field. The former contributed upwards
-of fourteen thousand, or
-three-fourths of their strength; their
-opponents somewhat less than ten
-thousand.</p>
-
-<p>But the action of the city politicians
-was quickly repudiated and
-condemned throughout the State.
-On the 13th of April the Whigs assembled
-in Albany and passed a
-series of resolutions denouncing in
-unequivocal terms the tenets of
-the Native Americans; and in two
-days after, at the same place, and
-in, if possible, a more forcible manner,
-the Democracy entered their
-protest against the heresies and evil
-tendencies of the persecuting faction.
-Still, the “American Republicans”
-showed such signs of
-popular strength in various municipal
-elections that year that the
-lower classes of politicians, of all
-shades of opinion, who dared not
-openly support them, were suspected
-of secretly courting their friendship.
-The nomination of Frelinghuysen
-with Henry Clay at the
-Whig presidential convention of
-May 1, 1844, was well understood
-at the time to be a bid for Nativist
-support, and eventually defeated
-the distinguished Kentucky orator.</p>
-
-<p>It is difficult to imagine how far
-the madness of the hour might
-have carried ambitious political
-leaders and timid conventions, had
-not the scenes of sacrilege and
-murder which soon after disgraced
-the city of Philadelphia, and stained
-its streets with innocent blood,
-sent a thrill of horror throughout
-the entire country.</p>
-
-<p>Philadelphia had followed, if not
-anticipated, the example of New
-York in sowing broadcast the seeds
-of civil strife. Early in the year
-secret Nativist societies were formed;
-sensational preachers like Tyng,
-in and out of place, harangued
-congregations and meetings; cheap
-newspapers were started for the
-sole purpose of vilifying Catholics
-and working upon the baser passions
-of the sectarian population
-of the country. The motives of
-those engineers of discord were the
-same as those of their New York
-brethren, and their method of attack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_817" id="Page_817">[817]</a></span>
-equally treacherous and cowardly.
-One of the principal charges
-against their Catholic fellow-citizens
-was that they were hostile to
-free schools and education generally.
-To this unjust aspersion
-Bishop Kenrick, on the 12th of
-March, publicly replied in a short
-but lucid letter, in which he said:</p>
-
-<p>“Catholics have not asked that
-the Bible be excluded from the
-public schools. They have merely
-desired for their children the
-liberty of using the Catholic version,
-in case the reading of the Bible
-be prescribed by the controllers
-or directors of the schools.
-They only desire to enjoy the benefit
-of the constitution of the
-State of Pennsylvania, which guarantees
-the rights of conscience and
-precludes any preference of sectarian
-modes of worship. They ask
-that the school laws be faithfully
-executed, and that the religious
-predilections of the parents be respected.…
-They desire that the
-public schools be preserved from
-all sectarian influence, and that
-education be conducted in a way
-that may enable all citizens equally
-to share its benefits, without any
-violence being offered to their conscientious
-convictions.”</p>
-
-<p>So deliberate and emphatic a
-denial had no effect on the wretched
-men who tyrannized over the
-second city in the Union, except
-that it was resolved to substitute
-brute force for reason, and to precipitate
-a collision with their comparatively
-weak victims. Accordingly,
-on the 5th of May, a Nativist
-meeting was held in Kensington.
-The design of the managers of the
-meeting was evidently to provoke
-an attack; for, finding the place first
-selected for the gathering unmolested,
-they deliberately moved to
-the market-house, in the actual
-presence of several adopted citizens.
-This trick and the insulting
-speeches that followed had the
-desired effect. A riot took place,
-several shots were fired on both
-sides, and four or five persons were
-more or less seriously wounded.
-The Nativists retreated, and made
-an unsuccessful attempt to burn a
-nunnery.</p>
-
-<p>The most exaggerated reports
-of this affair were immediately circulated
-through Philadelphia. The
-next day the Nativists, fully armed,
-assembled and passed a series of resolutions
-of the most violent character.
-Preceded by an American
-flag, which bore an inscription as
-malicious as it was untrue, they
-attacked the Hibernian Hose Company,
-destroyed the apparatus, and
-broke the fire-bell in pieces. Twenty-nine
-dwellings were burned to the
-ground, their hapless occupants,
-mostly women and children, fleeing
-in all directions amid the insults
-and shots of their savage assailants.
-The citizens were now
-thoroughly aroused, the military,
-under Gen. Cadwalader, was called
-out, and Bishop Kenrick addressed
-a public admonition to
-his flock to preserve peace, and,
-notwithstanding the provocation,
-to exercise forbearance. But the
-demon of fanaticism, once let loose,
-could not be easily laid. Rioting
-continued throughout the day and
-far into the night. Early on Wednesday
-morning S. Michael’s
-Church, the female seminary attached
-to it, and a number of private
-houses in the neighborhood
-were ruthlessly plundered and destroyed.
-“During the burning of
-the church,” said one of the Philadelphia
-papers, “the mob continued
-to shout; and when the cross at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_818" id="Page_818">[818]</a></span>
-the peak of the roof fell, they gave
-three cheers and a drum and fife
-played the ‘Boyne Water.’”</p>
-
-<p>The burning of S. Augustine’s
-Church took place on the evening of
-the same day. This building, one
-of the finest in the city, was peculiarly
-endeared to the Catholic inhabitants
-as having been one of
-their oldest churches in Philadelphia.
-Many of the contributors
-to its building fund were men of
-historic fame, such as Washington,
-Montgomery, Barry, Meade, Carey,
-and Girard. It had adjoining it
-extensive school-houses and a commodious
-parsonage, and the clock
-in its tower was the one which had
-struck the first tones of new-born
-American liberty. But the sacred
-character of the building itself, and
-the patriotic memories which surrounded
-it, could not save it from
-the torch of the Philadelphia mob.</p>
-
-<p>“The clock struck ten,” wrote an
-eye-witness, “while the fire was
-raging with the greatest fury. At
-twenty minutes past ten the cross
-which surmounted the steeple, and
-which remained unhurt, fell with a
-loud crash, amid the plaudits of a
-large portion of the spectators.”
-A very valuable library and several
-splendid paintings shared the fate
-of the church.</p>
-
-<p>But bad as was the conduct of
-the rioters, that of the authorities
-was even worse. The militia, when
-ordered out, did not muster for several
-hours after the time appointed,
-and when they did arrive they were
-only passive, if not gratified, spectators
-of the lawless scenes before
-them. When S. Michael’s was
-threatened, the pastor, Rev. Mr.
-Donohue, placed it under the charge
-of Capt. Fairlamb, giving him the
-keys; yet the mob was allowed to
-wreak its vengeance on it undisturbed.
-The basement of S. Augustine’s
-was occupied by some armed
-men who had resolved to defend
-it at all hazards; but on the assurance
-of Mayor Scott and the sheriff
-that they had troops and police
-enough to protect it, it was agreed,
-in the interests of peace, to evacuate
-it. This had scarcely been done
-when the militia and civic guard fell
-back before a thousand or more
-armed ruffians and left the church
-to its fate. For nearly sixty hours
-the rioters were left in undisputed
-possession of the city; everything
-the Catholics held sacred was violated;
-men were dragged out of
-their homes, half-hanged and brutally
-maltreated, when not murdered
-outright; the houses of adopted
-citizens were everywhere plundered,
-an immense amount of property
-was destroyed, and over two hundred
-families left desolate and
-homeless, without the slightest attempt
-being made to enforce the
-law. How many fell victims to
-Nativist hate and rage on this occasion
-has never been known, but
-the killed and wounded were counted
-by scores.</p>
-
-<p>An attempt to outrival Philadelphia
-in atrocity was made in New
-York a few days after, but the precautionary
-steps of the authorities,
-the firm attitude assumed by the
-late Archbishop Hughes, and the
-resolute stand taken by the Catholic
-population, headed by Eugene Casserly&mdash;who
-was at that time editor
-of the <cite>Freeman’s Journal</cite>&mdash;together
-with some young Irish-American
-Catholic gentlemen, so impressed
-the leaders of the Nativists that
-all attempts of an incendiary nature,
-and all public efforts to sympathize
-with the Philadelphia mob, were
-abandoned. Nativism staggered
-under the blow given it by its adherents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_819" id="Page_819">[819]</a></span>
-in Philadelphia, and soon sank
-into utter insignificance as a political
-power.</p>
-
-<p>Another decade, however, passed,
-and we find it again rejuvenated.
-This time it assumed the name of
-the Know-nothing party, and extended
-its ramifications through
-every State in the Union. Its declaration
-of principles contained
-sixteen clauses, as laid down by its
-organs, of which the following were
-regarded as the most vital: 1st.
-The repeal of all naturalization
-laws. 2d. None but native Americans
-for office. 3d. A Protestant
-common-school system. 4th. Perpetual
-war on “Romanism.” 5th.
-Opposition to the formation of military
-companies composed of “foreigners.”
-6th. Stringent laws
-against immigration. 7th. Ample
-protection to Protestant interests.
-Though partly directed, apparently,
-against all persons of foreign birth,
-this new secret society was actually
-only opposed to Catholics; for many
-of the prominent members in its
-lodges were Irish Orangemen and
-Welsh, Scotch, and English unnaturalized
-adventurers who professed
-no form of belief.</p>
-
-<p>Like their predecessors of 1844,
-the Know-nothings employed a
-host of mendacious ministers and
-subsidized a number of obscure
-newspapers to circulate their slanders
-against Catholics, native as
-well as adopted citizens; but they
-also added a new feature to the crusade
-against morality and civil
-rights. This was street-preaching&mdash;a
-device for creating riots and
-bloodshed, for provoking quarrels
-and setting neighbor against neighbor,
-worthy the fiend of darkness
-himself. Wretched creatures, drawn
-from the very dregs of society, were
-hired to travel from town to town,
-to post themselves at conspicuous
-street-corners, if possible before
-Catholic churches, and to pour
-forth, in ribald and blasphemous
-language, the most unheard-of slanders
-against the church. As those
-outcasts generally attracted a
-crowd of idle persons, and were
-usually sustained by the presence
-of the members of the local lodge,
-the merest interruption of their
-foul diatribes was the signal for a
-riot, ending not unfrequently in
-loss of life or limb.</p>
-
-<p>The first outrage that marked the
-career of the Know-nothings of
-1854 was the attack on the Convent
-of Mercy, Providence, R. L.,
-in April of that year. Instigated
-by the newspaper attacks of a notorious
-criminal, who then figured
-as a Nativist leader, the rowdy elements
-of that usually quiet city
-surrounded the convent, pelted the
-doors and windows with stones, to
-the great alarm of the ladies and
-pupils within, and would doubtless
-have proceeded to extremities were
-it not that the Catholics, fearing
-a repetition of the Charlestown affair,
-rallied for its protection and
-repeatedly drove them off. In
-June Brooklyn was the scene of
-some street-preaching riots, but in
-the following August St. Louis,
-founded by Catholics and up to
-that time enjoying an enviable reputation
-for refinement and love
-of order, acquired a pre-eminence
-in the Southwest for ferocious bigotry.
-For two days, August 7 and
-8, riot reigned supreme in that city;
-ten persons were shot down in the
-streets, many more were seriously
-wounded, and a number of the
-houses of Catholics were wrecked.</p>
-
-<p>On the 3d of September of the
-same year the American Protestant
-Association of New York, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_820" id="Page_820">[820]</a></span>
-auxiliary of the Know-nothings,
-composed of Orangemen, went to
-Newark, N. J., to join with similar
-lodges of New Jersey in some celebration.
-In marching through the
-streets of that city they happened
-to pass the German Catholic church,
-and, being in a sportive mood, they
-did not hesitate to attack it. A
-<i lang="fr">mêlée</i> occurred, during which one
-man, a Catholic, was killed and
-several were seriously injured. The
-evidence taken by the coroner’s jury
-showed that the admirers of King
-William were well armed, generally
-intoxicated, and that the assault
-and partial destruction of the
-church were altogether wanton and
-unprovoked. Early in the same
-month news was received of a succession
-of riots in New Orleans,
-the victims, as usual, being Catholics.</p>
-
-<p>But the spirit of terrorism was
-not confined to one section or
-particular State. The virus of bigotry
-had inoculated the whole
-body politic. In October people
-of all shades of religious opinion
-were astounded to hear from Maine
-that the Rev. John Bapst, S. J., a clergyman
-of exemplary piety and mildness,
-had actually been dragged
-forcibly from the house of a friend
-by a drunken Ellsworth mob, ridden
-on a rail, stripped naked, tarred
-and feathered, and left for
-dead. His money and watch were
-likewise stolen by the miscreants.
-Father Bapst’s crime was that, when
-a resident of Ellsworth some time
-previously, he had entered into a
-controversy about public schools.</p>
-
-<p>Yet, in the face of all these lawless
-proceedings, the Know-nothing
-party increased with amazing rapidity.
-“Without presses, without
-electioneering,” said the New York
-<cite>Times</cite>, “with no prestige or power,
-it has completely overthrown and
-swamped the two old historic parties
-of the country.” This was
-certainly true of New England, and
-notably so of Massachusetts, where,
-in the autumn of 1854, the Know-nothings
-elected their candidate
-for governor and nearly every member
-of the legislature. In the State
-of New York Ullman, the standard-bearer
-of the new army of
-persecution, received over 122,000
-votes, and, though defeated in the
-city, it was more than suspected
-that the Democrat who was chosen
-as mayor had been a member of
-the organization. In many other
-States and cities the power of the
-sworn secret combination was felt
-and acknowledged.</p>
-
-<p>Its influence and unseen grasp
-on the passions and prejudices of
-the lower classes of Protestants
-were plainly perceptible in the
-halls of Congress and in the executive
-cabinet. In the Senate
-William H. Seward was the first
-and foremost to denounce the so-called
-American party. As early
-as July, 1854, in a speech on the
-Homestead Bill, he took occasion
-to remark:</p>
-
-<p>“It is sufficient for me to say
-that, in my judgment, everything is
-un-American which makes a distinction,
-of whatever kind, in this
-country between the native-born
-American and him whose lot is directed
-to be cast here by an over-ruling
-Providence, and who renounces
-his allegiance to a foreign
-land and swears fealty to the country
-which adopts him.”</p>
-
-<p>The example of the great statesman
-was followed by such men
-as Douglas, Cass, Keitt, Chandler,
-and Seymour, while Senators Dayton
-and Houston, Wilson, the late
-Vice-President, N. P. Banks, and
-a number of other politicians championed
-the cause of intolerance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_821" id="Page_821">[821]</a></span>
-as has since been confessed, for
-their own selfish aggrandizement
-as much as from inherent littleness
-of soul.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, Massachusetts was
-completely controlled by the Know-nothings.
-Their governor, Gardiner,
-had not been well in the
-chair of state when he disbanded all
-the Irish military companies within
-his jurisdiction. These were
-the Columbian, Webster, Shields,
-and Sarsfield Guards of Boston,
-the Jackson Musketeers of Lowell,
-the Union Guard of Lawrence, and
-the Jackson Guard of Worcester.
-The General Court, too, not to be
-outdone in bigotry by the executive,
-passed a law for the inspection
-of nunneries, convents, and schools,
-and appointed a committee to
-carry out its provisions. The first&mdash;and
-last&mdash;domiciliary visit of this
-body was made to the school of the
-Sisters of Notre Dame in Roxbury.
-It is thus graphically described
-by the Boston <cite>Advertiser</cite>, an eminently
-Protestant authority: “The
-gentlemen&mdash;we presume we must
-call members of the legislature by
-this name&mdash;roamed over the whole
-house from attic to cellar. No
-chamber, no passage, no closet,
-no cupboard, escaped their vigilant
-search. No part of the house was
-enough protected by respect for
-the common courtesies of civilized
-life to be spared in the examination.
-The ladies’ dresses hanging
-in their wardrobes were tossed
-over. The party invaded the chapel,
-and showed their respect&mdash;as
-Protestants, we presume&mdash;for the
-One God whom all Christians worship
-by talking loudly with their
-hats on; while the ladies shrank in
-terror at the desecration of a spot
-which they believed hallowed.”</p>
-
-<p>Still, the work of proscription
-and outrage went on in other directions.
-Fifteen school-teachers
-had been dismissed in Philadelphia
-because they were Catholics; the
-Rev. F. Nachon, of Mobile, was
-assaulted and nearly killed while
-pursuing his sacred avocations; a
-military company in Cincinnati,
-and another in Milwaukee, composed
-of adopted citizens, were disbanded,
-and on the 6th and 7th
-of August, 1855, the streets of Louisville
-ran red with the blood of
-adopted citizens. In this last and
-culminating Know-nothing outrage
-eleven hundred voters were driven
-from the polls, numbers of men,
-and even women, were shot down
-in the public thoroughfares, houses
-were sacked and burned, and at
-least five persons are known to have
-been literally roasted alive.</p>
-
-<p>A reaction, however, had already
-set in. Men of moderate views and
-unbiassed judgments began to tire
-of the scenes of strife, murder, and
-rapine that accompanied the victories
-of the Know-nothings. The
-first to deal it a deadly blow, as a
-political body, was Henry A. Wise,
-of Virginia, in his noble canvass
-of that State against the combined
-Whig and Nativist elements in 1855;
-and to the late Archbishop of New
-York, in his utter discomfiture of
-State Senator Brooks, is justly due
-the merit of having first convinced
-the American people that the so-called
-American party was actually
-the most dangerous enemy of
-American laws and institutions, the
-advocate of spoliation and persecution
-under the guise of patriotism
-and reform.</p>
-
-<p>The decline of Nativism, though
-not so rapid as its growth, was
-equally significant, and its history
-as instructive. In 1856 a national
-convention was called by the wreck
-of the party to nominate Fillmore
-for the presidency, after overtures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_822" id="Page_822">[822]</a></span>
-had been made in vain to the Republicans
-and Democrats. Fillmore
-was so badly defeated that he retired
-into private life and lost whatever
-little fame he had acquired in
-national affairs as Taylor’s successor.
-Four years later Bell and
-Everett appeared on the Know-nothing
-ticket, but so far behind
-were they in the race with their
-presidential competitors that very
-few persons cared to remember the
-paucity of their votes. Gradually,
-silently, but steadily, like vermin
-from a sinking ship, the leaders
-slunk away from the already doomed
-faction, and, by a hypocritical
-display of zeal, endeavored to obtain
-recognition in one or other of
-the great parties, but generally without
-success. Disappointed ambition,
-impotent rage, and, let us
-hope, remorse of conscience occasionally
-seized upon them, and the
-charity of silence became to them
-the most desired of blessings. Perhaps
-if the late civil war had not
-occurred, to swallow in the immensity
-of its operations all minor interests,
-we might have beheld in
-1864 the spectre of Nativism arising
-from its uneasy slumber, to be again
-subjected to its periodical blights
-and curses.</p>
-
-<p>From present appearances many
-far-seeing persons apprehend the
-recurrence in this year of the wild
-exhibitions of anti-Catholic and
-anti-American fanaticism which
-have so often blotted and blurred
-the otherwise stainless pages of our
-short history; that the centennial
-year of American independence
-and republican liberty is to be signalized
-by a more concerted, better
-organized, and more ramified
-attack on the great principles of
-civil and religious freedom which
-underlie and sustain the fabric
-of our government. We trust, sincerely
-hope, that these men are
-mistaken. But if such is to be
-the case; if we Catholics are doomed
-once more to be subjected to
-the abuse of the vile, the slander
-of the hireling, and the violence of
-an armed mob, the sooner we are
-prepared for the contingency the
-better. If the scenes which have
-indelibly disgraced Boston and
-Philadelphia, Ellsworth and Louisville,
-are to be again rehearsed
-by the half-dozen sworn secret societies
-whose cabalistic letters disfigure
-the columns of so many of
-our newspapers, we must be prepared
-to meet the danger with
-firmness and composure. As Catholics,
-demanding nothing but what
-is justly our due under the laws,
-our position will ever be one of
-forbearance, charity, and conciliation;
-but as American citizens,
-proud of our country and zealous
-for the maintenance of her institutions,
-our place shall be beside the
-executors of those grand enactments
-which have made this republic
-the paragon and exemplar
-of all civil and natural virtues,
-no matter how imminent the danger
-or how great the sacrifice. In
-lands less favored Catholic rights
-may be violated by prince or mob
-with impunity, but we would be
-unworthy of our country and of
-its founders were we to shrink for
-a moment from the performance of
-our trust as the custodians of the
-fundamental ordinance which guarantees
-full and absolute religious liberty
-to all citizens of the republic.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_823" id="Page_823">[823]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>LOUISE LATEAU BEFORE THE BELGIAN ROYAL ACADEMY
-OF MEDICINE.<a name="FNanchor_260" id="FNanchor_260"></a><a href="#Footnote_260" class="fnanchor">[260]</a></h3>
-
-<h4>I.</h4>
-
-<p>How is the name of Louise Lateau
-to be mentioned without immediately
-calling up all the tumulta
-which that name has provoked?
-Books of science and philosophy, official
-reports, academic discourses,
-reports of visits, <i lang="fr">feuilletons</i>, conferences,
-pamphlets, articles in journals,
-every kind of literary production
-has been placed under contribution
-to keep the public informed
-about the <i lang="fr">stigmatisée</i> of Bois
-d’Haine. For a year, however,
-these studies have betaken themselves
-to a region that might be
-called exclusively scientific, and
-have even received a kind of official
-consecration from the recent
-vote of the Royal Academy of
-Medicine.</p>
-
-<p>It may be of service to the reader
-who cannot occupy himself with
-special studies to give a brief exposition
-of the affair of Bois d’Haine
-in itself, to show the different interpretations
-of it that have been
-attempted, and to indicate clearly
-the actual phase of the question
-from a scientific point of view.</p>
-
-<p>As early as about the middle of
-1868 vague rumors were heard of
-strange events which were taking
-place in a little village of Hainault.
-Every Friday a young girl
-showed on the different portions
-of her body corresponding to the
-wounds of our Saviour Jesus Christ
-red stains from which blood flowed
-in greater or less abundance. It
-was also said that on every Friday
-this young girl, ravished in ecstasy,
-remained for several hours completely
-unconscious of all that was
-passing around her. Such were
-the principal facts. Over and above
-these rumor spread the story of
-certain accessory incidents, some
-of which, though true, were distorted,
-while others were pure
-fancy. Thanks to the daily press,
-the young girl soon became known
-to the general public, and the
-name of Louise Lateau passed from
-mouth to mouth. Here and there
-one read among “current events”
-that large crowds rushed from
-all sides, from Belgium and from
-without, to assist every Friday
-at the scenes which were being
-enacted in the chamber at Bois
-d’Haine. Some journals profited
-by the occasion to deliver themselves
-anew of declamations against
-“Catholic superstitions, the stupidity
-of the masses, and the intriguing
-character of the clergy”; while
-even many men of good faith were
-of opinion that the story told of
-Louise Lateau might indeed be
-true, but ought to be attributed to
-some trickery or another of which
-either the girl or her family was
-culpable.</p>
-
-<p>Happily for the public, a light
-came to clear up this chaos of
-versions, suppositions, and diverse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_824" id="Page_824">[824]</a></span>
-and contradictory opinions. The
-<cite>Revue Catholique</cite> of Louvain reproduced
-by instalments, beginning
-in 1869, a study by Prof.
-Lefebvre on these extraordinary
-events. Some time after, this
-study appeared in the form of a
-volume. Here is how the eminent
-physician expresses himself on the
-origin of his study:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The story told by the first witnesses of
-these extraordinary events produced a
-lively emotion in the public mind, and
-soon crowds assembled every week
-around the humble house which was their
-theatre. The ecclesiastical authorities
-took up the facts. This was their right
-and duty. From the very beginning they
-recognized that the different elements of
-the question ought to pass through the
-crucible of science. The periodic hemorrhage
-and the suspension of the exercise
-of the senses were within the competence
-of physicians. I was asked to
-study them, the desire being expressed
-that the examination of these facts
-should be of the most thorough description,
-and that they should not be allowed
-to escape any one of the exigencies and
-severities of modern science.… I
-deemed it right, therefore, to accept the
-mission which was offered me. As a physician,
-I was only asked for what I could
-give&mdash;that is to say, a purely medical
-study of the facts.”<a name="FNanchor_261" id="FNanchor_261"></a><a href="#Footnote_261" class="fnanchor">[261]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>After having examined the events
-of Bois d’Haine in all their phases;
-after having put to the proof the
-sincerity of the young girl in a
-thousand different ways and by
-means of a variety of tests, the
-eminent Louvain professor pronounced
-the facts of the stigmatization
-and ecstasy to be real and
-free from deception. Passing,
-then, to the interpretation of the
-events themselves, the author thus
-concludes:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Studying first the question of hemorrhage,
-I have demonstrated that the periodic
-bleedings of Louise Lateau belong
-to no species of hemorrhage admitted in
-the regular range of science; that they
-cannot be assimilated to any of the
-extraordinary cases recorded in the annals
-of medicine; that, in fine, the laws of
-physiology do not afford an explanation
-of their genesis. Coming next to the
-question of ecstasy, I have carefully
-gone over the characters of the standard
-nervous affections which could offer certain
-traits of a resemblance, however remote,
-to the ecstasy of Louise Lateau,
-and I believe I have demonstrated that
-it is impossible to connect it with any
-of the nervous affections known to-day.
-I have penetrated the domain of occult
-sciences; those dark doctrines have
-furnished us with no more data for an
-interpretation of the events of Bois
-d’Haine than the free sciences which
-expand in the full light of day.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>I do not hesitate to say that the
-appearance of this book was a veritable
-event, and that it marked an
-important halting-place in the study
-of the question of Louise Lateau.
-By those who knew the calm and
-reflective spirit of M. Lefebvre, and
-the independence of his character
-and convictions, the fact of the
-real existence of the extraordinary
-events taking place at Bois d’Haine
-was no longer called in question;
-and if some doubt still remained, it
-regarded only the sense in which
-those events were to be interpreted.
-Was it, then, true that the union of
-stigmata and ecstasies belonged to
-no known malady? Was it true
-that they could find no place in the
-classification of diseases, under a
-new title, with physiological proofs
-to accompany them?</p>
-
-<p>Notwithstanding the immense
-credit allowed to the science of M.
-Lefebvre, doubt still hovered around
-this question, and I make bold to
-say, in the honor of the progress of
-science, that such doubt was legitimate.
-A loyal appeal was made to
-the <i lang="fr">savants</i> of the country and of
-foreign countries, urging them to go
-and study the facts at Bois d’Haine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_825" id="Page_825">[825]</a></span>
-and publish their opinion. Soon a
-study on Louise Lateau, made by a
-French physician,<a name="FNanchor_262" id="FNanchor_262"></a><a href="#Footnote_262" class="fnanchor">[262]</a> came to confirm
-still further the medical study of M.
-Lefebvre. Then a German <i lang="fr">savant</i>,
-M. Virchow, seemed to accept as
-true the conclusions of the Belgian
-doctor by that famous phrase that
-the events of Bois d’Haine must be
-considered either as a trick or as a
-miracle.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, certain persons seemed
-still reluctant to accept facts
-which a hundred different witnesses
-affirmed in the face of the world.
-Among the reluctant are to be
-ranked, first of all, those who are
-of bad faith&mdash;with whom there is no
-reason to trouble; others who, for
-philosophic motives, seemed to
-accuse the witnesses of those scenes
-of sacrificing the interest of science
-to that of their religious convictions.
-Nevertheless, M. Lefebvre’s
-book continued to make headway.
-I do not say that it did not meet
-with some attacks here and there,
-and certain objections in detail; but
-throughout the country no publication
-of any pretension to seriousness
-affected either to deny the
-facts or to give a natural explanation
-of them. This state of
-things continued up to July, 1874.
-At this epoch Dr. Charbonnier,
-a physician of Brussels, presented
-to the Belgian Royal Academy of
-Medicine a work entitled <cite>Maladies
-et facultés diverses des mystiques.
-Louise Lateau.</cite></p>
-
-<p>M. Boëns, on his part, submitted
-to the same learned body, in the
-session of October 3, 1874, a new
-production, entitled <cite>Louise Lateau,
-ou les mystères de Bois d’Haine dévoilés</cite>.</p>
-
-<h4>II.</h4>
-
-<p>The events of Bois d’Haine continued
-to occupy public attention.
-The scenes of the stigmatic flows
-of blood and of the ecstasies were
-presented every Friday. It was
-even stated that from the middle
-of 1871 Louise Lateau had taken
-no sort of nourishment. The Belgian
-Royal Academy of Medicine,
-whether because it dreaded to enter
-upon a question which involved,
-beyond the scientific side, a side
-purely philosophic, or whether also
-because a fitting and favorable opportunity
-of taking up the question
-of Louise Lateau was not presented,
-remained mute as to the events of
-Bois d’Haine.</p>
-
-<p>The almost simultaneous presentation
-of two works treating on the
-very subject indicated clearly that
-the question was ripe. Moreover,
-in the session of October 3, 1874,
-the chief medical body of the country,
-conformably with usage, appointed
-a special committee to
-make a report on the works read in
-its sessions. This committee consisted
-of MM. Fossion, president;
-Mascart and Warlomont, colleagues.</p>
-
-<p>The important report of the committee
-was read in the session of
-the 13th of February by M. Warlomont.
-That gentleman to show
-how the study of M. Charbonnier’s
-work necessitated an examination
-into the affair at Bois d’Haine,
-said:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Ought the committee to confine itself
-to examining the memorial placed before
-it from the simple point of view of
-its absolute scientific value, without occupying
-itself with the fact which gives
-occasion for the memorial? It would be
-easier to do so, perhaps, but an opportunity
-would thus be neglected of putting
-the Academy in possession of an actual
-medical observation, as complete as possible,
-relative to a fact of which, whether
-we like it or not, the discussion can no
-longer be eluded. It assumed, therefore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_826" id="Page_826">[826]</a></span>
-the task of inquiring into the affair forthwith;
-resolved, however arduous might
-be the mission thus undertaken, to accept
-it without regret, to pursue it without
-weakness as without bias, and to
-set before the society such elements as
-its investigation&mdash;one altogether official&mdash;should
-have procured. This is the trust
-which, in its name, I this day fulfil.”<a name="FNanchor_263" id="FNanchor_263"></a><a href="#Footnote_263" class="fnanchor">[263]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>MM. Charbonnier and Boëns were
-the first in our country who undertook
-to find fault with the conclusions
-of M. Lefebvre’s book, and to
-explain by scientific data the events
-of Bois d’Haine. M. Boëns, almost
-immediately after the reading of a
-portion of his work, withdrew it,
-and was able by this means to escape
-the report of the committee.
-Was this disdain for the judgment
-of his <i lang="fr">confrères</i> on the part of the
-distinguished physician of Charleroi,
-or was it want of confidence in
-the solidity of his own arguments?
-I know not. I state a fact and
-continue.</p>
-
-<p>There remained, then, for the
-committee to examine the work of
-M. Charbonnier. This memoir is
-voluminous. The theory of the
-author is substantially as follows:
-The absence of aliment and the
-concentration of the faculties of
-the soul towards one object have
-been the primary and indispensable
-conditions of ecstasies and stigmata.
-As far as abstinence is concerned,
-it is perfectly compatible, if not
-with a state of health, at least with
-the maintenance of life. “The
-question of abstinence,” says the
-author, “is the most important, because
-without it nothing happens.
-It being well explained, there is no
-longer anything supernatural in
-any of the physiological and pathological
-phenomena of the mystics.”<a name="FNanchor_264" id="FNanchor_264"></a><a href="#Footnote_264" class="fnanchor">[264]</a></p>
-
-<p>But how is this abstinence compatible
-with life? By the law of
-the substitution of functions and
-organs.</p>
-
-<p>“The organs,” says the author,
-“are conjointly associated (<i lang="fr">solidaires</i>)
-one with another, working
-for the common health; so that
-when an organ, for one cause or
-another, cannot adequately fulfil its
-functions, another immediately supplies
-its place.”</p>
-
-<p>Supposing all this admitted, here
-is what the author says of stigmatization:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Abstinence and contemplation are
-the causes of stigmatization: i. Abstinence,
-in suppressing the vegetative
-functions, frees both the nervous influx
-and the blood which were distributed
-among the digestive organs. 2. Contemplation
-gathers together the contingent
-of pain dispersed through all the
-body, to fix and concentrate it on certain
-points which it sees, admires, loves, in
-Jesus Christ. It suppresses all the functions
-of the life of relation to devote itself
-exclusively to the object of its passion.
-The bloody flux, which has been
-drawn to the surface of the skin by the
-great functional activity, follows to the
-end the nervous influx which is constantly
-directed towards certain points, and
-the stigmatization is effected.”<a name="FNanchor_265" id="FNanchor_265"></a><a href="#Footnote_265" class="fnanchor">[265]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Of the ecstasy, according to M.
-Charbonnier, “abstinence is the
-principal, contemplation the secondary,
-cause.” We cannot, indeed,
-enter into all the details furnished
-by the author of this strange theory.
-In order to arrive at a judgment
-regarding it, we know of nothing
-better than to cite the conclusions
-of the reader of the report on the
-work itself:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“All this,” says M. Warlomont, “forms
-a whole which must have cost the author
-long and laborious research. As far as
-the inquiries of physiology are concerned,
-the source, respectable though it may
-be, on which he has relied, must be a
-cause for regret. His principal, almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_827" id="Page_827">[827]</a></span>
-his only, authority is that of Longet, who
-is now many years dead. But the questions
-relative to nutrition&mdash;those precisely
-which are at stake&mdash;have, since Longet,
-been placed in an absolutely new light.
-The work which we have just analyzed
-is altogether a work of the imagination.
-The demonstration of the <i lang="la">à priori</i> thesis
-which the author has set up he has pursued
-by every means, clearing out of his
-road the obstacles of nature which embarrass
-it, and creating at will new functions
-whereon to apply his organs; all
-this written in a lively, imaginative style,
-and bearing the impress of conviction.
-There is only one thing which is sadly
-wanting&mdash;experimental proof. A few
-simple experiments on animals, logically
-carried out, would have informed him
-how they withstand a progressive abstinence,
-and what changes this abstinence
-effects in their organs and functions. It is
-to be regretted that he has not instituted
-these experiments.”<a name="FNanchor_266" id="FNanchor_266"></a><a href="#Footnote_266" class="fnanchor">[266]</a></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>If the theory advanced by M.
-Charbonnier, based on such doubtful
-physiological facts, finds no
-weight with the learned representative
-of the Academy of Medicine,
-it is not because he himself admits
-the conclusions arrived at in the
-study of M. Lefebvre on Louise Lateau.
-For him, indeed, the events
-taking place at Bois d’Haine,
-apart from the question of fasting,
-which has not been positively
-established, and which, on that account,
-rightly passes beyond scientific
-discussion,<a name="FNanchor_267" id="FNanchor_267"></a><a href="#Footnote_267" class="fnanchor">[267]</a> are exempt from
-all fraud and deception. But let
-M. Warlomont himself speak:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“After having analyzed,” he says, “the
-memoir which the Academy has confided
-to our examination, and having refuted
-it principally in the portions which
-concern Louise Lateau, it remains for us
-in our turn to give our own ideas relative
-to a fact of such interest which has
-formed the subject of the memoir.</p>
-
-<p>“And first of all, are the facts cited
-real? According to our thinking, the
-simulation of the ecstasies is simply impossible,
-accompanied as they are by functional
-troubles the provocation for which
-would pass quite beyond the empire of
-the will. As for the actual spontaneity
-of the stigmata, we have demonstrated
-this experimentally.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>And now for the chief part of
-the report. It is that in which the
-learned academician attempts to
-give a physiological explanation
-of the facts. For him ecstasies
-are a species of double life, of a
-second condition, such as may be
-presented in ordinary and extraordinary
-nervous states, as well
-as in others: (<i>a</i>) in consequence
-of material injury to the brain;
-(<i>b</i>) during the existence of well-determined
-neurotic disorders; (<i>c</i>)
-under the influence of certain special
-appliances (magnetism, hypnotism);
-(<i>d</i>) spontaneously, without
-the intervention of any external
-provocation (as somnambulism
-or extraordinary neurotic affections).</p>
-
-<p>After having examined each of
-these points in detail, the author
-thus continues:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“This point established, what of ecstasies?
-Well, whatever we may do, it
-is impossible for us not to class them in
-the same order of facts, not to see in
-them the influence of a neurotic perturbation
-analogous to that which controls
-neurotic diseases. It is in both cases
-the passage of a human being into a
-state of second condition, characterized
-by the suspension, more or less complete,
-of the exercise of the senses, with a special
-concentration of all the cerebral powers
-towards a limited object. Among the
-ecstatics, as among the hypnotics, there
-prevails a perturbation, diminution, or
-abolition of external sensibility. All is
-concentrated in a new cerebral functional
-department.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>So far for the ecstasies. Passing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_828" id="Page_828">[828]</a></span>
-next to the production of stigmata,
-the report admits in principle the
-theory of Alfred Maury. That is
-to say, the imagination plays the
-principal <i lang="fr">rôle</i> in the production of
-these phenomena. But to meet the
-brilliant member of the Institute,
-he calls to his aid the physiological
-laws and most recent discoveries,
-in order to show how the
-imagination can, by the irritation of
-certain given parts, provoke a veritable
-congestion of those parts, and
-then a hemorrhage.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“In virtue of what mechanism,” he
-asks, “are blisters first produced, and
-bleeding afterwards? We have established
-the genesis of stigmatic angiomata.<a name="FNanchor_268" id="FNanchor_268"></a><a href="#Footnote_268" class="fnanchor">[268]</a>
-The attention has given place to pain, and
-pain to repeated touchings; from this
-proceeds the congestion which has
-brought on the arrest of the blood in the
-capillaries, and, as a consequence, their
-enlargement. Then comes the rush of
-blood, giving place to congestive motions,
-determined by a hemorrhagic
-diathesis, and the phenomena disclose
-themselves in all their simplicity; the
-leucocytes<a name="FNanchor_269" id="FNanchor_269"></a><a href="#Footnote_269" class="fnanchor">[269]</a> will pass across the capillaries,
-will discharge themselves under
-the skin, and the blister is the result.
-The accumulation of blood continuing in
-proportion to the enlargement of the capillaries,
-the fleshly tegument will end
-by bursting; then the blood itself, whether
-by traversing the channels created by the
-previous passage of the leucocytes, or by
-the rupture of the vessels, the likelihood
-of which can be sustained, ends by an
-external eruption, and the hemorrhage
-follows.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>But M. Warlomont goes still farther.
-He says that not only are
-stigmata and ecstasies capable of
-explanation when taken apart from
-one another, but that by their union
-they constitute what in pathology
-is called aggregate of symptoms. According
-to this, stigmata and ecstasies
-would constitute an altogether
-unique morbid state, to which the
-professor gives the following name
-and definition: “Stigmatic neuropathy
-is a nervous disease, having
-its seat in the base of the <i lang="la">medulla
-oblongata</i>, the first stage of which
-consists in the paralysis of the vaso-motor
-centre, and the second in
-its excitation.” Presented in this
-way, the report of the distinguished
-member of the Academy was not
-only a report, but a veritable original
-work. Thus this book, wherein
-the author had joined loyalty
-of procedure to elegance of style
-and deep erudition, produced a profound
-sensation. The theory which
-he advances might well leave certain
-doubts with the reader relative
-to the solidity of the bases on which
-it leans, but by its method it exercised
-a real fascination on the
-mind. M. Warlomont’s conclusions
-were, as far as the interpretation
-of the facts went, diametrically
-opposed to those of the book which
-M. Lefebvre had published several
-years before, and it was not without
-a very great curiosity that the
-public awaited the reply of the latter.</p>
-
-<p>The reply was not long in coming.
-M. Lefebvre’s discourse occupied,
-so to say, exclusively the sessions
-of May 29 and June 26. After
-having rendered due homage to
-the courtesy and science of the
-distinguished reader of the report,
-the Louvain professor hesitated
-not to sustain the first conclusions
-advanced in his book, and to demonstrate
-the small foundation of
-the theory of his adversary on this
-question. It is to be regretted that
-the limits at my disposal do not allow
-me to enter into all the physiological
-details and pathological considerations
-on which M. Lefebvre
-builds his conclusions. I regret it
-the more because the brilliant words
-of the orator exercise a very special<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_829" id="Page_829">[829]</a></span>
-impression by the clearness of
-their exposition, the logic of their
-reasoning, and the exquisite charm
-which they give to even the driest
-questions.</p>
-
-<p>First, as to the stigmatic hemorrhages,
-we cannot be astonished, after
-having followed the proofs which
-the learned orator gives us, to find
-him lay down the following conclusions:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“1. M. Warlomont is driven to admit
-a single vaso-motor centre; the most
-recent researches are against this localization:
-the vaso-motor centres are several
-and disseminated.</p>
-
-<p>“2. The distinguished reader of the
-report constructs his doctrine of the action
-of the imagination on a series of
-hypotheses.</p>
-
-<p>“The two chief ones are: that the imagination
-has the power, every Friday
-morning, of completely paralyzing the
-vaso-motor centre and the vaso-constrictor
-nerves; and after midday, by a
-contradictory action, to excite violently
-this centre, and consequently to close
-up the vaso-constrictors&mdash;pure suppositions
-which have not only not been
-demonstrated by the author, but which
-seem to me absolutely anti-physiological.</p>
-
-<p>“3. Even admitting these hypotheses
-as well founded, it is an established fact
-that the complete paralysis of the vaso-motor
-centres and of the vaso-constrictor
-nerves is never followed by bleeding
-on the surface of the skin; the experience
-of all physiologists agrees on this
-point.</p>
-
-<p>“4. This experience proves, on the contrary,
-that in such cases there are sometimes
-produced suffusions of blood in
-the mucous membranes; such suffusions
-never show themselves in Louise Lateau.</p>
-
-<p>“5. A series of hypotheses still more
-complicated than those laid down as premises
-by the distinguished reader of the
-report might be conceded&mdash;to wit, the
-paralysis of the arteries and the simultaneous
-constriction of the veins. Experiment
-again proves that even under
-these conditions bleeding on the surface
-of the skin is not produced.</p>
-
-<p>“6. M. Warlomont, in parting from
-the hypotheses which I have just combated,
-admits that the bleeding produced
-by the influence of the imagination
-is a bleeding by transudation. But
-the characteristics of transudation, studied
-in the light of modern physiology, are
-completely opposed to those of the stigmatic
-bleeding of Louise Lateau.</p>
-
-<p>“7. Finally&mdash;and this argument alone
-will suffice to overthrow the thesis of
-the distinguished reader of the report&mdash;clinical
-observation, in accordance with
-physiological induction, proves that in
-circumstances where the imagination exercises
-its greatest violence it never produces
-bleeding on the surface of the
-skin.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Regarding ecstasies, the orator,
-after having examined the different
-states with which the reader of the
-report to the Academy compared
-the ecstasies of Louise Lateau, concludes
-by saying:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“I believe I have demonstrated that
-the analysis of second conditions, brought
-out with so much skill by the distinguished
-gentleman, does not give the
-key to the ecstasy of Louise Lateau.
-But, setting aside these states of nervous
-disease, should not the imagination be
-made to bear all the burden of the ecstasy,
-as it does of the stigmatization?”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>After examining this question,
-the orator concludes in the negative.
-In finishing his beautiful discourse
-he says:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Our honorable colleague, in studying
-the causes of the stigmatization and ecstasy,
-has given to them a physiological
-interpretation. On this ground I have
-separated from him, and I believe I have
-demonstrated that that interpretation is
-not only insufficient, but also erroneous.
-I believed for a moment that M. Warlomont
-was about to offer an acceptable
-scientific theory. I do not say a theory
-complete and adequate&mdash;I am not so exacting;
-I know too well that we do not
-know the all of anything. If our eminent
-colleague had proposed to us a physiological
-interpretation, satisfying the most
-moderate demands of science, I should
-have accepted it, not with resignation,
-but with joy and eagerness; and believe
-me, gentlemen, my religious convictions
-would have suffered no shock thereby.</p>
-
-<p>“Our learned colleague, whom you
-have charged with examining the events<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_830" id="Page_830">[830]</a></span>
-of Bois d’Haine, has not, then, in my
-opinion, given to them their physiological
-interpretation. Other physicians have
-attempted the same task; I name two of
-them, because their works have been
-produced within these walls.</p>
-
-<p>“First of all, Dr. Boëns. In withdrawing
-his memoir from the order of the
-day of the Academy, he has withdrawn it
-from our discussion. Nevertheless, I
-believe I am not severe in affirming that
-the considerations which claimed his attention,
-and the irony of which he has
-been so prodigal in my own regard, have
-thrown but little light on the events of
-Bois d’Haine. Dr. Charbonnier has submitted
-to your appreciation a work of a
-more scientific character. M. Warlomont
-has examined it with the attention
-which it deserves, and has refuted it. I
-am thus dispensed from returning to it.</p>
-
-<p>“I maintain, then, purely and simply,
-the conclusions of my study: The stigmatization
-and the ecstasies of Louise
-Lateau are real and true facts, and
-science has not furnished their physiological
-interpretation.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>M. Crocq spoke after M. Lefebvre.
-Like M. Warlomont, the
-learned Brussels professor believes
-that the interpretation of the facts
-positively established about Louise
-Lateau belongs to pathological physiology.
-The theory of M. Crocq
-differs but little from that of M. Warlomont.
-He attaches more importance
-to abstinence than the learned
-reader of the report, and thus comes
-nearer to M. Charbonnier; he believes,
-also, that the bleeding is altogether
-caused by a rupture of the
-capillaries. Apart from these small
-distinctions, it may be said of him,
-as of M. Warlomont, that he is of
-opinion that the imagination, by its
-influence on the nervous system, is
-the principal cause of the ecstasies
-and stigmata. Here are the rest of
-his conclusions:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“I. The state of Louise Lateau is a
-complex pathological state, characterized
-by the following facts:</p>
-
-<p>“1. Anæmia and weakness of constitution,
-arising from privations endured
-since childhood.</p>
-
-<p>“2. Nervous exaltation produced by
-anæmia and directed in a determined
-sense by the education and religious
-tendencies of Louise.</p>
-
-<p>“3. Ecstasies constituting the supreme
-degree of this exaltation.</p>
-
-<p>“4. Bleeding, having for its starting
-point anæmia and exaltation of the vaso-motor
-nervous system.</p>
-
-<p>“5. Relative abstinence, considerably
-exaggerated by the sick girl, conformably
-to what is observed among many
-persons who suffer from nervous disorders.</p>
-
-<p>“II. This state offers nothing contrary
-to the laws of pathological physiology;
-it is consequently useless to go outside
-of that in search of explanation.</p>
-
-<p>“III. It has the same characteristics as
-all the analogous cases related by physicians
-and historians; mysticism altogether,
-save cases of jugglery and mystification,
-ought to enter into the province
-of pathology, which is vast enough to
-contain it; and all the phenomena explain
-themselves perfectly by taking as
-starting point the principles which I have
-laid down.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>If we had to advance our own
-opinion on this important question,
-we should say that, after the report
-in which M. Warlomont had treated
-his subject with so much method
-and science, there remained few
-new arguments which could be applied
-to the physiological theory
-of the phenomena of mystics. It
-should be considered, however, no
-small advantage for the latter physician
-to feel himself supported by
-M. Crocq, who had brought to the
-debates the weight of his profound
-erudition and vast experience.</p>
-
-<h4>III.</h4>
-
-<p>By all impartial judges the case
-might be regarded as understood.
-It was so in effect. The different
-orators who succeeded each other
-in the tribune of the Academy had
-brought to their respective discourses
-the strongest possible array<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_831" id="Page_831">[831]</a></span>
-of facts and of arguments.
-I shall astonish no one, then, by
-saying that M. Warlomont could
-not allow the victorious discourse
-of his colleague of Louvain to pass
-without some observations. It is
-impossible for us here to give a
-<i lang="fr">résumé</i> of his discourse. In the
-main it added no new proof to the
-substance of the debate, and confined
-itself to the criticism of certain details.</p>
-
-<p>It is enough for us to say that in
-this discourse the learned reader
-of the report to the Academy gave
-new proof of the brilliancy of his
-mind and the adroitness of his
-gifts.</p>
-
-<p>M. Lefebvre, on his side, felt himself
-to be too much master of
-the situation to need emphasizing
-his triumph any further. This is
-what he did in the session of October
-9, 1875. Without precisely
-entering into the heart of the debate,
-he brought out more strongly
-certain of the arguments which he
-had already used; he employed
-them to refute some of the assertions
-made in the discourses of his
-adversaries, held up certain inaccuracies,
-and concluded, as he had
-the right to do, by the following
-words, which give an exact idea of
-the state of the question:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Let us resume. M. Warlomont has
-studied with earnestness and candor
-the events of Bois d’Haine. He has
-stated, as I have done, the reality of the
-stigmatization and ecstasy; he has
-demonstrated, as I have, that these phenomena
-are free from any deception.
-M. Crocq, after having examined the facts
-on the spot, has arrived at the same conclusions.
-The learned reader of the
-committee’s report has built up a scientific
-theory of the stigmatization and
-ecstasy; the eminent Brussels professor
-has, in his turn, formulated an interpretation
-very nearly approaching to that of
-M. Warlomont, but which differs from
-it, nevertheless, on certain points. I
-have sought, on my side, a physiological
-explanation of these extraordinary facts,
-and I have arrived at the conclusion that
-science could furnish no satisfactory interpretation
-of them. I have expounded
-at length before the Academy the reasons
-which prevent me from accepting the
-theories of my two honorable opponents;
-but my position is perfectly correct. I
-confine myself to recognizing my powerlessness
-to interpret the facts of Bois
-d’Haine. M. Warlomont takes another
-attitude. He pretends that we have a
-scientific explanation of these phenomena.
-We have not one&mdash;we have had
-three or four; which is the true one?
-Is it that of M. Boëns? Is it that of M.
-Charbonnier, to which, beyond doubt,
-you attach some importance, since you
-have voted that it be printed? Is it that
-of the learned reader of your report?
-Begin by choosing. As for me, I hold
-fast to my first conclusions: The facts
-of Bois d’Haine have not received a
-scientific interpretation.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>After certain remarks made at
-the same session by MM. Vleminckx,
-Crocq, Lefebvre, Masoin,
-Boëns, the general discussion closed.
-The printing of M. Charbonnier’s
-memoir was decided on and
-a vote of thanks to the author passed.
-With this should have ended
-the task of the Academy; and those
-who had hoped for a physiological
-interpretation of the facts of
-Bois d’Haine, as the outcome of
-these discussions, were in a position
-to felicitate themselves on the
-result; for by its absolute silence
-the Academy allowed a certain
-freedom of choice.</p>
-
-<p>But during the session of July
-10, 1875, which a family affliction
-prevented M. Lefebvre from assisting
-at, two members proposed orders
-of the day on the discussion
-of Bois d’Haine. Nevertheless,
-by a very proper sentiment, which
-the distinguished president, M.
-Vleminckx, was the first to advance,
-those orders of the day
-were not carried at that date.</p>
-
-<p>That of M. Kuborn was thus
-conceived:</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_832" id="Page_832">[832]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The Academy, considering&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“That the phenomena really established
-about the young girl of Bois d’Haine
-are not new and are explicable by the
-laws of pathological physiology;</p>
-
-<p>“That the prolonged abstinence which
-has been argued about has not been observed
-by the committee;</p>
-
-<p>“That no supervision, therefore, having
-been established, and there having been
-no chance of establishing it, the proper
-thing was not to pause on the consideration
-of this fact, but to consider it as not
-having come up&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“The Academy follows its order of the
-day as far as concerns the question of
-the stigmatization and exstasy.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Here is the order of the day proposed
-by M. Crocq:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The Academy, considering&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“That the phenomena established
-about Louise Lateau are not beyond a
-physiological explanation;</p>
-
-<p>“That those which are not established
-ought no longer to occupy our attention&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Declares the discussion closed, and
-passes to the order of the day.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The same resolutions, the small
-foundation for which, after the discourses
-which had been made,
-every impartial mind ought to recognize,
-were again brought up in
-the session of October 9.</p>
-
-<p>M. Vleminckx, having induced
-the authors of the orders of the
-day to modify their wording in
-such a manner as to render them
-acceptable, M. Fossion proposed
-the following form, more soothing
-than its predecessors:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“The Royal Academy of Medicine declares
-that the case of Louise Lateau has
-not been completely scrutinized and cannot
-serve as a base for serious discussion;
-consequently, it closes the discussion.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>M. Laussedat, after some preliminary
-remarks, finally proposed the
-order of the day pure and simple,
-which was adopted.</p>
-
-<p>The bearing of this vote will escape
-the mind of no one. In setting
-aside the orders of the day
-which pretended that what had
-been positively established in the
-question of Bois d’Haine might be
-solved by science, the Academy has
-fully confirmed the conclusions of
-M. Lefebvre’s book.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, in ending, let us return
-to Bois d’Haine, to that young
-girl who has become more than
-ever the object of the veneration
-of some, the study of others, and
-the wonder of all.</p>
-
-<p>Since 1868 Louise Lateau presents
-the phenomena weekly of the
-bloody stigmata and the ecstasies,
-to which later on was added abstinence
-from food.</p>
-
-<p>Her first and chief historian, M.
-Lefebvre, after having watched the
-young girl, affirms since 1869: She,
-whom a certain portion of the public
-considers as a cheat or an invalid,
-really presents the phenomena
-which are reported of her. These
-phenomena are exempt from trickery,
-and it is impossible to explain
-them by the laws of physiology and
-pathology. We omit the question
-of fasting, which remains to be
-studied.</p>
-
-<p>Seven years after the appearance
-of the first phenomena, at the time
-when the commotion which they
-produced had, so to say, reached
-its height, the leading learned body
-in Belgium examined the mysterious
-scenes in the humble house of
-Bois d’Haine, and, through MM.
-Crocq and Warlomont, made an
-inquiry into the reality and sincerity
-of the facts, and brings in a
-verdict that the facts are real and
-free from all fraud.</p>
-
-<p>Finally, this same Belgian Royal
-Academy of Medicine, by its vote,
-avows in the face of the world that,
-if it ought not to recognize a supernatural
-cause in the facts about
-Louise Lateau, as little can it demonstrate
-their natural origin and
-physiological genesis.</p>
-
-<p>Such is the actual state of this
-extraordinary question.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_833" id="Page_833">[833]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>ST. JEAN DE LUZ.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Il s’imagine voir, avec Louis le Grand,</div>
-<div class="verse">Philip Quatre qui s’avance</div>
-<div class="verse">Dans l’Ile de la Conférence.”</div>
-</div>
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse right">&mdash;<cite>La Fontaine.</cite></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Few towns are set in so lovely a
-frame as St. Jean de Luz, with its
-incomparable variety of sea, mountain,
-river, and plain. In front is
-the dark blue bay opening into the
-boundless sea. On the north are
-the cliffs of Sainte Barbe. At the
-south are the Gothic donjon and
-massive jetty of Socoa, behind
-which rises gradually a chain of
-mountains, one above the other, from
-wooded or vine-covered hills, dotted
-here and there with the red-and-white
-houses of the Basque
-peasantry and the summer residences
-of the wealthy merchants of
-St. Jean de Luz, till we come to the
-outer ramparts of La Rhune with
-its granite cliffs and sharp peaks,
-the Trois Couronnes with their jagged
-outline, and still farther on a
-long, blue line of mountains fading
-away into the azure sea. It is from
-La Rhune you can best take in all
-the features of the country. To
-go to it you use one of the modest
-barks that have replaced the sumptuous
-galleys of Louis Quatorze,
-and ascend to Ascain, a pretty hamlet,
-from which the summit of La
-Rhune is reached in two hours.
-It is not one of the highest in the
-Pyrenean chain, being only three
-thousand feet above the sea, but it
-is an isolated peak, and affords a diversified
-view of vast extent. To
-the north are the green valleys of
-Labourd, with the steeples of thirty
-parishes around; Bayonne, with the
-towers of its noble cathedral; and
-the vast pine forests of the mysterious
-Landes. To the west is the
-coast of Spain washed by the
-ocean. East and south are the
-mountains of Béarn and Navarre,
-showing peak after peak, like a sea
-suddenly petrified in a storm.</p>
-
-<p>Such is the magnificent frame in
-which is set the historic town of St.
-Jean de Luz. It is built on a tongue
-of land washed by the encroaching
-sea on one hand and the river Nivelle
-on the other. The situation
-is picturesque, the sky brilliant, the
-climate mild. It seems to need
-nothing to make it attractive. The
-very aspect of decay lends it an
-additional charm which renewed
-prosperity would destroy. The
-houses run in long lines parallel
-with the two shores, looking, when
-the tide is high, like so many ships
-at anchor. At the sight of this
-floating town we are not surprised
-at its past commercial importance,
-or that its inhabitants are navigators
-<i lang="fr">par excellence</i>. Its sailors were
-the first to explore the unknown
-seas of the west, and to fish for the
-cod and whale among the icebergs
-of the arctic zone. In the first
-half of the XVIIth century thirty
-ships, each manned by thirty-five
-or forty sailors, left St. Jean de
-Luz for the cod-fisheries of Newfoundland,
-and as many for Spitzbergen
-in search of whales. The
-oaks of La Rhune were cut down
-for vessels. The town was wealthy
-and full of activity. Those were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_834" id="Page_834">[834]</a></span>
-the best days of ancient Lohitzun.
-But though once so renowned for
-its fleets, it has fallen from the
-rank it then occupied. Ruined by
-wars, and greatly depopulated by
-the current of events, its houses
-have decayed one after another, or
-totally disappeared before the encroachments
-of the sea. Reduced
-to a few quiet streets, it is the mere
-shadow of what it once was. Instead
-of hundreds of vessels, only
-a fishing-smack or two enliven its
-harbor. And yet there is a certain
-air of grandeur about the place
-which bespeaks its past importance,
-and several houses which
-harmonize with its historic memories.
-For St. Jean de Luz was not
-only a place of commercial importance,
-but was visited by several of
-the kings of France, and is associated
-with some of the most important
-events of their reigns. Louis
-XI. came here when mediating between
-the kings of Aragon and
-Castile. The château of Urtubi,
-which he occupied, is some distance
-beyond. Its fine park, watered
-by a beautiful stream, and
-the picturesque environs, make it
-an attractive residence quite worthy
-of royalty. The ivy-covered wall
-on the north side is a part of the
-old manor-house of the XIIth century;
-the remainder is of the
-XVIIth. The two towers have a
-feudal aspect, but are totally innocent
-of feudal domination; for the
-Basque lords, even of the middle
-ages, never had any other public
-power than was temporarily conferred
-on them by their national
-assemblies.</p>
-
-<p>It was at St. Jean de Luz that
-Francis I., enthusiastically welcomed
-by the people after his
-deliverance from captivity in Spain,
-joyfully exclaimed: “<i lang="fr">Je suis encore
-roi de France</i>&mdash;I am still King
-of France!” It likewise witnessed
-the exchange of the beautiful Elizabeth
-of France and Anne of Austria&mdash;one
-given in marriage to Louis
-XIII. and the other to Philip of
-Spain amid the acclamations of the
-people.</p>
-
-<p>Cardinal Mazarin also visited St.
-Jean de Luz in 1659 to confer with
-the astute Don Luis de Haro, prime
-minister of Philip IV., about the
-interests of France and Spain. The
-house he inhabited beside the sea still
-has his cipher on the walls, as it has
-also the old Gobelin tapestry with
-which his apartments were hung.
-He was accompanied by one hundred
-and fifty gentlemen, some of
-whom were the greatest lords in
-France. With them were as many
-attendants, a guard of one hundred
-horsemen and three hundred foot-soldiers,
-twenty-four mules covered
-with rich housings, seven carriages
-for his personal use, and several
-horses to ride. He remained here
-four months. His interviews with
-the Spanish minister took place on
-the little island in the Bidassoa
-known ever since as the Isle of
-Conference, which was never heard
-of till the treaty of the Pyrenees.
-All national interviews and exchanges
-of princesses had previously
-taken place in the middle of the
-river by means of <i lang="fr">gabares</i>, or a
-bridge of boats.</p>
-
-<p>It was this now famous isle which
-Bossuet apostrophized in his <i lang="fr">oraison
-funèbre</i> at the burial of Queen
-Marie Thérèse:</p>
-
-<p>“Pacific isle, in which terminated
-the differences of the two great empires
-of which you were the limit;
-in which were displayed all the skill
-and diplomacy of different national
-policies; in which one statesman
-secured preponderance by his deliberation,
-and the other ascendency
-by means of his penetration!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_835" id="Page_835">[835]</a></span>
-Memorable day, in which two
-proud nations, so long at enmity,
-but now reconciled by Marie Thérèse,
-advanced to their borders
-with their kings at their head, not
-to engage in battle, but for a friendly
-embrace; in which two sovereigns
-with their courts, each with
-its peculiar grandeur and magnificence,
-as well as etiquette and
-manners, presented to each other
-and to the whole universe so august
-a spectacle&mdash;how can I now
-mingle your pageants with these
-funeral solemnities, or dwell on the
-height of all human grandeur in
-sight of its end?”</p>
-
-<p>The marriage of Louis XIV. with
-the Spanish Infanta, to which the
-great orator refers, is still the most
-glorious remembrance of St. Jean
-de Luz. The visits of Louis XI.,
-Francis I., and Charles IX. have
-left but few traces in the town
-compared with that of the <i lang="fr">Grand
-Monarque</i>. The majestic presence
-of the young king surrounded by
-his gay, magnificent following, here
-brought in contrast with the dignity,
-gloom, and splendor of the Spanish
-court, impressed the imagination
-of the people, who have never forgotten
-so glorious a memory.</p>
-
-<p>Louis XIV. arrived at St. Jean
-de Luz May 8, 1660, accompanied
-by Anne of Austria, Cardinal Mazarin,
-and a vast number of lords
-and ladies, among whom was the
-<i lang="fr">Grande Mademoiselle</i>. They were
-enthusiastically welcomed by the
-ringing of bells, firing of cannon,
-and shouts of joy. Garlands of
-flowers arched the highway, the
-pavement was strewn with green
-leaves, and Cantabrian dances were
-performed around the cortége.
-At the door of the parish church
-stood the clergy in full canonicals,
-with the <i lang="fr">curé</i> at their head
-to bless the king as he went
-past. He resided, while there, in
-the château of Lohobiague, the
-fine towers of which are still to be
-seen on the banks of the Nivelle.
-It is now known as the House of
-Louis XIV. Here he was entertained
-by the widowed <i lang="fr">châtelaine</i>
-with the sumptuous hospitality for
-which the family was noted. A
-light gallery was put up to connect
-the château with that of Joanocnia,
-in which lodged Anne of Austria
-and the Spanish Infanta. Here
-took place the first interview between
-the king and his bride, described
-by Mme. de Motteville in
-her piquant manner. From the
-gallery the Infanta, after her marriage,
-took pleasure in throwing
-handfuls of silver coin to the people,
-called <i lang="fr">pièces de largesses</i>, struck
-by the town expressly for the occasion,
-with the heads of the royal
-pair on one side and on the other
-St. Jean de Luz in a shower of
-gold, with the motto: <i lang="la">Non lætior
-alter</i>.</p>
-
-<p>The château of Joanocnia, frequently
-called since that time the
-château of the Infanta, was built by
-Joannot de Haraneder, a merchant
-of the place, who was ennobled for
-his liberality when the island of
-Rhé was besieged by the English
-in 1627, and about to surrender to
-the Duke of Buckingham for want
-of supplies and reinforcements.
-The Comte de Grammont, governor
-of Bayonne, being ordered by Richelieu
-to organize an expedition at
-once for the relief of the besieged,
-issued a command for every port to
-furnish its contingent. St. Jean de
-Luz eagerly responded by sending
-a large flotilla, and Joannot de
-Haraneder voluntarily gave the
-king two vessels, supplied with artillery,
-worthy of figuring in the
-royal navy. For this and subsequent
-services he was ennobled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_836" id="Page_836">[836]</a></span>
-His arms are graven in marble
-over the principal fire-place of the
-château&mdash;a plum-tree on an anchor,
-with the motto:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“Dans l’ancre le beau prunier</div>
-<div class="verse">Est rendu un fort riche fructier.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>This château, though somewhat
-devoid of symmetry, has a certain
-beauty and originality of its own,
-with its alternate rows of brick and
-cream-colored stone, after the
-Basque fashion, its Renaissance
-portico between two square towers
-facing the harbor, and the light
-arches of the two-story gallery in
-the Venetian style. Over the principal
-entrance is a marble tablet
-with the following inscription in
-letters of gold:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse">“L’Infante je reçus l’an mil six cent soixante.</div>
-<div class="verse">On m’appelle depuis le chasteau de l’Infante.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>The letter L and the <i lang="fr">fleur-de-lis</i>
-are to be seen as we ascend the
-grand staircase, and two paintings
-by Gérôme after the style of the
-XVIIth century, recalling the alliance
-of France and Spain and
-the well-known <i lang="fr">mot</i> of Louis XIV.:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Il n’y a plus de Pyrénées!”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>All the details of the residence
-of the royal family here, as related
-by Mme. de Motteville and Mlle.
-de Montpensier, are full of curious
-interest. The former describes
-the beautiful Isle of Conference
-and the superb pavilion for the
-reunion of the two courts, with two
-galleries leading towards France
-and Spain. This building was
-erected by the painter Velasquez,
-who, as <i lang="es">aposentador mayor</i>, accompanied
-Philip IV. to the frontier.
-This fatiguing voyage had an unfavorable
-effect on the already declining
-health of the great painter,
-and he died a few weeks after his
-return.</p>
-
-<p>During the preliminary arrangements
-for the marriage Louis led
-a solemn, uniform life. Like the
-queen-mother, who was always present
-at Mass, Vespers, and Benediction,
-he daily attended public services,
-sometimes at the Recollects’
-and sometimes at the parish church.
-He always dined in public at the
-château of Lohobiague, surrounded
-by crowds eager to witness the
-process of royal mastication. In
-the afternoon there were performances
-by comedians who had followed
-the court from Paris; and
-sometimes Spanish mysteries, to
-which Queen Anne was partial,
-were represented, in which the actors
-were dressed as hermits and
-nuns, and sacred events were depicted,
-to the downright scandal
-of the great mademoiselle. The
-day ended with a ball, in which the
-king did not disdain to display the
-superior graces of his royal person
-in a <i lang="fr">ballet compliqué</i>. Everything,
-in short, was quite in the style of
-the <em>Grand Cyrus</em> itself.</p>
-
-<p>The marriage, which had taken
-place at Fontarabia by procuration,
-was personally solemnized in the
-parish church of St. Jean de Luz
-by the Bishop of Bayonne in the
-presence of an attentive crowd.
-The door by which the royal couple
-entered was afterwards walled
-up, that it might never serve for any
-one else&mdash;a not uncommon mark
-of respect in those days. A joiner’s
-shop now stands against this
-Porta Regia. The king presented
-the church on this occasion with a
-complete set of sacred vessels and
-ecclesiastical vestments.</p>
-
-<p>The church in which Louis XIV.
-was married is exteriorly a noble
-building with an octagonal tower,
-but of no architectural merit within.
-There are no side aisles, but
-around the nave are ranges of galleries
-peculiar to the Basque
-churches, where the separation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_837" id="Page_837">[837]</a></span>
-the men from the women is still
-rigorously maintained. The only
-piece of sculpture is a strange <i lang="it">Pietà</i>
-in which the Virgin, veiled in a
-large cope, holds the dead Christ
-on her knees. A rather diminutive
-angel, in a flowing robe with
-pointed sleeves of the time of
-Charles VII., bears a scroll the inscription
-of which has become illegible.</p>
-
-<p>Behind the organ, in the obscurity
-of the lower gallery of the
-church, hangs a dark wooden frame&mdash;short
-but broad&mdash;with white corners,
-which contains a curious painting
-of the XVIIth century representing
-Christ before Pilate. It is
-by no means remarkable as a work
-of art; for it is deficient in perspective,
-there is no grace in the drapery,
-no special excellence of coloring.
-The figures are generally
-drawn with correctness, but the
-faces seem rather taken from pictures
-than from real life. But however
-poor the execution, this painting
-merits attention on account of
-its dramatic character. The composition
-represents twenty-six persons.
-At the left is Pontius Pilate,
-governor of Judea, seated in a large
-arm-chair beneath a canopy, pointing
-with his left hand towards the
-Saviour before him. In his right
-hand he holds a kind of sceptre;
-his beard is trimmed in the style of
-Henri Quatre; he wears a large
-mantle lined with ermine, and on
-his head a <i lang="fr">toque</i>, such as the old
-presidents of parliament used to
-wear in France.</p>
-
-<p>Below Pilate is the clerk recording
-the votes in a large register,
-and before him is the urn in which
-they are deposited.</p>
-
-<p>In front of the clerk, but separated
-from him by a long white scroll
-on which is inscribed the sentence
-pronounced by Pilate, is seated our
-Saviour, his loins girded with a
-strip of scarlet cloth, his bowed
-head encircled by luminous rays,
-his attitude expressive of humility
-and submission, his bound hands
-extended on his knees.</p>
-
-<p>In the centre of the canvas,
-above this group, is the high-priest
-Caiaphas standing under an arch,
-his head thrown back, and his
-hands extended in an imposing attitude.
-He wears a cap something
-like a mitre, a kind of stole is crossed
-on his breast, his long robe is
-adorned with three flounces of lace.
-His face is that of a young man.
-The slight black mustache he
-wears is turned up in a way that
-gives him a resemblance to Louis
-XIII. It is evidently a portrait of
-that age.</p>
-
-<p>At the side of Pilate, and behind
-Christ, are ranged the members of
-the Jewish Sanhedrim, standing or
-sitting, in various postures, with
-white scrolls in their hands, which
-they hold like screens, bearing their
-names and the expression of their
-sentiments respecting the divine
-Victim. Their dress is black or
-white, but varied in form. Most
-of them wear a <i lang="fr">mosette</i>, or ermine
-cape, and the collar of some order
-of knighthood, as of S. Michael
-and the S. Esprit. They are all
-young, have mustaches, and look
-as if they belonged to the time of
-Louis Treize. On their heads are
-turbans, or <i lang="fr">toques</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Through the open window, at
-the end of the pretorium, may be
-seen the mob, armed with spears,
-and expressing its sentiments by
-means of a scroll at the side of the
-window: “If thou let this man
-go, thou art not Cæsar’s friend.
-Crucify him! crucify him! His
-blood be on us and on our children.”</p>
-
-<p>The chief interest of the picture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_838" id="Page_838">[838]</a></span>
-centres in these inscriptions, which
-are in queer old French of marvellous
-orthography. At the bottom
-of the painting, to the left, is the
-following:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Sentence, or decree, of the sanguinary
-Jews against Jesus Christ, the Saviour
-of the world.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Over Pilate we read:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">Pontius Pilate Judex.</span>”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The sentiments of the high-priests
-and elders, whose names we give
-in the original, are thus expressed:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“1. <span class="smcap">Simon Lepros.</span> For what cause
-or reason is he held for mutiny or sedition?</p>
-
-<p>“2. <span class="smcap">Raban.</span> Wherefore are laws
-made, I pray, unless to be kept and executed?</p>
-
-<p>“3. <span class="smcap">Achias.</span> No one should be condemned
-to death whose cause is not
-known and weighed.</p>
-
-<p>“4. <span class="smcap">Sabath.</span> There is no law or right
-by which one not proved guilty is condemned;
-wherefore we would know in
-what way this man hath offended.</p>
-
-<p>“5. <span class="smcap">Rosmophin.</span> For what doth the
-law serve, if not executed?</p>
-
-<p>“6. <span class="smcap">Putéphares.</span> A stirrer-up of the
-people is a scourge to the land; therefore
-he should be banished.</p>
-
-<p>“7. <span class="smcap">Riphar.</span> The penalty of the
-law is prescribed only for malefactors
-who should be made to confess their
-misdeeds and then be condemned.</p>
-
-<p>“8. <span class="smcap">Joseph d’Aramathea.</span> Truly, it
-is a shameful thing, and detestable, there
-be no one in this city who seeks to defend
-the innocent.</p>
-
-<p>“9. <span class="smcap">Joram.</span> How can we condemn
-him to death who is just?</p>
-
-<p>“10. <span class="smcap">Ehieris.</span> Though he be just,
-yet shall he die, because by his preaching
-he hath stirred up and excited the
-people to sedition.</p>
-
-<p>“11. <span class="smcap">Nicodemus.</span> Our law condemns
-and sentences to death no man for an
-unknown cause.</p>
-
-<p>“12. <span class="smcap">Diarabias.</span> He hath perverted
-the people; therefore is he guilty and
-worthy of death.</p>
-
-<p>“13. <span class="smcap">Sareas.</span> This seditious man
-should be banished as one born for the
-destruction of the land.</p>
-
-<p>“14. <span class="smcap">Rabinth.</span> Whether he be just
-or not, inasmuch as he will neither obey
-nor submit to the precepts of our forefathers,
-he should not be tolerated in the
-land.</p>
-
-<p>“15. <span class="smcap">Josaphat.</span> Let him be bound
-with chains and be perpetually imprisoned.</p>
-
-<p>“16. <span class="smcap">Ptolomée.</span> Though it be not
-clear whether he is just or unjust, why
-do we hesitate: why not at once condemn
-him to death or banish him?</p>
-
-<p>“17. <span class="smcap">Teras.</span> It is right he should be
-banished or sent to the emperor.</p>
-
-<p>“18. <span class="smcap">Mesa.</span> If he is a just man, why
-do we not yield to his teachings: if
-wicked, why not send him away?</p>
-
-<p>“19. <span class="smcap">Samech.</span> Let us weigh the case,
-so he have no cause to contradict us.
-Whatever he does, let us chastise him.</p>
-
-<p>“20. <span class="smcap">Caïphas Pontifex.</span> Ye know
-not well what ye would have. It is expedient
-for us that one man should die
-for the people, and that the whole nation
-perish not.</p>
-
-<p>“21. <span class="smcap">The People To Pilate.</span> If thou
-let this man go, thou art not the friend of
-Cæsar. Crucify him! crucify him! His
-blood be on us and on our children!”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>On the large scroll in the centre
-of the picture is the sentence of
-Pilate:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“I, Pontius Pilate, pretor and judge in
-Jerusalem under the thrice powerful Emperor
-Tiberius, whose reign be eternally
-blessed and prospered, in this tribunal,
-or judicial chair, in order to pronounce
-and declare sentence for the synagogue
-of the Jewish nation with respect to Jesus
-Christ here present, by them led and accused
-before me, that, being born of father
-and mother of poor and base extraction,
-he made himself by lofty and blasphemous
-words the Son of God and King of the
-Jews, and boasted he could rebuild the
-temple of Solomon, having heard and examined
-the case, do say and declare on
-my conscience he shall be crucified between
-two thieves.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This picture is analogous to the
-old mysteries of the Passion once so
-popular in this region, in which the
-author who respected the meaning
-of the sacred text was at liberty to
-draw freely on his imagination. It
-was especially in the dialogue that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_839" id="Page_839">[839]</a></span>
-lay the field for his genius. However
-naïve these sacred dramas,
-they greatly pleased the people. A
-painting similar to this formerly existed
-in St. Roch’s Church at Paris,
-in which figured the undecided Pilate
-in judicial array, Caiaphas the
-complacent flatterer of the people,
-and the mob with its old <i lang="fr">rôle</i> of
-“Crucify him! crucify him!”</p>
-
-<p>We must not forget a work of art,
-of very different character, associated
-with the history of St. Jean de
-Luz. It is a curious piece of needle-work
-commemorating the conferences
-of the two great statesmen,
-Cardinal Mazarin and Don Luis de
-Haro, and evidently designed by
-an able artist, perhaps by Velasquez
-himself. It is a kind of <i lang="fr">courte-pointe</i>
-(it would never do to call it by the
-ignoble name of coverlet!) of linen
-of remarkable fineness, on which
-are embroidered in purple silk the
-eminent personages connected with
-the treaty of the Pyrenees, as well
-as various allegorical figures and
-accessory ornaments, which make
-it a genuine historic picture of
-lively and interesting character.
-This delicate piece of Spanish
-needle-work was wrought by the
-order of Don Luis de Haro as a
-mark of homage to his royal master.
-He presented it to the king on his
-feast-day, May 1, 1661, and it probably
-adorned the royal couch.
-But the better to comprehend this
-work of art&mdash;for such it is, in spite
-of its name&mdash;let us recall briefly
-the events that suggested its details.</p>
-
-<p>Philip IV. ascended the Spanish
-throne in 1621, when barely sixteen
-years of age. His reign lasted till
-1665. He had successively two
-ministers of state, both of great
-ability, but of very different political
-views. In the first part of his
-reign the young monarch gave his
-whole confidence to the Count of
-Olivares, whose authority was almost
-absolute till 1648. But his
-ministry was far from fortunate.
-On the contrary, it brought such
-humiliating calamities on the country
-that the king at length awoke
-to the danger that menaced it.
-He dismissed Olivares and appointed
-the count’s nephew and
-heir in his place, who proved one
-of the ablest ministers ever known
-in Spain. He was a descendant of
-the brave Castilian lord to whom
-Alfonso VII. was indebted for the
-capture of Zurita, but who would
-accept no reward from the grateful
-prince but the privilege of giving
-the name of Haro to a town he had
-built. It was another descendant
-of this proud warrior who was
-made archbishop of Mexico in the
-latter part of the XVIIIth century,
-and was so remarkable for his charity
-and eloquence as a preacher.</p>
-
-<p>Don Luis not only had the
-military genius of his ancestor, but
-the prudence of a real statesman,
-and he succeeded in partially repairing
-the disasters of the preceding
-ministry. He raised an army
-and equipped a powerful squadron,
-by which he repulsed the French,
-checked the Portuguese, brought
-the rebellious provinces into subjection,
-and effected the treaty of
-Munster; which energetic measures
-produced such an effect on
-the French government as to lead
-to amicable relations between the
-two great ministers who, at this
-time, held the destiny of Europe in
-their hands, and to bring about a
-general peace in 1659.</p>
-
-<p>It was with this object Cardinal
-Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro
-agreed upon a meeting on the <i lang="fr">Ile
-des Faisans</i>&mdash;as the Isle of Conference
-was then called&mdash;which led to
-the treaty of the Pyrenees.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_840" id="Page_840">[840]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>As a reward for Don Luis’ signal
-services, particularly the peace he
-had cemented by an alliance so honorable
-to the nation, Philip IV., in
-the following year, conferred on him
-the title of duke, and gave him the
-surname <i lang="es">de la Paz</i>.</p>
-
-<p>It was at this time Don Luis had
-this curious <i lang="fr">courte-pointe</i> wrought as
-a present to the king. He was
-the declared patron of the fine arts,
-and had established weekly reunions
-to bring together the principal artists
-of Spain, some of whom probably
-designed this memorial of his
-glory. It was preserved with evident
-care, and handed down from
-one sovereign to another, till it
-finally fell into the possession of the
-mother of Ferdinand VII., who,
-wishing to express her sense of the
-fidelity of one of her ladies of
-honor, gave her this valuable counterpane.
-In this way it passed into
-the hands of its present owner
-at Bayonne.</p>
-
-<p>On the upper part of this covering
-the power of Spain is represented
-by a woman holding a subdued
-lion at her feet. In the centre
-are Nuestra Señora del Pilar
-and S. Ferdinand, patrons of the
-kingdom, around whom are the
-eagles of Austria, so closely allied
-to Spain. And by way of allusion
-to the <i lang="fr">Ile des Faisans</i>, where the recent
-negotiations had taken place,
-pheasants are to be seen in every
-direction. Cardinal Mazarin and
-Don Luis de Haro are more than
-once represented. In one place
-they are presenting an olive branch
-to the powers they serve; in another
-they are advancing, side by
-side, towards Philip IV., to solicit
-the hand of his daughter for Louis
-XIV. Here Philip gives his consent
-to the marriage, and, lower
-down, Louis receives his bride in
-the presence of two females who
-personify France and Spain. The
-intermediate spaces are filled up with
-allusions to commerce with foreign
-lands and the progress of civilization
-at home. Not only war, victory,
-and politics have their emblems,
-but literature, beneficence,
-and wealth. But there are many
-symbols the meaning of which it
-would require the sagacity of a
-Champollion to fathom.</p>
-
-<p>This is, perhaps, the only known
-instance of a prime minister directing
-his energies to the fabrication
-of a counterpane. Disraeli, to be
-sure, has woven many an extravagant
-web of romance with Oriental
-profusion of ornament, but not, to
-our knowledge, in purple and fine
-linen, like Don Luis de Haro. We
-have seen one of the gorgeous coverlets
-of Louis XIV., but it was
-wrought by the young ladies of St.
-Cyr under the direction of Mme.
-de Maintenon; and there is another
-in the Hôtel de Cluny that
-once belonged to Francis I. The
-grand-daughter of Don Luis de
-Haro, the sole heiress of the house,
-married the Duke of Alba, carrying
-with her as a dowry the vast
-possessions of Olivares, Guzman,
-and Del Carpio. The brother-in-law
-of the ex-Empress Eugénie is
-a direct descendant of theirs.</p>
-
-<p>Opposite St. Jean de Luz, on the
-other side of the Nivelle, is Cibourre,
-with its solemn, mysterious
-church, and its widowed houses
-built along the quay and straggling
-up the hill of Bordagain. Prosperous
-once like its neighbor, it also
-participated in its misfortunes, and
-now wears the same touching air
-of melancholy. The men are all
-sailors&mdash;the best sailors in Europe&mdash;but
-they are absent a great part of
-the year. Fearless wreckers live
-along the shore, who brave the
-greatest dangers to aid ships in distress.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_841" id="Page_841">[841]</a></span>
-In more prosperous days
-its rivalry with St. Jean de Luz often
-led to quarrels, and the islet
-which connects the two places was
-frequently covered with the blood
-shed in these encounters. The
-convent of Recollects, now a custom-house,
-which we pass on our
-way to Cibourre, was founded in
-expiation of this mutual hatred,
-and very appropriately dedicated to
-<i lang="fr">Notre Dame de la Paix</i>&mdash;Our Lady
-of Peace. The cloister, with its
-round arches, is still in good preservation,
-and the cistern is to be
-seen in the court, constructed by
-Cardinal Mazarin, that the friars
-might have a supply of soft water.</p>
-
-<p>The Basques are famed for their
-truthfulness and honesty, the result
-perhaps of the severity of their ancient
-laws, one of which ordered a
-tooth to be extracted every time a
-person was convicted of lying! No
-wonder the love of truth took such
-deep <em>root</em> among them. But had this
-stringent law been handed down
-and extended to other lands, what
-toothless communities there would
-now be in the world!</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>THE ETERNAL YEARS.</h3>
-
-<p class="center">BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE DIVINE SEQUENCE.”</p>
-
-<h4>II.<br />
-<span class="smaller">THE PULSATIONS OF TIME.</span></h4>
-
-<p>The deduction we arrive at from
-the argument which we have laid
-down is that the history of the
-world is a consistent one, and not
-a series of loose incidents strung
-together. It is as much this morally,
-it is as truly the evolution
-and unwinding of a high moral law
-and of a great spiritual truth, as
-the life of the plant from the seed
-to the ripe fruit is the development
-of a natural growth. This last
-is governed by laws with which
-we are only partially acquainted;
-whereas the moral law and the
-spiritual truth are revealed to us by
-the divine scheme of creation and
-redemption. There is nothing existing,
-either in the natural or in
-the spiritual law, and especially in
-this last, which is not more or less,
-in one way or in another, by assertion
-or by negation, a revelation of
-the divine Being.</p>
-
-<p>He reveals himself directly by
-his volitions and indirectly by his
-permissions. And we can only be
-one with him when we have learnt
-to accept both and to submit to
-both; not in the spirit of quietism
-or fatalism, but as actively entering
-into his intentions, accepting what
-he wills, and bearing what he permits.
-There is no harmony possible
-between the soul and God until
-we have arrived at this; and
-the history of the world is the history
-of man’s acquiescence in, or
-resistance to, the supreme will of
-God. The first disruption of the
-will of man from the will of God,
-in the fall of man, wove a dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_842" id="Page_842">[842]</a></span>
-woof into the web of time; and
-every act of ours which is not according
-to the will of God weaves
-the same into our own lives, because
-it is a rupture of the law of
-harmony which God has instituted
-between himself as creator and us
-as creatures. Were that harmony
-unbroken, man would rest in God
-as in his centre; for, being finite,
-he has no sufficiency in himself, but
-for ever seeks some good extrinsic
-to himself. The same applies to
-all creation, whose ultimate end and
-highest good must always be some
-object beyond, and above itself;
-and that object is none other than
-God, “quod ignorantes colitis,”<a name="FNanchor_270" id="FNanchor_270"></a><a href="#Footnote_270" class="fnanchor">[270]</a>&mdash;the
-finite striving after the Infinite.
-Thus the whole divine government
-of the world is a gradual unfolding
-of the divine Will, according as
-we are able to receive it. And the
-degree of receptivity in mankind,
-at various periods of the world’s
-history, and in different localities,
-accounts for the variety in the divine
-dispensations, and for the
-imperfection of some as compared
-with others. The “yet more excellent
-way”<a name="FNanchor_271" id="FNanchor_271"></a><a href="#Footnote_271" class="fnanchor">[271]</a> could not be received
-by all at all times. The promise
-was given to Abraham. But four
-hundred and thirty years elapsed
-before its fulfilment, for the express
-purpose of being occupied and
-spent in the institution of the law
-as a less perfect dispensation, and
-which was given because of transgressions&mdash;“propter
-transgressiones posita est”<a name="FNanchor_272" id="FNanchor_272"></a><a href="#Footnote_272" class="fnanchor">[272]</a>&mdash;thus showing the
-adaptive government of God: the
-gradual building up of the city of
-the Lord, whose stones are the living
-souls of men, which are “hewed
-and made ready,”<a name="FNanchor_273" id="FNanchor_273"></a><a href="#Footnote_273" class="fnanchor">[273]</a> but so that
-there shall be “neither hammer,
-nor axe, nor tool of iron heard”
-while it is building. For God
-does not force his creature. He
-pours not “new wine into old bottles,”
-but waits in patience the
-growth of his poor creatures, and
-the slow and gradual leavening of
-the great mass. A time had been
-when God walked with man “at
-the afternoon air”;<a name="FNanchor_274" id="FNanchor_274"></a><a href="#Footnote_274" class="fnanchor">[274]</a> and whatever
-may be the full meaning of this
-exquisitely-expressed intercourse,
-at least it must have been intimate
-and tender. But when the black
-pall of evil fell on the face of creation,
-the light of God’s intercourse
-with man was let in by slow degrees,
-like single stars coming out
-in the dark firmament. The revelations,
-like the stars, varied in
-magnitude and glory, lay wide apart
-from each other, rose at different
-intervals of longer or shorter duration,
-and conveyed, like them, a
-flickering and uncertain light, until
-the “Sun of Justice arose with
-health in his wings,”<a name="FNanchor_275" id="FNanchor_275"></a><a href="#Footnote_275" class="fnanchor">[275]</a> and “scattered
-the rear of darkness thin.”
-The degree of light vouchsafed
-was limited by the capacity of the
-recipient; and that capacity has
-not always been the same in all
-ages, any more than in any one
-age it is the same in all the contemporary
-men, or in each man the
-same at all periods of his life. It
-is thus that we arrive at the explanation
-of an apparent difference of
-tone, color, and texture, so to speak,
-in the various manifestations of
-God to man. The manifestation is
-limited to the capacity of the recipient;
-and not only is it limited,
-but to a certain extent it becomes,
-as it were, tinged by the properties
-of the medium through which it is
-transmitted to others. It assumes
-characteristics that are not essentially
-its own. For so marvellous
-is the respect with which the Creator<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_843" id="Page_843">[843]</a></span>
-treats the freedom of his creature
-that he suffers us to give a
-measure of our own color to what
-he reveals to us, so that it may be
-more our own, more on our level,
-more within our grasp; as though
-he poured the white waters of saving
-truth into glasses of varied
-colors, and thus hid from us a
-pellucidity too perfect for our nature.
-And thus it happens that to us
-who dwell in the light of God’s
-church, with the seven lamps of
-the seven sacraments burning in
-the sanctuary, the God of Abraham
-and of Isaac and of Jacob hardly
-seems to us the same God as our
-God. We see him through the
-prism of the past, amid surroundings
-that are strange to us,
-in the old patriarchal life that
-seems so impossible a mode of
-existence to the denizens of great
-cities in modern Europe.</p>
-
-<p>This is equally true throughout
-the history of the world. It is also
-true of every individual soul; and
-it is true of the same soul at different
-periods of its existence. He is
-the same God always and everywhere.
-But there is a difference
-in the kind of reception which each
-soul gives to that portion of divine
-knowledge and grace which it is
-capable of receiving and which it
-actually does receive. For they
-are “divers kinds of vessels, every
-little vessel, from the vessels of
-cups even to every instrument of
-music.”<a name="FNanchor_276" id="FNanchor_276"></a><a href="#Footnote_276" class="fnanchor">[276]</a> They differ in capacity
-and they differ in material; and
-the great God, in revealing himself,
-does so by degrees. He has deposited,
-as it were, the whole treasure
-of himself in the bosom of his
-spouse, the church; but the births
-of new grace and further developed
-truth only come to us as we can
-bear them and when we can bear
-them. The body of truth is all
-there; but the dispensing of that
-truth varies in degree as time goes
-on. God governs in his own world;
-but he does so behind and through
-the human instruments whom he
-condescends to employ. And as,
-in the exercise of his own free-will,
-man chose the evil and refused the
-good, so has the Almighty accommodated
-himself to the conditions
-which man has instituted. Were
-he to do otherwise, he would force
-the will of his creature, which he
-never will do, because the doing it
-would have for result to deprive
-that creature of all moral status
-and reduce him to a machine.
-From the moment that we lose the
-power of refusing the good and
-taking the evil, from the moment
-that any force really superior to
-that which has been put into the
-arsenals of our own being robs us
-of the faculty of selection, we lose
-all merit and consequently all demerit.
-The Creator, when he made
-man, surrounded him with the respect
-due to a being who had the
-power of disposing of his own
-everlasting destiny. Nor has he
-ever done, nor will he do, anything
-which can entrench on this prerogative.
-The whole system of grace
-is a system divinely devised to afford
-man aid in the selection he
-has to make. There lies an atmosphere
-of grace all around our souls,
-as there lies the air we breathe
-around our senses. The one is as
-frequently unperceived by us as the
-other.<a name="FNanchor_277" id="FNanchor_277"></a><a href="#Footnote_277" class="fnanchor">[277]</a> We are without consciousness
-as regards its presence, as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_844" id="Page_844">[844]</a></span>
-are without direct habitual consciousness
-of the act of breathing
-and of our own existence, except
-as from time to time we make a reflective
-modification in our own
-mind of the idea of the air and of
-the fact of our inhaling it. We are
-unconscious that it is the divine
-Creator who is for ever sustaining
-our physical existence. We are
-oblivious of it for hours together,
-unless we stop and think. It is
-the same with the presence of
-grace.</p>
-
-<p>And though “exciting” grace, as
-theology calls it, begins with the illustration
-of the intellect, it does
-not follow that we are always by
-any means conscious of this illustration.
-It is needless to carry out
-the theological statement in these
-pages. What we have said is enough
-to bring us round to our point, which
-is that the action of grace on the
-individual soul, and the long line
-of direct and indirect revelations
-of God’s will from the creation to
-the present hour, though always
-the same grace and always the
-same revelation, receive different
-renderings according to the vehicle
-in which they are held&mdash;much as a
-motive in music remains the same
-air, though transposed from one key
-to another. Not only, therefore,
-does man, as it were, give a color
-of his own to the revelation of
-God, but he has the sad faculty of
-limiting its flow and circumscribing
-its course, even where he cannot
-altogether arrest it. We are
-“slow of heart to believe,” and therefore
-is the time delayed when the
-still unfulfilled promises may take effect.
-Our Lord declares that Moses
-<em>permitted</em> the Hebrews to put away
-their wives, because of the hardness
-of their hearts; “but from
-the beginning it was not so.”<a name="FNanchor_278" id="FNanchor_278"></a><a href="#Footnote_278" class="fnanchor">[278]</a>
-God’s law had never in itself been
-other than what the church has declared
-it to be. The state of matrimony,
-as God had ordained it,
-was always meant to be what the
-church has now defined. But man
-was not in a condition to receive
-so perfect a law; and thus the
-condition of man&mdash;that is, the hardness
-of his heart&mdash;had the effect of
-modifying the apparent will of
-God, as revealed in what we now
-know to be one of the seven sacraments.
-The Hebrews were incapable
-of anything more than a mutilated,
-or rather a truncated, expression
-of the divine will, as it
-was represented to them in the law
-of Moses on the married state.
-Nor could we anywhere find a
-more perfect illustration of our argument.
-In the first place, it is
-given us by our Lord himself; and,
-in the second, it occurs on a subject
-which, taken in its larger sense,
-involves almost every other, lies at
-the root of the whole world of
-matter, and of being through matter,
-and may be called the representative
-idea of the creation.
-Now, if on such a question as this
-mankind, at some period of their
-existence, and that a period which
-includes ages of time, and covers,
-at one interval or another, the
-whole vast globe, could only <em>bear</em>
-an imperfect and utterly defective
-rendering, how much more must
-there exist to be still further developed
-out of the “things new and
-old” which lie in the womb of
-time and in the treasures of the
-church, but which are waiting for
-the era when we shall be in a condition
-to receive them! The whole
-system of our Lord’s teaching was
-based on this principle. He seems,
-if we may so express it, afraid of
-overburdening his disciples by too
-great demands upon their capacity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_845" id="Page_845">[845]</a></span>
-He says with reference to the mission
-of S. John the Baptist: “<em>If</em>
-you will receive it, he is Elias that
-is to come,”<a name="FNanchor_279" id="FNanchor_279"></a><a href="#Footnote_279" class="fnanchor">[279]</a> and in the Sermon
-on the Mount he points out to
-them the imperfection of the old
-moral code, as regarded the taking
-of oaths and the law of talion.
-Now, the moral law, as it existed in
-the mind of God, could never have
-varied. It must always have been
-“perfect as our heavenly Father is
-perfect.” But it passed through an
-imperfect medium&mdash;the one presented
-by the then condition of mankind&mdash;and
-was modified accordingly.</p>
-
-<p>We hold, therefore, in what we
-have now stated, a distinct view of
-the way in which God governs the
-world; not absolutely, not arbitrarily,
-but <em>adaptively</em>. And where
-we see imperfection, and at times
-apparent retrogression, it is the free
-will of man forcing the will of God
-to his own destruction, “until he
-who hindereth now, and will hinder,
-be taken out of the way.”<a name="FNanchor_280" id="FNanchor_280"></a><a href="#Footnote_280" class="fnanchor">[280]</a></p>
-
-<p>If this be true of God’s direct revelations
-of himself, and of his moral
-law as given from time to time
-to mankind, according as, in their
-fallen state, they could receive it&mdash;if,
-in short, it be true of his direct
-volitions&mdash;it is also true of his permissions.
-If it hold good of the
-revelations of his antecedent will,
-it holds good of the instances (so
-far as we may trace them in the
-history of the world) of his consequent
-will; that is, of his will which
-takes into consideration the facts
-induced by man in the exercise of
-his own free will, which is so constantly
-running counter to the
-antecedent will of God. The
-divine permissions form the negative
-side of the revelation of God.
-They are his permissive government
-of the world, not his direct
-government. The direct government
-is the stream of revelation
-given to our first parents, to the
-patriarchs and lawgivers of Israel,
-and now, in a more direct and immediate
-way, through our Blessed
-Lord in his birth, death, and resurrection,
-by the church in the sacraments,
-and through her temporal
-head, the vicar of Christ.</p>
-
-<p>Even now, when he has consummated
-his union with his church,
-and that she is the true organ of
-the Holy Ghost, and thus the one
-true and infallible medium and
-interpreter of God’s direct government
-of the world, he also governs
-it by the indirect way of his overruling
-providence. The events
-which occur in history have ever a
-double character. They have their
-mere human aspect, often apparently
-for evil alone; and they have
-their ultimate result for good,
-which is simply the undercurrent
-of God’s will working upwards, and
-through the actions of mankind.
-Events which, on the face of them,
-bear the character of unmitigated
-evils, like war, have a thousand
-ultimate beneficial results. War is
-the rude, cruel pioneer of the armies
-of the Lord; for where the soldier
-has been the priest will follow.
-Persecutions kindle new faith and
-awake fresh ardor. Pestilence
-quickens charity and leads to improvements
-in the condition of the
-poor. Nor do we believe that it is
-only in this large and general, unsympathetic,
-and sweeping manner
-that God allows good to be worked
-out of evil. We have faith in the
-intercession of the Mother of
-Mercy; and as ultimate good may
-arise to whole races of mankind
-out of terrible calamities, so, we are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_846" id="Page_846">[846]</a></span>
-persuaded, there is a more intimate,
-minute, and loving interference
-to individual souls wherever
-there is huge public calamity.
-The field of battle, the burning
-city, the flood, and the pestilence
-are Mary’s harvest fields, whither
-she sends her angels, over whom
-she is queen, with special and
-extraordinary graces, to gather and
-collect those who might otherwise
-have perished, and, in the supreme
-moment which is doubtless so
-often God’s hour, to win trophies
-of mercy to the honor and glory of
-the Precious Blood.</p>
-
-<p>Unless we believe in God’s essential,
-actual, and unintermittent
-government of the world, we cannot
-solve the riddle of the Sphinx,
-and her cruel, stony stare will freeze
-our blood as we traverse the deserts
-of life. If we believe only in his
-direct government, we shall find it
-chiefly, if not solely, in his church;
-and the area is sadly limited! If
-we acknowledge his essential providence
-in his permissions, if we make
-sure of his presence in what appears
-its very negation, then alone
-do we arrive at the solution of life’s
-problems; and even this, not as an
-obvious thing, but as a constant
-and ever-renewed act of faith in
-the under-flowing gulf-stream of
-divine love, which melts the ice
-and softens the rigor of the wintry
-epochs in the world’s history. If
-we admit of this theory, which is
-new to none of us, though dim to
-some, we let in a flood of light upon
-many of the incidents described in
-the Old Testament, and specially
-spoken of as done by the will of
-God, but which, to our farther-advanced
-revelation of God, read to
-us as unlike himself. The light of
-the later interpretation has been
-thrown over the earlier fact; but
-in the harmony of eternity, when
-we are freed from the broken chord
-of time, there will be no dissonant
-notes.</p>
-
-<p>There can be no more wonderful
-proof of God’s unutterable love
-than the way in which he has condescended
-to make the very sins of
-mankind work to his own glory and
-to the farther revelation of himself.
-From the first “<i lang="la">felix culpa</i>” of our
-first parents, as the church does not
-hesitate to call it, down to the present
-hour&mdash;down even to the secret
-depths of our own souls, where we
-are conscious of the harvests of
-grace sprung from repentant tears&mdash;it
-is still the great alchemist turning
-base metal in the crucible of
-divine love into pure gold.</p>
-
-<p>It is one of the most irrefragable
-proofs of the working of a perpetual
-providence that can be adduced.</p>
-
-<p>Granted that there are no new
-creations, but that creation is one
-act, evolving itself by its innate
-force into all the phenomena which
-we see, and into countless possible
-others which future generations of
-beings will see, nothing of this can
-prevent the fact that the moral development
-of the status of mankind,
-the revelations of divine
-truth, and consequently of the
-Deity, through the flow of ages,
-has ever been a bringing of good
-out of evil which no blind, irresponsible
-law could produce. There is
-no sort of reason why evil should
-work into its contrary good, except
-the reason that God is the
-supreme good, and directs all apparent
-evil into increments of his
-glory, thereby converting it into
-an ultimate good. We must remember,
-however, that this does
-not diminish our culpability, because
-it does not affect our free-will.
-It does not make evil another
-form of good. It is no pact
-with the devil. It is war and victory,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_847" id="Page_847">[847]</a></span>
-opposition and conquest. It
-is justice and retribution, and it behooves
-us to see whether we are
-among those who are keeping ourselves
-in harmony with the eternal
-God in his direct government of
-the world; in harmony (so far as
-we know it) with his antecedent
-will; or whether we are allowing
-ourselves to drift away into channels
-of our own, working out only
-the things that he permits, but
-which he also condemns, and laying
-up for ourselves that swift devouring
-flame which will “try every
-man’s work of what sort it is.”</p>
-
-<p class="break">We have thus arrived at two different
-views of God’s government
-of the world&mdash;his direct government
-and his indirect or permissive
-government. We now come to
-what we may call his inductive
-teaching of the world&mdash;the way in
-which truths are partially revealed
-to us, and come to us percolating
-through the sands of time, as mankind
-needs them and can receive
-them.</p>
-
-<p>Our Lord himself gives us an example
-of this inductive process
-when he speaks of “the God of
-Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob”
-as being “not the God of the dead,
-but of the living,” thus showing
-that the Jews held, and were bound
-to hold, the doctrine of immortality
-by an inductive process. The
-teaching of the old law was symbolic
-and inductive. The histories of
-the Old Testament are of the same
-character. They are written with
-no apparent design. They are the
-simple account of such incidents as
-the historian thought himself bound
-to record; acting, as he did, under
-the divine impulse, which underlay
-his statements without fettering his
-pen. He was not himself half conscious
-of the unspeakable importance
-of his work. Consequently,
-there is no effort, hardly even common
-precaution and foresight, in his
-mode of chronicling events. He
-glances at incidents without explaining
-them, because while he
-wrote they were present to his own
-experience, and would be to that of
-his readers. A writer in our day
-would allude to a person having
-performed a journey of fifty miles
-in an hour’s time without thinking
-it necessary to explain that people
-travel by steam. In another part
-he would advert to railroads, and
-the rapidity of locomotion as their
-result, equally without a direct reference
-to the individual who effected
-fifty miles in an hour. To the
-reader of three thousand years
-hence the one incidental allusion
-will explain and corroborate the
-other, and thus, by internal evidence,
-prove the authenticity and
-consistency of the history. Unintentional
-coincidences crop up as
-the pages grow beneath his hand,
-and to the careful student of Scripture
-throw light unlooked for on
-the exactitude and veracity of the
-narrative. And the substratum of
-the whole of the Old Testament history
-is the gradual growth of one
-family out of all the families of
-mankind, into which, as into a carefully prepared
-soil, the seed of divine
-truth was to be sown. Through
-all the variety of the Old Testament
-writers the same underlying design
-exists; and though this was a special
-stream of revelation unlike any
-that now exists or that is now required
-(for reasons which are obvious
-to every Catholic who knows
-what the church is), yet they form
-an indication of the way in which
-the divine Creator is for ever governing
-the world and preparing it
-with a divine foresight for his ultimate
-purpose. The Holy Ghost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_848" id="Page_848">[848]</a></span>
-speaks now through a direct organ,
-which organ is the church. Formerly
-God spoke through historic
-events and multitudinous incidents
-in connection with one race of people.
-But this very fact authorizes
-us to believe that the same <em>character</em>
-of government exists throughout
-the whole universe in a greater or
-less degree, and that God is preparing
-the way for the ultimate triumph
-of the sacred Humanity and of his
-spouse the Church, on the far-off
-shores of sultry Africa, in the inner
-recesses of silent China, among
-the huge forests which skirt the
-Blue Mountains, or amid the glittering
-glories of the kingdoms of
-ice.</p>
-
-<p>There is nothing more depressingly
-sad, more deeply to be regretted,
-and more difficult to explain
-than the almost hopeless narrowness
-of most people in their appreciation
-of divinely-ordained facts.
-We live like moles. We throw up
-a mound of dusky earth above and
-around us, within which we grope
-and are content. The treasures of
-sacred lore, the depths of spiritual
-science, the infinite variety of
-Scriptural information, with the
-divinely-pointed moral of every
-tale, are things which most of us
-are content to know exist, and
-to think no more about. The very
-lavishness with which God has
-given us all that we want for the
-salvation of our souls seems to
-have stifled in our ungenerous natures
-the longing to know and to
-do more. When the Evangelist
-said that the world would not hold
-the books that might be written on
-the sacred Humanity alone, he must
-have had an intuition, not so much
-of the material world and material
-volumes, as of the world of narrowed
-minds and crippled hearts
-who would be found stranded on
-the shores of our much-vaunted
-civilization and progress.</p>
-
-<p>Few things are more remarkable
-in the tone and character of modern
-Catholic writers than the small
-amount of use they make of Scripture:
-so strangely in contrast with
-the old writers, and with even the
-great French spiritual authors of a
-century and a half ago. Their
-pages are rich with Scriptural lore.
-Their style is a constant recognition
-of the government and designs
-of God as shown to us in
-our past and present, and as we
-are bound to anticipate them in
-the future. In our time this has
-given place to emotional devotion;
-a most excellent thing in its way,
-but only likely to have much influence
-over our lives when it is
-grounded on solid theology and
-directed by real knowledge. No
-doubt it is so in the minds of the
-authors themselves; but we fear
-it is rare in those of their ordinary
-readers, who thus drink the froth
-off the wine, but are not benefited
-by the strengthening properties of
-the generous liquid itself. Nor
-will they be until they have made
-up their minds to believe and understand
-that conversion is not an
-isolated fact in their lives, but a
-progressive act involving all the
-intellect, all the faculties, be they
-great or small (for each one must
-be full up to his capacity), and all
-the heart, mind, and soul. The
-whole man must work and be worked
-upon in harmony; and we
-must remember that it <em>is</em> work, and
-not merely feeling, consolation,
-emotion, prettiness, and ornament,
-but an intellectual growth, going
-on <i lang="la">pari passu</i> with a spiritual
-growth, until the whole vessel is
-fitted and prepared for the glory
-of God.</p>
-
-<p>We think we may venture to say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_849" id="Page_849">[849]</a></span>
-that few things will conduce more
-to this than the study of the
-divine Scriptures under the light
-and teaching of the Catholic Church.
-In them we find a profound revelation
-of the character of God.
-We are, as we read them interpreted
-to us by the lamp of the sanctuary,
-let down into awful depths
-of the divine Eternal Mind. We
-watch the whole world and all
-creation working up for the supreme
-moment of the birth of
-Jesus; while in the life of our
-Blessed Lord himself we find, condensed
-into those wonderful thirty-three
-years, the whole system of the
-church&mdash;the spiritual fabric which
-is to fill eternity, the one God-revealing
-system which is finally to
-supersede all others.</p>
-
-<p>Unhappily many persons are
-under the delusion that narrowness
-and ignorance are the same as
-Christian simplicity, and that innocence
-means ignorance of everything
-else, as well as of evil. These
-are the people who are afraid to
-look facts in the face, and to read
-them off as part of the God-directed
-history of the world. These are
-they to whom science is a bugbear.
-They hug their ignorance as being
-their great safeguard, and wear
-blinkers lest they should be startled
-by the events which cross their
-path. Grown men and women do
-it for themselves and attempt it for
-their children, and meanwhile those
-to whom we ought to be superior
-are rushing on with headlong daring,
-carrying intellectual eminence,
-and originality, and investigation of
-science, all before them; while we,
-who should be clad in the panoply
-of the faith, and afraid of nothing,
-are putting out the candles and
-shading the lamps, that we may idly
-enjoy a shadow too dense for real
-work.</p>
-
-<p>And yet is not the earth ours?
-Is not all that exists our heritage?
-To whom does anything belong if
-not to us, the sons of the church,
-the sole possessors of infallible
-truth, the only invulnerable ones,
-the only ever-enduring and ever-increasing
-children of the light?
-The past is ours; the present
-should be ours; the future is all our
-own. Our triumph may be slow
-(and it is slower because we are
-cowards), but it is certain. Are
-we not tenfold the children of the
-covenant, the sons of the Father’s
-house, the heirs of all? We alone
-are in possession of what all science
-and art must ultimately fall back
-upon and harmonize with. There
-is no success possible but what is
-obtained, and shall in the future be
-obtained, in union with the church
-of God. Have we forgotten, are
-we ever for a moment permitted to
-forget, that the church of God is
-not an accident, nor a cunningly-devised,
-tolerably able, partially
-infirm organization, but that she is
-the spouse of the God-Man, the one
-revelation of God, perfect and entire,
-though but gradually given
-forth; that all the harmonies of
-science are fragments of the harmony
-of God himself, of his pure
-being, of the <i lang="la">Qui Est</i>; and that
-the harmony of the arts is simply
-the human expression of the harmony
-of the <i lang="el">Logos</i>, the human
-utterances of the articulations of
-the divine Word, as they come to
-us in our far-off life-like echoes
-from eternity?</p>
-
-<p>Even the great false religions of
-the past, and of the present in the
-remote East, are but man’s discord
-breaking the harmony of truth
-while retaining the key-note: the
-immortality of the soul and the
-perfection of a future state in the
-deep thoughts of Egypt, the universality<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_850" id="Page_850">[850]</a></span>
-of God’s providential government
-of the world in Greek
-mythology, the union of the soul
-with God in Brahminism, and the
-One God of Mahometanism. Each
-has its kernel of truth, its ideal
-nucleus of supernatural belief,
-which it had caught from the great
-harmony of God in broken fragments,
-and enshrined in mystic
-signs. Even now, as we look back
-upon them all, we are bound to
-confess that they stand on a totally
-different ground from the multitudinous
-sects of our day, which
-break off from the one body of the
-church and drift off into negation
-or Protestantism. Far be it from
-us to insinuate that any, the lowest
-form of Christianity, the weakest
-utterance of the dear name of Jesus,
-is not ten thousand fold better than
-the most abstruse of the old Indian
-or Egyptian religions. Wherever
-the name of Jesus is uttered, no
-matter how imperfectly, there is
-more hope of light and of salvation
-than in the deepest symbols of
-heathen or pagan creeds. It may
-be but one ray of light, but still it
-is light&mdash;the real warming, invigorating
-light of the sun, and not the
-cold and deleterious light of the
-beautiful moon, who has poisoned
-what she has borrowed.<a name="FNanchor_281" id="FNanchor_281"></a><a href="#Footnote_281" class="fnanchor">[281]</a> Nevertheless,
-and maintaining this with
-all the energy of which we are capable,
-it is still true that each one
-of the great false religions, which at
-various times and in divers places
-have swayed mankind, was rather
-the overgrowth of error on a substantial
-truth than the breaking up
-of truth into fragmentary and illogical
-negation, which is the characteristic
-of all forms of secession
-from the Catholic unity of the
-church. The modern aberrations
-from the faith are a mere jangle of
-sounds, while the old creeds were
-the petrifaction of truth. The
-modern forms of faith outside the
-church are a negation of truth
-rather than a distortion. Consequently,
-they are for ever drifting
-and taking Protean shapes that
-defy classification.</p>
-
-<p>They have broken up into a hundred
-forms; they will break up into
-a thousand more, till the whole fabric
-has crumbled into dust. They
-have none of the strong hold on
-human nature which the old religions
-had, because they are not the
-embodiment of a sacred mystery,
-but rather the explaining away of
-all mystery. They are a perpetual
-drifting detritus, without coherence
-as without consistency; and as
-they slip down the slant of time,
-they fall into the abyss of oblivion,
-and will leave not a trace behind,
-only in so far that, vanishing from
-sight, they make way for the fuller
-establishment of the truth&mdash;the eternal,
-the divine, spherical truth,
-absolute in its cohesion and perfect
-in all its parts.</p>
-
-<p>The hold which heathen and pagan
-creeds have had upon mankind
-conveys a lesson to ourselves which
-superficial thinkers are apt to overlook.
-It is certain they could not
-have held whole nations beneath
-their influence had not each in
-its turn been an embodiment of
-some essential truth which, though
-expressed through error, remains in
-itself essentially a part of truth.
-They snatched at fragments of the
-natural law which governs the universe,
-or they embodied in present
-expression the inalienable hopes
-of mankind. They took the world
-of nature as the utterance neither
-of a passing nor of an inexorable
-law, but of an inscrutable Being,
-and believed that the mystical underlies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_851" id="Page_851">[851]</a></span>
-the natural. Untaught by
-the sweet revelations of Christianity,
-their religion could assume no
-aspect but one of terror, silent
-dread, and deep horror. Their
-only escape from this result was in
-the deterioration that necessarily
-follows the popularization of all
-abstract ideas, unless protected by
-a system at once consistent and
-elastic, like that which is exhibited in
-the discipline of the Catholic Church.
-They wearied of the rarefied atmosphere
-of unexplained mystery.
-They wanted the tangible and evident
-in its place. Like the Israelites,
-they lusted after the flesh-pots
-of Egypt; and their lower nature
-and evil passions rebelled against
-the moral loftiness of abstract
-truth. The multitude could not
-be kept up to the mark, and needed
-coarser food. The result was
-inevitable. But as all religion involves
-mystery, instead of working
-upward through the natural law to
-the spiritual and divine law, they
-inverted the process, and grovelled
-down below the natural law, with
-its sacramentalistic character, to
-the preternatural and diabolic.
-Mystery was retained, but only in
-the profanation of themselves and
-of natural laws, until they had passed
-outside all nature, and, making a
-hideous travesty of humanity, had
-become more vile and hateful than
-the devils they served.</p>
-
-<p>Thus the Romans vulgarized the
-Greek mythology; and that which
-had remained during a long period
-as a beautiful though purely human
-expression of a divine mystery,
-among a people whose religion consisted
-mainly in the worship of
-the beautiful, and who themselves
-transcended all that humanity has
-ever since beheld in their own
-personal perfection of beauty, became,
-when it passed through the
-coarser hands of the Romans, a degenerate
-vulgarity, which infected
-their whole existence, in art and
-in manners, quite as effectually as
-in religion. Then Rome flung
-open her gates to all the creeds of
-all the world, and the time-honored
-embodiments of fragmentary but
-intrinsic truth met together, and
-were all equally tolerated and
-equally degenerated. All!&mdash;except
-the one whole and perfect
-truth: the Gospel of Salvation.
-That was never tolerated. That
-alone could not be endured, because
-the instinct of evil foresaw
-its own impending ruin in the Gospel
-of peace.</p>
-
-<p>It was a new thing for mankind to
-be told that a part of the essence of
-religion was elevated morality and
-the destruction of sin in the individual.
-Whatever comparative purity
-of life had co-existed with the old
-religions was hardly due to their
-influence among the multitude,
-though it might be so with those
-whose educated superiority enabled
-them to reason out the morality of
-creeds. While the rare philosopher
-was reading the inmost secret of the
-abstract idea on which the religion
-of his country was based, and the
-common pagan was practising the
-most degraded sorcery and peering
-into obscene mysteries, without a
-single elevation of thought, suddenly
-the life of the God-Man was put
-before the world, and the whole
-face of creation was gradually
-changed.</p>
-
-<p>But as the shadows of the past
-in the old religions led up to the
-light, so shall the light of the
-present lead up to the “perfect
-day.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_852" id="Page_852">[852]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>SEARCH FOR OLD LACE IN VENICE.</h3>
-
-<p>One is almost ashamed to mention
-Venice now, or any other of those
-thousand-and-one bournes of hackneyed
-travel and staples of hackneyed
-books. There is probably no one
-claiming a place in a civilized community
-who does not know Venice
-almost as well as do her own children,
-and who could not discourse
-intelligently of the Bridge of Sighs,
-the Doge’s Palace, and the Rialto
-Bridge, of St. Mark’s and the brazen
-horses. Still, when one has read
-multitudinous poems about gondolas
-and gondoliers, and any amount
-of descriptions of the Grand Canal,
-with its palaces of various styles of
-architecture, and some few dramas
-about the grand and gloomy, the
-secret and awful, doings of ancient
-Venetian life, even then there are
-nooks in the place and incidents in
-the doings which escape notice. A
-traveller arriving at Venice is hardly
-surprised at the water-street, with
-which pictures have already made
-him familiar, but the mode of entering
-a covered gondola&mdash;crab-fashion&mdash;is
-not so familiar, and he generally
-butts his head against the low ceiling,
-eliciting a laugh from his gondolier
-and the good-humored bystanders,
-before he learns the native
-and proper way of backing into his
-seat. So, too, in rowing slowly and
-dreamily about from church to
-church, full of artistic marvels or
-wonderful historical monuments, he
-feels to a certain degree at home.
-He has seen all this before; the
-present is but a dream realized.
-But there are now and then unexpected
-sights&mdash;though, it must be
-confessed, not many&mdash;and of course
-such are the most interesting, even
-if they are by no means on a level
-with those more famous and more
-beautiful.</p>
-
-<p>From Venice to Vicenza is but
-a short distance by rail, and Vicenza
-boasts of Roman ruins, and mediæval
-churches, and a Palladian theatre;
-but on our day’s trip there, in
-early spring, we certainly dwelt
-more on the aspect of the woods
-and plains, with their faint veil of
-yellow green already beginning to
-appear, the few flowers in the <i lang="it">osteria</i>
-garden, and the box hedges and
-aloes in the cemetery. The beauty
-of the Venetian and Lombard plains
-lies more in their mere freshness
-than in their diversity; it is entirely a
-beauty of detail, a beauty fit for
-the minuteness of Preraphaelite art
-rather than for the sweeping brush
-of the great masters of conventional
-landscape painting. But coming
-from Venice every trace of verdure
-was grateful to the eye, and we felt as
-one who, having been confined in a
-beautiful, spacious room, filled with
-treasures and scented with subtle
-perfume, might feel on coming suddenly
-into the fresh air of a prairie.
-By contrast, the suggestion of
-fresh air and open space draws us
-at once to our subject&mdash;a search after
-old lace in one of the cities
-known to possess many treasures in
-that line.</p>
-
-<p>Like all other industries in Venice,
-the sale of lace thrives chiefly
-on the fancy of the foreign visitors.
-The natives are generally
-too poor to buy much of it, and, indeed,
-much of what is in the market
-is the product of forced sacrifices
-made by noble but impoverished
-families of Venetian origin. It is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_853" id="Page_853">[853]</a></span>
-sad thing to see the spoils of Italy
-still scattered over the world, as if
-the same fate had pursued her, with
-a few glorious intervals of triumph
-and possession, ever since the barbarian
-ancestors of her <i lang="it">forestieri</i>
-rifled her treasure-houses under the
-banners of Celtic, Cimbrian, and
-Gothic chieftains. What Brennus,
-Alaric, and Genseric began the
-Constable of Bourbon and the great
-Napoleon continued by force; but
-what is still sadder is to see the
-daily disintegration of other treasure-houses
-whose contents are unwillingly
-but necessarily bartered
-away to rich Englishmen, Americans,
-and Russians. Pictures, jewelry,
-lace, goldsmith’s work, artistic
-trifles&mdash;precious through their material
-and history, but more so through
-the family associations which have
-made them heirlooms&mdash;too often
-pass from the sleepy, denuded, dilapidated,
-but still beautiful Italian
-palace to the cabinet or gallery or
-museum of the lucky foreign connoisseur,
-or even&mdash;a worse fate&mdash;into
-the hands of men to whom possession
-is much, but appreciation
-very little.</p>
-
-<p>While at Venice we were so
-lazy as never to go sight-seeing,
-which accounts for the fact that
-we missed many a thing which
-visitors of a few days see and talk
-learnedly about; and if the business
-activity of an old lace-seller had
-not brought her to the hotel, our
-search after lace might never have
-been made. She brought fine
-specimens with her, but her prices
-were rather high, and, after admiring
-the lace, she was dismissed
-without getting any orders. But
-she came again, and this time left
-her address. We wanted some lace
-for a present, and fancied that the
-proverbial facility for taking anything
-rather than nothing, which
-distinguishes the Italian seller of
-curiosities, would induce her to
-strike some more favorable bargain
-in her own house, where no other
-customer would be at hand to treasure
-up her weakness as a precedent.</p>
-
-<p>It was not easy to find the house.
-Many intricate little canals had to
-be traversed (for on foot we should
-probably have lost our way over
-and over again); and as we passed,
-many a quaint court, many a delicate
-window, many a sombre archway,
-and as often the objects which
-we, perhaps too conventionally,
-call picturesque&mdash;such as the tattered
-clothes drying on long lines
-stretched from window to window;
-heaps of refuse piled up against
-princely gateways; rotten posts
-standing up out of the water, with
-the remnants of the last coat of
-paint they ever had, a hundred years
-ago; gaudy little shrines calculated
-to make a Venetian <i lang="it">popolana</i> feel
-very pious and an “unregenerate”
-artist well-nigh frantic&mdash;met our
-sight. At last the house was reached,
-or at least the narrow quay from
-which a <i lang="it">calle</i>, or tiny, dark street,
-plunged away into regions unknown
-but inviting. Our gondolier was
-wise in the street-labyrinth lore of
-his old city, and up some curious outside
-stairs, and then again by innumerable
-inside ones, we reached the
-old woman’s rooms. Of these there
-were two&mdash;at least, we saw no more.
-Both were poor and bare, and the
-old lace seller was wrinkled, unclean,
-good-humored, and eager.
-She talked volubly, not being obliged
-to use a foreign tongue to help
-herself out, but going on with her
-soft, gliding, but quick Venetian
-tones. Travelling in Italy and coming
-in contact with all classes of
-the people is apt sadly to take
-down one’s scholarly conceit in
-knowing the language of Dante<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_854" id="Page_854">[854]</a></span>
-and Petrarch; for all the classicism
-of one’s school-days goes for very
-little in bargaining for lace, giving
-orders in a shop or market, or trying
-not to let boat-and-donkey-men
-cheat you to your face. There is this
-comfort: that if you often cannot
-understand the people, they
-can almost invariably understand
-you (unless your accent be altogether
-outrageous), which saves John
-Bull and his American cousin the
-ignominy of being brought an umbrella
-when they have asked for
-mushrooms, and actually taken the
-trouble to give a diagram of that
-vegetable.</p>
-
-<p>The prices were kept so obstinately
-above our means that all purchase
-of lace was impossible; but
-the old woman was untiring in displaying
-her stores of antique treasures,
-and we felt sufficiently rewarded
-for our expedition. She
-herself was worth a visit; for, like
-many ancient Italian matrons, and
-not a few nearer home, she was one
-of that generation of models whom
-you would have sworn has endured
-from the days of Titian and Vandyke,
-immortally old and unchangeably
-wrinkled. You see such faces
-in the galleries, with the simple
-title “Head of an old man”&mdash;or old
-woman, as the case may be&mdash;attributed
-to some famous painter; and
-these weird portraits attract you
-far more than the youth, and beauty,
-and health, and prosperity of
-the Duchess of Este, the baker’s
-handsome daughter, or the gorgeous
-Eastern sibyl. Again, you do not
-care to have any allegorical meaning
-tacked on to that intensely human
-face; you would be disgusted if
-you found it set down in the catalogue
-as “a Parca,” a magician, or
-a witch. You seem to know it,
-to remember one which was like it,
-to connect it with many human vicissitudes
-and common, though not
-the less pathetic, troubles. She is
-probably poor and has been hard-working;
-wifehood and motherhood
-have been stern realities to her, instead
-of poems lived in luxurious
-houses and earthly plenty; her
-youth’s romance was probably
-short, fervid, passionate, but soon
-lapsed into the dreary struggle
-of the poor for bare life. Chance
-and old age have made her look
-hard, though in truth her heart
-would melt at a tender love-tale
-like that of a girl of fifteen, and
-her brave, bright nature belies the
-lines on her face. Just as women
-live this kind of life nowadays, so
-they did three and five hundred
-years ago; so did probably those
-very models immortalized by great
-painters; so did others long before
-art had reached the possibility of
-truthful portraiture.</p>
-
-<p>Our old friend the lace-seller,
-though she has given occasion for
-this rambling digression, did not,
-however, at the time, suggest all
-these things to our mind.</p>
-
-<p>If she herself was a type of certain
-models of the old masters, her
-wares were also a reminder of
-famous people, scenes, and places
-of Venice. They were all of one
-kind, all of native manufacture,
-and, of course, all made by hand.
-In a certain degenerate fashion this
-industry is still continued, but the
-specimens of modern work which
-we saw were coarse and valueless
-in comparison with those of the
-old. There were collars and cuffs
-in abundance, such as both men
-and women wore&mdash;large, broad,
-Vandyked collars like those one
-sees in Venetian pictures; flounces,
-or rather straight bands of divers
-widths, from five to twenty inches,
-which had more probably belonged
-to albs and cottas. They suggested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_855" id="Page_855">[855]</a></span>
-rich churches and gorgeous
-ceremonial in a time when nobles
-and people were equally devoted
-to splendid shows, prosperity and
-loftiness, and a picturesque blending
-of the religious and the imperial.
-Chasubles stiff with gems and
-altars of precious stones seem to harmonize
-well with these priceless veils,
-woven over with strange, hieroglyphic-looking,
-conventional, yet beautiful
-forms; intricate with tracery
-which, put into stone, would immortalize
-a sculptor; full of knots, each
-of which is a miniature masterpiece
-of embroidery; and the whole
-the evident product of an artist’s
-brain. This lace has not the gossamer-like
-beauty of Brussels. It is
-thick and close in its texture, and
-is of that kind which looks best on
-dark velvets and heavy, dusky
-cloths&mdash;just what one would fancy
-the grave Venetian signiors wearing
-on state occasions. It matches
-somehow with the antique XVth and
-XVIth century jewelry&mdash;the magnificent,
-artistic, heavy collars of
-the great orders of chivalry; it has
-something solid, substantial, and
-splendid about it. Such lace used
-to be sold to kings and senators,
-not by a paltry yard measure, but
-by at least twice its weight in gold;
-for the price was “as many gold
-pieces as would cover the quantity
-of lace required.” Now, although
-this princely mode of barter is out
-of fashion, old Venetian “point”
-is still one of the costliest luxuries
-in the world, and the rich foreigners
-who visit Venice usually carry
-away at least as much as will border
-a handkerchief or trim a cap, as a
-memento of the beautiful and once
-imperial city of the Adriatic. The
-modern lace&mdash;one can scarcely call
-it <em>imitation</em>, any more than Salviati’s
-modern Venetian glass and
-mosaic can be so called&mdash;seems
-to be deficient in the beauty and
-intricacy of design of the old specimens;
-it is so little sought after
-that the industry stands a chance
-of dying out, at least until after the
-old stock is exhausted and necessity
-drives the lace-makers to ply
-their art more delicately.</p>
-
-<p>Some modern lace, the English
-Honiton and some of the Irish lace,
-is quite as perfect and beautiful,
-and very nearly as costly, as the
-undoubted specimens the history
-of which can be traced back for
-two or three hundred years. But
-from what we saw of Venetian
-point, the new has sadly degenerated
-from the old, and exact copying
-of a few antique models would be
-no detriment to the modern productions.
-To the unlearned eye
-there is no difference between Venetian
-glass three or four hundred
-years old, carefully preserved in a
-national museum, and the manufactures
-of last month, sold in Salviati’s
-warerooms in Venice and
-his shop in London. Connoisseurs
-say they <em>do</em> detect some inferiority
-in the modern work; but as to the
-lace, even the veriest tyro in such
-lore can see the rough, tasteless,
-coarse appearance of the new
-when contrasted with the old.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_856" id="Page_856">[856]</a></span></p>
-
-<h3>NEW PUBLICATIONS.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Supposed Miracles: An Argument for
-the Honor of Christianity against
-Superstition, and for its Truth
-against Unbelief.</span> By Rev. J. M.
-Buckley. New York: Hurd &amp; Houghton.
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Buckley is a Methodist minister,
-who seems to be a sensible, honest, and
-straightforward person, strong in his convictions,
-ardently religious, and yet abhorring
-the excesses of credulity and irrational
-enthusiasm. The substance of
-his pamphlet was delivered by him as
-an address before a meeting of Methodist
-ministers, and is principally directed
-against some pretences to miraculous
-powers and wonderful cure-working within
-his own denomination. So far as this
-goes, his effort is quite successful, particularly
-in regard to a certain Rev. Mr.
-Platt, who professes to have been cured
-of an obstinate infirmity by the prayers,
-accompanied by the imposition of hands,
-of a lady by the name of Miss Mossman.
-His particular object led him, however,
-to advance some general propositions respecting
-real and supposititious miracles,
-and to sustain these by arguments and
-appeals to so-called facts, real or assumed,
-having a much wider range and application
-than is embraced by his special
-and immediate purpose. As an <i lang="la">argumentum
-ad hominem</i>, his plea may have been
-quite sufficient and convincing to his
-particular audience; but as addressed
-to a wider circle in the form of a published
-pamphlet, it appears to be somewhat
-deficient in the quality and quantity
-of the proofs alleged in support of its
-great amplitude and confidence of assertion.
-It is also defective in respect to
-the definition and division of the subject-matter.
-To begin with his definition of
-miracle: “A true miracle is an event
-which involves the setting aside or contradiction
-of the established and uniform
-relations of antecedents and consequents;
-such event being produced at the will
-of an agent not working in the way of
-physical cause and effect, for the purpose
-of demonstration, or punishment, or deliverance.”
-This definition errs by excess
-and defect&mdash;by excess, in including
-the scope or end as a part of the essence;
-by defect, in excluding effects produced
-by an act of divine power which is above
-all established and uniform relations of
-antecedents and consequents. This last
-fault is not of much practical importance
-in respect to the question of the
-miracles by which a divine revelation is
-proved, or of ecclesiastical miracles; because
-those which are simply above nature,
-called by S. Thomas miracles of the
-first order&mdash;as the Incarnation and the glorification
-of the body of Christ&mdash;are very
-few in number, and are more objects than
-evidences of faith. The first error, however,
-confuses the subject, and opens the
-way to a summary rejection of evidence
-for particular miracles on the <i lang="la">à priori</i>
-ground that they have not that scope which
-has been defined by the author as necessary
-to a true miracle. It is evident that God
-cannot give supernatural power to perform
-works whose end is bad or which
-are simply useless. But we cannot determine
-precisely what end is sufficient,
-in the view of God, for enabling a person
-to work a miracle, except so far as we
-learn this by induction and the evidence
-of facts which are proved. Mr. Buckley
-affirms positively that the end of miracles
-was solely the authentication of the
-divine legation of Christ and his forerunners
-in the mission of making known
-the divine revelation. Consequently
-from this assumption, he asserts that
-miracles ceased very early in the history
-of Christianity. He also professes to
-have “shown, by the proof of facts, that
-miracles have ceased. If the great Reformation
-in Germany, Switzerland, and
-Scotland, if Methodism, had no miracles;
-if the missionaries of the Cross [<i>i.e.</i>, Protestant]
-are powerless to work them; and
-if the best men and women of all branches
-of the [Protestant] church are without
-this power, then indeed must they have
-ceased.” No one will dispute the logical
-sequence or material truth of this
-conclusion, so far as it does not extend
-beyond its own premises. He has made
-it, however, a general conclusion, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_857" id="Page_857">[857]</a></span>
-promises to prove it by “conclusive and
-irresistible proof.” He is therefore bound
-to prove that miracles had ceased from
-an early epoch in the universal church,
-including the whole period before the
-XVIth century, and in respect to all
-Christian bodies except Protestants from
-that time to the present. In respect to
-the former period, his whole proof consists
-in a statement that no person of
-candor and judgment who has read the
-ante-Nicene fathers will conclude it
-probable that miracles continued much
-beyond the beginning of the IId century,
-and in the assertion “that they have
-ceased we have proved to a demonstration.”
-In respect to supposed miracles
-during the latter period in the Catholic
-Church, the proof that none of them are
-true miracles is contained in the statement
-that “the opinion of the Protestant
-world is settled” on that head. Very
-good, Mr. Buckley! Such logical
-accuracy, united with the intuitive insight
-of genius, is a conclusive proof that the
-“assistances which our age enjoys”
-have amazingly shortened and simplified
-the tedious processes by which “that
-indigested heap and fry of authors which
-they call antiquity” were obliged to
-investigate truth and acquire knowledge.
-The reverend gentleman tells us that
-“I have for some years past been reading,
-as I have found leisure, that magnificent
-translation of the ante-Nicene fathers
-published by T. &amp; T. Clark, of Edinburgh,
-in about twenty five volumes.
-To say that I have been astonished is to
-speak feebly.” Probably the astonishment
-of Origen, Justin Martyr, and
-Irenæus would be no less, and would
-be more forcibly expressed, if they could
-resume their earthly life and peruse the
-remarkable address before us. If its
-author will read the account of the miracles
-of SS. Gervasius and Protasius given
-by S. Ambrose, the <cite>City of God</cite> of S. Augustine,
-the <cite>Ecclesiastical History</cite> of Ven. Bede,
-and Dr. Newman’s <cite>Essay on Ecclesiastical
-Miracles</cite>, we can promise him that he
-will experience a still greater degree of
-astonishment than he did on the perusal
-of the ante-Nicene fathers. Mr. Buckley
-appears to be in <i lang="la">bona fide</i>, and is
-probably a much better man than many
-whose knowledge is more extensive.
-The hallucination of mind which produces
-in him the belief that he stands on
-a higher intellectual plane than Clement
-of Alexandria and Cyprian in ancient
-times, or Petavius, Kleutgen, Bayma,
-and “Jesuits” in general, is so simply
-astounding, and the credulity requisite
-to a firm assent to his own statements as
-“demonstrations” is so much beyond
-that which was, in the olden time, shown
-by believing in the “phœnix,” that he
-must be sincere, though very much in
-need of information. We cannot help
-feeling that he is worthy of knowing
-better, and would be convinced of the
-truth if it were set before him fairly.
-It is plain that he has no knowledge of
-the evidence which exists of a series of
-miracles wrought in the Catholic Church
-continuously from the times of the apostles
-to our own day, and which cannot
-be rejected without subverting the evidence
-on which the truth of all miracles
-whatsoever is based. The number of
-these which are considered by prudent
-Catholic writers to be quite certain or
-probable is beyond reckoning, though
-still very small in comparison with ordinary
-events and the experiences of the
-whole number of Catholics in all ages.
-Those of the most extraordinary magnitude
-are relatively much fewer in number
-than those which are less wonderful,
-as, for instance, the raising of the dead to
-life. Nevertheless, there are instances
-of this kind&mdash;<i>e.g.</i>, those related of S.
-Dominic, S. Bernard, S. Teresa, and S.
-Francis Xavier&mdash;which, to say the least,
-have a <i lang="la">primâ facie</i> probability. One of
-another kind is the perpetually-recurring
-miracle of the liquefaction of the blood
-of S. Januarius. The miraculous and
-complete cure of Mrs. Mattingly, of Washington,
-is an instance which occurred in
-our own country, and which, among many
-other intelligent Protestants, John C.
-Calhoun considered as most undoubtedly
-effected by miraculous agency. We
-mention one more only&mdash;the restoration
-of the destroyed vision of one eye by
-the application of the water of Lourdes,
-in the case of Bourriette, as related by
-M. Lasserre. We are rather more cautious
-in professing to have demonstrated
-the continuance of miracles than our
-reverend friend has been in respect to
-the contrary. We profess merely to show
-that his demonstration requires a serious
-refutation of the arguments in favor of
-the proposition he denies, and to bring
-forward some considerations in proof of
-the title which these arguments have to
-a respectful and candid examination.
-Moreover, though we cannot pretend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_858" id="Page_858">[858]</a></span>
-to prove anything, <i lang="la">hic et nunc</i>, by conclusive
-evidence and reasoning, we
-refer to the articles on the miracle of
-S. Januarius, and to the translation of
-M. Lasserre’s book, in our own pages,
-as containing evidence for two of the
-instances alluded to, and to the works
-of Bishop England for the evidence in
-Mrs. Mattingly’s case.</p>
-
-<p>Besides those supernatural effects or
-events which can only be produced by a
-divine power acting immediately on the
-subject, there are other marvellous effects
-which in themselves require only a
-supermundane power, and are merely preternatural,
-using nature in the sense
-which excludes all beyond our own
-world and our human nature. Other
-unusual events, again, may appear to be
-preternatural, but may be proved, or
-reasonably conjectured, to proceed from
-a merely natural cause. Here is a debatable
-land, where the truth is attainable
-with more difficulty, generally with
-less certainty, and where there is abundant
-chance for unreasonable credulity
-and equally unreasonable scepticism to
-lose their way in opposite directions.
-Mr. Buckley summarily refers all the
-strange phenomena to be found among
-pagan religions to jugglery and fanaticism.
-Spiritism he dismisses without a
-word of comment, implying that he considers
-it to be in no sense preternatural.
-We differ from him in opinion in respect
-to this point also. We have no doubt
-that many alleged instances of preternatural
-events are to be explained by
-natural causes, and many others by jugglery
-and imposture. We cannot, for
-ourselves, find a reasonable explanation
-of a certain number of well-proved facts
-in regard to both paganism and spiritism,
-except on the hypothesis of preternatural
-agency. The nature of that
-agency cannot be determined without recurring
-to theological science. Catholic
-theology determines such cases by referring
-them to the agency of demons.
-Mr. Buckley is afraid to admit that the
-alleged “miracles were real and wrought
-by devils.” “If so,” he continues, “we
-may ask, in the language of Job, Where
-and what is God?” We answer to this
-that God does not permit demons to deceive
-men to such an extent as to cause
-the ruin of their souls, except through
-their own wilful and culpable submission
-to these deceits. It makes no difference
-whether the delusion produced is
-referred to jugglery or demonology in
-respect to this particular question.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Formation of Christendom.</span>
-Part Third. By T. W. Allies. London:
-Longmans &amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Allies dedicates this volume, in very
-beautiful and appropriate terms, to Dr.
-Newman, who, he says in classic and
-graceful phrase, having once been “the
-Hector of a doomed Troy,” is now “the
-Achilles of the city of God.” The particular
-topic of the book is the relation
-of Greek philosophy to the Christian
-church. A remarkable chapter on the
-foundation of the Roman Church, in
-which great use is made of the discoveries
-of archæologists, precedes the treatment
-of the Neostoic, Neopythagorean,
-and Neoplatonic schools, with cognate
-topics. One of the most interesting and
-novel chapters is that on Apollonius of
-Tyana, whose wonderful life, as related
-by Philostratus, the author regards as a
-philosophic and anti-Christian myth invented
-by the above-mentioned pagan
-writer, with only a slight basis of historical
-truth. Mr. Allies has studied the
-deep, thoughtful works of those German
-authors who give a truly intelligent and
-connected history of philosophy, and his
-work is a valuable contribution to that
-branch of science, as well as to the history
-of Christianity. One of the most
-irresistible proofs of the divine mission
-and divine personality of Jesus Christ
-lies in the blending of the elements of
-Hellenic genius and culture, Jewish
-faith, and Roman law into a new composite,
-by a new form, when he founded his
-universal kingdom. A mere man, by
-his own natural power, and under the
-circumstances in which he lived, could
-not have conceived such an idea, much
-less have carried it into execution. The
-most ineffably stupid, as well as atrociously
-wicked, of all impostors and
-philosophical charlatans are those apostate
-Christians who strive to drag Christianity
-down to the level of the pagan
-systems of religion and philosophy, and
-reduce it to a mere natural phenomenon.
-Mr. Allies shows this in a work which
-combines erudition with a grace of style
-formed on classic models, and an enlightened,
-fervent Catholic spirit, imbibed
-from the fathers and doctors of the
-church. At a time when the popular
-philosophy is decked in false hair and
-mock-jewels, as a stage-queen, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_859" id="Page_859">[859]</a></span>
-cheering to find here and there a votary
-of that genuine philosophy whose beauty
-is native and real, and who willingly
-proclaims her own subjection and inferiority
-by humbly saying, <i lang="la">Ecce ancilla
-Domini</i>.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The American Catholic Quarterly
-Review.</span> Vol. I. No. 1. January,
-1876. Philadelphia: Hardy &amp; Mahony.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>A very large number of the most highly
-gifted and learned Catholics throughout
-Christendom, both clergymen and laymen,
-are at present employed in writing for
-the reviews of various classes which have
-existed for a greater or lesser period of
-time within the present century. Much
-of the very best literature of the age is to
-be found in their articles, and a very considerable
-part of this is of permanent
-value. In solid merit of matter and style,
-and in adaptation to the wants of the time,
-the best of these periodicals have improved
-steadily, and we may say of some
-of them that they hardly admit of any
-farther progress. The advantage of such
-periodicals is not only very great for their
-readers, but almost equally so for those
-who are engaged in contributing to their
-contents. The effort and practice of writing
-constantly for the public react upon
-the writers. Each one is encouraged and
-instructed in the most useful and effective
-method of directing his studies and giving
-verbal expression to their results, so
-as to attain the practical end he has in
-view&mdash;that of disseminating and diffusing
-knowledge over as wide an extent as possible.
-The combination of various writers,
-each having one or more specialties,
-under a competent editorial direction
-secures variety and versatility without
-prejudice to unity, and corrects the excesses
-or defects of individuality without
-checking originality, thus giving to the
-resulting work in some respects a superiority
-over that which is the product of
-one single mind, unless that mind possesses
-the gifts and acquisitions in <i lang="la">modo
-eminenti</i> which are usually found divided
-among a number of different persons. To
-conduct a review alone is a herculean
-task, and Dr. Brownson has accomplished
-a work which is really astonishing in
-maintaining, almost by unaided effort,
-through so many years, a periodical of
-the high rank accorded by common consent
-to the one which bore his name and
-will be his perpetual monument. That,
-at the present juncture, a new review is
-necessary and has a fine field open before
-it; that in its management ecclesiastical
-direction and episcopal control are requisite
-for adequate security and weight with
-the Catholic public; and that full opportunity
-for efficient co-operation on the
-part of laymen of talent and education is
-most desirable, cannot admit of a moment’s
-doubt. It is therefore a matter of
-heart-felt congratulation that the favorable
-moment has been so promptly seized
-and the vacant place so quickly occupied
-by the gentlemen who have undertaken
-the editing and the publishing of the
-<cite>American Catholic Quarterly</cite>. It is probably
-known to most, if not all, of our readers
-that the editors are Dr. Corcoran, professor
-in the Ecclesiastical Seminary of
-Philadelphia; Dr. O’Connor, the rector
-of that institution; and Mr. Wolff, who
-has long and ably edited the Philadelphia
-<cite>Catholic Standard</cite>. It would be difficult to
-find in the United States an equally competent
-triad. The publishers, who have
-already the experience acquired by the
-management of a literary magazine and
-a newspaper, will, we may reasonably
-hope, be able to sustain the financial burden
-of this greater undertaking in a successful
-manner, if they receive the support
-which they have a right to expect,
-by means of their subscription list. The
-first number of the new review presents
-a typographical face which is quite peculiar
-to itself and decidedly attractive.
-Its contents, besides articles from each
-of the editors, are composed of contributions
-from three clergymen and two laymen,
-embracing a considerable variety of
-topics. The clerical contributors are the
-Right Reverend Bishops Lynch and Becker,
-and the Rev. Drs. Corcoran, O’Connor,
-and McGlynn. The lay contributors
-are Dr. Brownson, John Gilmary Shea,
-and Mr. Wolff. The names of F. Thébaud,
-Dr. Marshall, and General Gibbon
-are among those announced for the next
-number. We extend a cordial greeting
-with our best wishes to the <cite>American
-Catholic Quarterly Review</cite>.</p>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">Manual of Catholic Indian Missionary
-Associations.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The Indian question continues to be
-one of the most troublesome in our national
-politics. Its only real solution&mdash;and
-we believe this to be President Grant’s
-opinion&mdash;is to Christianize the Indians.
-The task is undoubtedly a hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_860" id="Page_860">[860]</a></span>
-one, but it would be far less so if wolves
-in sheep’s clothing had not been sent
-among them. The only successful attempt
-at civilizing the Indians has been
-made by Catholic missionaries. But
-under the administration of the Indian
-Bureau, the utter rottenness of which has
-been so recently exposed, missions and
-reservations have been thrown to this religious
-agency and that without the
-slightest regard for the wishes of those
-who, it is to be supposed, were most to
-be benefited by the operation&mdash;the Indians
-themselves. In this way flourishing
-Catholic missions were turned over to the
-Methodist or other denominations, and
-the representations of the missionaries,
-as well as of the chiefs and tribes themselves,
-were of no avail whatever to alter
-so iniquitous a proceeding. This little
-manual gives a brief sketch of the status
-of Catholic Indians and working of the
-Bureau of Indian Missions. It contains
-also an earnest appeal to the Catholic ladies
-of the United States from the “Ladies’
-Catholic Indian Missionary Association
-of Washington, D. C.,” urging contributions
-and the formation of similar associations
-throughout the country to aid
-in sustaining the Catholic Indian missions.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>A CORRECTION.</h3>
-
-<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">To the Editor of The Catholic
-World</span>:</p>
-
-<p>I have just received, through the Catholic
-Publication Society, the following
-card from Mr. Gladstone:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>“Mr. Gladstone desires to send with his
-compliments his thanks to the Society
-for a copy, which he has received, of Dr.
-Clarke’s interesting paper on <cite>Maryland
-Toleration</cite>. Having simply cited his authorities,
-and used them, as he thinks,
-fairly, he will be glad to learn, if he can,
-the manner in which they meet the challenge
-conveyed in the latter portion
-of this paper. Mr. Gladstone’s present
-object is to say he would be greatly
-obliged by a <em>reference</em> to enable him to
-trace the “irreverent words” imputed to
-him on page 6, as his <cite>Vatican Decrees</cite> have
-no page 83, and he is not aware of having
-penned such a passage.</p>
-
-<p>“<span class="smcap">4 Carlton Gardens</span>, <span class="smcap">London</span>, Jan. 24, 1856.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Mr. Gladstone is right in disclaiming
-the words imputed to him in this instance.
-They are, on investigation, found
-to be the words of the Rev. Dr. Schaff. The
-Messrs. Harper, the American publishers
-of Mr. Gladstone’s tracts, are largely responsible
-for the mistake, by having inserted
-in their publication a tract of Dr.
-Schaff, paged in common, and all covered
-by the outside title of “<cite>Rome and the
-Newest Fashions in Religion. Gladstone</cite>,”
-and by the title-page giving the authorship
-“By the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone.”
-To a writer making selections as needed
-from different portions of this book the
-mistake was easy and natural; and
-though the authorship of Dr. Schaff’s
-<cite>History of the Vatican Decrees</cite> containing
-the passage in question is given, it is not
-so given as easily to reach the eye, and
-is obscured by the introduction of Dr.
-Schaff’s tract into a volume under Mr.
-Gladstone’s name, and by paging Dr.
-Schaff’s <cite>History</cite> in common with Mr.
-Gladstone’s <cite>Vaticanism</cite>. On page 83 of
-<em>this</em> publication of the Messrs. Harper
-the “irreverent words” are found. I
-am only too much gratified at Mr. Gladstone’s
-disowning them, and hasten, on
-my part, to make this correction through
-your columns, in which my reply to Mr.
-Gladstone on <cite>Maryland Toleration</cite> first
-appeared, and to beg his acceptance of
-this <i lang="fr">amende honorable</i>.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Rich. H. Clarke</span></p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">51 Chambers Street</span>, <span class="smcap">New York</span>, February 10,
-1876.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<p>In a notice, which appeared in last
-month’s <span class="smcap">Catholic World</span>, of certain
-works published by Herder, Freiburg, it
-was stated that the publications of that
-house are imported by the firm of Benziger
-Bros. Mr. Herder has a branch
-house in St. Louis, Missouri, where all
-his publications may be procured.</p>
-
-<hr class="section" />
-
-<h3>PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.</h3>
-
-<div class="hanging">
-
-<p>The First Annual Report of the New York Society
-for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.</p>
-
-<p>Landreth’s Rural Register and Almanac, 1876.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="footnotes">
-
-<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <cite>Queen Mary</cite>: A Drama. By Alfred Tennyson,
-D.C.L. Boston: J. R. Osgood &amp; Co. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> It is proper to state that the present criticism is
-not by the writer of the article on Mr. Tennyson in
-<span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span> for May, 1868.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The preceding article was ready for the printers
-before a copy fell into our hands of <cite>Mary Stuart</cite>&mdash;a
-drama by Sir Aubrey de Vere&mdash;a poem which it
-had not been our good fortune to have read before.
-The public would seem to have exhibited an appreciation
-of this work we should scarcely have expected
-from them, for it is, we believe, out of print.
-For ourselves, we must say that for poetical conception,
-appreciation and development of the several
-personages of the drama, it appears to us to be very
-much superior to <cite>Queen Mary</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The title of captal (from <i lang="la">capitalis</i>) was formerly
-a common one among Aquitaine lords, but
-was gradually laid aside. The Captals de Buch
-and Trente were the last to bear it.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> In the Journal of the Sisters of Charity of that
-time we read:</p>
-
-<p>“Jan. 22.&mdash;M. Vincent arrived at eleven o’clock
-in the evening, bringing us two children; one perhaps
-six days old, the other older. Both were crying.…”</p>
-
-<p>“Jan. 25.&mdash;The streets are full of snow. We are
-expecting M. Vincent.”</p>
-
-<p>“Jan. 26.&mdash;Poor M. Vincent is chilled through.
-He has brought us an infant.…”</p>
-
-<p>“Feb. 1.&mdash;The archbishop came to see us. We
-are in great need of public charity! M. Vincent
-places no limit to his ardent love for poor children.”</p>
-
-<p>And when their resources are exhausted, the saint
-makes the following pathetic appeal to the patronesses:
-“Compassion has led you to adopt these
-little creatures as your own children. You are their
-mothers according to grace, as their mothers by nature
-have abandoned them. Will you also abandon
-them in your turn? Their life and death are in
-your hands. I am going to take your vote on the
-point. The charity you give or refuse is a terrible
-decision in your hands. It is time to pronounce
-their sentence, and learn if you will no longer have
-pity on them.”&mdash;<cite>Sermon of S. Vincent to the Ladies
-of Charity</cite> in 1648.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <cite>The Earl of Castlehaven’s Review</cite>; or, His
-Memoirs of His Engagement and Carriage in the
-Irish Wars. Enlarged and corrected. With an Appendix
-and Postscript. London: Printed for Charles
-Brome at the Gun in St. Paul’s Churchyard. 1684.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This was the title given at one time by the
-French courtiers to Frederick I.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Their first condition for a suspension of arms was
-a payment to them of £25,000 per month. These
-were in large part the same forces who afterwards
-sold their fugitive king for so many pounds sterling
-to the Parliament, violating the rights of sanctuary
-and hospitality, held sacred by the most barbarous
-races. It is curious to observe the supreme boldness
-with which Macaulay and the popular writers
-of the radical school essay to gloss over the dishonorable
-transactions affecting the parliamentary
-side in this contest between the King and Commons.
-The veriest dastards become heroes; and the first
-canting cut-throat is safe to be made a martyr of in
-their pages for conscience’ sake and the rights of
-man.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> <cite>Apol. vii.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> <cite>Fundam. Phil.</cite> lib. vii. c. 7.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <cite>Phil. Fundam.</cite> lib. vii. c. 7.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Italian proverb: “If not true, it deserves to be
-true.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Written during the Pope’s exile, 1848</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> <cite>The Secret Warfare of Freemasonry against
-the Church and State.</cite> Translated from the
-German, with an Introduction. London: Burns,
-Oates &amp; Co. 1875. (New York: The Catholic Publication
-Society.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> S. Mark xiii. 22.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> “Vos ergo videte; ecce, prædixi vobis omnia.”&mdash;Ib.
-23.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> “Videte, vigilate, et orate: nescitis enim, quando
-tempus sit.”&mdash;Ib. 33.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> “Vigilate ergo … ne, cum venerit repente, inveniat
-vos dormientes.”&mdash;Ib. 35, 36.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> “Quod autem vobis dico, omnibus dico: Vigilate!”&mdash;Ib.
-37.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> “Sine parabola autem non loquebatur eis; seorsum
-autem discipulis suis disserebat omnia.”&mdash;S.
-Mark iv. 34.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> “Vobis datum est nosse mysterium regni Dei:
-illis autem, qui foris sunt, in parabolis omnia
-fiunt.”&mdash;Ib. 11.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> “Nescitis parabolam hanc; et quomodo omnes
-parabolas cognoscetis.”&mdash;Ib. 13.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> “Nisi venerit discessio primum, et revelatus fuerit
-homo peccati, filius perditionis, qui adversatur et extollitur
-supra omne, quod dicitur Deus, aut quod colitur
-ita ut in templo Dei sedeat, ostendens se, tamquam
-sit Deus.… Et nunc quid detineat, scitis, ut
-reveletur in suo tempore. Nam mysterium jam operatur
-iniquitatis, tantum ut qui tenet nunc, teneat, donec
-de medio fiat. Et tunc revelabitur ille iniquus (ὁ
-άνομος), quem Dominus Jesus interficiet spiritu oris
-sui, et destruet illustratione adventus sui cum; cujus
-est adventus secundum operationem Satanæ in
-omni virtute, et signis et prodigiis mendacibus, et
-in omni seductione iniquitatis iis, qui pereunt; eo
-quod caritatem veritatis non receperunt, ut salvi
-fierent. Ideo mittet illis Deus operationem erroris,
-ut credant mendacio, ut judicentur omnes, qui non
-crediderunt veritati, sed consenserunt iniquitati.”&mdash;2
-Thess. ii. 3-11.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> “Spiritus autem manifeste dicit, quia in novissimis
-temporibus discedent quidam a fide, attendentes
-spiritibus erroris et doctrinis dæmoniorum; in hypocrisi
-loquentium mendacium, et cauteriatam habentium
-suam conscientiam.”&mdash;1 Tim. iv. 1, 2.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> “Hoc autem scito, quod in novissimis diebus instabunt
-tempora periculosa: erunt homines seipsos
-amantes, cupidi, elati, superbi, blasphemi, parentibus
-non obedientes, ingrati, scelesti, sine affectione,
-sine pace, criminatores, incontinentes, immites
-sine benignitate, proditores, protervi, timidi, et
-voluptatum amatores magis quam Dei, habentes
-speciem quidem pietatis, virtutem autem ejus
-abnegantes.”&mdash;2 Tim. iii. 1-5.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> “Venient in novissimis diebus in deceptione illusores,
-juxta proprias concupiscentias ambulantes.”&mdash;2 Peter iii. 3.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> “In novissimo tempore venient illusores, secundum,
-desideria sua ambulantes in impietatibus. Hi
-sunt, qui segregant semetipsos, animales, Spiritum
-non habentes.”&mdash;S. Jud. 18, 19.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> “Filioli, novissima hora est, et sicut audistis,
-quia Antichristus venit, et nunc Antichristi multi
-facti sunt: unde scimus, quia novissima hora est.…
-Hic est Antichristus qui negat Patrem et Filium.”&mdash;1
-S. John ii. 18, 22.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> “Et omnis spiritus qui solvit Jesum, ex Deo non
-est; et hic est Antichristus, de quo audistis, quoniam
-venit, et nunc jam in mundo est.”&mdash;Ib. iv. 3.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> “Si quis habet aurem, audiat.”&mdash;Apoc. xiii. 9.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> “Hic sapientia est. Qui habet intellectum computet
-numerum bestiæ.”&mdash;Ib. 18</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> <cite>Histoire de la Révolution Française</cite>, v. ii. c. 3.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> <cite>The Secret Warfare of Freemasonry</cite>, p. 123.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Ibid. 124.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Those in this country who respect religion, law,
-and the peace of society should not be imposed upon
-by the aspect of Freemasonry here. The principles
-and modes of acting of the society are those we
-have described. The application of them depends
-wholly on time, place, and circumstances. The ordinary
-observer sees nothing in the members of the
-craft here but a number of inoffensive individuals,
-who belong to a <i lang="fr">soi-disant</i> benevolent association
-which, by means of secret signs, enables them to get
-out of the clutches of the law, procure employment
-and office, and obtain other advantages not possessed
-by the rest of their fellow-citizens. But then the
-innocent rank and file are the dead weight which
-the society employs, on occasion, to aid in compassing
-its ulterior designs. Here there are no civil or
-religious institutions which stand in their way, and
-their mode of action is to sap and mine the morals
-of the community, on which society rests, and with
-which it must perish. Of what it is capable, if it
-seems needful to compassing its ends, any one may
-understand by the fiendish murder of William Morgan.
-This murder was decided on at a lodge-meeting
-directed by Freemason officials, <em>in pursuance
-of the rules of the craft</em>, and was perpetrated by
-Freemasons bearing a respectable character, who had
-never before been guilty of a criminal action, who
-were known, yet were never punished nor even tried,
-but died a natural death, and who do not appear to
-have experienced any loss of reputation for their
-foul deed. (See Mr. Thurlow Weed’s recent letter
-to the New York <cite>Herald</cite>.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Before we proceed to expose the even yet more
-hideous loathsomeness of this vile association, a few
-words of explanation are necessary. In all we write
-we have in view an organization&mdash;its constitution
-and motives&mdash;and that only. The individual responsibility
-of its several members is a matter for
-their own conscience; it is no affair of ours. We
-believe that the bulk of the association, all up to the
-thirtieth degree, or “Knights of the White Eagle,”
-or “Kadosch,” are in complete ignorance of the
-hellish criminality of its objects. Even the Rosicrucian
-has something to learn; although to have become
-that he must have stamped himself with the
-mark of Antichrist by the abandonment of his belief
-in Christ and in all revealed religion. But the
-vast majority, whose numbers, influence, and respectability
-the dark leaders use for the furtherance
-of their monstrous designs, live and die in complete
-ignorance of the real objects and principles of the
-craft. We ourselves know an instance of an individual,
-now reconciled to the church, who was once a
-Master Mason, and who to this moment is in utter
-ignorance of them. They are sedulously concealed
-from all who have not dispossessed themselves of the
-“prejudices of religion and morality.” The author
-of the work to which we are indebted for almost all
-our documentary evidence mentions the case of one
-who had advanced to the high grade of Rosicrucian,
-but who, not until he was initiated into the grade
-of Kadosch, was completely stunned and horrified
-by the demoniacal disclosures poured into his ears.
-Most of the Freemasons, however, have joined the
-body as a mere philanthropic institution, or on the
-lower motive of self-interest. Nor is it possible to
-convince these people of the fearful consequences to
-which they are contributing. Of course, but few
-of these, it is to be hoped, are involved in the full
-guilt of the “craft.” Every Catholic who belongs
-to it is in mortal sin. For the rest, we cannot but
-hope and believe that an overwhelming majority are
-innocent of any sinister motives. But it is impossible
-to exonerate them entirely. For, first, the
-“craft” is now pursuing its operations with such
-unblushing effrontery that it is difficult for any but
-illiterate people to plead entire ignorance; and
-next, no one can, without moral guilt, bind himself
-by terrible oaths, for the breaking of which he consents
-to be assassinated, to keep inviolable secrets
-with the nature of which he is previously unacquainted.
-It cannot but be to his everlasting peril
-that any one permits himself to be branded with
-this “mark of the beast.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> <cite>Secret Warfare of Freemasonry</cite>, pp. 51, 52.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Ib. p. 65.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Ib. 207.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Ib. pp. 196-8.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> This journal, at the time of the first initiation
-of the Prince of Wales into the “craft,” in an article
-on that event, heaped contempt and ridicule on
-the whole affair. A recent article on the young
-man’s initiation as Master may satisfy the most exacting
-Mason.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> The writer refers to the highest grades.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> <cite>Secret Warfare of Freemasonry</cite>, pp. 232, 233.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> <cite>Utopia.</cite> By Sir Thomas More.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> A sort of divan, not unusual in the East at the
-present day. The sultan, when receiving a visit
-of ceremony, sits on a sort of sofa or post-bed. Traces
-of it were also found in the “palaces” of Ashantec.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> “The new spirit made its appearance in the
-world about the XVIth century. Its end is to substitute
-a new society for that of the Middle Ages.
-Hence the necessity that the first modern revolution
-should be a religious one.… It was Germany
-and Luther that produced it.”&mdash;Cousin, <cite>Cours
-d’hist. de la philos.</cite>, p. 7, Paris, 1841.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> “Non a prætoris edicto, ut plerique nunc,
-neque a duo decim Tabulis, ut superiores, sed
-penitus ex intima philosophia haurienda est juris
-disciplina.”&mdash;Cic., <cite>De legib.</cite> lib. i.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Cic., <cite>de fin. bon. et malor.</cite> i. 11.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Plato, <cite>Des lois</cite>, liv. i.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> “Illud stultissimum (est), existimare omnia justa
-esse, quæ scripta sint in populorum institutis et legibus.”&mdash;<cite>De
-legibus.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> “Neque opinione sed natura constitutum esse
-jus.”&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> “Sæculis omnibus ante nata est, (ante) quam
-scripta lex ulla, aut quam omnino civitas constituta.”&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> “Quidam corum quædam magna, <em>quantum divinitus
-adjuti sunt</em>, invenerunt.”&mdash;S. Aug., <cite>Civit.
-Dei</cite>, i. ii. c. 7.</p>
-
-<p>“Has scientias dederunt philosophi et illustrati
-sunt; Deus enim illis <em>revelavit</em>.”&mdash;S. Bonavent.,
-<cite>Lum. Eccl.</cite>, Serm. 5.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> The two following paragraphs are taken freely
-from the treatise <cite>De legibus</cite>, passim.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> The following paragraph is also taken from
-Cicero.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> “Erat lux vera quæ illuminat omnem hominem
-venientem in hunc mundum.”&mdash;S. Joan., i. 9.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> “Et vita erat lux hominum … in tenebris
-lucet, et tenebræ eam non comprehenderunt.”&mdash;Id.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> <cite>Cont. gent.</cite> iv. 13.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> V. Lassalle, <cite>Das System der erworbenen
-Rechte</cite>, i. 2, not. à la pag. 70.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_60" id="Footnote_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> <cite>Considerat. sur la France.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_61" id="Footnote_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> <cite>Arbeiter Programm.</cite>, v. Ferd. Lassalle.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_62" id="Footnote_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> <cite>Du suffrage universel et de la manière de
-voter.</cite> Par H. Taine. Paris: Hachette, 1872.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_63" id="Footnote_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> Bergier, after Tertullian.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_64" id="Footnote_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> De Maistre, <cite>Princip. générat.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_65" id="Footnote_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in France.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_66" id="Footnote_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> <cite>Corresp. entre le Comte de Mirabeau et le
-Comte de la Marck.</cite> Paris: Le Normant. 1851.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_67" id="Footnote_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> <cite>Politique.</cite> l. i. c.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_68" id="Footnote_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> <cite>De civit. Dei.</cite> 19.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_69" id="Footnote_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> <cite>De rebus publ. et princip. institut.</cite>, l. iii. c. 9.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_70" id="Footnote_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> <cite>Reflections on the French Revolution.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_71" id="Footnote_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> “Universa propter semetipsum operatus est
-Dominus.”&mdash;Proverbs xvi. 4.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_72" id="Footnote_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> <cite>Polit.</cite>, vii. 2.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_73" id="Footnote_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> Id. ibid. c. 1.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_74" id="Footnote_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Aristotle knew no other state than the city.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_75" id="Footnote_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> Isaias xxxiii. See also the words of Jesus to Pilate:
-“Tu dicis quia Rex ego sum.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_76" id="Footnote_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> “Dabo legem in visceribus eorum.”&mdash;Jer. xxxi.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_77" id="Footnote_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> <cite>Viri protestantici ad summum Pontificem
-appellatio.</cite>&mdash;Londini, Wyman et fil, 1869.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_78" id="Footnote_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> M. Em. Montaigut, in the <cite>Revue des Deux
-Mondes</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_79" id="Footnote_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> M. Le Play.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_80" id="Footnote_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> De Maistre, <cite>Considerat. sur la France</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_81" id="Footnote_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> <cite>Fundam. Phil.</cite>, book vii. ch. 6.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_82" id="Footnote_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> Sicut punctum se habet ad lineam, ita se habet
-nunc ad tempus. Si imaginemur punctum quiescere,
-non poterimus imaginari ipsum esse causam lineæ:
-si vero imaginemur ipsum moveri, licet in ipso nulla
-sit dimensio, nec aliqua divisio per consequens, per
-naturam tamen motus sui relinquitur aliquid divisibile.…
-Illud tamen punctum non est de lineæ essentia;
-quia nihil unum et idem realiter omnimodis
-indivisibile potest simul in diversis partibus ejusdem
-continui permanentis esse.… Punctum ergo
-mathematice imaginatum, quod motu suo causat
-lineam, necessario nihil lineæ erit: sed erit unum
-secundum rem, et diversum secundum rationem; et
-hæc diversitas, quæ consistit in motu suo, realiter
-est in linea, non identitas sua secundum rem.…
-Eodem vero modo instans, quod est mensura mobilis
-sequens ipsum, est unum secundum rem, quum
-nihil pereat de substantia ipsius mobilis, cuius instans
-est mensura inseparabilis, sed diversum et diversum
-secundum rationem. Et hæc ejus diversitas
-est tempus essentialiter.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_83" id="Footnote_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> Quia motus primus unus est, tempus est unum,
-mensurans omnes motus simul actos.&mdash;Opusc. 44,
-<cite>De tempore</cite>, c. 2.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_84" id="Footnote_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> Stans et movens se non videntur differre secundum
-substantiam, sed solum secundum rationem.
-Nunc autem æternitatis est stans, et nunc temporis
-fluens; quare non videntur differre nisi ratione sola&mdash;<cite>De
-tempore</cite>, c. 4.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_85" id="Footnote_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> Ista non possunt habere veritatem secundum
-ea, quæ determinata sunt. Visum est enim, quod
-æternitas et tempus essentialiter differunt. Item
-quæcumque se habent ut causa et causatum, essentialiter
-differunt; nunc autem æternitatis, quum
-non differat ab æternitate nisi sola ratione, est causa
-temporis, et nunc ipsius, ut dictum est. Quare
-nunc temporis et nunc æternitatis essentialiter differunt.
-Præterea nunc temporis est continuativum
-præteriti cum futuro; nunc autem æternitatis non
-est continuativum præteriti cum futuro, quia in
-æternitate non est prius nec posterius, nec præteritum,
-nec futurum, sed tota æternitas est tota simul.
-Nec valet ratio in oppositum, quum dicitur quod
-stans et fluens non differunt per essentiam. Verum
-est in omni eo quod contingit stare et fluens esse;
-tamen stans quod nullo modo contingit fluere, et fluens,
-quod nullo modo contingit stare, differunt per
-essentiam. Talia autem sunt nunc æternitatis, et
-nunc temporis.&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_86" id="Footnote_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> <cite>Summa Theol.</cite>, p. 1, q. 46, a. 2.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_87" id="Footnote_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> Novitas mundi non potest demonstrationem
-recipere ex parte ipsius mundi. Demonstrationis
-enim principium est quod quid est. Unumquodque
-autem secundum rationem suæ speciei abstrahit
-ab hic et nunc; propter quod dicitur quod universalia
-sunt ubique et semper. Unde demonstrari non
-potest quod homo, aut cœlum, aut lapis non semper
-fuit.&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_88" id="Footnote_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> Sicut enim si pes ab æternitate semper fuisset in
-pulvere, semper subesset vestigium, quod a calcante
-factum nemo dubitaret, sic et mundus semper fuit,
-semper existente qui fecit.&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_89" id="Footnote_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> Et hoc utile est ut consideretur, ne forte aliquis
-quod fidei est demonstrare præsumens rationes non
-necessarias inducat, quæ præbeant materiam irridendi
-infidelibus existimantibus nos propter eiusmodi
-rationes credere quæ fidei sunt.&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_90" id="Footnote_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> Uno modo dicitur æternitas mensura durationis
-rei semper similiter se habentis, nihil acquirentis
-in futuro et nihil amittentis in præterito et sic propriissime
-sumitur æternitas. Secundo modo dicitur
-æternitas mensura durationis rei habentis esse
-fixum et stabile, recipientis tamen vices in operationibus
-suis; et æternitas sic accepta propria dicitur
-ævum: ævum enim est mensura eorum, quorum
-esse est stabile, quæ tamen habent successionem in
-operibus suis, sicut intelligentiæ. Tertio modo
-dicitur æternitas mensura durationis successivæ habentis
-prius et posterius, carentis tamen principio
-et fine, vel carentis fine et tamen habentis principium;
-et utroque modo ponitur mundus æternus, licet
-secundum veritatem sit temporalis: et ista impropriissime
-dicitur æternitas; rationi enim æternitatis
-repugnat prius et posterius.&mdash;Opusc., <cite>De tempore</cite>,
-c. 4.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_91" id="Footnote_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, May, 1875, page 234
-et seq.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_92" id="Footnote_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> Deus aut prior est mundo natura tantum, aut
-et duratione. Si natura tantum; ergo quum Deus
-sit ab æterno, et mundus est ab æterno. Si autem
-est prior duratione, prius autem et posterius in duratione
-constituunt tempus; ergo ante mundum
-fuit tempus: quod est impossibile.&mdash;<cite>Summa Theol.</cite>,
-p. 1, q. 46, a. 1.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_93" id="Footnote_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> Deus est prior mundo duratione: sed per prius
-non designat prioritatem temporis, sed æternitatis.
-Vel dicendum, quod designat prioritatem temporis
-imaginati, et non realiter existentis; sicut quum
-dicitur: supra cœlum nihil est, per <em>supra</em> designat
-locum imaginarium tantum, secundum quod possibile
-est imaginari dimensionibus cælestis corporis dimensiones
-alias superaddi.&mdash;Ibid.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_94" id="Footnote_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> <cite>Fundam. Philos.</cite>, book vii. ch. 10.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_95" id="Footnote_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, November, 1874, p.
-272, and January, 1875, p. 487.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_96" id="Footnote_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> A new interest attaches to this church, in the
-eyes of American Catholics, since it has been made
-the Title of the Cardinal-Archbishop of New
-York.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_97" id="Footnote_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> There is a vague tradition among the Penobscot
-Indians in Maine that a Jesuit father crossed
-from the head-waters of the Kennebec to the valley
-of the Passumpsic, east of the Green Mountains,
-at an earlier date.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_98" id="Footnote_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> <cite>Hist. Maryland</cite>, vol. ii. p. 352.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_99" id="Footnote_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> <cite>History United States</cite>, vol. i. p. 238.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_100" id="Footnote_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Id. p. 241.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_101" id="Footnote_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Id. p. 244.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_102" id="Footnote_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Id. p. 247.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_103" id="Footnote_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> <cite>History United States</cite>, vol. i. p. 248.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_104" id="Footnote_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Chalmers’ <cite>Annals</cite>, vol. i. pp. 207, 208.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_105" id="Footnote_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> Story, <cite>Com. on the Constitution</cite>, sec. 107.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_106" id="Footnote_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> <cite>Sketches of the Early History of Maryland</cite>
-by Thomas W. Griffith, pp. 3, 4.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_107" id="Footnote_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> Bancroft, <cite>Hist. U. S.</cite>, vol. i. p. 238.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_108" id="Footnote_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> <cite>The Brit. Emp. in America</cite>, vol. i. pp. 4, 5.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_109" id="Footnote_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> <cite>Hist. Md.</cite>, p. 232.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_110" id="Footnote_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> Father Andrew White’s <cite>Narrative</cite>, Md. Hist.
-Soc., 1874, p. 32.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_111" id="Footnote_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> <cite>Sketches</cite>, etc., p. 5.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_112" id="Footnote_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Davis’ <cite>Day-Star of Am. Freedom</cite>, p. 149.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_113" id="Footnote_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> <cite>History of Maryland</cite>, p. 24.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_114" id="Footnote_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Bozman’s <cite>History of Maryland</cite>, p. 109.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_115" id="Footnote_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> <cite>History of United States</cite>, vol. i. p. 241.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_116" id="Footnote_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> <cite>History of Maryland</cite>, p. 24.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_117" id="Footnote_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> <cite>Maryland Toleration</cite>, p. 36.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_118" id="Footnote_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> <cite>History of Maryland</cite>, p. 33.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_119" id="Footnote_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> <cite>History of United States</cite>, p. 257.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_120" id="Footnote_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> <cite>Maryland Toleration</cite>, p. 40.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_121" id="Footnote_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> <cite>Day-Star of American Freedom</cite>, p. 36.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_122" id="Footnote_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> <cite>Day-Star of American Freedom</cite>, p. 38.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_123" id="Footnote_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> <cite>History of Maryland</cite>, vol. ii. p. 85.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_124" id="Footnote_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> <cite>History of the United States</cite>, p. 252.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_125" id="Footnote_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> <cite>Day-Star of American Freedom</cite>, p. 138.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_126" id="Footnote_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> Rev. Ethan Allen says this continued until
-1649, when Kent was erected into a county.&mdash;<cite>Maryland
-Toleration</cite>, p. 36.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_127" id="Footnote_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> <cite>Day-Star of American Freedom</cite>, p. 143.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_128" id="Footnote_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> Id. p. 160.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_129" id="Footnote_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> The document at length, with the signatures,
-is given in numerous histories of Maryland, and will
-be found in Davis’s <cite>Day-Star of American Freedom</cite>,
-p. 71.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_130" id="Footnote_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> Kent’s <cite>Commentaries on Am. Law</cite>, vol. ii.
-pp. 36, 37.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_131" id="Footnote_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Reprinted from advance sheets of <cite>The Prose
-Works of William Wordsworth</cite>. Edited, with
-preface, notes, and illustrations, by the Rev. Alex.
-B. Grosart; now for the first time published, by
-Moxon, Son &amp; Co., London. These works will
-fill three volumes, embracing respectively the political
-and ethical, æsthetical and literary, critical
-and ethical, writings of the author, and, what will
-interest American readers especially, his Republican
-Defence.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_132" id="Footnote_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Afterwards Father Faber of the Oratory. His
-“Sir Launcelot” abounds in admirable descriptions.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_133" id="Footnote_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> “For us the stream of fiction ceased to flow,”
-(dedicatory stanzas to “The White Doe of Rylstone”).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_134" id="Footnote_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> See his sonnet on the seat of Dante, close to the
-Duomo at Florence (<cite>Poems of Early and Late
-Years</cite>).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_135" id="Footnote_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> “Evening Voluntary.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_136" id="Footnote_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> <cite>A Song of Faith, Devout Exercises, and Sonnets</cite>
-(Pickering). The dedication closed thus: “I
-may at least hope to be named hereafter among the
-friends of Wordsworth.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_137" id="Footnote_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> It may be well to remark here that in this century
-the word <em>domestic</em> was familiarly used to designate
-one who was attached to the house and fortunes
-of another.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_138" id="Footnote_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> Mme. Louise, Duchess of Angoulême, and
-mother of Francis I.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_139" id="Footnote_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> By the statutes of præmunire, all persons were
-forbidden to hold from Rome any <em>provision</em> or
-power to exercise any authority without permission
-from the king, under penalty of placing themselves
-beyond his protection and being severely punished.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_140" id="Footnote_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> Wolsey’s customary designation of Anne Boleyn.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_141" id="Footnote_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> This corresponded to the court of marshalsea in
-England.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_142" id="Footnote_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> During the memorable conclave at which Pius
-IX. was elected, this office was held by Monsignor
-Pallavicino, who caused to be struck, according to
-his right, a number of bronze and silver medals with
-his family arms quartering those of Gregory XVI.
-Above his prelate’s hat on the obverse were the
-words <i lang="la">Sede Vacante</i>, and on the reverse the inscription
-<i lang="la">Alerames ex marchionibus Pallavicino
-sacri palatii apostolici præfectus et conclavis
-gubernator</i> 1846.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_143" id="Footnote_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> It dates from the year 1535, when Paul III. permitted
-his majordomo Boccaferri to assume on his
-coat-of-arms, as an additament of honor (in the language
-of blazonry), one of the lilies or <i lang="fr">fleurs-de-lis</i>
-of the Farnese family. If the subject prefer to do
-so, he may bear the Pope’s arms on a canton, carry
-them on an inescutcheon, or impale instead of
-quartering them.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_144" id="Footnote_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> While writing this, we hear of the elevation to
-the purple of the majordomo Monsignor Pacca,
-whom we have had the honor, when a private
-chamberlain to the Pope, of knowing and of serving
-under. He was one of the most popular prelates at
-the Vatican for his urbanity and attention to business.
-He is a patrician of the bluest blood of Beneventum
-and nephew to the celebrated Cardinal
-Pacca, so well known for his services to Pope Pius
-VII. and for his interesting <cite>Memoirs</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_145" id="Footnote_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> The grated prison for such offenders was a
-chamber deep down among the vaults of the Cellarium
-Majus of the Lateran.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_146" id="Footnote_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> This office still exists, and is one of the important
-charges at the papal court which is always
-held by a layman. It was hereditary in the famous
-Conti family until its extinction in the last century,
-when it passed, after a considerable interval, on the
-same condition into that of Ruspoli as the nearest
-representative of that ancient race.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_147" id="Footnote_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> Ambassadors and foreign ministers accredited
-to the Holy See claim the right of presentation or of
-access through the Cardinal Secretary of State.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_148" id="Footnote_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> It is well to observe that briefs are not sealed
-with the <em>original</em> ring, which does not go out of the
-keeper’s custody except the Pope demand it, but
-with a fac-simile preserved in the <i lang="it">Secreteria de
-Brevi</i>. Since June, 1842, red sealing-wax, because
-too brittle and effaceable, is no longer used; but in
-its stead a thick red ink, or rather pigment, is employed.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_149" id="Footnote_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> In England, by a similar fiction, the king (or
-queen) is imagined to preside in the Court of King’s
-Bench.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_150" id="Footnote_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> The first convent of the Dominicans in Rome, at
-Santa Sabina on the Aventine, was in part composed
-of a portion of the Savelli palace, in which Honorius,
-who belonged to this family, generally resided, so
-that their founder could not help remarking the misbehavior
-of the loungers about the court. He did
-not go out of his way to find fault.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_151" id="Footnote_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> There was a somewhat similar office of very
-ancient institution at the imperial court of Constantinople,
-the holder of which was called <i lang="el">Epistomonarcha</i>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_152" id="Footnote_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> Peter Filargo was a Greek from the island of
-Candia, which may account for his love of what at a
-pontiff’s table corresponded to the symposium of
-the ancients&mdash;a species of after-dinner enjoyment,
-when, wine being introduced, philosophical or other
-agreeable subjects were discussed.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_153" id="Footnote_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> The special significance of this title given to
-Cardinal McCloskey is that his predecessor in the
-see of New York and its first bishop, Luke Concanen,
-who was consecrated in Rome on April 24, 1808, was
-a Dominican, and had been for a long time officially
-attached to the convent and church of the <em>Minerva</em>,
-which was the headquarters of his order.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_154" id="Footnote_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, August, 1875, p. 625.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_155" id="Footnote_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, September, 1874, p.
-729.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_156" id="Footnote_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, March, 1874, p. 766.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_157" id="Footnote_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> See the two articles on “Substantial Generations”
-in <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, April and May,
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_158" id="Footnote_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span> for February, 1874,
-pp, 584. 585.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_159" id="Footnote_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, May, 1874, p. 178.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_160" id="Footnote_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> In the Aristotelic theory, a third kind of movement,
-<i lang="la">ratione termini</i>, was admitted&mdash;that is,
-movement towards dimensive quantity, as when an
-animal or a tree grows in bulk. But bodies acquire
-greater bulk by accession of new particles, and this
-accession is carried on by <em>local</em> movement. Hence
-it seems to us that the <i lang="la">motus ad quantitatem</i> is
-not a new kind of movement.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_161" id="Footnote_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> S. Thomas explains this point in the following
-words: Quum magnitudo sit divisibilis in infinitum,
-et puncta sint etiam infinita in potentia in qualibet
-magnitudine, sequitur quod inter quælibet duo
-loca sint infinita loca media. Mobile autem infinitatem
-mediorum locorum non consumit nisi per
-continuitatem motus; quia sicut loca media sunt infinita
-in potentia, ita et in motu continuo est accipere
-infinita quædam in potentia.&mdash;<cite>Sum. Theol.</cite>, p.
-1, q. 53, a. 2. This explanation is identical with
-our own, though S. Thomas does not explicitly
-mention the infinitesimals of time.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_162" id="Footnote_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> <cite>Music of Nature.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_163" id="Footnote_163"></a><a href="#FNanchor_163"><span class="label">[163]</span></a> This was an anachronism in costume which in
-our day would not be pardonable, but it was common
-enough until within half a century ago. The
-queen of James I., Anne of Denmark, insisted upon
-playing the part of Thetis, goddess of the ocean, in
-a “monstrous farthingale” (in modern speech, a
-very exaggerated crinoline.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_164" id="Footnote_164"></a><a href="#FNanchor_164"><span class="label">[164]</span></a> Puttenham, <cite>Art of Poesie</cite>, pub. in 1589, quoted
-in Ritson.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_165" id="Footnote_165"></a><a href="#FNanchor_165"><span class="label">[165]</span></a> Probably some coarse lace or net</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_166" id="Footnote_166"></a><a href="#FNanchor_166"><span class="label">[166]</span></a> <cite>The Complete Angler, or the Contemplative
-Man’s Recreation.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_167" id="Footnote_167"></a><a href="#FNanchor_167"><span class="label">[167]</span></a> Harmless</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_168" id="Footnote_168"></a><a href="#FNanchor_168"><span class="label">[168]</span></a> Agnes Strickland’s <cite>Lives of the Queens of
-England</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_169" id="Footnote_169"></a><a href="#FNanchor_169"><span class="label">[169]</span></a> <cite>Penny Magazine</cite>, 1834.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_170" id="Footnote_170"></a><a href="#FNanchor_170"><span class="label">[170]</span></a> This word has no English equivalent; it means
-the casting out of the heart&mdash;a hyperbolical manner
-of expressing the most excessive nausea.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_171" id="Footnote_171"></a><a href="#FNanchor_171"><span class="label">[171]</span></a> The Council of Trent decreed nothing on the
-subject of the authority of the church: that of the
-Vatican had to supply the omission. The struggle
-with Protestantism on this subject reached its last
-stage in the definition of the dogma of Papal Infallibility
-decreed by the church assembled at the
-Council of the Vatican.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_172" id="Footnote_172"></a><a href="#FNanchor_172"><span class="label">[172]</span></a> In its numbers of April 22 and May 16 last the
-<cite>Unità Cattolica</cite> passed a high eulogium on the
-work of Father Hecker. “There is in this work,”
-says the Abbé Margotti, “a great boldness of
-thought, but always governed by the faith, and by
-the great principle of the infallible authority of the
-Pope.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_173" id="Footnote_173"></a><a href="#FNanchor_173"><span class="label">[173]</span></a> “A Song of Faith.” 1842. Besides that poem, my father published two dramatic works, viz.
-<cite>Julian the Apostate</cite> (1823) and <cite>The Duke of Mercia</cite>, 1823. In 1847, his last drama, <cite>Mary Tudor</cite>, was
-published. He was born at Curragh Chase, Ireland, on the 28th of August, 1788, and died there on the
-28th of July, 1846.&mdash;<span class="smcap">A. de Vere.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_174" id="Footnote_174"></a><a href="#FNanchor_174"><span class="label">[174]</span></a> Dr. Schenck said: “It had been a maxim that
-the fool of the family should go into the ministry,
-and he was sorry to say that there were many of
-those who had groped their way into it. It had
-been stated that a minister would often pay twice
-before he would be sued.… Rev. Dr. Newton
-said that he would stand a suit before he would
-pay twice. The speaker replied that he was glad
-there was some pluck in these matters” (<cite>Report
-in the Philadelphia Press</cite>).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_175" id="Footnote_175"></a><a href="#FNanchor_175"><span class="label">[175]</span></a> Short for Frederika.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_176" id="Footnote_176"></a><a href="#FNanchor_176"><span class="label">[176]</span></a> From the German.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_177" id="Footnote_177"></a><a href="#FNanchor_177"><span class="label">[177]</span></a> Father Faber’s <cite>Bethlehem</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_178" id="Footnote_178"></a><a href="#FNanchor_178"><span class="label">[178]</span></a> London: Pickering, 1875. This pamphlet has
-been already translated into German under the title
-<cite>Anglicanismus, Altkatholicismus und die Vereinigung
-der christlichen Episcopal-Kirchen</cite>.
-Mainz: Kirchheim. 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_179" id="Footnote_179"></a><a href="#FNanchor_179"><span class="label">[179]</span></a> Father Schouvaloff (Barnabite), April 2, 1859.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_180" id="Footnote_180"></a><a href="#FNanchor_180"><span class="label">[180]</span></a> Gladstone, <cite>Vaticanism</cite>, p. 110.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_181" id="Footnote_181"></a><a href="#FNanchor_181"><span class="label">[181]</span></a> Second Edition, with a Letter of Mgr. Mermillod,
-a Special Preface, and an Appendix. London:
-Washbourne.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_182" id="Footnote_182"></a><a href="#FNanchor_182"><span class="label">[182]</span></a> Gladstone, <cite>Vaticanism</cite>, p. 94.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_183" id="Footnote_183"></a><a href="#FNanchor_183"><span class="label">[183]</span></a> We are authorized by Father Tondini to remark
-that, for the purpose of his argument, he has confined
-himself to speaking of the non-popular election
-of <em>bishops</em>; but in case any one should say that
-Mr. Gladstone referred not to bishops only, but also,
-and very largely, to clergy, besides that Mr. Gladstone’s
-expressions do not naturally lead the reader
-to make any exception for himself, Father Tondini is
-able to show that even with respect to the inferior
-clergy Mr. Gladstone’s statement is inaccurate.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_184" id="Footnote_184"></a><a href="#FNanchor_184"><span class="label">[184]</span></a> In the appendix to the second edition of <cite>The
-Pope of Rome</cite>, etc., will be found a prayer composed
-of texts taken from the Greco-Sclavonian Liturgy,
-where are quoted some of the titles given by
-the Greco-Russian Church to S. Peter, and, in the
-person of the great S. Leo, even to the Pope. This
-appendix is also to be had separately, under the
-title of <cite>Some Documents Concerning the Association
-of Prayers</cite>, etc., London, Washbourne, 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_185" id="Footnote_185"></a><a href="#FNanchor_185"><span class="label">[185]</span></a> See “Future of the Russian Church” in <span class="smcap">The
-Catholic World</span>, 1875 (amongst others).</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_186" id="Footnote_186"></a><a href="#FNanchor_186"><span class="label">[186]</span></a> <cite>Expostulation</cite>, p. 30.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_187" id="Footnote_187"></a><a href="#FNanchor_187"><span class="label">[187]</span></a> “More than once,” says Father Tondini in a
-note on this subject&mdash;“more than once, in reading
-defences of the Catholic Church, written with the
-best intentions, we could not resist a desire that in
-the ‘Litanies of the Saints,’ or other prayers of the
-church, there might be inserted some such invocation
-as this: <i lang="la">A malis advocatis libera nos, Domine</i>.’&mdash;‘From
-mischievous advocates, O Lord! deliver
-us.’ We say this most earnestly, the more so that
-it applies also to ourselves. Many a time, when
-preparing our writings, we have experienced a feeling
-not unlike that of an advocate fully convinced of
-the innocence of the accused, but dreading lest, by
-want of clearness or other defect in putting forth
-his arguments, he might not only fail to carry conviction
-to the mind of the judges, but also prejudice
-the cause he wishes to defend. Never, perhaps, is
-the necessity of prayer more deeply felt.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_188" id="Footnote_188"></a><a href="#FNanchor_188"><span class="label">[188]</span></a> With regard to the powers of the sovereign over
-the episcopate we quote the following from the
-London <cite>Tablet</cite> for March 27, 1875: “Among other
-tremendous stumbling-blocks against the claims for
-the Church (of England) by the High Church party
-a candid writer in the <cite>Church Herald</cite> is ‘sorely
-staggered by the oath of allegiance, according to
-which we have the chief pastors of the church declaring
-in the most solemn manner that they receive
-the spiritualities of their office <em>only</em> from the queen,
-and are bishops by her grace only.’”</p>
-
-<p>In connection with the foregoing we cannot refrain
-from citing a passage from Marshall, which is
-as follows: “Any bishops can only obtain spiritual
-jurisdiction in one of two ways&mdash;either by receiving
-it from those who already possess it, in which case
-their (the English bishops’) search must extend beyond
-their own communion, or by imitating the
-two lay travellers in China of whom we have somewhere
-read, who fancied they should like to be missionaries,
-whereupon the one ordained the other, and
-was then in turn ordained by <em>him</em>, to the great satisfaction
-of both.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_189" id="Footnote_189"></a><a href="#FNanchor_189"><span class="label">[189]</span></a> See <cite>Contemporary Review</cite> for July.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_190" id="Footnote_190"></a><a href="#FNanchor_190"><span class="label">[190]</span></a> Since writing the above we happened to see the
-following case in point, in the <cite>Church Times</cite> of
-September 10, 1875, in which a clergyman, signing
-himself “a priest, <em>not</em> of the Diocese of Exeter,”
-writes a letter of remonstrance against the violent
-abuse heaped by “a priest of the Diocese of Exeter”
-against the late learned and venerable Vicar of
-Morwenstow, Mr. Hawker, who, on the day before
-his death, made his submission to the Catholic
-Church. From this letter, which contains many
-candid and interesting admissions, we quote the following:
-“In these days, when we have among us
-so many dignitaries and popular preachers of the
-Established Church who in their teaching deny all
-sacramental truth, while others cannot repeat the
-Nicene and Athanasian Creeds without a gloss, and
-others again boldly assert that ‘the old religious
-ideas expressed in the Apostles’ Creed must be
-thrown into afresh form, if they are to retain their
-hold on the educated minds of the present generation,
-it appears monstrous that a clergyman whose faithful
-adhesion to the Prayer Book during a ministry
-of forty years was notorious should be denounced
-as a ‘blasphemous rogue and a scoundrel’ <em>because</em>
-he held opinions which are considered by some individual
-members of either church as denoting ‘a
-Roman at heart,’ or, in the exercise of a liberty
-granted to everyone, thought fit to correspond with
-influential members of the Church of Rome.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_191" id="Footnote_191"></a><a href="#FNanchor_191"><span class="label">[191]</span></a> <cite>Expostulation</cite>, page 21; iv. “The third proposition.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_192" id="Footnote_192"></a><a href="#FNanchor_192"><span class="label">[192]</span></a> “Cooks and controversialists seem to have this
-in common: that they nicely appreciate the standard
-of knowledge in those whose appetites they supply.
-The cook is tempted to send up ill-dressed dishes to
-masters who have slight skill in, or care for, cookery;
-and the controversialist occasionally shows his contempt
-for the intelligence of his readers by the quality
-of the arguments or statements which he presents
-for their acceptance. But this, if it is to be
-done with safety, should be done in measure.”&mdash;Gladstone,
-<cite>Vaticanism</cite>, pp. 82, 83.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_193" id="Footnote_193"></a><a href="#FNanchor_193"><span class="label">[193]</span></a> In the German edition of Father Tondini’s
-pamphlet, the abstract of this document is given in
-the original German, as it is to be seen in the <cite>Bonner
-Zeitung</cite> of June 15, 1871.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_194" id="Footnote_194"></a><a href="#FNanchor_194"><span class="label">[194]</span></a> S. Cyprian (so confidently appealed to by the
-Old Catholics), speaking of Novatian, and, as it were,
-of Dr. Reinkens’ consecration, says: “He who holds
-neither the unity of spirit nor the communion of
-peace, but separates himself from the bonds of the
-church and the hierarchical body, cannot have
-either the power or the honor of a bishop&mdash;he who
-would keep neither the unity nor the peace of the
-episcopate.”&mdash;S. Cyprian, <cite>Ep. 52</cite>. Compare also
-<cite>Ep. 76</cite>, <i lang="la">Ad magnum de baptizandis Novationis</i>,
-etc., sect. 3.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_195" id="Footnote_195"></a><a href="#FNanchor_195"><span class="label">[195]</span></a> “Je suis entré dans une de ces lignées ininterrompues
-par l’ordination que j’ai reçue des mains de
-Mgr. Heykamp, <em>évêque des vieux Catholiques de
-Deventer</em>.”&mdash;<cite>Lettre Pastorale de Mgr. l’Evêque
-Joseph Hubert Reinkens, Docteur en Théologie.</cite>
-Paris: Sandoz et Fischbacher, 1874, p. 11.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_196" id="Footnote_196"></a><a href="#FNanchor_196"><span class="label">[196]</span></a> <cite>Programma of Old-Catholic Literature</cite>, libr.
-Sandoz et Fischbacher. Paris.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_197" id="Footnote_197"></a><a href="#FNanchor_197"><span class="label">[197]</span></a> “Pastoral Letter” (<cite>Programma</cite>, etc.), p. 7.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_198" id="Footnote_198"></a><a href="#FNanchor_198"><span class="label">[198]</span></a> Silbernagl (Dr. Isidor), <cite>Verfassung und gegenwärtiger
-Bestand sämmtlicher Kirchen des
-Orients</cite>. Landshut, 1865, pp. 10, 11.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_199" id="Footnote_199"></a><a href="#FNanchor_199"><span class="label">[199]</span></a> See <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, January-April,
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_200" id="Footnote_200"></a><a href="#FNanchor_200"><span class="label">[200]</span></a> See <cite>The Pope of Rome and the Popes of the
-Orthodox Church</cite>, 2d ed., pp. 97, 98. Washbourne,
-London.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_201" id="Footnote_201"></a><a href="#FNanchor_201"><span class="label">[201]</span></a> King, <cite>The Rites</cite>, etc., p. 295. Quoted in <cite>The
-Pope of Rome</cite>, etc., p. 98. See also for what concerns
-the election of the Russian bishops the <cite>Règlement
-ecclésiastique de Pierre le Grand</cite>, avec introduction,
-notes, etc., par le R. P. Cæsarius Tondini.
-Paris: Libr. de la Soc. bibliographique.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_202" id="Footnote_202"></a><a href="#FNanchor_202"><span class="label">[202]</span></a> “The idea,” says Polevoi, “that spiritual matters
-do not appertain to the authority of the sovereign
-was still so deeply rooted in men’s minds that,
-in the very first session of the Spiritual College,
-some members <em>dared</em> (osmelilis) to ask the emperor:
-‘Is then the Patriarchal dignity suppressed, although
-nothing has been said about it?’ ‘I am
-your Patriarch!’ (<i lang="ru">Ya Vash Patriarkh!</i>) angrily
-(<i lang="ru">gnevno</i>) exclaimed Peter, striking his breast. The
-questioners were dumb.”</p>
-
-<p>“This account of Peter’s <i lang="fr">coup d’état</i>,” adds Father
-Tondini, “was printed at St. Petersburg in
-the year 1843, and, be it observed, not without the
-approbation of the censors.” See <cite>Pope of Rome</cite>, etc.,
-p. 107.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_203" id="Footnote_203"></a><a href="#FNanchor_203"><span class="label">[203]</span></a> “These principles have, by the constant aggression
-of curialism, been in the main effaced, or, where
-not effaced, reduced to the last stage of practical inanition.
-We see before us the pope, the bishops,
-the priesthood, and the people. The priests are <em>absolute</em>
-over the people; the bishops over both; the
-pope over all.…”&mdash;<cite>Vaticanism</cite>, p. 24.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_204" id="Footnote_204"></a><a href="#FNanchor_204"><span class="label">[204]</span></a> See French manifesto.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_205" id="Footnote_205"></a><a href="#FNanchor_205"><span class="label">[205]</span></a> See London <cite>Tablet</cite>, August 21.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_206" id="Footnote_206"></a><a href="#FNanchor_206"><span class="label">[206]</span></a> See <cite>Annales Catholiques</cite>, September 25.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_207" id="Footnote_207"></a><a href="#FNanchor_207"><span class="label">[207]</span></a> See London <cite>Tablet</cite>, Aug. 21.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_208" id="Footnote_208"></a><a href="#FNanchor_208"><span class="label">[208]</span></a> We wonder that it does not occur to Dr. von
-Döllinger’s disciples to make some calculation, from
-the number of changes his views have undergone
-during the last five years, as to how many they had
-better be prepared for, according to the ordinary
-<em>rule of proportion</em>, for the remaining term of his
-probable existence&mdash;<i>e.g.</i>, four changes in five years
-should prepare them for eight in ten, and for a dozen
-should the venerable professor live fifteen years more.
-They should, further, not forget to ascertain, if possible,
-for how long <em>they themselves</em> are <em>afterwards</em>
-to continue subject to similar variations in their
-opinions; for one would suppose they hope to stop
-somewhere, some time.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_209" id="Footnote_209"></a><a href="#FNanchor_209"><span class="label">[209]</span></a> <cite>Echo Universel.</cite></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_210" id="Footnote_210"></a><a href="#FNanchor_210"><span class="label">[210]</span></a> See <cite>Annales Catholiques</cite>, 23 Septembre, 1873.
-Paris: Allard.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_211" id="Footnote_211"></a><a href="#FNanchor_211"><span class="label">[211]</span></a> Ernest Naville (a Protestant), <cite>Priesthood of the
-Christian Church</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_212" id="Footnote_212"></a><a href="#FNanchor_212"><span class="label">[212]</span></a> The bell of S. Louis’ Church, Buffalo, N. Y.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_213" id="Footnote_213"></a><a href="#FNanchor_213"><span class="label">[213]</span></a> Among the Spanish subjects in the colonies,
-there was a class corresponding to the Loyalists of
-the American Revolution. One of these was Don
-Miguel Moreno, a magistrate belonging to a most respectable
-colonial family, and the honored father of
-His Eminence the present Archbishop of Valladolid,
-who was born in Guatemala on Nov. 24, 1817, and
-is therefore, in a strict sense of the word, the first
-American who has been made a cardinal.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_214" id="Footnote_214"></a><a href="#FNanchor_214"><span class="label">[214]</span></a> Message of December 2, 1823.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_215" id="Footnote_215"></a><a href="#FNanchor_215"><span class="label">[215]</span></a> It is curious to contrast the tedious trials that
-Rome endured before being able to appoint bishops
-to independent Spanish America, with her ease in
-establishing the hierarchy in the United States.
-Yet the Spaniards and Loyalists, who sometimes
-forgot that political differences should never interfere
-with religious unity, might have found a precedent
-for this aversion in the case of their northern
-brethren. In a sketch of the church in the United
-States, written by Bishop Carroll in 1790, it is said
-that “during the whole war there was not the least
-communication between the Catholics of America
-and their bishop, who was the vicar-apostolic of
-the London district. To his spiritual jurisdiction
-were subject the United States; but whether he
-would hold no correspondence with a country which
-he, perhaps, considered in a state of rebellion, or
-whether a natural indolence and irresolution restrained
-him, the fact is he held no kind of intercourse
-with priest or layman in this part of his
-charge.”&mdash;B. U. Campbell “Memoirs, etc. of the
-Most Rev. John Carroll,” in the <cite>U. S. Catholic
-Magazine</cite>, 1845.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_216" id="Footnote_216"></a><a href="#FNanchor_216"><span class="label">[216]</span></a> He was translated by Leo XII. in 1825 to the
-residential see of Città di Castello.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_217" id="Footnote_217"></a><a href="#FNanchor_217"><span class="label">[217]</span></a> Cardinal Wiseman has made a slip in saying
-(<cite>Last Four Popes</cite>, p. 308) that the refusal to receive
-Mgr. Tiberi gave rise to “a little episode in the
-life of the present pontiff.” Tiberi went as nuncio to
-Madrid in 1827, consequently long after Canon
-Mastai had returned from Chili. It was in the
-case of the previous nuncio, Giustiniani that a
-“passing coolness,” occasioned the apostolic mission
-to South America.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_218" id="Footnote_218"></a><a href="#FNanchor_218"><span class="label">[218]</span></a> Artand (<cite>Vie de Léon XII.</cite>) indicates in a note
-to p. 129, vol. i., the sources whence he obtained
-these views of the late Prime Minister, which are
-given in full.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_219" id="Footnote_219"></a><a href="#FNanchor_219"><span class="label">[219]</span></a> In 1836 Mgr.&mdash;afterwards Cardinal&mdash;Gaetano Baluffi,
-Bishop of Bagnorea, was sent to this country as
-first internuncio and apostolic delegate. He published
-an interesting work on his return to Italy, giving
-an account of religion in South America from its colonization
-to his own time: <i lang="it">L’America un tempo
-spagnuola riguardata sotto l’aspetto religioso
-dall’ epoca del suo discoprimento, sino al 1843</i>.
-(Ancona, 1844.)</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_220" id="Footnote_220"></a><a href="#FNanchor_220"><span class="label">[220]</span></a> <cite>Dublin Review</cite>, vol. xxiv., June, 1848. The
-full title of this rare work (of which there is no copy
-even in the Astor Library) is as follows: <i lang="it">Storia
-delle Missioni Apostoliche dello stato del Chile,
-colla descrizione del viaggio dal vecchio al nuovo
-monde fatto dall’ autore</i>. Opera di Giuseppe Sallusti.
-Roma, 1827, pel Mauri.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_221" id="Footnote_221"></a><a href="#FNanchor_221"><span class="label">[221]</span></a> This was Gen. Bernard O’Higgins, a gentleman
-of one of the distinguished Irish families which
-took refuge in Spain from the persecutions of the
-English government. He was born in Chili of a
-Chilian mother. His father had been captain-general
-of what was called the kingdom of Chili, and was
-afterwards Viceroy of Peru. The younger O’Higgins
-was a very superior man, taking a principal part
-in asserting the independence of his native land, of
-which he became the first president; but unfortunately
-he died in 1823, a few months before the arrival
-of the apostolic mission.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_222" id="Footnote_222"></a><a href="#FNanchor_222"><span class="label">[222]</span></a> Palma boasts of its ancient title of <i lang="es">Muy insigne
-y leal ciudad</i>, and that its habitants have been distinguished
-“<i lang="es">en todos tiempos por su filantropia
-con los naufragos</i>”&mdash;a specimen of which we give.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_223" id="Footnote_223"></a><a href="#FNanchor_223"><span class="label">[223]</span></a> In the southern hemisphere <em>January</em> comes in
-summer.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_224" id="Footnote_224"></a><a href="#FNanchor_224"><span class="label">[224]</span></a> Cordova was formerly the second city in the
-viceroyalty. It had an university, erected by the
-Jesuits, which was once famous. An ex-professor
-of this university wrote a book which has been
-called “most erudite,” but which is extremely rare.
-There is no copy in the Astor Library, although it is
-an important work for the information it gives about
-religion in South America under Spanish rule. The
-title is <cite>Fasti Novi Orbis et ordinationum Apostolicarum
-ad Indias pertinentium breviarium cum
-adnotationibus</cite>. Opera D. Cyriaci Morelli presbyteri,
-olim in universitate Neo-Cordubensi in Tucumania
-professoris. Venetiis, 1776.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_225" id="Footnote_225"></a><a href="#FNanchor_225"><span class="label">[225]</span></a> <cite>Pio IX.</cite> Por D. Jaime Balmes, Presbitero,
-Madrid, 1847.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_226" id="Footnote_226"></a><a href="#FNanchor_226"><span class="label">[226]</span></a> The <cite>Annuario Pontificio</cite> of 1861 called it
-Americano Ispano-Portoghese, but the name was
-since changed to the present one.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_227" id="Footnote_227"></a><a href="#FNanchor_227"><span class="label">[227]</span></a> This clergyman came to the notice of the Pope
-from the fact that an uncle of his, a very worthy
-man, had been one of Canon Mastai’s great friends in
-Chili, and was named and confirmed Archbishop of
-Santiago, but resigned the bulls. His nephew was
-made an apostolic prothonotary in 1859. It was reported
-that Mgr. Eyzaguirre gave eighty thousand
-scudi to the South American College out of his own
-patrimony. We have enjoyed the pleasure of a personal
-acquaintance with him.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_228" id="Footnote_228"></a><a href="#FNanchor_228"><span class="label">[228]</span></a> <cite>Protestantism and Catholicism in their
-bearing upon the Liberty and Prosperity of
-Nations.</cite> A study of social economy. By Emile
-de Laveleye. With an introductory letter by the
-Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P. London: 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_229" id="Footnote_229"></a><a href="#FNanchor_229"><span class="label">[229]</span></a> <cite>The Old Faith and the New</cite>, p. 86.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_230" id="Footnote_230"></a><a href="#FNanchor_230"><span class="label">[230]</span></a> <cite>Liberty, Equality, Fraternity</cite>, p. 220.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_231" id="Footnote_231"></a><a href="#FNanchor_231"><span class="label">[231]</span></a> <cite>Minas</cite> in <cite>Evangeline</cite>, probably as a guide to
-the pronunciation. Haliburton also gives this spelling,
-but it is now abandoned for the old Acadian
-French form.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_232" id="Footnote_232"></a><a href="#FNanchor_232"><span class="label">[232]</span></a> They even went so far as to deliberate whether
-these people could be considered human beings or
-not; but the church, always the true and faithful
-guardian of the rights of humanity, immediately
-raised her voice in their favor, and was first to render,
-by the mouth of Pope Paul III., a decision which
-conferred on them, or rather secured them, all their
-rights.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_233" id="Footnote_233"></a><a href="#FNanchor_233"><span class="label">[233]</span></a> Campeggio, before he became cardinal, had
-been married to Françoise Vastavillani, by whom he
-had several children. We are more than astonished
-at the ignorance or bad faith of Dr. Burnet, who
-takes advantage of this fact to accuse the cardinal
-of licentiousness.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_234" id="Footnote_234"></a><a href="#FNanchor_234"><span class="label">[234]</span></a> This young man carried also the letters from
-Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn, which had been referred
-to the cardinal during the course of the
-trial. They are still to be seen in the library of the
-Vatican.&mdash;Lingard’s <cite>History of England</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_235" id="Footnote_235"></a><a href="#FNanchor_235"><span class="label">[235]</span></a> <cite>Gentilism: Religion previous to Christianity.</cite>
-By Rev. Aug. J. Thébaud, S.J. New York:
-D. &amp; J. Sadlier &amp; Co. 1876.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_236" id="Footnote_236"></a><a href="#FNanchor_236"><span class="label">[236]</span></a> It is, however, something more than a hypothesis.
-The confirmation it receives from the fact that
-since the prevalence amongst so large a portion of
-mankind of an uniformity of rite and dogma, and
-the universality of brotherhood occasioned thereby,
-what seemed to be obstacles have become means of
-intercommunion, to such an extent that the whole
-World has become, as it were, one vast city, gives it
-the force of a demonstration.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_237" id="Footnote_237"></a><a href="#FNanchor_237"><span class="label">[237]</span></a> <cite>Gentilism</cite>, p. 67.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_238" id="Footnote_238"></a><a href="#FNanchor_238"><span class="label">[238]</span></a> <cite>Gentilism</cite>, p. 65.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_239" id="Footnote_239"></a><a href="#FNanchor_239"><span class="label">[239]</span></a> <cite>Gentilism</cite>, p. 110.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_240" id="Footnote_240"></a><a href="#FNanchor_240"><span class="label">[240]</span></a> <cite>Gentilism</cite>, p. 124.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_241" id="Footnote_241"></a><a href="#FNanchor_241"><span class="label">[241]</span></a> Ib. pp. 152, 153.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_242" id="Footnote_242"></a><a href="#FNanchor_242"><span class="label">[242]</span></a> S. Matthew xvi. 4.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_243" id="Footnote_243"></a><a href="#FNanchor_243"><span class="label">[243]</span></a> 3 Kings xix. 11, 12.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_244" id="Footnote_244"></a><a href="#FNanchor_244"><span class="label">[244]</span></a> Deuteronomy xxxiii. 27.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_245" id="Footnote_245"></a><a href="#FNanchor_245"><span class="label">[245]</span></a> In the <cite>Cité Mystique</cite> of the Blessed Marie
-d’Agreda there are one or two passages which indicate
-a belief that the Blessed Virgin was more than
-once admitted to the Beatific Vision before her
-Assumption. Of course the assertion is not of faith.
-Possibly it may admit of a more modified explanation.
-On the other hand, Our Lady being equally
-free from original as from actual sin, it is more rash
-to attempt to limit her privileges than to suppose
-them absolutely exceptional.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_246" id="Footnote_246"></a><a href="#FNanchor_246"><span class="label">[246]</span></a> Romans xi. 34.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_247" id="Footnote_247"></a><a href="#FNanchor_247"><span class="label">[247]</span></a> In other words, theirs is a more imperfect being
-than ours; though whether its imperfection is to exclude
-all idea of their having a fuller development
-whereby and in which they will be indemnified for
-their sinless share in fallen man’s punishment is still
-an open question.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_248" id="Footnote_248"></a><a href="#FNanchor_248"><span class="label">[248]</span></a> We say liberalism, but we might say Freemasonry;
-for, as we all know, Masonry is merely organized
-liberalism.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_249" id="Footnote_249"></a><a href="#FNanchor_249"><span class="label">[249]</span></a> <cite>The Idea of a University</cite>, p. 469.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_250" id="Footnote_250"></a><a href="#FNanchor_250"><span class="label">[250]</span></a> <cite>Notes of a Traveller</cite>, pp. 402, 403.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_251" id="Footnote_251"></a><a href="#FNanchor_251"><span class="label">[251]</span></a> <cite>Lay Sermons</cite>, p. 61.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_252" id="Footnote_252"></a><a href="#FNanchor_252"><span class="label">[252]</span></a> <cite>The Social Condition</cite>, etc., vol. i. p. 420.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_253" id="Footnote_253"></a><a href="#FNanchor_253"><span class="label">[253]</span></a> The following language amply sustains our assertion:
-“Des Teufels Braut, Ratio die schöne Metze,
-eine verfluchte Hure, eine schäbige aussätzige
-Hure, die höchste Hure des Teufels, die man mit
-ihrer Weisheit mit Füszen treten, die man todtschlagen,
-der man, auf dass sie hässlich werde einen
-Dreck in’s Angesicht werfen solle, auf das heimliche
-Gemach solle sie sich trollen, die verfluchte Hure,
-mit ihrem Dünkel, etc, etc.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_254" id="Footnote_254"></a><a href="#FNanchor_254"><span class="label">[254]</span></a> “Aber die Wiedertaufer machen aus der Vernunft
-ein Licht des Glaubens, dass die Vernunft
-dem Glauben leuchten soll. Ja, ich meine, sie
-leuchtet gleich wie ein Dreck in einer Laterne.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_255" id="Footnote_255"></a><a href="#FNanchor_255"><span class="label">[255]</span></a> <cite>Der Culturkampf in Preussen und seine Bedenken</cite>&mdash;“Considerations
-on the Culture-Struggle
-in Prussia”&mdash;von J. H. von Kirchmann. Leipzig,
-1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_256" id="Footnote_256"></a><a href="#FNanchor_256"><span class="label">[256]</span></a> <cite>Culturkampf</cite>, pp. 5-7. For an account of the
-Falk Laws and persecution of the church in Germany,
-see <span class="smcap">Catholic World</span> for Dec., 1874, and
-Jan., 1875.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_257" id="Footnote_257"></a><a href="#FNanchor_257"><span class="label">[257]</span></a> Page 9.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_258" id="Footnote_258"></a><a href="#FNanchor_258"><span class="label">[258]</span></a> Tacit. <cite>Annal.</cite>, xv. 44.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_259" id="Footnote_259"></a><a href="#FNanchor_259"><span class="label">[259]</span></a> <cite>Culturkampf</cite>, pp. 16-19.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_260" id="Footnote_260"></a><a href="#FNanchor_260"><span class="label">[260]</span></a> The above article is a translation of one
-which appeared in the <cite>Revue Générale</cite> of Brussels,
-December, 1875, and was written by Dr. Dosfel.
-In <span class="smcap">The Catholic World</span>, November, 1871, a
-complete analysis of Dr. Lefebvre’s work on
-Louise Lateau, quoted so largely in the discussion
-before the Academy, was given. The article now
-presented to our readers gives a calm, impartial
-statement of the case of Louise Lateau as it stands
-to-day before the scientific investigation of the
-Academy.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Ed. Cath. World.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_261" id="Footnote_261"></a><a href="#FNanchor_261"><span class="label">[261]</span></a> <cite>Louise Lateau.</cite> Etude médicale. Par Lefebvre.
-Louvain: Peeters.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_262" id="Footnote_262"></a><a href="#FNanchor_262"><span class="label">[262]</span></a> Dr. Imbert-Gourbeyre, in his work, <cite>Les Stigmatisées</cite>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_263" id="Footnote_263"></a><a href="#FNanchor_263"><span class="label">[263]</span></a> <cite>Bulletin of the Academy</cite> for the year 1875.
-Third series, Book ix., No. 2, p. 145.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_264" id="Footnote_264"></a><a href="#FNanchor_264"><span class="label">[264]</span></a> <cite>Maladies et facultés diverses des mystiques.</cite>
-Par le Dr. Charbonnier, p. 10, et suiv.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_265" id="Footnote_265"></a><a href="#FNanchor_265"><span class="label">[265]</span></a> The same work.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_266" id="Footnote_266"></a><a href="#FNanchor_266"><span class="label">[266]</span></a> Report of M. Warlomont, <cite>Mémoires de l’Académie
-de Médecine</cite>, p. 212.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_267" id="Footnote_267"></a><a href="#FNanchor_267"><span class="label">[267]</span></a> Professor Lefebvre had himself declared that,
-to invest the matter with a rigorously scientific
-character, the question of abstinence ought to be
-the object of an inquiry analogous to that which
-has established the reality of the ecstasy and of
-the stigmatization.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_268" id="Footnote_268"></a><a href="#FNanchor_268"><span class="label">[268]</span></a> Vascular tumors.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_269" id="Footnote_269"></a><a href="#FNanchor_269"><span class="label">[269]</span></a> White blood corpuscles.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_270" id="Footnote_270"></a><a href="#FNanchor_270"><span class="label">[270]</span></a> Acts xvii. 23.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_271" id="Footnote_271"></a><a href="#FNanchor_271"><span class="label">[271]</span></a> 1 Cor. xii. 31.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_272" id="Footnote_272"></a><a href="#FNanchor_272"><span class="label">[272]</span></a> Gal. iii. 19.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_273" id="Footnote_273"></a><a href="#FNanchor_273"><span class="label">[273]</span></a> 3 Kings vi. 7.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_274" id="Footnote_274"></a><a href="#FNanchor_274"><span class="label">[274]</span></a> Genesis iii. 8.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_275" id="Footnote_275"></a><a href="#FNanchor_275"><span class="label">[275]</span></a> Malachias iv. 2.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_276" id="Footnote_276"></a><a href="#FNanchor_276"><span class="label">[276]</span></a> Isaias xxii. 24; or, as it may be translated:
-“The vessels of small quality, from vessels of basins
-even to all vessels of flagons.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_277" id="Footnote_277"></a><a href="#FNanchor_277"><span class="label">[277]</span></a> Suarez holds that grace is not always perceptible.
-There are moments when we are conscious of
-the distinct action of grace, by the direct perception
-of its effects in our soul. These are the exceptions,
-which are multiplied with increasing holiness,
-until they become the rule, and heroic sanctity
-is perfected in all its parts.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_278" id="Footnote_278"></a><a href="#FNanchor_278"><span class="label">[278]</span></a> S. Matthew xix. 8.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_279" id="Footnote_279"></a><a href="#FNanchor_279"><span class="label">[279]</span></a> S. Matthew xi. 14.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_280" id="Footnote_280"></a><a href="#FNanchor_280"><span class="label">[280]</span></a> “Tantum ut qui tenet nunc, teneat, donec de
-medic fiat.”&mdash;2 Thessalonians ii. 7.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_281" id="Footnote_281"></a><a href="#FNanchor_281"><span class="label">[281]</span></a> It is injurious to sleep in the light of the moon;
-and it produces rapid putrefaction in dead fish, etc.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Vol. 22, October,
-1875, to March, 1876, by Various
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